Zon&m Iv^lzshed-lnj Semy CoVnim. March. 1,1839. THE IDLER ITALY. BY THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1839. PRINTED BY W. WILCOCKSON, ROLLS BUILDINGS, FUTTElt LANE . CONTENTS FIRST VOLUME, Dover. — Reflections — The Voyage — Tribute to Neptune — Honey-moon in the Channel — Love flies out of the Cabin-window Pages 1 — g Calais. — French Comforts and Discomforts .... 3 — 6 Rouen.— .The Cathedral — 'Stained Glass not sufficiently used in Eng land—A Manuscript, the Work of thirty Years — Joan of Arc — Corneille — Fontenelle — Anecdotes .... 7 — 11 St. Germain-en-Laye. — James II, of England — Royal Ties of Con sanguinity disregarded — Forest of St. Germain — Mistresses of Louis XIV. and XV.— Fair of St. Germain— Frenoh Facility of Enjoyment 11 — 15 Paris,— The Parisians— Baron Denon— His Versatihty — His Anecdotes of Napoleon — His amiable Egotism — My Birth-day — Winding up the Clock !— Parisian Noises— English Discontent— French Women more formed to be admired than loved— Frenchmen more general in their Attentions than Englishmen — Masculine and Feminine Accomplishments — La Cuisine Frangaise — Anecdote of Garlic — Give Anacreon Moore a bad Dinner— His Enjoyment of La Mon tague Russe — His Temperament and Conversation— Servants less able to bear Deprivations than their Masters — Generally more troublesome than useful out of England— English make a Business of Pleasure — The Louvre— Paintings— Sculpture— A well-bred Englishman— Departure ..... 15—43 ' Fontainbi^eau.— Napoleon— Coulaincourt— Willow -trees . 43 — 46 IV CONTENTS. Geneva.— Mount Jura - Lake Leman — Ferney — Voltaire - Learned Ladies— English Burial Ground— J. J. Rousseau -The House in which he was born— Magazine of M. Baute LAUSANNE.-Residence of Gibbon-John Kemble-Beauties of Lau- . 65—70 sanne ....•• Berne.— Swiss Costume— Fondness of the Bernese for Bears-Origin of the Supporters to the Civic Arms . • • 70— 73 Baden.— Roofed Wooden Bridges— Baths and Bathers . 73—75 Zurich.— Tomb of Gessner— Lavater— Physiognomy and Phrenology- Letters of Lady Jane Grey to Henricus Bulingerus in the Town Library— Letter from Frederick of Prussia to Professor H. Muller on Swiss Songs—" Psalterium Davidis," a Greek MS. 75—85 Schauphausen. — Beauty of its Scenery^Its Cascade . • 85—86 Lucerne.— Its lovely Scenery— Village of Egliseau— Fountain of the Lion .... ... 86 — 88 Secheron.— Anecdotes of Byron and Shelley, by Maurice, the Boatman on the Lake of Geneva— Nantua -Bellegarde — Natural Curiosity near Bellegarde ...... 88—93 Lyons. — The Antient Lugdunum — Remains of Antiquity — Various Calamities to Lyons — Museum — Bronze Tablets of Emperor Clau dius — Leg of a Bronze Horse— The Sadne and the Rhone — City of Lyons— The Mountain Fourviere —Inscription of the Altar dis covered in 1705— Marc Antony's Aqueduct— Antient Castle of Francheville— Silk Manufactories . . . 93—103 Vienne. — The Inn — Castle of Mont Leans— Condrieux— Its Inhabitants — Mobility of French Character— Vinyards of the Cote Rotie — Description of Vienne, or the Vienna Allobrogem, the most Ancient City of the Gauls— Its Antiquities and Ruins— Museum— Its valu able Curiosities— Scenery around Vienne— Comparison of French and English Suburbs— Council held in Vienne in 1311 and 1312, which abolished the Knights Templars— Bridge uniting Vienne to St, Colomb— Fine Mosaic Pavement in a Vinyard— The Table Ronde— Antient Asylum from Arrest for Debt or Murder St. Colomb— Its Antiquities— Fine Specimen of Mosaic Pavement Roman Baths -Museum of Monsieur and Madame Michaud CONTENTS. V Mosquitoes at Vienne — Authoress purchases Mameluke, a Charger — Corpse of a private Soldier killed in a Duel— Duels among Pri vates not uncommon in France — Antient Baths at Vienne— Com parison between French and English Comforts — Domestic Scenes in England— French Peasantry no Lovers of Plants and Flowers like the English— Love Of Rural Life unknown in France— Sketch of a British Merchant— Departure from Vienne . . 103—159 Lyons. — A day spent with Monsieur Artaud— Furnished by him with Letters to half the Cognoscenti of Venice and Italy 159—160 Grenoble.— Route from Lyons — Napoleon's Entry from Elba — Au thoress occupies the Chamber in which Napoleon slept — Reflections on his return to France— Library and Museum — Grotto of Sas- senage ...... 160 — 168 St. Marcellin. — Profusion followed by a Famine — Innocent Gaiety on the Sabbath 168—170 Valence. — Residence of Napoleon when a Lieutenant — Hill of St. Peray, famous for its Champagne — Increased Mildness in Tem perature — Mosquitoes— Change in Aspect ofthe People 170 — 172 Montellsiart. — Cradle of Reformed Religion in France— Site of the Chateau de Grignon— Madame de Sevigne . 172—173 Orange. — The Arch — Its Description and Inscriptions — Mobility of the Human Mind — Ruins of the Ancient Theatre — Its Present Uses ..... 173-184 Avignon.— Poetic Associations— Petrarch— Glorious Sunset— A Visit from the Poet-Laureat of Avignon — Papal Palace— Its Cham bers of Inquisition— The Scene of Torture and Massacre during the French Revolution— The Mint— Fountain of Vaucluse— Pe trarch— Laura— Their Passion— Chateau de Madame Laura— Visit to Petrarch from Robert, the good King of Naples, his Queen and Court— Hotel of Petrarch and Laura— The Landlady's Comparison of English with Continental Travellers— The Host's Anecdote of the Busts— Avignon, an Agreeable and Cheap Residence— The Inn, l'Hotel de l'Europe— The Scene of the Comedy of the Deaf Lovers-The Son of the Hostess, a Literateur and Antiquary— His 'English— Monsieur and Madame de L.— Peasantry around Avig- vi CONTENTS. non „ou_Dress of the Women-Red Umbrellas-Hotelde CnUon Crillonle Brave, his Reception of H6™-^*6,"™^, and Louis Quatorze-Tomb of Laura-The Grand Hoprtal- Blessedness of Charity-Aqueduct of the Pont du Gard-^ Maison, la Palliere-A Provincial Soiree at the Hotel ae i,. French Conversation-Madame de Villume, better known as the Celebrated Mademoiselle Sombreuil-Her Affecting Story-Un- valrous Spirit of her Family-Heroic Adventures of her Brother, Charles de Sombreuil— La Baronne de M , an English Lady— Her Elegant Hospitality-Foundry at Avignon, formerly the Church of St. Dominic, of the Inquisition— A Scene for Michael Angelo-The Mont de Piete— The Pawned Watch— The Gold Locket— Reverse of the Picture— Great Increase of Business at Christmas, that the People of Avignon might purchase Turkeys for their Christmas Dinner— Portraits in the Salle de la Commune— The Brave Crillon— His Son, the Due de Mahon-Crillon— Louis XVIIL— Duchesse d'Angouleme— Last Evening at Madame de L.'s— Meet the Due and Duchesse de C G , the latter of whom was Dame d'Honneur to Marie-Louise— Society at Avignon— Attention to Strangers, especially the English — Night- Caps and Fogs— L'Hospice des " Insenses— The Maniacs— The Chapel— The Ivory Crucifix, by Guillermin— Turkeys and Ches- nuts— Christmas Eve— Midnight Mass— Christmas Day — A French Plum-Pudding— Hospital for Invalid Soldiers— The Inmates- Easy Intercourse between French Officers and Soldiers— Fortress of Villeneuve— Authoress rides up its Ascent on Mameluke— Li brary at Avignon— Notre-Dame de Don— Churches— Advantages of Keeping them open all Day— Comparison between French and English Women — New Year Reflections — Procession of Inn- Servants— Conventional Gogd-Breeding of French Lower Classes — French Custom of Presenting Flowers and Verses at this Season —Pleasantness of French Servitude — French People generally Talented — Excellent Amateur Actors — Comedie and Comic Opera at the Baronne de Montfaucon's— r-French Musical Taste — Dinner at the Baron Montfaucon's — Presents the Authoress with an An tique Glass Vase, with Human Ashes — Public Theatres — French Dread of Solitude— People of Ireland and of Avignon— Anecdote CONTENTS. Vll of Napoleon— Singular Manner of his Birth— Physiognomies of the Corsicans— French Dancing— The Waltz— The Toilette of Avignon— Erroneous English Opinions on French Manners and Customs — Arrival of a Box of English Books and Newspapers — Mystery of English Fashion — Definition of a bore, and an Illus tration — A Victim to Exclusivism — The Carnival at Avignon — Le Vent de Bise — The French rarely Suppress their Feelings —Mardi-Gras — Departure from Avignon 184—300 Aix.— French and English Inn Dinners— Cathedral— Curious Painting by King Renne— Raimond Berenger, last Count of Provence, and his Wife Beatrix — Mons. Revoil's Museum — Mons. Sallier's— the Marquis L 's— Want of Cream and Butter— Only one Cow at Aix ....... 300—311 Marseilles.— Chateau La Pannis— Coral Manufactories— the Mistrael, or, Ventde Bise — Impress of a Seaport— English Sailors 31 1 — 315 Toulon. — Arsenal— Female Foreigners only admitted— the Galleriens— Convicts — Comte de St. Helene — Men-of-War — Le Royal Louis, in which the Duchesse de Berri entered France — Harbour, &c. 315—325 Frejus. — Favoured by Caesar — Birth-place of Julius Agricola — Scene of Napoleon's Landing from Egypt, and of his Embarkation for Elba, 325—328 Cannes.— Most beautiful Part of France— Napoleon . 328—329 Nice. — Route from Antibes— Climate not adapted for Consumption — Count Andriani— Villa Franca— Lady Olivia Sparrow— Rev. Mr. Way— Sir Thomas Maitland — Due de Vallambrosse — Comte de Rhode— Convent de Cimiers — Site of ancient City of Cemenelion— Count Andriani's Sufferings from Gout — His Philosophy— Grotto and Chateau of St. Andre — English Language and Literature Abroad — ShakspeaTe— Scott— Byron — Grotto de Falicon — Remarks on Sight-seeing — English Cemetery — Chateau and Grotto Neuf, 392—359 Mentonb. — Napoleon's Roads — Chapel of St. Catherine — Village of La Turbie— Its Ruins— Villages of Monaco— Roque Brune— Chateau Monaco— Cathedral of Mentone— Chateau Cupouana — Religious Vlll CONTENTS. Procession-Lady Bute's Teapot— Costume of the Women-Castel Dacio, on the Road to Ventimiglia— Bridge of St. Louis 359-372 Ventimiglia.— Female Costume-Church on the Beach— Custom of opening Churches all Day . 3^2 3'6 Oneglia.— Mules and Muleteers— The Human Skull— Port Maurice 376—382 Noli.— Glorious Sunrise — Scene at the Inn — Procession of White Penitents 382—388 Voltri.— Change Mule-travelling for Coaches— Anticipation of Re ception by Lord Byron, at Genoa . . . 388 — 390 Genoa. — First View— Its Appearance— Arrive at Night — Magnificent Religious Procession— The Inn, Alberga del Villa— Lord William Russell — First Interview with Lord Byron — A Disappointment- Lord Byron described— His Reception of the Authoress — Posi tion of Genoa— The Apennines . . . 390 400 THE IDLER IN ITALY. August 25th, 1822 And so, I am leaving my home — my happy home ! — There is something sad in the thought. I looked often at the pictures, and the various objects of use, and decoration, in the apartments, with a sort of melancholy feeling, that I anticipated not I should experience, on undertaking a pleasurable tour — a tour I have so long desired to make. Yet now, that the moment of departure is nearly arrived, I almost wish I was not going. Yes, the quitting home for an indefinite period, makes one thoughtful. What changes, what dangers may come before I sleep again beneath its roof! Perhaps, I may never — but I must not give way to such sad forebodings. The taking leave of friends is painful, even those whose society afforded little pleasure, assume a new interest in the moment of parting. We remember only their good qualities ; but, per- VOL. I. b 2 DOVER. haps, this oblivion of their defects, proceeds from the anticipated release from their consequences. This it is that makes us often part from our friends with more kindness, than we feel in meeting them. Dover — Would be more agreeable, were it not associated in my mind with lurching steam packets, and qualmy passengers ; to-morrow I shall be ex posed to a contact with both, which, though of short duration, is, nevertheless, anything but pleasurable. Misery, it is said, makes us acquainted with strange companions. A steam-packet I am sure does ; for I have never entered one, without beholding a most heterogeneous medley of people, the greater part with countenances indicative of sufferings actual, or prospective. Heaven defend me from inn beds! where, stretched on a mattrass harder than board, or sunk in a feather bed breathing not of Araby the blest, one is con demned to count the weary hours of night, praying for d'ay to release one from such discomfort. I see the packet, that is to convey us to Calais, tossing and heaving near the pier — would that the voyage were over ! CALAIS. Calais, Q'Jth. — What a passage! Old Neptune seemed in a passion at our leaving his favourite isle; and assailed us with sundry waves, so judi ciously applied, as to drench several of the pale voyagers, who in revenge, returned the visits, far more offensively. The sky was gloomy, and por tentous, and the sea of a dingy leaden green, except when broken by the waves, which came like warriors on white coursers, speeding over its dark surface. The packet was full, to overflowing ; the cabins crowded, and the deck thronged. As I marked the rosy cheeks, and crisp curls, of many of my fair countrywomen, and the closely buttoned coats, and bluff countenances of the men, I was disposed to pity the misery that awaited them. Many of the ladies, and nearly all the males, declared that they never suffered from sea-sickness ; but, before we had more than half crossed the channel, they had either disappeared, or were seen leaning over the ship's side, intently gazing on the sea. Various sounds of wo, reached my ears, mingled with the hoarse voices of the sailors, and the loud wind that whistled through the sails, — and the steward was continually demanded, in tones that b 2 CALAIS. betrayed the utter helplessness of those who uttered them. A new-married pair, proceeding to the Con tinent to spend the honey moon, and who entered the packet all smiles, and love, were amongst the first, to yield to the fearful influence of the briny element. The bridegroom had been encouraging the bride, by asserting that he was so used to the sea that he heeded it not ; an assurance, that seemed very con solatory to her. He sat by her, and supported her waist with his encircling arm, until an ejaculation of " Take me to the cabin, Henry, Oh ! Oh ! " broke from the lady. He attempted to assist her to descend to the cabin ; but, alas ! before he had moved three paces, he reeled, and crying " Steward, Steward," consigned his bride to the tenderer mer cies of that useful person, who, basin in hand, escorted her below ; while her liege lord eased his full breast over the vessel's side. Husbands left their wives, and lovers their mistresses, when assailed by this disgusting malady. Self — self — alone seemed remembered; but, in all this exhi bition of our natural egotism, mothers, and mo thers alone resisted — they, though half dead with sickness, could still think of their children, and CALAIS. 5 forget their own sufferings, to alleviate those of their offspring. What a pitiable sight, did the passengers pre sent, when they rushed on deck to leave the ship ! Pale faces, languid eyes, parched lips, uncurled locks, bulged bonnets, and rumpled caps, frills, and draperies, were to be seen at every side. The poor bride's smart pink bonnet was shorn of its bright ness, and looked nearly as altered, and faded as her cheeks ; which, half shaded by her straight dark locks, betrayed the sufferings she had endured. The bridegroom met her, with a rueful countenance, declaring that, " It was very odd, quite unaccount able, that he, who had crossed the sea so often, with out being ill, should now have suffered so much." I thought she looked reproachfully at him, for having deserted her, in this her first trial in wedded life. Ah ! fair lady, it will be well if you have not, hereafter, greater proofs of man's selfishness ! A sea voyage, however short its duration, is a most unfavorable medium for judging mankind ; and they who wish to preserve the illusions of love, would do well to eschew this ordeal ; which, like the grave, separates those whom the wily archer CALAIS. has united. It is difficult for a man, to believe m the divinity of a beautiful woman, after he has seen her heaving, like a Pythoness, with extended jaws, upturned eyes, and But for a woman, who, conscious of her own helplessness, relies for succour on the man she loves, what can restore her con fidence in his supposed strength and superiority, when she has beheld him— oh ! degradation of the manly character — overpowered by sickness in its most revolting shape; and heard him uttering sounds that betray at once the internal strife, and his con sequent probable oblivion of her very existence ! Oh! the comfort of a French bed! commend me to its soft and even mattrasses, its light cur tains, and genial couvre pied of eider down. Commend me, also, to a French cuisine with its soup, sans pepper, its cutlets a la minute, and its poulet aujus, its cafi a la creme, and its dessert. But defend me from the slamming of French doors, and the shaking of French windows ; and above all, from pye-dishes, as substitutes for washing- basins ; and from the odours of cigars, with which the clothes of the waiters of all French inns are impregnated. ROUEN. 7 Rouen, 28 th. — To avoid the uninteresting, and often traversed route of Abbeville, we have taken that of Rouen ; and have been repaid, by passing through a much prettier country, and, above all, by seeing the cathedral. This is, indeed, a noble pile, and inspires one with a respect for its founders. There is something highly imposing in the sight of such an edifice, with its towers and spire ; and all the pictu resque decoration of Gothic architecture with which it abounds. They surely must have truly wor shipped the Deity, who took such pains to build a temple for His homage : though persons are not wanting who declare, that such temples owe their foundation less to devotion, than to superstition. The church of St. Ouen is beautiful, and the gorgeous stained glass windows, add to its rich effect. We do not sufficiently employ stained glass, in our domestic decorations ; it being generally ob jected to on the plea, that our sky is too obscure to admit of our exclusion of any portion of its light. Yet if instead of staring without impediment at our leaden clouds, their rays came to us in hues almost as beautiful as those of the prism, this advantage ROUEN. would be more than an equivalent for a slight diminution of their brilliancy. At the Benedictine Abbey, they showed us a MS. missal, richly ornamented ; the adornment of which, is said to have employed a monk for thirty years. What a waste of time! yet he who could so pass thirty years, was not likely to make a more judicious use of it. Nous avons change tout cela. Who would now give thirty months to a work, unless he was assured of receiving a large remuneration for it, either in gold, or in immediate celebrity ? Time is become more valuable ; and men are proportion- ably less disposed to devote more than a limited, and well paid portion of it, to posterity. Poste rity ? how few work for it, how few think of it, and how few live for it ! Luckily for our generation, we have had a Wellington ; and his fame will preserve our times from oblivion. The Museum at Rouen contains some passable pictures, chiefly by French masters ; but as I as much dislike filling my pages, as my head with catalogues, their names shall find no place in my journal. I wish the English had not to answer for the death of Joan of Arc. It was an unnecessary ROUEN. 9 barbarism, that I liked not to be reminded of, and that casts a stain on our country. Some frag ments of a tower, in which it is asserted that she was confined, were pointed out to us. Poor en thusiast ! her courage deserved a better fate ! Who could pass through Rouen, without remem bering that it gave birth to Corneille? Glorious privilege of genius, which can render a name death less, and awaken sympathy for the spot that gave it life. Fontenelle, Fleury, and Vertot, also, were born at Rouen, but one forgets them, in the stronger interest excited by the memory of Corneille ; that mighty mover of the passions, and powerful de- liniator of their struggles and results. Yet Fon tenelle, too, deserves to be remembered, if it were only for his " Plurality of Worlds ;" a delightful work that renders a gratifying homage to my sex, by making one of it the medium of conveying lightly and pleasantly many of the most valuable elements of philosophy, in a dialogue full of sense, vivacity, and refinement. His dramatic works fall infinitely short of those of his uncle Corneille ; but his " Dialogues of the Dead," and his " Reflections on Dramatic Poetry," are excellent. 10 ROUEN. One is often tempted to wish, that anecdotes, derogatory to literary characters, were less generally known. Who can think as well of those writers, whose works have charmed us, after having ascertained that they were cold, selfish, and unfeeling. Thus, many of the anecdotes related of Fontenelle, have left a prejudice against him in my mind that renders me less disposed to remember him with complacency. None of them is more illustrative of the selfishness of his disposition than that related of him by Grimm, who states, that Fontenelle, having a great partiality to asparagus dressed with oil, was, on a certain day, that he intended to regale himself with his favourite dish, surprised by a visit from the Abbe Terrasson, who proposed staying to dine with him. Fontenelle told him of the asparagus, when the Abbe Terrasson declared, he would only eat it dressed with butter. The host explained the sacrifice he made, in consenting that one half should be dressed with butter ; but shortly after, the Abbe Terrasson fell from his chair, struck dead by apoplexy, when Fon tenelle ran to the door of his kitchen, exclaiming, " All the asparagus to be dressed with oil — all to be dressed with oil ! " ST. GERMAIN EN LAYE. 11 Dining at Lord Hyde's a few days after, he remarked, that the anecdote of the Abbe Terrasson had brought asparagus into fashion, and encreased the price. With an esprit the most caustic, and epigramatic, he was inordinately fond of praise. A person one day said, that to praise Fontenelle re quired the finesse and talent of Fontenelle. " N' importe," replied the latter, " Louez moi, toujours" Vertot's works are very voluminous, and his " Histories of Revolutions," of which he wrote no less than three, are worth perusal. St. Germain en Laye, 30th. — I like this old place. Its very atmosphere inspires a dreamy sort of reverie, in which the mind is carried out of the busy present, into the pensive past. Here dwelt the Sybarite Louis XIV. ; and here, died, in exile, the dethroned James II. of England ! How many heart burnings must the latter have endured from the period of being treated as the feted monarch, until he became to be considered only as the "pen sioned refugee ; his misfortunes aggravated, by the knowledge that a daughter usurped his throne. 12 ST. GERMAIN EN LA YE. He must, indeed, have felt " how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, to have a thankless child." That the ties of consanguinity are less regarded in the families of sovereigns, than in those of any other class, history has given us many examples; from the most remote periods, down to modern days, nay, even to Austria, in its abandonment of Napo leon. The son-in-law, the husband of a daughter, and the father of a grandchild of that royal house, Napoleon was too much of a parvenu among so vereigns, to have calculated on this desertion. A legitimate king would have been prepared for it. The forest of St. Germain is delightful, and as I observed the sunbeams glancing through its um brageous shades, my imagination peopled it with a royal cavalcade, as in days of yore ; when the four teenth Louis, attended T?y his courtiers, and ladies, pursued the chace, and the sound of hunting horns rang through the woods. Here appeared the fair, and timid La Valliere, struggling between love, and religion, and doomed to find in a convent the peace a court denied her. Then passed the beautiful, but vain and ambitious de Montespan, proud of her shame, and glorying in her sin. Fontanges, and ST. GERMAIN EN LA YE. 13 a whole host of other beauties glided by ; the cortege closed by Maintenon with grave yet sweet countenance, already meditating on the throne which she aspired to share ; and enslaving her royal lover, by a resistance, whose novelty formed, perhaps, her greatest, if not only attraction. I could wander for hours in the Forest of St. Germain, reflecting on the glittering pageants that have appeared among its stately avenues in the olden time ; and on the mighty changes that have since occurred. Here, all remains the same. The same blue sky looks down on the gigantic trees ; the same air rustles their leaves ; and the same green sward offers a carpet to the feet. But they, the proud, the gay, where are they ? He who abandoned the pa lace of St. Germain, because it commanded a view of the towers of St. Denis, where he was one day to repose, has long been consigned to that spot, he could not bear to contemplate, followed by little regret, and remembered but as a vain-glorious voluptuary ; a slave to love and luxury, in his youth, and to bigotry and superstition, in his old age. The coarser vices of the fifteenth Louis, screened the memory of his predecessor from the 14 ST. GERMAIN EN LAYE. severity of censure he merited. Pompadour, and Du Barry, were considered to be more degrading mistresses to a monarch, than les grandes dames selected for that glittering shame by Louis XIV., and the park au cerf, a more demoralizing example, than a court, which might be almost looked on as a harem. French morals were shocked at the low intrigues of one monarch, though they had more than tolerated the more elevated profligacy of the other. But a true morality would be disposed to consider the courtly splendour attached to the loves of Louis XIV. as the more demoralizing example, of the two, from being the less disgusting. 31st. — Left St. Germain with regret ; but the fair, to which crowds were flocking, destroyed its greatest attraction for me, who like its solitude and repose. Fine ladies, and gentlemen, mingling in the dance, with grisettes, and shopmen, beneath trees from which lamps were suspended, soon fa tigues even a looker on ; and the witnessing whole piles of edibles demolished, and whole bevies of lovers rendering themselves agreeable, by filling the ears of their mistresses with flattery, and their mouths PARIS. 15 with cakes and bon-bons, soon ceases to interest. What most strikes me in France, is the predeter mination of being gay, evinced by all who frequent any place of amusement. Here, are never seen the vapid countenances, or air ennuyS, sure to be en countered at similar scenes in England ; where people, especially those of the upper class, seem to go, only for the purpose of exhibiting their discon tent. This facility of being amused, is a great blessing ; more particularly to those, who cannot exist without at least making the effort to seek amusement. For myself, a book, or the society of two or three friends, is always sufficient, provided the book be one that makes me feel, or think, — in fact, be what I call a suggestive book, — and that the friends are imaginative people. But defend me from matter-of-fact ones ! who reason when they ought to feel, and reduce all to the standard of their own mediocrity. Paris, 31st Always gay, and pleasant, but frivolous Paris ! where to amuse oneself seems to be the sole business of life with all thine inhabitants, from the elegant duchesse of the Faubourg St. 16 PARIS. Germain, down to the piquante grisette of the Rue St. Denis. These people possess surely a most mercurial temperament, and give way to its excite ments with a most philosophical laissez alter. We English are, or fancy that we are, wiser. Are we happier ? Does the forethought, that impels us to pass half our days in acquiring means for enjoying the other half, leave us in a state to appreciate its advantages when they arrive? And are not the French wiser, who snatch at the present, and abandon the future to the arbitrement of chance? How thoroughly English it is of me, to enter into this grave, and hypothetical disquisition ! while a bright sun is shining through my windows, numberless carriages rattling past them, and crowds of well dressed people flocking to the Tuilleries' gardens in front of my abode. I have just returned from a visit to my old friend the Baron Denon, who was, as all my French ac quaintances profess themselves to be, " charmed to see me." I like this warmth of manner, even though it may not always spring from the heart. It is at least an amiable deception calculated to give pleasure, and to injure no one ; though we English PARIS. 17 denominate it by the harsh term of insincerity. The good Denon is a most amusing man, a compound of savant and petit-mattre ; one moment, descanting on Egyptian antiquities, and the next, passing eulo- giums on thejolichapeau or robe of his female visitors. He seems equally at home in detailing the perfections of a mummy, or in describing " le mignon pied d'une charmante femme ,•" and not unfrequently turns from exhibiting some morceau d' antiquitS Men remarquable, to display a cast of the exquisite hand of Pauline Borghese. His anecdotes of his idol Napoleon, are very interesting, and, of course, are coloured by his partiality. He told me, that on one occasion, Na poleon wished him to make a sketch of Marie-Louise, for a statue which he intended to have executed by Canova. She was to be represented as a Roman Empress, with flowing drapery, bare arms, and a tiara. Denon was in her apartment, endeavouring to place her in a graceful posture ; to accomplish which he found to be, if not an impossible, at least a difficult task. Napoleon, who was present, ap peared mortified at the total want of natural grace vol. 1. c 18 PARIS. of the Empress ; and when he next met Denon alone, remarked, " that it was strange that a person so perfectly well shaped, should be so remarkably stiff, and gauche in all her movements." May not grace be considered to be the esprit of the body ? Denon would be nothing, without his collection. His house is a perfect museum, and furnishes him with an inexhaustible topic on which to expend his superfluous animation, and scientific discoveries. Delighted with himself, and grateful to all who seem to participate in his self-adoration, he is the most obliging of all egotists ; and, what is rare, the least tiresome. "L'Empereur et moi" forms the refrain of most of his monologues ; and it is evident that he thinks one, in no degree inferior to the other. His vanity, always harmless, is frequently very amusing. It consoles him under every change, and solaces him under every privation. It also renders him observant of, and indulgent to, the vanity of others ; which he conciliates, by a delicate and judicious flattery, that seldom fails to send his visitors away, no less satisfied with him, than with PARIS. 19 themselves. He resembles certain mirrors, in which, though we know our image to be too favourable, we take an infinite pleasure in contemplating it. September 1st. — My Birth Day. — J could be triste, and sentimental, were I to give way to the reflections which particular recollections awaken. In England, I should experience these doleful feel ings, but at Paris, tristesse, and sentimentality, would be misplaced ; so I must look couleur de rose, and receive the congratulations of my friends, on adding another year to my age ; a subject far from meriting congratulations, when one has passed thirty. Youth, is like health, we never value the possession of either, until they have begun to decline. There is no place, where privacy is so little to be enjoyed, as at Paris ; unless one uses the pre caution of locking one's door. I allude of course to an hdtel garni. Every five minutes, some garcon en veste, frotteur sans veste, or laquais de place, looks into the salon, or chambre-a-coucher, mutters a " Pardon, madame," and retreats, leaving one quite mystified, as to what could be the excuse for the intrusion. The horloger who regulates the pendutes c 2 20 PARIS. of this hotel walked into my chamber, sans ctrL monie, this morning, ere I had left my pillow; wound up the time-piece on the console, most methodically, and then withdrew, without a word of excuse, to my great astonishment, and to the horror of ray femme de chambre ; who followed him to the ante-room, to explain the indecorum of his conduct. An English clockmaker would be quite as much embarrassed, could he find himself in such a position, as the lady into whose room he had intruded ; but a Frenchman is never embarrassed, and considers another person's entertainment of this feeling, as a proof of gaucherie. Oh ! the noises of every description, that assail one's ears, from early morn to midnight, in a Parisian hotel! the neighing of horses in the court, the rumbling of carriage wheels, the swearing of coachmen, the grumbling of the porter, shrill voices of the female domestics, and occasional snatches of songs of the laquais ; with the chirping of birds, talking of parrots, yelping of dogs, mewing of cats, and ringing of bells ! How often; since my short sojourn here, have I been tempted to wish, that " I had the wings of the dove, and could flee PARIS. 21 away and be a trest,'' for this perpetual din con fuses, and overpowers me ! There are many English here ; and almost all are full of complaints of the extravagance .of the charges, badness of the dinners, and total want of comfort. Those accustomed to even a lavish expenditure at home, are disposed to be parsi monious abroad ; and murmur at charges in Paris, that in London would be esteemed very reasonable. But the truth is, we English are prone to murmur ; it is the safety-valve of our bilious temperament : and the moment we are out of England, and are deprived of our never-failing topic for complaint, our climate, we vent our national discontent on other subjects. 2nd. — There is something peculiarly light, and agreeable, in the air here, and the animals, as well as the people, seem influenced by it. The trees in the Champs Elysees, and Tuileries, have assumed their rich autumnal hues ; and the ladies have added to their summer costume, a warm shawl, thrown over the shoulders with a grace peculiar to Parisians. The animation of their countenances, elegance of 22 PARIS. their tournures, and smallness of their feet, are remarkable ; and, joined to a certain air dSgage, equally free from boldness, as from awkwardness, render them extremely attractive. It strikes me, that French women are more formed to be admired, than loved ; and English women, vice versa. The constitutional gaiety and animation of the former, with their quickness at repartee, and love of society, while it serves to render them very agreeable, is not conducive to the creation of the soft, and grave senti ment of love : hence, the tender passion is more talked of, than felt, in France, and intrigues of gallantry are more frequent, than attachments founded on strong affection. Society, is the paramount object of life, with a fine lady in France. For this, she dresses, thinks, talks, and arranges her house, all of which she does a merveille ; and no where, consequently, is society better understood, or more agreeable. A perfect ease, and yet a scrupulous decorum, a vivacity that never passes the limits of good breeding, and a knowledge that never degenerates into pedantry, characterise it ; as all must admit, who have had opportunities of judging. An acquaintance of mine, once expressed his PARIS. 23 opinion of French ladies by saying, "They are pretty, lively, and amusing, but are too clever ; and seem too certain of their own attractions to catch hearts, though they win admiration." The politeness for which Frenchmen are pro verbial, is much less flattering to individual vanity, than is the less ostentatious civility of Englishmen. The former is so general in his attentions, that he makes one feel, that the person to whom he is addressing them, is only receiving what would have been equally offered to any other lady by whom he might chance to have been placed ; whereas, an Englishman, is either silent, or reserved, unless animated by a contact with some person who has pleased him : consequently, his compliments have a point, and, if I may use the expression, an indi viduality, that convince her, to whom they are , addressed, that they could not have been applied to another. A Frenchman never forgets that he is talking to one of a sex for which he professes a general veneration ; the Englishman forgets the whole sex in the individual that interests him. Accomplishments, such as music, and dancing, considered to be peculiar to women in England, are 24 PARIS., as generally cultivated by males as by females, in France. This habit, I think, though I know many will disagree with me, is injurious in its effects ; be cause it assimilates the two sexes, which ought ever to retain their peculiar and distinct attributes. The more masculine a man's pursuits and amusements are, the more highly will he be disposed to estimate feminine accomplishments, in which he can have no rivalry; and which, by their novelty, may tend to form a delightful recreation for his leisure hours. The manly occupations which call him from home, render him more susceptible of the charm of female society when he returns to it ; hence I would encou rage a system that tended to make women as feminine, without being effeminate, as possible ; and men as masculine, without being coarse. But, mercy on me ! here am I systematizing," in the midst of noises, that give one an idea of Noah's ark ; instead of enjoying the bright sunshine that is so tempting. Allons ! for a promenade en voiture, in the Champs Elysees, and after that, a pied in the Tuileries gardens. 3rd. La cuisine francaise has greatly degenerated PARIS. 25 even within my memory. The j udges of the culinary art of I'ancien regime, declare that the parvenue noblesse of Napoleon's creation destroyed it, by bringing into vogue the savory, but coarse plats of their humbler days ; but I think the influx of strangers, in 1814, did more to deteriorate it. Those who would form a just notion of la cuisine francaise in its pristine glory, must acquire a knowledge of it in the salles-a-manger of some of the vieille cow in the Faubourg St. Germain ; or in a few of the houses of our own nobility in London, who have preserved some chefde cuisine, whose savoir has not been cor rupted or palate impaired, by the impurities ofthe mo dern French school. In such houses, they will find a preponderance of white over brown sauces ; onions will be rendered innoxious by being stewed in loaf sugar ; and fish, fowl, and flesh will be refined by a process that, while expelling their grossness, leaves all the nutritious quality. A perfect French dinner is like the conversation of a very clever and highly educated man — enough of the raciness of the inhe rent natural quality remains to gratify the taste, but rendered more attractive by the manner in which it is presented. An old nobleman used to say that 26 PARIS. he could judge of a man's birth by the dishes he preferred ; but above all, by the vegetables : truffles, morels, mushrooms, and peas, in their infancy, he designated as aristocratic vegetables; but all the vast stock of beans, full-grown peas, carrots, turnips, parsnips, cauliflowers, onions, &c. &c, he said were only fit for the vulgar. The Spaniards have introduced a taste for garlic in Paris, and the restaurants have adopted it in many of their plats, the odour of which, fortunately, warns one in time. Apropos of garlic, somebody said that the Spaniards were so patriotic that they never forgot their country; "How can they," ob served a listener, " when the taste and smell of it never forsake their mouths ? " 4 has nothing remarkable to boast of, and had lately been subjected to the barbarous operation of a thorough white-washing, on the exterior and VOL. i. g 82 ZURICH. interior, which gave it a most unseemly appearance. The Carolinian library, founded in the thirteenth century, has lost many of the treasures of antiquity that it is said once to have contained, but still retains the MSS. of Zuinglius, and other reformers, in sixty folio volumes, with many rare and curious black-letter books. The town library, founded in 1628, had more attraction for us, as it boasts the possession of three letters of Lady Jane Grey, to Henricus Bulingerus ; one written in Latin, in a very fine Italian hand ; the others in German, and aU signed with her name. The accounts handed down to us, of the beauty, grace, talents, and extraordinary acquirements of this lovely and unfortunate being, never made so deep an impression on me, as while looking at her beautiful penmanship. I seemed to see her, as her preceptor Roger Ascham found and described her (when he paid her an unexpected visit), reading Plato, while the rest of the family were occupied with the chase in the park. Her gentle voice seemed to sound in my ear, uttering those words in answer to his enquiry, of why she also was not engaged in the sports : — ZURICH. 83 "The sports they are enjoying, are but as a shadow, compared to the pleasure which I derive from the sublime author I am perusing." The rare union of such remarkable personal beauty, piety, modesty, and profound erudition, at a period when learning was as a sealed well to her sex, would always have rendered Lady Jane Grey the most interesting female character of her day. But her tragical death, and the fortitude with which she met it, stamp her as a heroine, in the best and most exalted sense of the word. It was remarked by one of our party, that had Lady Jane Grey been less beautiful and young, her accomplish ments and misfortunes would have excited a less warm degree of sympathy in our minds. I am afraid there was more truth in the observation, than reason is willing to acknowledge. But we are all, more or less, the slaves to externals ; youth and beauty must have their influence ; and works that, by their freshness, prove how recently they have been formed by the All-powerful hand that creates all, must have more attractions than those which have been so long fashioned, as to have lost the traces of their divine origin. Had Mary Stuart g 2 84 ZURICH. bowed her head to the block, some ten or fifteen years sooner, ere yet its silken honours had been blanched by the ruthless hand of time, how much more sympathy would her fate have called forth ! Old heroines are an anomaly, and excite little pity, even in the hearts of those who have arrived at similar years of discretion, the epidermis of whose hearts, like that of the faces of elderly ladies, has lost its deHcacy; so that the power of suffering in them is as much blunted, as the capability of causing suffering is impaired in the others. We look with interest always, and with admiration often, on the ruin of all fine objects, save the ruin of a beautiful woman. Alas! for old beauties! they must abdicate in time. The town library at Zurich, contains a curious letter from Frederick of Prussia, to the Professor H. Muller, relative to a collection of Swiss songs, of the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries, which the professor published in 1784, and dedi cated to Her Majesty. It appears, that Frederick the Great, found nothing to admire in the collec tion ; and candidly expressed his opinion to their editor, with a naiveti and brusquerie, very charac- SCHAUFHAUSEN. 85 teristic of that monarch. This library also contains the " Psalterium Davidis," ' in Greek MS., the vellum purple, letters silver, and the titles in gold. It has suffered much from age ; but some of the leaves are stiU perfect, and offer a fine specimen of the splendour of the decorations of such works in former days. Schaufhausen, October 1st. — The water-fall at this romantic spot is much less grand than we expected ; but the beauty of the scenery around it is remarkable. The Rhine flows majestically along, bounded at each side by luxuriant vineyards, fertile fields, and rich woods, crowned by the mountains, fading into the distant horizon, until they are lost in the clouds. — The foam of the cascade rises over the landscape, like a silver gauze veil ; and forms a brilliant contrast with the vivid green of the river. The rushing sound of the water, which hurries on with resistless force to its destination, canopied by clouds of foam that sparkle in the sunshine, has a magical effect ; and one could gaze for hours on the scene, indulging in the vague reveries it inspires. There seems to be a deep and mysterious sympathy 86 LUCERNE. between our souls and the sublime and beautiful in nature, which even a glance awakens. We gaze on such scenes with a pleasure, that the finest work of art never conveyed ; we feel reluctant to leave them ; and often recur to them in memory, with a regret like that which we give to a friend we may never again behold. Lucerne, 4>th. — From Schaufhausen back through Zurich, to Lucerne, a lovely, but confused mass of woods, mountains, lakes, and vineyards, with cottages, of the most picturesque forms, present themselves, like the varying images in dreams ; and like them, leaving but indistinct though pleasant recollections in the mind. I must except some magnificent forests of pine and oak, which stand forth so pre-eminently in the scenery, as to form distinct features in it ; and the pretty village of Egliseau, with its bridge, which commands a varied and beautiful prospect. Lucerne, rising from its lovely lake, as if at the command of a magician, surrounded by its fortifi cations of the seventeenth century, which look insigT nificant compared with those natural ones, formed lucerne. 87 by the Almighty hand, some of which rise as if to join the clouds that float over them, constitutes one of the most interesting views I have yet seen. On the right and left are the Righi and Pilate moun tains ; the first, covered with verdure and hamlets, and the second, sterile and arid, with only a few stunted tufts of brown and withered vegetation, scattered over its naked and gloomy surface. The town is peculiarly clean, and the picturesque costumes of the female inhabitants add much to the beauty of the general effect. 5th. — The Fountain of the Lion, which we visited to-day, is a simple but sublime monument, erected by the Swiss to the memory of their countrymen, who feU on the memorable 10th of August, in de fence of a monarchy, whose subversion their devoted bravery could not retard. It represents a lion of colossal dimensions, cut out of a solid rock, and ad mirably executed. The lion is pierced by a lance, the point of which rests in the wound, and in ex piring covers with his body a shield, decorated with fleurs-de-lys. The inscription is, Hetvetiorum fidei ac virtuti. The names of the officers and soldiers 88 SECHERON. who lost their lives, the first, twenty-six in number, and the second, seven hundred and sixty are in scribed. This monument, with the limpid lake, which bathes the rock of which it is formed, and the bright verdure surrounding it, presents a most striking picture. Its guardian dwelt with no little self-complacency on the bravery and fideHty of his countrymen, and more than insinuated the wisdom, if not the necessity, of Louis the Eighteenth retaining a few regiments of them always near his person, in case of " accidents," as he quaintly expressed him self; "for he, like his good, but unfortunate brother, may yet require their aid, in a nation so fickle in its attachments, as the one where he reigns." Secheron, 8^.. — We are again at Geneva, which has as yet lost none of its beauty, although the autumn has tinged the foliage all around with its golden tints, and given a coldness to the air, that jrenders warm shawls a necessary accompaniment in all excursions. We went on the lake to-day, and were rowed by Maurice, the boatman employed by Lord Byron, during his residence here. Maurice SECHERON. 89 speaks of the noble poet with enthusiasm, and loves to relate anecdotes of him. He told us, that Lord Byron never entered his boat without a case of pistols, which he always kept by him ; a very super fluous ceremony, as Maurice seemed to think. He represented him as generally silent and abstracted, passing whole hours on the lake absorbed in reflec tion, and then suddenly writing, with extreme rapidity, in a book he always had with him. He described his countenance, to use his own phrase, as "magnifique," and different from that of all other men, by its pride (ferte was the word he used.) " He looked up at the heavens," said Maurice, " as if he thought it was his proper place, or rather, as if he accused it of keeping him here ; for he is a man who fears nothing, above or below. He passed whole nights on the lake, always selecting the most boisterous weather for such expeditions. I never saw a rough evening set in, while his lordship was at Diodati," continued Maurice, "without being sure that he would send for me ; and the higher the wind, and the more agitated the lake, the more he enjoyed it. We have often remained out eighteen hours at a time, and in very bad weather. — Lord Byron 90 SECHERON. is so good a swimmer, that he has Httle to dread from the water.— Poor Mr. Shelley," resumed Mau rice, " ah ! we were all sorry for him ! — He was a different sort of man ; so gentle, so affectionate, so generous ; he looked as if he loved the sky over his head, and the water on which his boat floated. He would not hurt a fly, nay, he would save everything that had life ; so tender and merciful was his nature. He was too good for this world; and yet, lady, would you believe it, some of his countrymen, whom I have rowed in this very boat, have tried to make me think ill of him ; but they never could succeed, for we plain people judge by what we see, and not by -what we hear." This was, in language somewhat different, the sentiment of our boatman's account of Byron and Shelley, two of the most remarkable spirits of our age* He seemed to admire the first, but it is evident he loved the second. How intel lectual must the intercourse of two such minds have been ; and how advantageous to Byron must have been the philanthrophy, and total freedom from bitterness of Shelley. Even the unworldliness of Shelley's mind must have possessed an additional charm in soothing the irritability of Byron's too sensitive and misan- SECHERON. 91 thropic disposition ; soured and disgusted by the conventional habits, and artificial society, from the trammels of which he had but lately broken, with the wounds which it had inflicted on his feelings, still rankHng\ Maurice pointed out to us La Villa Diodati, at CoHgny, where Byron resided ; and the house in which SheUey dwelt. To-morrow we leave Geneva. — I shall quit it with regret; for independent of the many attrac tions its beautiful lake and scenery furnish, the high cultivation of the country in the environs, the luxuriance of the fields, trees, and neatly-trimmed hedges, and the fine cows and sheep browsing about, remind me continuaUy of dear England: while in France, the want of such objects gives a strikingly disagreeable aspect to the general face of the country. 11th. — From Geneva to Nantua, the country is rich, and the scenery fine. The Rhdne winds rapidly through a valley, bounded at each side by stupendous mountains and rocks, interspersed with vineyards, and groups of large trees. At the French 92 SECHERON. frontier stands a fortress, of good appearance, and most romantically situated. I never pass one of those artificial barriers without reflecting with com placency on the natural one, that protects our own cherished England, — that gem, set in the sea, as if to preserve it from all foes ; save those who can surpass her sons in bravery, and nautical skill. ' But that such can ever be found, it would be pro fane for one, of her daughters to fear. No one who passes . through Bellegarde, should neglect to visit a natural curiosity in its neigh bourhood, well worthy of attention. It consists of a narrow defile, bounded on each side by steep rocks, overgrown by trees and shrubs. It was formerly the bed of a river, which was level with the tops of the rocks, as is proved by the marks still left on them ; but, by degrees, the river diminished to a narrow and shallow, but very rapid streamlet, which rushes with great impetuosity through natural arches, formed in the rocks by its own action. There are many fissures in the sides, from which descend cascades, sparkling in the air, with various prismatic colours, as the beams of the sun strike upon them ; and which then fall, with many a mur- LYONS. 93 mur, into the natural reservoirs formed in the stony bed of the river. Some of these basins are so large, as to look like small lakes; and on their unruffled surfaces, the overhanging rocks and foliage are reflected, as in a mirror. The descent to this place is difficult, and somewhat dangerous, from its steepness and the extreme slipperiness of the path. A bridge, of a single arch, is thrown across the defile, and has a very picturesque effect. The loud and sonorous murmurs of the water, rushing from the many fissures of the rocks, and the loneliness of the place, impress the mind with feelings of tender melancholy. We behold the change that Time, the destroyer, has wrought here ; and are reminded of that which he is imperceptibly, but unceasingly, effecting on all things. " Ainsi tout change, ainsi tout passe ; Ainsi nous-memes nous passons. Sans laisser, helas .' plus de trace Que cette barque ou nous glissons Sur cette mer ou tout s'efface-" Lyons, 13th This place possesses many souve nirs of the past; and Mr. Artaud, to whom we fortunately brought letters of introduction, is one 94 LYONS. of the best cicerones an inquisitive traveller could have. — Here, Mark Antony, Augustus, Agrippa, Claudius, Caligula, Nero and Trajan have sojourned, and helped to beautify the ancient Lugdunum, as Lyons was formerly called. Many remains of their stupendous works still remain, to delight the anti quarian, and furnish food for contemplation to the philosopher. But even to me, a woman, and, sooth to say, no philosopher, the wrecks of antiquity have a peculiar attraction ; and when the site of the once proud and gorgeous palace of the ferocious Cali gula was pointed out to me, now occupied by an asylum for lunatics, less furious and vicious than he, it required not the knowledge of the sage, or of the philosopher to reflect on the mutability of all earthly grandeur, and the frailty of human nature. On viewing places, with which the objects of our juvenile admiration or reprobation are asso ciated, the historical impressions of our childhood cease to be vague and indefinite, as heretofore. We identify the actors with the scenes where they per formed some of their parts in the drama of life ; and the images and ideas, long stored iia memory, LYONS. 95 become distinct and vivid. Lyons has, perhaps, ex perienced more of the reverses of the fickle goddess Fortune, than most other cities ; having, a century after its foundation, rivalled the most flourishing capitals of Gaul. We have the authority of Seneca and Tacitus, that it was destroyed by fire, during the reign of Nero ; under that, of Severus, in the eighth century, it was almost depopulated and laid in ruins by the Saracens; and in 1628, a severe visitation of the plague made a fearful havoc in it. But under none of these calamities could its mis fortunes have been greater than during 1793, when it was exposed to the ruthless fury of the Conventional army ; of whose brutal excesses it still bears many a melancholy memorial, in its dilapidated houses and ruined buildings. It is calculated that above three thousand of the inhabitants fell victims to the siege, and to the guillotine ; and it was only the death of the sanguinary monster Robespierre, that put an end to the carnage. 14^. — We spent some hours at the Museum to day, and saw, among other interesting Roman anti quities, the^celebrated bronze tablets, discovered in Q6 LYONS. 1528, on which are inscribed the harangue made by the Emperor Claudius in favour of Lyons. There were originally three tablets, but two only have been found. On comparing them with the harangue of Claudius, as given in the eleventh book of the Annals of Tacitus, it will be found that the feeble style of the emperor has been strengthened by the retouching of the historian. There are several fine busts and sarco phagi in the Museum. I noticed one sarcophagus of stone, made to contain two bodies, and, as the inscrip tion stated, intended as a receptacle for a married pair. One of the antiquities in the Museum most esteemed by the virtuosi, is the leg of a bronze horse, which is truly admirable in its proportions and execution. The history attached to this fine fragment is curious : it is reported that, for above fifteen hundred years, the watermen and fishermen had remarked a huge substance in the Sa6ne, between the wooden bridges, which they from time immemorial denominated "the broken iron pot," and they were in the habit of laying hold of it with their boat-hooks, to assist them to pull against the stream. On the 4th of Feb. 1766, the river being frozen, and being at the same time unusually low, a boat-builder, of the name of Bar- LYONS. 97 tholomew Laurent, observed that what had hitherto been supposed to be an iron pot, was something of much larger dimensions, and determined to get it up. He caued in the assistance of some porters, and with ropes they endeavoured to move it. After many efforts they dragged out this fine specimen of art,, which they carried to the H6tel-de-Ville, and received from the provost a couple of louis as a reward. Two mosaic pavements, of extraordinary beauty, the colours as fresh as if but newly formed, and the design and execution faultless, were shown to us. They were found in the vicinity of Lyons. The subject of one is thought to be a burlesque repre sentation of the gymnastic exercises ; the other, which is in perfect preservation, represents a chariot race in the circus ; it is above twenty feet long. A long catalogue of treasures, in marble, bronze, and terra cotta, aU, and each, highly interesting, were pointed out to us by M. Artaud, the director of the Museum, to whose taste, and indefatigable zeal and activity, it owes much of its celebrity. Its valuable contents are arranged, and classed with a precision, that greatly facilitates their inspection ; VOL. I. h 98 LYONS. while its perfect cleanliness and ventilation render it a most agreeable morning lounge. M. Artaud possesses a valuable collection of an tiquities in his private apartments, which those, who have the advantage of his acquaintance, are permitted to inspect : and his profound knowledge and love of the fine arts, and unerring judgment in antiquities, render his society a rich treat to all who have the pleasure of enjoying it. 15th. — Two considerable rivers, the Sa6ne and Rh6ne, traverse or border Lyons in its whole length. The first, which is slow in its course, bathes the base of the mountain Fourviere, on the lower part of which many of the houses are situated, and then bends gracefully from the Faubourg of Vaise, to that of St. Irene: while the Rhdne flows rapidly, and almost in a straight line, separating the town from the promenade of Britteaux, and from the Faubourg la GuiUotiere. Its junction with the Sa6ne occurs at the southern extremity of Lyons, and below the A116e Perruche. There is no river whose banks presents more beautiful landscapes than the Rh6ne, which, in its rapid course, may be likened to some LYONS. 99 gay votary of pleasure, hastening from one scene of beauty to another, scarcely pausing to admire one, ere he seeks some newer charm. The city is commanded by two mountains, that of Fourviere, which is on the right bank of the Saone; and St. Sebastien, which rises to the north, between the Rhdne and the Sa6ne. The streets are for the most part narrow, and, like the generaHty of those of French towns, extremely dirty. The squares are on a grand scale ; but the houses appear in such bad condition, as do also the pubHc buildings, that they present a miserable contrast to the style in which they were projected. The mountain Fourviere, which crowns the rows of houses built against its base, offers a variety of rural spots, groves, rocks, vineyards, and orchards, inter spersed with tasteful villas ; and its vicinity to a large commercial city is of incalculable advantage. The church of Notre Dame, and the house, called AntiquaiUes, are two of the objects to which a cicerone leads a stranger : the first of these build ings occupies the place ofthe ancient Forum Trajani, or Forum Veneris ; and the second, that of the pa lace of the Roman emperors. It was named Anti- h 2 100 LYONS. quailles, from the number of antiquities discovered on the spot, and is at present, as before stated, an Asylum for Lunatics. The beautiful altar, discovered in 1705 on the mountain of Fourviere, is worthy of notice : it has three fronts, the principal one is ornamented with a bull's head, decorated with fillets for the sacrifice, and has part of an inscription ; the second front has the head of a ram, which antiquarians assert, proves that this buU offering was similar to that offered in memory of Atys, to whom that animal was sacrificed ; the third front bears the crooked sword of sacrifice, made in the form of the harp, with which Perseus cut off Medusa's head. Over the sword is the fol lowing inscription, which I copied for the benefit of antiquarians : — CVIVS MESONYCTIVM FACTVM EST. V. ID. DEC. The other inscription, which is very legible, is as follows : — TAVRO BOLIOMATRISD. M. I. D. Quod factum est ex Imperieo Maties d. DEVM. Pro Salvte Imperatoris caes. t. aeli LYONS. 101 Hadriani Antonini avc. Pnp. Liberorumque eivs Et. Status Colonise lvgudvn. L. AEMILIVS CARTVS IilillVIR AVGIHM DENDROPHORVS VORON FECIT. (Here is the figure of a. bull's head.) VIRES EXCEPITET AVATICANOTRAS TVLIT ARA ET BVCRANIVM SVO INTENDIO CONSACRAVIT SACERDOTE. Q. SAMMIO SECVNDO'AB. XVVIRIS OCCABO ET CORONI EXORNATO CVI SANCTISSIMUS ORDO LVGDVNE PERPETVIATEM SACERDOTI DE CREVNI APP. ANNIO. ATILO BRADVAT CLODVI BIOIT VARO COS L. D. D. D. The quadrangular court belonging to the Museum, is fiUed with antiquities, in alto, and basso relievo, and with various inscriptions, inserted in the waHs. Of the wrecks of former ages, in the vicinity of Lyons, none is more interesting than the remains of the cele brated aqueduct constructed by Mark Antony, to 102 LYONS. furnish the inhabitants with water. Their extent is estimated at more than thirteen leagues, owing to their winding, though there are only eight in a straight line. Six of the arcades of the aqueducts are still standing near the gate of St. Irenaeus, and add much to the picturesque effect of the view. The country through which the aqueduct passed, being intersected by a number of valleys, which prevented its being carried in a direct line, it was found expedient to erect several bridges ; the finest of which now remaining, are those that form the tenth and eleventh series, of which sixty-two are still in preservation. The ancient castle of FranchevIUe, now in ruins, with some other gothic buildings, form a fine con trast with the Roman remains. The roads are bordered with hedges of hawthorn, privet, wild cherry-trees, and honey-suckle, and the hills around are covered by vineyards ; while the rivers are seen winding along, like silver serpents, through the rich fields, at one moment visible, and then hid by a wood or vineyard. The snow-crowned Alps, bound ing the horizon, complete this very fine picture. The silk manufactories here appear in a flourish- LYONS. 103 ing condition. Several specimens of rich furniture, in brocaded satin and silk, were shown us. But the prices were high, and the materials not so superior to our own, as might be expected from the much greater demand in France than in England. I am persuaded that, with due encouragement, our silk manufactories might, in a short time, compete with those of France ; and I trust we may soon be patri otic enough to give to our artisans that encourage ment ; instead of, as now, employing the looms at Lyons, and expending hundreds abroad that might be productive of so much beneficial influence at home. I saw several orders for hundreds of yards of silk furniture, from many individuals of my acquaint ance ; and they were displayed with an air that indicated a behef, that England could not supply similar productions. With the industry and skill of our mechanics, there is nothing which they could not, with proper encouragement, effect. Why then, should they not meet with it, from those whose duty it is to offer it ? Vienne, 17th So here we are at Vienne, one 104 VIENNE. of the most ancient cities of the Gauls, and a place once remarkable, though now little so, except for the picturesque beauty of its situation, and the interesting fragments of antiquity in its vicinity. M. Artaud recommended our sojourning here for some time, to explore its environs, which he says are charming. But the inn looks so unpromising, that I fear we must abandon the project. The entrance to Vienne offers one of the most striking scenes imaginable. St. Colombe, divided from it by the bright and Hmpid Rh6ne, with many a white sail, that bird-like, seems to skim the blue waters on which it glides, is seen to the right; and on the left, hiUs covered with vineyards, many of them crowned by ruins of towers and fortresses, with large rocks peeping through foliage, as luxu riant as the glowing skies that overhang their leafy canopies. All here is beautiful, while one keeps out of the miserable streets in the interior of the town ; but on entering the vile inn, the only one here, all is changed. Filthy stairs, dingy and dirty rooms ; attendants, possessing all the attributes of the ancient Locrians ; and beds, in which one is com pelled to reflect, feelingly, on the disadvantages of VIENNE. 105 animated nature ; repasts, where the want of clean liness is obvious ; and noises, various and appalling, as if chaos had come again. The grave is said to level all distinctions ; and the same observation may weU be applied to the "table ronde," the name of our own, for, no matter what may be the rank or station of its guests, they are all hurled into one focus ; all receive the same attention, or rather want of atten tion, the same bad fare, and must submit to the same system of imposition. The landlady seems to act on the charitable system of never turning away the weary traveUer from her door, and of always taking the stranger in. We have engaged nearly the whole inn for ourselves and suite, at an exorbitant price ; the proprietor reserving, beside those occupied by the family, one bedroom and salon, for the use of travellers. The stable and cuisine, which are only divided by a narrow passage through which the stairs pass, vie in odour and noise. The landlady seemed no less offended, than surprised, on our expressing disapprobation of her inn ; and with a toss of the head, " wondered what we could want more than was to be found at the table ronde." A table d'hdte is kept in the house, at which the 106 VIENNE. passengers of the diligences dine, with the landlady, and our servants ; and if we may judge from the noise and laughter we hear, no inconsiderable hilarity prevails at these repasts. My femme-de. chambre told me, that the French people only laughed at the bad fare, which made the English cross ; an observation highly characteristic of the distinction between the two people, though she who made it, viewed it only as a proof of the blamable want of fastidiousness of the French. 18th A barouche, with six inside and four out side passengers, arrived here at a late hour last night, and, to our perfect surprise, the courier was told that there was accommodation for them. They were conducted to the reserved bedroom, contain ing four beds, the distribution of which the new comers were left to decide ; but males and females; masters and servants, were aU expected to share not only the same room, but the "same pillows, as in the days of patriarchal simplicity. The greater part of a supper ordered for the hungry travellers, was devoured by a ravenous dog, a privileged favourite in this ill ordered establishment, and whose pro- VIENNE. 107 pensity to theft, the waiter assured us, frequently occasioned similar accidents. I mounted my horse with great pleasure to-day, in order to explore the interesting environs of Vienne, which are only accessible on foot, or on horseback. Some of the tracks we passed, require no smaU portion of courage to encounter ; many of them being steep and dangerous, with a precipice on one side, at the bottom of which rushes a foaming stream ; and on the other, a ridge of steep and rocky mountains, rising abruptly, and only leaving space between their base and the precipice, for the preearious passage of a single horse. We were amply repaid by the views which the accHvity of the mountain presented. They were various and beautiful; and the picturesque ruins of the castle of Mont Leans, which we quitted our horses to explore, form a fine feature in the landscape. The castle of Mont Leans stands on a rocky eminence, the base of which is washed by a rapid and winding stream. It is surrounded by wooded mountains, and these are overtopped on its right by the snow-crowned Alps and the Jura, and on the left by the steep and picturesque mountains 108 VIENNE. of Dauphine. Many a glowing vineyard and ver dant valley is seen from the romantic ruins of Mont Leans ; amid which wild shrubs and brush wood have sprung up in abundance, adding much to the beauty of the old castle. In many parts, a huge rock is seen rearing its giant head against the walls, as if to support the mouldering battlements, and wreaths of ivy and wild flowers interlace them together. The castle is supposed to have been built at the time of the Crusades, and must have been a place of considerable strength. No trace of any road to it remains ; and it is only accessible to the pedestrian or equestrian. The chateau de RoussiUon, and the tower that stands on the mountain of St. Colombe, as also the chateau de Seyssuel, formerly strong fortresses, now add considerably to the beauty of the scenery ; which 'offers as attractive subjects to the pencil of the artist or amateur, as can be found in France. The peasantry we encountered in our ride to-day, are peculiarly stupid, and nearly as wanting in inteUi- gence as the flocks they tend,. — They speak a patois, which was as incomprehensible to the ears of the VIENNE. 109 French gentlemen, who accompanied us, as to ours ; nor could they understand the questions addressed to them by their compatriots. Those who are acquainted only with the post- routes in France, can form no notion of the romantic beauty of some of the scenery in the interior of the country. But tbe badness of the roads and inns in remote places, exclude all but hardy equestrians, or pedestrians, who fear not vile paths and worse inns. 19th. — We rode to Condrieux to-day. The town is about three leagues from Vienne, and is situated on the opposite side of the Rh6ne, which is crossed by large boats, that are worked by ropes sustained by cranes, erected at each side of the river. These boats are of considerable dimensions, and continually passing and repassing, freighted with passengers in gay costumes, they add greatly to the animation of the picture. — On leaving Vienne, we proceeded along the banks of the river for about four miles, through a country well wooded, highly cultivated, and diversified by hiUs, rocks, and mountains, which are reflected in the bright waters of the Rhone. We 110 VIENNE. crossed the river, and proceeded by the St. Colombe side, until we reached Condrieux, passing through scenery even still more attractive than that presented on the Vienne side of the water. In one part, an island is formed by two rapid streams, rushing down from the mountains, and falHng into the Rh6ne. This verdant isle is rich in dwarf trees and luxu riant shrubs, which bend, as if to refresh their foliage in the limpid streams that surround them; and as the sun sheds its brilliant beams on this fairy isle, and sparkles on the ripples of the water, it resembles a vast emerald, set in diamonds. The town of Condrieux is mean, and the houses of the commonest description. The female inha bitants were seated in groups, on stone benches in front of their houses, plying the distaff, knitting, or working, and all singing or talking; while their children, nearly in a state of nudity, gambolled around them. They appeared much surprised, and not a little amused, at seeing a lady on a side-saddle ; as females here mount in a most patriarchal mode, that is, pre cisely as the men do, of which we have already had frequent specimens. VIENNE. Ill The women were nearly aU dark-haired, with saUow, or brown complexions, most of them without any covering on their heads, and wearing brown corsets, coloured petticoats, and gaudy handker chiefs ; their countenances were lively, but not one among the many we saw had the slightest pretensions to good looks. The children were very plain ; but seemed to possess an unusual degree of activity and animation, and, with their mothers, produced a most stunning noise. The old boatman of Condrieux offered an amusing picture of the mobility of the French character. He gave us an epitome of his Hfe, alternately laughing and crying, as the incidents he related happened to be of a comic or serious nature. The transitions from one emotion to the other were so rapid, that before one could display even a decent composure of countenance in sympathy with his sorrowful remi niscences, he burst into a hearty laugh at the recol lection of some amusing adventure. The quickness of his sensibiHty does not, however, appear to have impaired his health; for, though at the advanced age of seventy, he is hale and active, stiU preserves his teeth, and thick locks, of snowy whiteness, fall 112 VIENNE. over his ruddy cheeks. — He seemed sorry that our arrival at the opposite side of the river curtailed his history, the sequel of which he was very anxious to recount, and more than insinuated a desire, that we should wait for its completion. When we excused ourselves, on the plea of being pressed for time, he shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders, mut tering, — " It is always so, people are always in such a hurry, that they never have time to hear my story ; but let them hurry ever so much, time will overtake them ; ay, and death too, and then the worm alone will tickle their ears. Yes, I have seen many a one in such a hurry, but they were forced to stop after all, just as my poor Pierre — God give rest to his soul !" The story of " poor Pierre," we left to be repeated to some passengers who entered the boat after we left it ; and the donation we offered to the garrulous boatman, did not appear to console him for our in attention to his narrative. On the road to Con drieux, at the St. Colombe side of the water, we passed the vineyards from which the celebrated "vin de Cote Rotie" is produced, and which is conveyed to Paris by the river that waters their banks. VIENNE. 113 20th. — A wet day, and louring clouds, which indi cate that the rain wiU continue. No ride this after noon! — what is to be done? — write down the resume of my studies this morning, in the clever work of Mons. Rey, and antiquarian researches of the last two days. Never did neophyte commence the study of any science under better preceptors, than I have the good fortune to possess for my antiquarian lore, in M. Artaud and the Comte D'Hautpoul. Both have explored every ruin in this interesting place, and perused every work written upon, or that bears a reference to them ; so that I enjoy the best oral as weU as ocular information. — Allons done, to de scribe the ancient Vienne. Vienne, or the Vienna AUobrogem, the most ancient city of the Gauls, is in Dauphin6, in the department of the Isere, and on the banks -of the Rh6ne. It is of considerable extent, and beautifully situated, bounded by steep hiUs, covered with vine yards, intersected by large rocks, and backed by stupendous mountains, whose blue summits seem to mingle with the skies, the colour of which they emulate. The clear waters of the majestic Rh6ne urge their course rapidly along, dividing Vienne VOL. I. I 1 14 VIENNE. from St. Colombe, and bearing many a vessel on their limpid surface. Various have been the conjectures and accounts, given by historians, as to the probable founder of this ancient city. AUobrox, king of the Celts, Venerius, who was an exile from Africa, and the Cretans, have been in turn cited by Chorier, in his researches relative to Vienne, while Strabo affirms that it was the capital of the AUobroges, by whom it is most probable it was built. These warlike and powerful people occupied the country between the Rhdne, the Isere, and the Alps. Pliny, speak ing of the passage of Hannibal through the country of the Gauls, says, that this experienced warrior was afraid to approach the country of the AUo broges. Caesar classes the habitation of the Gauls under the names, Vici and Oppida, the first were the hamlets, or villages, occupied in times of peace, and were generally placed near a wood, or on the bank of a river, the latter were the fortresses, which were only resorted to when danger menaced. Strabo asserts that Vienne was nothing more than a vil lage, though he admits that it was the capital of the Gauls ; who probably had no cities previously VIENNE. 115 to their subjugation by the Romans. The Alio- broges were first conquered by Domitius, then by iEnobarbus, and afterwards by Fabius Maximus, who assumed the name of Allobrogensis ; and Vienne, and its territories, at that epoch became a part of Gaule Narbonnoise, Gallia Narbonnensis. Julius Caesar, in order to ensure the peaceable possession of the country which he had conquered, established colonies ; but the AUobroges, profiting by the troubles occasioned by the tragical death of that great man, revolted, and drove the colonists out of Vienne. The fugitives retired to the other side of the Rh6ne, complaining of the outrages which they had received ; on which the senate sent an order to Plancus to build a city at the confluence of the Rh6ne and the Saone. To this circumstance Lyons owes its origin. The dissensions which agi tated the Romans, prevented them from punishing the revolted AUobroges, who still retained the title of colony with aU its prerogatives. This is proved in the Digest de Censibus, where we learn that Vienne and Lyons enjoyed the Salique right, which exempted them from all tributes. Augustus is sup posed to have been the restorer of the colony of i 2 116 VIENNE. Vienne, and the temple which the Viennese erected in honour of his wife, was a mark of their gratitude. By the following inscription, preserved in the Mu seum at Lyons, we are informed that the Sexum- virate of Vienne and Lyons were united in the same person : — " Titus Cassius Mysticus, high-priest of Lyon and Vienne, erected this monument to Sextus Julius Helius, T. P. his kinsman." The bronze tablets of Claudius, found at Lyons in 1528, give an idea of the flourishing state of Vienne, and the consideration in which it was held by the masters of the world, who fortified, and embellished it with many noble buildings and beautiful monuments, which, even in their ruins, manifest their pristine splendour. In the time of the Romans, a magnificent palace was built at Vienne, and inhabited in turn by the emperors. The city was also considerably increased, and extended to the Place de 1' Aiguille, or Pyra- midical Cenotaph, covering the plain of St. Colombe on the other side of the Rhdne, and likewise a part of that of St. Romain. At length, the city became so vast and populous, that the Viennese were enabled to levy entire legions to support Vindex against the VIENNE. 117 Emperor Nero ; and though Vitellius afterwards sent the fourteenth legion, it was afraid to approach the place ; the bravery of its inhabitants being suffi ciently well known to be dreaded by these troops. Vienne is mentioned by Martial in the following- lines, equally complimentary to himself and to it : " Festus habere meos, si vera est fama, libellos, Inter delicias, pulchra Vienne, tuas.'1 A free Translation. If fame speaks true, O sweet Vienne, I'm blest ; For 'midst your dear delights, my works shall rest. During the reign of Diocletian, a new division of the empire was made, and Vienne became the capital of a province which contained Geneva, Grenoble, Albe (now Viviers), Die, Valence, Avig non, Aries, Carpentras, MarseiUes, Riez, Vaison, Orange, and CavaiUon, When Constantine created four prefects, he gave three lieutenants to that whose seat of justice was at Treves. One of them had his residence at Vienne, where the only depot of flax and hemp was estabHshed by the Gauls, as was also a manufactory for blades of swords, the steel of which was so finely tempered that they acquired such a celebrity, that no knight considered 118 VIENNE. himself well armed without his " Vienna," a name given to those blades. A company of wine-mer chants was also established at Vienne. A gold medal of the emperor Maurice, struck at Vienne, attests the fact of its having a mint ; and a consi derable number of moulds for medals were found by Monsieur Chapel du Cruzot, and are noticed by Monsieur Millin, in his Voyage du Midi. In the early part of the christian era, Vienne hastened to receive the Hght of the faith ; and the letters written by the heads of its church, as weU as by that of Lyons, to those in Asia, manifesting the deep in terest they felt for the persecutions to which the Christians had been exposed, are among the most curious monuments of that remote epoch. During the reign of the feeble Honorius, Vienne fell under the dominion of the Burgundians, and became the capital of their kingdom. The kings of Burgundy had a palace there, where Gondioc died about the year 467. Gondemard also held his court at Vienne when, in concert with Chil- peric, he made war against their brother, and they retired to this city, after having forced their enemy to take flight. Gondebaud did not permit VIENNE. 119 them to triumph long at his retreat, for he shortly returned and surprised them. He decapitated Chilperic, and burnt Gondemard, who had shut himself up in a tower ; and after this sanguinary vengeance, he took up his abode at Geneva, which became his capital. In the eighth century, Vienne was ravaged with fire and sword, by the Moors from Spain; aU on the right bank of the river was consumed by the flames, and though the part on the left was restored, the most beautiful of its monuments were destroyed. Vienne became suc cessively the property of the kings of France, who took possession of Burgundy. Boson, brother- in-law of Charles the Bald, revolted, and was crowned at MantaiUe, near St. Romain d'Albon, six leagues from Vienne, and declared that city capital of the second kingdom of Burgundy. Rho% dolphe, named Le Faineant, having allowed his states to be dismembered, Vienne became the prey of the governors and heads of the church. The chapter of St. Maurice and archbishops of Vienne, were intrusted with its guardianship, by Frederick I. in 1153. ImpHcit power was given to them to levy troops, make war, or peace, coin money, and 120 VIENNE. to count the seigneurs in the neighbourhood among their vast als. The guard of the Fort Pipet was con fided to a canon of St. Maurice. The Dauphins tried in vain to have the town included in their states. Humbert attempted to create certain rights, by buying those of the house of Vienne ; but never succeeded in having them acknowledged. Philippe de Valois, having possessed himself of the Faubourg de St. Colombe, united it to his king dom; and Charles V. obtained from the emperor, the title of vicar-general of the kingdom of Vienne and Aries, and governor of Dauphine, for his son Charles. It was after this title that he became master of Vienne in 1378. The archbishop Thi- baud de Rougemont was re-established in his rights in 1401 ; but the dauphin, afterwards Louis XI. by a treaty which took place in 1448, became sovereign of Vienne ; since when it has made a part of the kingdom of France. The sieges it sustained impaired the original splendour of Vienne ; but the ruins which still remain, convey a forcible impression of its former prosperity. Monsieur Rey, who has written a his tory of Vienne, has made such accurate researches, VIENNE. 121 as enabled him to trace the remains of many edifices ; and the following list of buildings will prove how much it was indebted to its Roman masters : — The Palace of the Emperors — the Temples of Jupiter, Mars, and Janus — the Palace of the Prae tors — the Pantheon — the Naumachia, and the Baths. The vestiges of its former prosperity which still remain, are those of the Temple of Augustus, the amphitheatre, theatre, the arch, walls, forts, terraces, aqueducts, and roads. The Pyramidal Cenotaph is stUl in such good preservation, as to have lost Httle by the rude hand of Time, and is an interesting monument of antiquity. One of the roads leads to Aries, and was formed by Domitian. Three of the aqueducts are described by Mr. Scheneyders, and a fourth is mentioned by Monsieur Cochard. There are besides a vast number of sewers, which are frequently mistaken for aqueducts, notwithstand ing the difference of their construction and desti nation. The Roman governors commenced the fortifications, about the period that Pompey was sent pro-consul into Spain, against Sertorius — 122 VIENNE. During the sojourn of Pompey at Vienne, he sug gested to Manilius, who commanded there, the idea of erecting new fortifications on an eminence which commands the town, and which was nearer than the other fortified positions. This place was named Forum Pompeiacum, instead of Eumedium, and the Castellum de Pupeto (now Fort Pipet) situated at the east of the city, between the gate of Pipet and that of St. Marcel, owes its construction to the same source. The precious fragments of antiquity found in latter times beneath this height, have caused it to be considered as the capitol of Vienne. The walls and massive posts which form the re nowned enclosure of the Castrum, are attributed to Julius Caesar. The extent forms a circuit of between eighteen and nineteen thousand feet, and from the immense thickness of the foundations, it is imagined that, in the weaker parts of natural defence, they were of extraordinary height. These formidable ramparts may be traced from the spot where stood a tower on the banks of the Rh6ne, which is said to have been the prison of PUate,* * " II est certain qu'Archelaiis, successeur d'Herode, au royaume de Judee, fut relegue a Vienne par Auguste ; qu'il en fut tde meme VIENNE. 123 and was hence caUed the Tower of Pilate, to the Mons Salutis, now Mon Salomone, down to the Porte Scopaine, where there was a Roman gate. After covering Mont Arnold, they fall suddenly on the place now caUed Faubourg Pont-Eveque, where is also a gate ; then ascending the Mont Quirinal, or St. Blandine, they faU again into the vaUey, a little below the grotto of St. Marcel, where was the fourth gate. The Hne of walls passed thence round Mont Crappum, or St. Juste, to Fer- rouiUere, where was a fifth gate, and thence crossed a rivulet. The traces of the ruins do not admit of ascertaining where the waUs again joined the Rhdne. Besides the gates into the city, there were others for facUitating the entrance of provisions within the walls, two of these open into Mont Salutis. The Romans, who found that their soldiers, if quartered in towns, would contract enervating habits, kept them in camps removed from the city. The three hiUs devoted to this use, were those of Salutis, d'He'rode Antipas par Caligula, et que Pilate fut egalement banni par cet empereur, dans les Gaules. Joseph, en ses Antiqute's Judaiques, le dit formellement des deux premiers ; mais il assure que Pilate fut exile a Lyon, et Adon soutient que c'est a Vienne, et une legende de St. Mamert l'assure egalement." — Rey, p. 28. 124 VIENNE. Arnoldi, and Crappum. The Quirinal Mont, or St. Blandine, which is the most elevated part, formed the citadel; and the fort of Pompey or Pipet was the capitol of Vienne. The fort de la Bastia stands, a proud record of the strength of the Roman castrum ; and, on approaching the town is the first object that impresses the traveller with an idea of the ancient grandeur of Vienne. The fortresses remaining to be noticed, are the towers of St. Symphorien, de Pinet, d'Auberive, and d' Albon, which have by some been said to have been erected for the defence of Vienne. But this opinion is, by the more learned, said to be erroneous; for St. Symphorien they assert was buUt in the thirteenth century, by the counts of Savoy, to whom Vienne then belonged. Auberive was the patrimony ofthe house of Chalons, princes of Orange, by whom it was built, and was caUed Albariva, or white bank, from the whiteness of its sands, which is used in manufacturing glass. Albon belonged to the Dauphins. Vienne, in the time of the Romans, was sufficiently defended by the forts and camps within its circumference ; in latter times the for tresses of Monleans, the castle of RoussiUon, above VIENNE. 125 the grand road to Avignon, the little tower on the mountain of St. Colombe, and the chateau de Seys- suel, were the advanced posts, which were difficult to carry. About a mile from the town stands the ruins of the castle, built by Gerard de Rous- siUon, count of Vienne, when he was besieged by Charles the Bald. It is situated on an eminence to the east, and bears the name of its founder. Near the gate of St. Marcel are the. ruins of the Roman theatre. They are above the road Beaumur, so called from the beautiful remains of this building, which stand at the base of Mount Crappum, or St. Juste, backed by a rock which is nearly perpendicular, and said to resemble one at Delos. This situation was well chosen, as it ren dered the voice more audible as well as sonorous. The theatre is elevated more than thirty-six feet above the platform of the amphitheatre, from which it is not far distant; but, owing to the continual falling in of the earth from the rock above, the remaining walls are so covered, as to render their discovery difficult, unless with considerable labour. The diameter is more than fifty-seven feet ; the wall which borders the road Beaumur is tra- 126 VIENNE. versed by a vault, which serves as a sewer to carry off the rain water, as weU as that which filters from the rock. There is another wall paraUel to this on the same road, which terminated the back part of the scene ; and between these two waUs there was a passage, by which the actors passed from the stage. There- were also lateral buildings to accommodate the spectators who came from a distance, and which were therefore caUed hospitales. The walls which traverse the road De FerouUlat, and which extend through the neighbouring vineyards, terminate the cullSe, and separate the seats from the hospitales. The waUs which take the direction towards the middle of the orchestra, inclosed the stairs for as cending to the different parts. The place assigned to the senators was in the orchestra, immediateby at the foot of the proscenium; and the knights occupied the cavea or parterre. A considerable portion of the ruins of the theatre served to build the church and monastery of St. Peter, on the site of the Campus Martius. The church of St. Stephen was erected from the ruins of the Pantheon, and the present theatre (a miserable building) out of the ruins of the Roman Baths. VIENNE. 127 How much is the ignorance to be deplored, that induced the former possessors of Vienne to destroy such precious remains of antiquity! The only Roman monument at Vienne that is not in ruins is the Pyramid, known by the appeUation of the Cenotaphe, or Place de 1'AiguiHe. Various are the conjectures as to the use for which it was originally designed ; and few, if any, of those who have hazarded them, have agreed in their con clusions. It bears evident marks of never having been completed ; the capitals, indeed, are almost in the earHest and roughest stage of their original formation : the base also was left unfinished, and the columns were not poHshed. The proportions are nearly those of Vitruvius, and the whole effect of the Pyramid is imposing. It is supposed to have been the Tomb of Venerius, founder of Vienne, or the first mile-stone of the town ; or the Tomb of Pilate ; or an obelisk presenting a front to the four cardinal points, which had marked the hours on a horizontal cadran. Chorier, in his erudite work on the anti quities of Vienne, asserts this monument to be the Cenotaph of Augustus ; and other antiquarians be lieve it to be that of Severus, as Crevier, in his 128 VIENNE. " Histoire Ancienne," states that a cenotaph was erected in Gaul to his memory; and as the only other building of this kind known in Gaul is that at Mayence, recognized as being raised in honour of Drusus, this at Vienne is asserted to be the one re ferred to. The antiquarians of the present day at Vienne maintain their different opinions on this point with no inconsiderable degree of warmth and anima tion ; and it is not a Httle amusing to a phUoso- phical observer to be present when they advance the reasons on which they have based their beHefs. 26th. — The greater part of the last two days has been passed at the Musee, formerly the Church of St. Peter, and now, converted into a receptacle for the antiquities discovered at Vienne and its en virons. It contains many most precious fragments of antiquity, as weU as some interesting ones of the middle ages. Among the former is a colossal head of Jupiter, which has, however, been injured by the injudicious hand of an artist employed to repair it. A mask of Bacchus crowned with ivy and hops ; a male torso of great beauty, bearing a likeness to that of Antinous ; and an exquisite group, consist- VIENNE. 129 ing of two children, formed of Parian marble, dis puting the possession of a dove. The youngest is represented biting the arm of him who holds the bird, whUe a lizard seizes a butterfly on his knee. At the side of the elder, a serpent passes the trunk of a hoUow tree, and appears to raise itself to attack him, and the least of the children presses with his foot the tail of the serpent. The execution of this group is very fine, and luckily it is so little impaired by time, as to retain its pristine beauty. This charming work was discovered in a vineyard at a short distance from Vienne ; and has been noticed by Messrs. MiUin and Cuvier. The much admired statue of the boy plucking a thorn from his foot, now in the Louvre at Paris, was also found here. Several fragments of rare beauty, but too numerous to mention, ornament the Museum at Vienne. Limbs, some of colossal proportions, statues, torsos, alti and bassi-relievi, cornices of admirable work manship, and mosaic pavements, attract the atten tion of the stranger ; and a collection of objects of art fiU different armoires, many of them well worthy of attention. A fragment of mosaic of the fifteenth century, composed of glass of various brilliant VOL. I. K 130 VIENNE. colours, intermixed with leaves of gold and silver, is of rare beauty. Columns, capitals, friezes, cine rary urns, busts, and vases, are here in abundance; and a marble altar, presenting three fronts, finely sculptured, is much esteemed by the virtuosi. It is gratifying to observe the pride which the respectable part of the inhabitants take in the Museum. They direct the attention of travellers to it with no little self-complacency, and take an interest in every object of art discovered in the excavations. "Notre Muse]e," as they call it, is referred to, as something to be justly vain of : and never did national vanity find a more inoffensive source of indulgence. The inscriptions found, which are numerous, encourage a love of reading, in order to compare the different historical authorities, as to their original destination and signification. Many fathers bring their sons to, translate for them ; while those who are more erudite display their learning in explaining, the various objects of art, and descanting upon the inscriptions. 27$, — Rode over the lulls to-day. The weather mild and genial, as if it was the early part of Sep- VIENNE, 131 tember, instead of the close of October. The aque ducts, which are in many places in a state of perfect preservation, present a very picturesque effect among the undulations of the hills, which are nearly overgrown with box and privet, the fresh green of which looks stiU more vivid near the limpid stream furnished by the aqueducts, and which gushes brightly from its arches. Nothing can be more beautiful or various than the views these hills command ; the Rhone forming always a striking feature in the picture. If Vienne was inhabited by English instead of French, how many tasteful viUas, and pretty cottages, would soon ornament its environs. At present not one residence of either kind is to be seen, though the beauty of the country might tempt at least the rich citizens to erect such, as a temporary retreat from the turmoil of business ; but it is evident the modern French have as Httle inclination for rural retirement as those of I'an- cien regime ; unlike our citizens, who rarely lose that preference for green fields and trees, which is a pecuUar taste of all classes in England, as is evinced by the stately mansions and comfortable abodes, as weU as the simple cottages, scattered k 2 132 VIENNE. around London. How inviting are the residences of our citizens, where they inhale the fresh breezes of the country, and lay in a stock of health for their commercial occupations. How often, when viewing the fine prospects in France, does memory dwell on the highly cultivated ones at home ? Richmond — unrivaUed, unequaUed Richmond — with its umbra geous trees, verdant lawns, flowery gardens, bright river, and picturesque villas : — to Dulwich, with its pretty houses, embowered in trees, and perfumed by glowing flowers ; — and to Hampstead, with its wild heath, and fresh gales. No ! there is nothing like dear old England! We may love to wander in other countries ; but that is our home, the home of our choice, of our affection. One has read of a lover who left his mistress that he might write to her. It is thus we leave our fatherland, to think of it more fondly, more proudly ; and to return to it as the schoolboy does to his mother's arms, after his first separation. 28th. — On wandering through the iU-constructed streets of this, at present, obscure town, it is diffi cult to imagine that it was here that the council was VIENNE. 133 held in 1311 and 1312, which pronounced the abo- Htion of the Knights Templars ; when Philip le Bel, with all his court, attended. The historian Fleuri relates the circumstance. The knights were named Templars owing to Baldwin II., king of Jerusalem, having given them a residence close to the temple of Solomon. The order did not exist two centuries, and was aboHshed during the time that Briand de Lagnieu was archbishop of Vienne. The pope, Clement V., convoked a general council on the sub ject of the affairs of the Templars ; the succour to be sent to the Holy Land ; and the reformation of the manners and discipline of the church. At this council were assembled above three hundred bishops, exclusive of cardinals ; the patriarchs of Alexandria and of Antioch, the abbes, and priors. No decree passed during the first session, and the rest of the year was devoted to conferences on the subjects to be decided, and particularly on all the affairs relating to the Knights Templars. The acts made against them were read, and the pope demanded the advice of his clergy. They were unanimous, with one soli tary exception, in the opinion, that the defence of the knights should be heard before any decision was 134 VIENNE. pronounced ; a unanimity not a little remarkable, when one reflects that the prelates of Italy, Spain, Germany, England, Scotland, Ireland, and Den mark, were in the council. Those of France were of the same, opinion, except the archbishops of Rheims, of Sens, and of Rouen. The next year, during Lent, Philip le Bel came to Vienne, accom panied by his three sons, Louis, King of Navarre, Philip, and Charles. The haughtiness and inde pendence of the knights, founded on their high birth and the military glory they had achieved, in spired Philip le Bel with a jealousy and hatred, in which the natural weakness and cruelty of his cha racter disposed him to indulge ; and on Good Friday, the 22nd of March, Pope Clement assembled a num ber of cardinals and bishops, who, influenced by the persuasions of Vertot, consented to pronounce a sentence of annulment against the Knights Tem plars.* Their suppression was published at the second session, in presence of Philip le Bel, his three sons, and his brother Charles de Valois. Thus was abolished the order of the Templars, which, since its approval at the council of Troies, in 1128, * Rapin de Thoiras. VIENNE. 135 existed one hundred and eighty-four years. By an agreement between the pope and council, a portion of the property of the Templars was given to the Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem, who are now the Knights of Malta. Vienne was formerly united to St. Colombe by a bridge, which, owing to some defect in the con struction, required frequent and expensive repairs ; to defray the cost of which various expedients were had recourse to. Antoine de la Colombiere, grand vicar of the Archbishop Ange-Cato, devised the only successful plan. In the diocese of Vienne, as in the rest of France, Lent always commenced on Monday, instead of Wednesday, as at present ; and the vicar bethought him of publishing, in 1500, a general dispensation from this ancient custom, and permitted the people to eat meat on the Monday and Tuesday of the first week in Lent, provided that each inhabitant above the age of seven years paid a fee of three farthings. And in order to ex cite their Hberality, he gave to those who brought the fee forty days' free pardon in remission of their sins ; commanding, under pain of excommunication, that all those who would not pay, should strictly 136 VIENNE. observe the statute which ordained an abstinence from meat and other prohibited articles of food, on the Mondays and Tuesdays. The pope approved this act, and the legate of Avignon reiterated it in a bull dated 1507- In course of time this concession of the church, which at first concerned only the people of Vienne, extended itself over the diocese, and Le CarSme lost for ever the two days named, which were added to the wild gaieties of the Carnival: a proof that, even in remote times, good cheer was as highly appreciated by the Viennese as it is at pre sent by those with more pretensions to refinement. Of this bridge, there remains at present but one pile, which is the centre one, standing in the middle of the Rhdne, and which adds much to the pic turesque appearance of Vienne. The suppression of the Cour des Aides, estabHshed by Louis XIII., was very injurious to Vienne, but the Revolution produced a melancholy change in its fortunes. Prior to that event, she possessed a rich and nu merous clergy. Her archbishop took the title of Primate of Gaul ; she had two chapters richly endowed, and various royal abbeys. The division of France into departments has taken from the VIENNE. 137 jurisdiction of Vienne a great portion of its former territory, and it required the enterprising spirit, and persevering industry, for which its inhabitants are remarkable, to enable the town to support the reverses it had endured. Guided by her ancient love of commerce, and taking advantage of the waters of the Gere, the Leveau, and the brook St. Marcel, the citizens of Vienne have established various manufactories of cloth and satteen on the borders of these streams, and the place bids fair to entitle itself at no remote period to be classed among the first rank of manufacturing towns in France. 29th. — Went to view the fine mosaic pavement discovered in a vineyard near the Place de 1' Aiguille. It is of considerable extent, and in perfect preserva tion ; the principal compartments have figures of men, with wings, weU executed. We were also shown in the same vineyard a small compartment of mosaic, lately discovered, and which is supposed to extend to a considerable distance. 30th. — Rode " over the hills and far away," on roads, if such steep and dizzy tracks may be so designated, that almost made me giddy to look on 138 VIENNE. them; some, overhanging precipices, that I dared not contemplate, and broken by brawling brooks, that dashed down the sides of the chasms. I find my English thorough-bred horse not quite steady enough for such expeditions, and mean to persuade Compte D'Hautpoul to seU me his charger Mame luke, whose paces and sobriety have pleased me. I am amused at discovering how philosophicaUy we have all learned to submit to the discomforts of the table ronde, which appeared so insupportable the first two or three days. The secret of our philoso phy is, the unusual quantity of air and exercise we have indulged in ever since our arrival here. They bestow an elasticity of spirits that enables us to bear up against the dSsagrimens of our inn ; give an appetite, that renders palatable our ill-dressed re pasts ; and an inclination to sleep, that makes our indifferent beds almost as acceptable to wearied frames as luxurious ones. I find that the table ronde owes its name to a rare monument, formerly situated in the immediate spot where the inn now stands. In the middle of a small building supported by four columns was a round table, which gave the name ; and the building served as an asylum against arrest VIENNE. 139 for debt, or murder. To enjoy this privilege it was necessary to cry out, on placing a hand on the bolt of the door, " Franchise MontlSans." The mer chandize or furniture placed in this asylum, were as safe from seizure as was the person of their pos sessor. This privUege was granted to the ancient lords of Montleans, and after them, those of Mau- giron succeeded to it. In 1792 the building was destroyed, in order to widen the street. 31st. — Crossed over to St. Colombe, accompanied by our classical cicerone M. Artaud, to inspect the interesting fragments of antiquities at that side of the Rhdne. The tower, built by Philippe de Valois, first attracted our attention. It is a square buUding of simple but solid construction, and in good pre servation, and was erected to defend the passage of the bridge. A magnificent palace is said to have been buUt at St. Colombe, stiU cited as the palace of Pompey, or the palace of Mirror, the last epithet being appHed to it, owing to the polished marble with which its interior was Hned. This palace furnishes a fruitful field for the descriptive powers of antiquarians to luxuriate in ; and the magnificent 140 VIENNE. frieze, .and cornice of marble, as well as statues, found on the site it occupied, justify their conjec tural eulogiums. At St. Colombe, we saw a mosaic pavement, only excavated the previous day, and which formed the decoration of some of the rooms of the before mentioned palace. It is in a vineyard, and is of considerable extent, judging by the corre sponding portions discovered in various parts of the same place. The proprietor of the vineyard had a number of workmen, who uncovered a considerable piece of this beautiful pavement while we were present ; and it was with feelings of no common in terest that we beheld restored to the light of day, a work of art that had been for centuries concealed from human sight. Each compartment of the prin cipal mosaic, supposed to be the centre, has a bird or an animal, surrounded by borders of rich and varied patterns. When a few buckets-full of water had been thrown over them, the colours became as vivid as in their pristine beauty, and the peacocks, pheasants, ducks, and cocks, were portrayed with an accuracy and spirit that would not have shamed even the pencil of Landseer ; the various shades of their glowing plumage being accurately represented VIENNE. 141 by a composition of blue, white, and red earth, glass, and stones, highly polished, which has a bril hant effect. Several specimens of mosaic have been discovered in other parts of the vineyard ; and M. Artaud is of opinion that the whole plan of the ground floor might be traced by the pavement. One is simple, and is supposed to be that of the vestibule ; others branching from it, are said to be passages, or corridors, but the last, excavated, is by far the most beautiful, and is consequently assigned to have been that of the haU of state. How many reflections did the view of this fine pavement excite, as the workmen uncovered the com partments ! Centuries have passed away since the Hght feU on them, and generations and generations have been swept from the earth, yet the colours of this work of art retain all their original beauty. Those pavements have often echoed to the tread of the mighty and famed ; their eyes have often glanced on the figures so well represented, on which mine have looked, and which are now, after a lapse of centuries, again displayed to admiring spectators! Could this pavement reveal the scenes that have occurred on it, what a story might it not unfold! 142 VIENNE. A tale of passion, love, hate, ambition, operating on its slaves more powerfully than, in our days, because the; world was less old, less civilized, and less blasS ; and prudence, or its substitute hypocrisy, was less known, as it was less, necessary. Great virtues and great crimes marked those times : gene ral humanity and petty vices the present. The deeds of the, ancients* whether of good or of evil, were Hke their buildings, calculated, to leave behind them subjects for the reflection of posterity ; while ours are formed to endure but a brief epoch, and scarcely survive the actors or the architects. Yet we have some heroes that may defy oblivion. We have him — him, the hero of a. hundred fights ! Yes, Wel lington is a name that wiU live when no stone of the edifice wherein he dweUs, will remain to indicate its site ; for his. deeds are more imperishable than any monument we moderns can erect to commemorate them. Should we not reverence those who link their country to fame; who secure far it that glory which lor ages will survive? Such men should, in their lives, experience the respect and homage that the world will accord their memories ; we, should be to them— as posterity. VIENNE. 143 November 1st — Went to St. Colombe again to day ;. and examined the ruins of the Roman baths. The parts of the walls that remain are of opus reticulatum, a species of brick- work that well resists the assaults of time. The flue for conduct ing the heat to the baths is visible, and judging by the fragments of rare and rich marbles found in abundance on the spot, it may be concluded that these thermae or baths were constructed with no ordinary attention to decoration. The walls of the vineyard in which these interesting ruins are situated, are for the most part composed of the fragments of the ancient palaces and thermae. At every step the eye discovers a mutilated capital, broken column, or fragment of the drapery of a statue ; and pieces of lapis lazuli, Parian marble, serpentine* vert antique,, granite and porphyry, are continually found in turning up the earth. It was in the immediate vicinity of the baths, that the beautiful torso, now in the Museum at Vienne, was discovered. Monsieur and Madame Michaud allowed us to examine this valuable and interesting coUection of antiquities, all found on their property at St. 144 VIENNE. Colombe. Among the finest specimens is a small bronze statue of a faun with a sheep on its back, and several fragments of statues, many of which are of great beauty. I am indebted to their polite liberality for a small marble hand, found near the baths, and specimens of the different marbles used in the decoration of the palaces and thermae. They showed us a glass lachryrmatory found in an an cient tomb near Vienne, which resembles mother- of-pearl in its prismatic hues; and several curious articles of Roman pottery. It is interesting to witness the pleasure with which the antiquarians of Vienne behold every object of art discovered in their neighbourhood. It is examined, commented upon, admired, and praised with an enthusiasm peculiar to the gentle craft of antiquarians ; but still more peculiar to those who, Hving remote from cities, and the excitement of political or com mercial pursuits, bestow the whole of their atten tion on this, to them, fascinating occupation. It is perhaps more wise, and is certainly less selfish, to allow one's thoughts to revert to the past, as antiquarians do, than to permit them to be wholly engrossed by the present ; as is the case with the VIENNE. 145 mere men of the world, though the latter are apt to smUe in pity at what they term, the busy idleness of the former. 2nd. — The weather is so exceedingly mild here, that one might be tempted to imagine that autumn was in "the sere and yellow leaf." This mild ness does not compensate for the annoyances it produces, for flies are very disagreeable, covering the table and dishes ; and the mosquitoes are in sufferable, attacking strangers with a pertinacity that nearly defies the means employed to repel them. My face bears visible signs of their glut tonous propensities ; and at night, the buzzing sound they make, occasions many a start from the piUow. Our less genial climate has many advantages, among which, not the least is its ex emption from the troublesome insects that swarm in France. Comte D'Hautpoul has kindly consented to sell me his charger Mameluke, and I am delighted with my new acquisition; I rode him to-day, and rejoiced in the steadiness of his temper and easiness of his paces. He is so well broken in that a child VOL. I. L 146 VIENNE. might ride him; yet he arches his neck and prances with a fierti that might alarm one who did not know his gentleness. There is nothing more invi gorating to the frame, or exhilarating to the spirits, than a gallop across the turf on the surrounding hills ; a fresh and bracing air fanning the cheeks, and the rapid movement circulating the blood briskly through the veins. Exercise is the key to health ; but how many suffer it to rust from disuse, and consequently lose the blessing it could bestow. It is not physical enjoyment alone that depends on the possession of it, for the mind gains in a ten fold degree. The beauties of nature and art are infinitely more prized ; and even study becomes more agreeable when the body is in robust con dition. 3rd. — Saw a sad sight to-day — the corse of a soldier of the 9th chasseurs, borne by some of his companions, the sanguine stream of life still flowing from his wounds. He had been kUled in a duel, only a few minutes before ; was considered a brave man, and remarkable for good looks. A private soldier killed in a duel, sounds oddly to EhgHsh VIENNE. 147 ears ; but, in France, it is an occurrence by no means unfrequent. A false sentiment of honour, strongly inculcated in the military profession here, operating on the choleric tempers of men as remark able for an inordinate amour-propre as for bravery, leads continually to such results. An insulting epithet, rude contradiction, rivalry in an affaire de camr, or any one of a hundred other causes of dis sension, is foUowed by a duel, fought with swords ; many of which end fatally. In our service, similar causes would not produce the same effect : not owing to any want of bravery, for in that quality our sol diers have weU proved that they yield to none ; but simply because they think and feel differently. They imagine that a good exchange of lusty blows scien- tificaUy inflicted, is as rational a mode of resenting an offence, as the more chivalrous one of the duello ; and reserve their swords for the enemies of their country. It was terrific to behold the pale and ghastly corse, stained with blood, that only a few minutes before had been warm in life ; and, still more dreadful, to think the departed had met dissolution while seeking to inflict it on his opponent ; that he had rushed l 2 148 VIENNE. into the presence of his Creator with the desire of vengeance, only stayed by death! Perhaps even now, some fond mother is anticipating a meeting with him; or some affianced bride counting the hours of a separation that she dreams not will be interminable! Alas! alas! few are they who can leave this earth without bringing sorrow on some one who loved them ; some one who will turn from the pleasant spring, when it comes forth with its sunshine and leaves, to think of him who can enjoy them no more! and yet, a hasty word, a puerile offence, can make a man brave death, draw desola tion on those to whom he was dear, and outrage the Divinity by rushing into His presence uncalled. 4>th. — Walked over Vienne to-day ; had the site of the ancient baths, at present occupied by the theatre, pointed out to me. They are reported to have been of extraordinary splendour ; and the description of them given by Chorier, in his Antiquities of Vienne, leads one to regret that, instead of building on the spot, the whole of the ruins had not been excavated with care, and their remains left, like those at St. Colombe, to gratify the curiosity of antiquarians. VIENNE. 149 Chorier's description is really gorgeous. He say^s that one of the baths was of a rotund form, and was entered by a flight of marble steps. It was lined with verd antique, and around it were seats of Parian mar ble. Fragments of an entablature of the same mate rial were found ornamented by fine sculptures. The columns that supported this building were of differ ent coloured marbles, of the richest quality. Two statues of rare beauty, and the feet of one of bronze, were discovered attached to pedestals. That of bronze was the work of a Greek sculptor, Myron, whose name was on the pedestal. One of the marble statues represented an athlete, of colossal proportions, supposed, from its nudity, to have been the production of the celebrated Zenodorus, who was employed ten years on the colossal statue of Mercury, executed for the city of Clermont, in Auvergne ; and whose long residence in Gaul, whence he was caUed to Rome by Nero, renders the supposition probable. The head of this statue was sent to Paris. Frag ments of marble pavements of rosso antico, bor dered by blue, capitals of columns, broken friezes, alti and bassi-relievi, mutilated statues, and leaden pipes for distributing the water in the different baths, 150 VIENNE. have been found in abundance, when laying the foundation of the theatre. 5th.— This day, sacred in England to dense fogs, and effigies of Guy Fawkes, has been here as mild and sunshiny as the first days of September. The influence of climate on the health and spirits is, after all, not to be denied ; and it compensates for the lack not only of luxury, but of comfort, ex perienced in a rambling life on the Continent. Yet when the evening closes in, and a cold air, not excluded by ample window curtains, well-fitting windows, and doors that shut close, makes itself felt, I yearn for the well furnished, well warmed apart ments of my home ; where the genial atmosphere and solid elegancies within doors, make one forget the discomforts without. The luxuries and refinements that civilization begets, though they have their dis advantages, are not without many advantages ; not the least of which may be considered the love of home they create in those who might not be in fluenced by more patriotic sentiments. Our country and hearths become doubly dear when their luxu rious comforts are contrasted with the cheerless VIENNE. 151 residences of the Continent ; which, whatever may be their pretensions to costly decoration, are sadly deficient in that English indispensable, comfort. Who would not fight for that cheerful hearth, by whose exhUarating blaze he has sat surrounded by the objects of his affection, enjoying all the ap pliances of competence that industry can supply, or civiHzation invent? How often, when travelling in an autumnal evening, in dear England, have I glanced through the well cleaned casements of the humble cottages that border the road, and been de lighted with the pictures the interior presented. The bright fire, and mantel-shelf over it, with its shining coppers ; the clock, that marks the flight of time ; the well-rubbed warming-pan ; the dresser with its store of china and delf ; and the clean cloth spread on the homely board, round which happy faces are congregated — yes, such scenes have I often dwelt on with pleasure in England. But, in France, I have as yet beheld none such. A man, with an air half soldier half mechanic, is seen loitering in chat with some neighbour, at the doors of the untidy abodes that, few and far be tween, are scattered along the sides of the roads in 152 vieNne. France; or else a masculine, ill-favoured looking woman fills up the door- way, cutting, with a large knife, a wedge of bread, that in colour emulates the tint of her complexion ; while a few sturdy, sallow- faced children, seem to bid defiance to the angry reproofs she occasionaUy bestows on them, for tor menting the long-legged pigs, lanky dogs, and skinny cats, that unhappily fall in their way. How often have I, when travelling in the environs of some English city, looked with delight on the neat dwellings, and their trim gardens, redolent with flowers, that are thickly strewn by the road's side. The luxuriant growth of the flowers indicated the care bestowed on their culture ; the dahlias flaunted in all the pride of their gorgeous hues ; and every autumnal garden guest bloomed so richly as to make one forget the roses they succeeded. The grass plots were green, and smooth as velvet ; the gravel walks displayed not a single faded leaf, or weed, to sully their purity ; and the balustrades and rail ings, nay, the very walls that inclosed the pleasure grounds, looked as if well washed every day. The brass knocker, plate on the door, and bell handles, shone like gold, bearing evidence to the indefatigable VIENNE. 153 zeal of the housemaid ; and the bright panes of glass, and pretty flower vases that graced the windows, were equaUy creditable to her care. In the window of one of these residences might be seen a staid and venerable matron, with spectacles on nose, anxiously looking towards the road for the arrival of her good man from the city, where he had been engaged in his daUy avocations since the morning. It is the hour for his return ; Betsy, the cook, has answered that the fish is boUed, the mutton done to a turn ; and she hopes master wUl soon come. A gig stops at the door; a sleek, weU-conditioned horse, who has drawn it, seems to know he is at home ; a steady- looking lad, in a plain sober livery, jumps out and assists an elderly gentleman, with rubicund cheeks, protuberant stomach, cloth gaiters, and closely but toned great-coat, to alight, who, looking at his watch, proclaims that he is five minutes later than his ordinary time, and inwardly hopes the mutton is not overdone. In the window of another dwelling, a youthful and handsome woman may be seen, even more anxiously looking at the road than the elderly ma tron we have described. Her dress, though simple, 154 VIENNE. is so tasteful as to bear irrefragable proof that its effect has been carefully studied. A beautiful child of two years old, is in her arms ; and she glances from the window to the time-piece with something of impatience, as she notes that it is a few minutes later than the usual hour of her husband's return. Nurse, who stands in the background, ventures to hint at the propriety of Httle master's going to bed ; but the handsome mother declares he shall be kept to get a kiss from papa. Her cheek becomes more rosy, her eyes brighter, for a tilbury is driven rapidly to the gate ; a prancing steed, down whose arched neck the dropping perspiration denotes the impa tience with which his master has urged his speed, paws the ground; the reins are thrown Over his back, ere the knowing little groom boy can run to his head ; and a tall handsome young man springs from the vehicle, and rapidly rushes towards tfie house ; at the door of which he is met by his pretty wife, round whom and his child, his eager arms are soon wound. Such are the scenes which the traveller may he- hold in dear, happy England ; how much more cheering than any he will witness out of it ! It is VIENNE. 155 only in large cities in France that activity and pro sperity are visible. The post-roads seldom present a handsome residence, a picturesque point of view, or a neat cottage with a flower garden. Few are the travelling carriages that traverse them; and these few are occupied by EngHsh, migrating in search of health or amusement. A heavy, lumbering diligence, trails its slow length along the paved roads ; or a waggon, resembling the ark of Noah, rumbles over them, leaving the beholders at a loss which most to pity, the wretched horses that draw the uncouth vehicle, or the wretched individuals that occupy it. It is evident that the French peasantry have not the same love of flowers that distinguish ours. Poor indeed must the labourer be in England, round whose humble home these innocent and cheap luxu ries are not seen to bloom ; but even the farmers in France do not cultivate them. This absence of plants and flowers, as well as of those simple but tasteful decorations so generaUy adopted even by the lower classes in England, forcibly denotes the effects of revolution. That country, which has witnessed the triumphal march of foreign armies over its soil, 156 VIENNE. or of revolutionary hordes destroying its possessions, loses the sense of security, so essential to the cul tivation of the comforts and elegancies of life. The destruction of property it has once beheld, it is but natural to fear may be again repeated; hence people are more intent on providing for the positive wants of the present day, than in preparing for future enjoyment, which experience has taught them may be frustrated. The peculiar characteristics of the people dis pose them to a facility of excitement, highly injurious to, if not incompatible with, a long continuation of national prosperity. Hence they seem to live from day to day in expectation, or fear, of some subver sion of government, the anticipation of which dis courages any strenuous efforts of improvement ; as the husbandman whose vineyard has once been over whelmed by an eruption of a volcano, or the over flowing of a river, fears to expend a large sum in bringing it again into a state of cultivation, lest it should be once more destroyed. Is not the insecurity thus engenderedby popular excitement more injurious to a country, than any advantages to be acquired by its most successful results can ever be serviceable ? VIENNE. 157 It is this sense of security that has given such an impetus to the English, as to render their land, in defiance of its uncertain climate, the garden of Europe. It is this that has encouraged its com merce — elevated its merchants into nobles, and fos tered science and art. Never may this confidence be shaken ! but let England learn from the misfor tunes of other nations, to estimate the blessings she enjoys. The love of rural life, so indigenous in EngHsh hearts, and which pervades every class, is unknown in France. No sooner has a citizen with us attained a competence, than he secures for himself an abode in the country, where every moment that can be spared from business is passed, in making his residence and its grounds a scene of beauty and repose. He delights in seeing around him umbrageous trees, verdant lawns, and blooming flowers ; and enjoys, with a true zest, the tranquil happiness his industry has honour ably acquired. Many are the citizens in England thus blessed ; and one whom I personally know might furnish the original for a picture seldom if ever to. be met with elsewhere. The respectable individual to whom I refer is a 158 VIENNE. large capitalist. With a fortune that might enable him to emulate the ambitious in their pursuit of power, or outshine the ostentatious in their display of wealth, he is content to lead the life of a phi losopher ; but of the active and practical, rather than of the reflecting and theoretical school. See him at his country residence, planning new and judicious improvements in his grounds, overlooking and directing his workmen, suggesting salutary experiments on his farms, ameliorating the con dition of his dependants, and the breed of his cattle, and it would be supposed that he had passed his life in agricultural pursuits, and thought of nothing else. Yet in two hours after, this worthy individual may be seen acting as the presiding spirit of one of the largest houses of business in London ; examining every new invention in the useful arts ; giving orders in various branches of trade that fur nish occupation for hundreds ; and in his commercial relations with other countries, by his probity, intelli gence, and high principles, extending the honourable reputation of a British merchant throughout the civilised world. At night, this gentleman may be seen perusing some clever work : and in the morn- LYONS. 159 ing, at an early hour, he is again in his fruitful fields. Such are the men to be found in happy England ; but rarely, if ever, are they to be met with where a revolution has left its destructive traces. 6th — I have taken my last ride in the environs of Vienne. There is something sad in viewing any place -with the certainty that we shaU see it no more ; and this feeHng I experienced to-day, when pausing at each point commanding a fine prospect, I gazed for the last time on the beautiful country around. How many bosky dells, moss clad hills, foaming cataracts, and sylvan shades rarely seen, except by shepherd or husbandman's eye, have I become famiHar with in the wild regions of the Viennean hiUs! And how little should I have appreciated their beauty, had I confined my peregrinations, as so many do, to the sterUe and unpicturesque high roads* To-morrow we depart for Grenoble. 9th We stopped a day at Lyons, to enjoy the society of our friend Mons. Artaud ; and rarely have I met a person whose conversation is more interesting 160 GRENOBLE. and instructive. He has furnished us with letters of introduction to half the cognoscenti of the south of France and Italy, so that it will not be his fault if I do not acquire a more than ordinary ac quaintance with the antiquities of both countries. Comte D'Hautpoul, colonel of the 9th chasseurs, has kindly accompanied us to Grenoble, and his society enhances our enjoyment of the new scenes presented to us. In him are united the brave soldier, the learned scholar, and accomplished gen tleman, whose conversation is replete with interest and information. The route from Lyons to Grenoble, is through a rich and fertile country, and the approach to the latter town is striking and imposing. It is sur rounded by rocky mountains of the most pic turesque form ; behind which are seen towering stiU loftier ones, furnishing, as it were, a double rampart of defence to the town. I have nowhere beheld mountains so abrupt as here, or offering such a variety in their forms ; and they approach so near the town as to render the contrast between their wild and grotesque appearance, and its civi lization, provincial as it is, very striking. GRENOBLE. 161 We visited the gate to-day, now become histo rical, by which Napoleon made his entry to Greno ble on his memorable return from Elba. The spot was pointed out to us on which Colonel Henry Labedoyere, at the head of his regiment, hoisted the imperial eagle, and joined Napoleon ; and we entered the little inn where this last rested while waiting the event of the gates being opened for his admittance. This was the first fortress that surren dered to him, an event ruinous in its consequences to Napoleon as well as to France ; for had it resisted, the battle of Waterloo had been spared. I write this in the chamber in which this wonderful man reposed the night of his arrival, and have been Hstening to a detail of his reception and conduct on that occasion from a spectator. He is described as looking deadly pale, care-worn, and melancholy ; but making violent efforts to recover his self-pos session, and to assume a cheerfulness which it was evident he was far from feeling. It was in front of the window of this room that the gates were brought to him by a vast concourse of people, who hailed him with acclamations, and addressed him in the following words : — VOL. i. m 162 GRENOBLE. " Napoleon, our emperor, our glory, we could not offer you the keys of your good town of Grenoble, but we have brought you the gates." Napoleon is said to have betrayed great emo tion on hearing this address ; his pale cheeks became tinged for a moment with a hectic flush, and his eyes — those eyes which are said to have possessed an influence almost magical, over those on whom their piercing glances fell — sparkled with animation for a few brief moments, and then resumed their previous expression of gloom. In this room, and leaning his elbow on the table on which I now write, he held a long conversation with some of the principal of his followers, and with those officers who had here revolted to his standard ; in which he entered into an explanation of his conduct, and the motives that actuated it, with an anxiety and consciousness, which betrayed his painful sense of the necessity of the explanation. t^-Fallen must have been the fortunes of the once stern and proud emperor, when he could condescend to explain why he was again in the land whence he had been exiled, and whose reception of him was at best but doubtful ! — The chief reason he urged for GRENOBLE. 163 his return, was his having ascertained that the Con gress had determined on transporting him to St. Helena. Little could he have foreseen that this very return only served to accelerate the event it was meant to avert ! but it is thus ever that weak mortals bHndly rush on to the destiny, of which their own errors have laid the foundation. If ever treason admits of palUation, it surely was in the case of those soldiers, who, led on for years to victory by this wonderful man, again saw that standard unfurled, beneath which they had acquired glory, and beheld him, whom they had so long been taught to regard as scarcely less than invincible, return from exile to conduct them again to conquest and fame. All their associations of the past, and hopes for the future, were stirred by his presence ; and his faUen state only served to awaken every spark of generosity and enthusiasm in their natures. With the government they were forsaking they had no sympathy ; they had not yet learned to appreciate"* the advantages of a peaceful reign ; and the courage and vanity for which the natives of France, and more especiaUy its soldiers, are proverbial, panted for an occasion to avenge and retrieve the imagined stain m 2 164 GRENOBLE. on their honour inflicted by the occupation of Paris by the allies. In the return of their martial chief, this occasion seemed presented ; then can it be wondered at, that, combined with their personal attachment to Napoleon, it led them to throw off their allegiance to his successor, and resume their devotion to his cause ? 10th. — Saw the Palace of Justice to-day, a gothic building, in the style of architecture of the time of Francis I. ; also the Library and Museum, which are beneath one roof. The Library is of considerable extent, and is well filled. Among its curiosities may be counted some ancient MSS. in which is the poetry of the Duke of Orleans, the father of Louis XII., and Les Heures, of the sixteenth century, beautifully illu minated. Among the rare books is a French Bible, the first translated into that language, by Raoul de Preisle, Master of the Court of Requests to Charles V., named the Wise, and " CathoHcon," by Guttumberges, of the fifteenth century. The Library contains the colossal busts of four cele brated natives of Grenoble : the Chevalier Bayard GHENOBLE. 1 65 (sans peur et sans reproche,) the metaphysicians Condillac and Mably, and the mechanist Vau- canson. The Museum has some good pictures ; but the most esteemed are two from the pencils of Claude Lorraine and Paul Veronese. The statues are, for the most part, casts from those in the Louvre. A cabinet of antiquities, with one of natural history, adjoins the Library. The respective collections are well arranged, and with the Library and Museum are much frequented by the middling and lower classes of the people. It is gratifying to witness their desire for knowledge. 1 have rarely entered a pubHc Hbrary in France without finding it well attended; and its occupants were in general so intent on the subjects that interested them, that they seldom turned to regard the visitors. The Cathedral contains nothing worthy of notice ; and the general appearance of the streets is gloomy and dull. 11th We drove to-day to the viUage of Sasse- nage, to see the grotto, to which it gives its name. Nothing can be more picturesque than the scenery 166 GRENOBLE. of the route ; which commands a fine view of the mountains on each side, and of the rivers Isere and Drave, the latter of which is very rapid, and must be crossed to arrive at Sassenage. Having reached this place, we left our carriage, and, conducted by two guides, proceeded up the mountain, by the side of a torrent. The ascent is very steep, and some what dangerous, but the views it commands are so beautiful that the fatigue and danger are amply repaid. After a walk of twenty minutes, we crossed the foaming torrent, on a plank brought for the purpose, on the shoulders of the guides ; and soon reached the cascade formed by the vast rush of water from the cavern above. This waterfaU pro ceeds from a subterranean stream issuing rapidly through a number of less caverns, formed in the rocky mountain. On ascending stiU higher, we reached the opening of the grotto, which has a very grand and imposing effect ; and then entered the subterraneous gallery, preceded by our guides bear ing torches. This passage is so low and narrow, that we had great difficulty in groping our way through it, though nearly on our knees. We at length arrived at a point that commands a view of GRENOBLE. 167 the foaming gulf beneath ; the noise of which is per fectly appalling, as, lashed into fury, it sends its snowy spray in showers around. Having resumed the steep passage to the entrance of the grand cavern, we descended by an abrupt route, formed by large disjointed fragments of rocks ; and crossed subterranean streams, winding round by the ledge of a vast rock, which having passed, we entered another grotto, through which the water rushes with a noise and rapidity truly surprising. All further access is prevented by the water, the deaf ening sound of which is reverberated through the corridors. The picture here presented was very subHme ; the guides tossing about the torches to display the wonders of the place, their wild and haggard countenances tinged by the glare of the Hghts, which fell also on the dark water, giving its rushing masses a shade of lurid red. Their gestures too were so fantastic, as they endeavoured to point out to our observation the objects worthy of notice, all attempt at speaking, or at least of being heard, being from the noise of the water impossible, that there was something unearthly in the appearance of the whole scene. 168 ST. MARCELLIN. i Every turn of the descent to the village of Sasse- nage presents some fresh scene of wild beauty. Waterfalls rushing from fissures in the sterile moun- tain, large and isolated rocks of the most grotesque forms, trees and wild shrubs scattered between, and mountain rising over mountain, capped with snow ; while at the bottom, a fertile valley glowing with cherry orchards and mulberry trees, not yet despoiled of their foHage ; — aU combine to render this one of the most picturesque and striking scenes imaginable. It is with great regret that I find we must abandon our projected visit to the celebrated Chartreuse in this neighbourhood ; as the route, from the season being so far advanced, is considered unsafe. St. Marcellin, 13th — The road from Grenoble to this place passes through a fertUe and fine coun try, diversified by woods, vineyards, and mountains. The town itself has little to recommend it, save its excellent inn, la petite France, and its most attentive and obliging hostess. Both appear to great advan tage after those of Vienne, where the discomfort of the accommodation, and extravagance of the charges, must often vex the traveller who sojourns there. ST. MARCELLIN. 169 Our hostess, as if aware of our recent privations, gave us a dinner copious enough to have satis fied a large party of gourmands, though not of a choice to have gratified the more fastidious taste of an epicure. She seemed to think that quantity was more essential than quaHty ; for the table might well have groaned beneath the weight of the feast. In truth, twenty EngHsh labourers could not have consumed the repast set before us, which for four persons, consisted of no less than thirteen substantial dishes. It reminded me of the profusion of an inn dinner in the unfrequented parts of the south of Ireland ; and the assiduities of the hostess, " who gaily pressed and smiled," was not unlike those exhibited by Irish landladies, who, " on hospitable thoughts intent," seemed to believe that their guests could never have too much for their money. 14fth. — The profusion of yesterday has been fol lowed by a famine to-day. Not wishing to travel on the sabbath, we remained here ; a contingency which our hostess had neither foreseen nor provided for, consequently her larder was but scantily stocked ; and our servants, whose appetites are less delicate 170 VALENCE. than ours, had consumed the viands despatched from our table last evening. The sabbath cannot be said to be a day of rest in France ; it is, on the contrary, a day of pleasure ; and the town has been filled with groups of both sexes, and of aU ages, busy in the pursuit of amuse ment. This passion never seems to subside in the hearts of the gay and volatile inhabitants of this nation. The oldest men and women seek it with no less avidity than the young, and emulate them in the zest with which they indulge it. The gaiety that has prevailed here all day, had however nothing gross or disgusting in its exhibition. No symptom of intoxication could be discovered in the men, and the women, though lively, were not indecorous. Valence, 15th. — Valence formed the duchy of Valentinois, that title disgraced by him on whom it was so improperly bestowed, the execrable Caesar Borgia. This is a town of considerable extent, but its streets are narrow, irregular, and dirty. The house, in an obscure street, was pointed out to us, in which Napoleon Bonaparte, when ..a lieutenant in the artillery, spent many months. They were VALENCE. 171 among the least brilliant, but assuredly not the most unhappy of his eventful life ; for if he then dreamt not of a crown, he foresaw not the grave of a prisoner and an exile ! Except a curious old gothic house, ornamented in a very grotesque style, the town contains nothing worthy of notice. The steeple ofthe cathedral was struck with lightning two nights ago ; and the bells, which were very large, were split in two, and in their descent carried away the floors, and shattered the waUs of the steeple. The cathedral is simple ; its chief ornament being the mausoleum of Pius VL, which is in good taste. On the other side of the Rhdne, and opposite to Va lence, is the lull of St. Peray, covered with vines, which produce the wine of that name. Much of the wine sold as Champagne, is composed of St. Peray ; in which, as we were informed, is put a certain portion of sugar, and a few grains of rice. The wines of the south of France are often sold for Malaga and Madeira, the proprietors of vine yards having arrived at a great proficiency in imi tating those wines. We begin already to be sensible of an increased mildness in the temperature as we advance ; but 172 MONTELIMART. this advantage is deteriorated by the quantities of flies and mosquitoes that assail us. Though provided with gauze curtains for our beds, the mosquitoes and sand flies contrive to elude our vigilance ; and often either preclude sleep, or take advantage of it, to leave visible signs of their visits. The aspect of the people of the south is very different to that of those we have lately quitted. Here, dark sparkling eyes, clear brown complexions, and an increased animation of manner, characterize the inhabitants. The men are, for the most part, tall and athletic ; but the women are so peculiarly round-shouldered, and stoop so much, as to look as if they were deformed. Montelimart, l6th. — This was the first place in France where the reformed religion was estabHshed, and still contains many Protestant faimlies. The rivers Jabron and Roubion unite here, and flow on until they join the Rh6ne. Nothing can be more rich and luxuriant than the country about Monteli mart, covered with vineyards, orange-trees, mul berries, and myrtles, which last grow here like large hollies with us. The site of the chateau de Grignon, immortalized ORANGE. 173 by the letters of Madame de Sevigne, was pointed out to us. In that favourite residence she closed her mortal career ; but no trace of it remains, as the chateau, as well as the church in its neighbour hood in which her remains were interred, were de stroyed in the revolution. To Madame de Sevigne's charming letters do I trace my first love of epistolary lore. I was not more than seven years old when they were given to me to translate, and such was their effect on my mind, that I wasted several sheets of paper in addressing letters to some of my compa nions, in which I vainly attempted to infuse some portion of the spirit that fascinated me in hers. I remember how dissatisfied I was with the cold ness of her daughter's epistles, and how delightful I thought it must be to have a correspondent like the inimitable mother. How deeply do first impres sions sink into the mind ! and how much may the books placed in the hands of the chUd influence the taste of the woman ! Orange, 17th. — We passed, on our route to-day, the picturesque ruins of the chateau de Roche- maure, which stands on an elevated pile of basaltic 174 ORANGE. rocks, and has a very imposing effect. We also saw the ruins of Donzere, and the chateaux of Mont Dragon and Mornass. But the beautiful Arch of Orange has equally surprised and delighted us. It is the first object that strikes the eye on entering the town, and is well placed on a plain a few hundred paces in front of the town, on the left of the road leading from Lyons to Avignon. It can be seen at the distance of above a mile on passing Mondragon, and has a magnificent effect. It is about sixty feet high, nearly the same in breadth, and is built in the form of a parallelogram, with three arches ; the one in the centre for carriages to pass through is large, and considerably higher than the others. The arches are bounded by fluted Corinthian pillars ; and the columns, which are at each side of the centre arch, support a triangular pediment, with an attic, above which rises a very rich frieze and cor nice admirably executed. The attics are ornamented by bassi-relievi, representing combats ; and the figures, though much injured by the ruthless hand of time, still retain a considerable portion of their pristine beauty and expression. On each side of ORANGE. 175 the attics are trophies chiefly composed of maritime subjects, with implements of sacrifice between. Above the two less arches are military trophies with standards and flags, on which are the figures of a wild boar. On one of the bucklers in the trophy are traced the letters " I S V I J V S, " and on another the word " beve ;" also the letters " D O D V A C V S" and " SRE." The south front is so much dilapi dated that the bassi-relievi are nearly defaced. On some of the bucklers, however, we were able to decipher the following words, " Sacrovir, Mario, Dracono, Vd iU V S, Av. Ot.:" many of the bucklers have the letters "SRE." The frieze, which is very fine, represents the combats of gla diators, and beneath the trophies are figures of cap tives. On each side of the pediment are Nereids, and on the centre is the Sun, with the Cornucopia of Abundance. The interior of the arches are de- corated in square compartments, with garlands of roses ; and the arcades are bordered with wreaths of grapes and vine-leaves, mixed with other fruit and flowers. On the south front of the arch is a female figure, with the head resting on her hand ; and as this is 176 ORANGE. one of the emblems of Marseilles, it is supposed by some to represent that ancient city awaiting the result of the battle. Other writers assert that it is meant to personify Marthe, a sybil of Syria, who was a sort of tutelary guardian to Marius, and who, it is said, held her finger to his ear, thereby enabling him to be victorious over his enemies. Plutarch mentions that Marius had with him a woman of Syria who passed for a great prophetess, who was borne on a litter, and treated with great respect and honour. Marius never made a sacrifice except when she ordered it ; and she might be seen carried through the camp daily. When she assisted at a sacri fice she wore a splendid mantle of purple, fastened at the throat with rich clasps, and held in her hand a staff covered with wreaths and coronets of flowers. The eastern side has been repaired, and bears an inscription stating that the repairs were carried into effect by the contributions of the corps of cross-bow men of Orange, in the year 1706. It is generally believed that this arch was erected to Marius ; but this conjecture admits of much doubt, as in the or naments there is not a single eagle to be found ; and as Marius was the first person who introduced ORANGE. 177 that ensign for his legion,* it is probable that it would not be omitted in a monument erected to him. The principal reason for attributing it to Marius is, that his name was inscribed on a buckler in one of the trophies. But this argument is futile, as several other names are also inscribed ; whereas, had it been erected solely to him, his name would have been the prominent one. Pontanus, in his Voyage, declares his conviction that the arch was dedicated to Domitius iEnobarbus ; and states, that the name of Boduacus, visible on the east side of it, ought to be read, in Titus Livy, in stead of Bituitus, or Betultus.t The learned Peiresc has foUowed the same opinion ; Mandajors, in his " Histoire Critique de la Gaule Narbonnaise," page 96 ; Spon, in his " Voyage en Dalmatie," torn, i., page 9 ; and Guibs, in his " Journal de Trevoux," published in 1729, have arrived at the same con clusion ; and have brought to the support of their opinions no little erudition. This arch has also been attributed to Julius Caesar ; and Letbert, abbe de St. Ruf, in Avignon, in his work entitled " Fleurs * Plin. Hist. Nat. lib. x., cap. 4. t Itinerarium Gallise Narbonensis. VOL. I. N 178 ORANGE. des Pseaumes," says that it was erected in honour of Julius Caesar, conqueror of Marseilles. This hy pothesis, if well founded, might explain the intro duction of naval trophies on the arch ; but others assert that they bore allusion to the victory of Actium. Le Baron de la Bastie states, in " Le Journal de Tr6voux," in 1730, pp. 12 14, his conviction that it was raised in honour of Augustus ; but this assertion is only founded on the circumstance of Augustus having caused monuments to be erected to his glory in different points of his empire. Maffei, in his " Galliae Antiquitates," p. 157, states his beHef that this monument is of the time of Adrian. But 1 it were equally useless as fatiguing to enumerate the various opinions of the numerous writers who have attempted to conjecture the founder of this arch; which stands a beautiful specimen of art, as well as a striking lesson to human vanity, when he to whose honour it was erected is a problematical question, never likely to be solved. Some antiquarians have maintained that the names on the bucklers were those of the chiefs of the vanquished barbarians ; and that Mario, the name inscribed, was one of them. History tells us that Marius served his first cam- ORANGE. 179 paign under Scipio Africanus, at the siege of Nu- mantia, in the year 133 before the Christian era. The exact date of his election to be tribune of the soldiers is not known ; but he was tribune of the people in the year 120 before Christ.* The battle of Ouindalon was fought twelve years before that era, and as many authors assert that Marius was constantly engaged in the wars, it is probable that he fought under Domitius, as tribune of the sol diers ; and that for his valuable services, he was next year elected tribune of the people. It has been asserted by some that this beautiful arch was erected to perpetuate the victory of Do mitius, at Ouindalon ; and if this be true, it would not be surprising that the name of Marius, who so greatly distinguished himself under his banner, should be inscribed on this monument. But, say the antiquarians — " How are we to account for the omission of the name of the brave MarceUus, who performed so brilhant a part in that action?" Grave and Reverend Signiors, / cannot furnish you with a single elucidatory conjecture on this sub ject, notwithstanding I have carefully perused your * Valerus Maximus, vi. 19. N 2 180 ORANGE. learned researches, and duUified myself, and wiU my readers — should I ever find any — by the epitome I have given of your lucubrations. It is strange how soon the mind turns with new interest to pursuits that had previously engaged little of its thoughts ! This mobility of the intellect — this power of directing it to new objects, is one of the manifold proofs of the wisdom and mercy of the Creator ; as without this facility, life would soon become wearisome, and we should lose that sense of enjoyment now derived from it. It is the novelty of aU that strikes the senses, which renders youth the peculiar season of delight. How happy is it then for us to retain the enviable power of finding pleasure in objects that, when in the heyday of life, might have failed to amuse or interest. I can now peruse with interest antiquarian researches which some years ago I had turned from with distaste ; and, idle as the occupation may by many be deemed, it has beguiled many miles of a journey, and evenings at a comfortless inn, which might, without this re source, have hung heavily on my hands. No sooner do I see a fine piece of antiquity but I long to be come acquainted with all that is known of it : nay, ORANGE. 181 even before I behold, I prepare myself for the view, by a diligent perusal of the works that refer to it. 18th — The ruins of the ancient theatre here have greatly interested me. The principal walls ai'e still in good preservation, and enable one to judge of the building in its original state. It has been by some supposed to have been a circus : but this opinion is erroneous, as its form is a semi circle, whereas amphitheatres were always oval. The Romans wisely took advantage of the declivi ties of mountains for erecting their theatres and amphitheatres, as they saved considerable expense and labour, the seats for the audience being raised in rows, one over the other, on the side of the moun tain, which offered a natural site. The circular part of the theatre at Orange, in which were the seats for the audience, is still visibly marked in the mountain, and the two extremities of the semicircle which were united by the stage. The portion of this building which joined the stage and semicircle still exists, and has a noble appearance. The walls, a hundred and eight feet high, and three hundred in length, are composed of large square stones of 182 ORANGE. equal size, joined with great skill and nicety, and ornamented by two ranges of arcades and an attic. At the summit ofthe exterior are two rows of stones, which protrude from the wall ; supposed to have been used for fastening the canvas or sail-cloth that covered the theatre, to shelter the audience from the sun or rain. The- exterior of the theatre is in an extraordinary degree of preservation, and presents a striking and imposing effect ; but the interior retains nothing of its pristine grandeur : part of it being converted into a prison, and the rest employed as a receptacle for rubbish, and for the scarcely less degrading purpose of supplying habitations for the mendicants with which Orange is filled. What a contrast does the present state and uses of this building present to its original destination ! Here, where the comedies of Plautus and Terence were enacted, we behold only the most disgusting details of poverty and uncleanHness ; and where sat the proud and warlike Roman leaders, troops of squalid children and half-starved dogs disport. To examine the interior of one of the vomitories of the theatre, we were compelled to enter the abode ORANGE. 183 of wretchedness into which a portion of the building has been converted. Nothing could exceed the dirt, except the misery of the habitation : it was of Cim merian darkness, and the lamp carried before us threw a lurid gloom over the black walls and visage of the beldame who led us through the gloomy pas sages, and up the various flights of steps ; giving to her weird and haggard face something so unearthly, that it required but Httle stretch of the imagination to fancy her some ancient sybil, muttering incanta tions as she strode on, pointing out with violent ges tures, and in tones whose intonations were painfully harsh, the objects worthy of notice in her wretched abode. In one of the sombre and confined passages stood a miserable bed, to which she told us custom had so inured her son, that he preferred it to any other dormitory. The slumbers of this child of poverty are unbroken by any recoUections of the former grandeur of the buUding in which he resides. Here, where the antiquary or philosopher would find ample food for reflection, he drags on the even tenor of his existence, satisfied if he can but procure a scanty and unsavoury repast to appease his hunger. 184 AVIGNON. The walls of this theatre are of extraordinary, thickness, and the stairs are of so massive a structure as to seem formed to bid defiance to time. We saw the ruins of an amphitheatre, some baths, and an aqueduct ; and many of the streets offer interesting fragments of antiquity to the curious traveller. Avignon, 20th There is poetry and romance in the name ; or, at least, in the associations it calls up. Petrarch, with the power that appertains to genius alone, has invested this place with an interest for all who can appreciate the beauty of his works ; and we view Avignon with different feelings to those with which we regard more attractive towns. The approach to Avignon is imposing : the high towers of the ancient palace, with their rich and warm toned hue of brown, rise above the walls of the city ; and many a spire and steeple give beauty to the picture, which is crowned by Villeneuve, seen in the distance. The battlemented walls are flanked by square towers, erected at regular distances, and have seven gates. The Rh6ne is nowhere seen to greater advantage than here, where it sweeps along with a rapidity AVIGNON. 185 and grandeur that gives the boats that glide over it the appearance of being hurried on by some irre sistible influence ; like those vessels we read of in fairy tales, that skim the waters with magical swift ness, but cannot retard their course. The ruins of the ancient bridge, with a chapel in the centre, have a very picturesque effect ; and the Sound of the rushing, arrowy Rh6ne, as it is dashed against the stones, has a melancholy in it well suited to the triste character of this silent and nearly de serted place. Mont Ventoux, which is said to be the highest mountain in France, rises to the north of Avignon, its sides glowing with all the varied hues of vegetation, while its summit is veiled in snow ; and on the south, the horizon is bounded by the chain of blue mountains of the Angles and the Issarts. The rocher de Don, which we explored to-day, commands a fine view of the town and a magnificent one of the surrounding country. The plains of Languedoc, rich in mulberry and olive trees, and sprinkled with undulating hills, covered with vine yards, look like a vast garden spread over the country 186 AVIGNON. and to the east are seen the abrupt and sterile rocks of Vaucluse, forming a fine contrast to the fertile scene they bound. Never did I behold a more glorious sunset than this evening : the river was crimsoned with its rich reflection, and aU the objects around were tinged by its brilliant rays. Who could believe, whUe beholding it, that this was the gloomy month of November, notwithstanding that the vent de bise reminds one it is not summer. We were much amused this morning by a visit from the poet laureate of Avignon, to present a congratulatory ode on our arrival. The poem was as poor as its author, which is saying not a Httle ; for poverty was stamped on every Hneament of his care-worn face, and threadbare garments. He has for many years welcomed every traveUer whose ap pearance indicated the power of remunerating the distinction with a similar felicitation : nay, people are malicious enough to assert, that the same poem, inserting merely a change of name, answers for every English family. The poor poet retired happy in the possession of AVIGNON. 187 our donation ; and left us wondering if, as he stated, he Hved by his wits, how he could exist on so slender a capital. 21st. — Walked round the waUs. Though deficient in strength for the purpose for which they were de signed, they add much to the beauty of the town. They were built by Pope Innocent VI., in 1358, as a protection from the attacks of the banditti. Went over the Papal Palace, which, though now in a state of comparative ruin, is still worthy of in spection. It is surrounded by high waUs, flanked by towers, and was formerly strongly fortified. The cathedral nearly joins it, being only separated by a building now in ruins. The palace is a gothic edifice, and contains numerous suites of rooms, some of which, and particularly those occupied by the vice-legates, were very splendid, if we may judge by the paintings that still decorate the walls and ceihngs. Part of this once noble episcopal residence is converted into a barrack ; and the rest is used as a prison. Strange reverse of destiny ! that a mansion raised by the head of the papal church, and which was supposed to be the temple where the God of 188 AVIGNON. Peace was to be worshipped, should become the abode of the votaries of war and crime ! The apart ments where once the stately fathers enjoyed their dignified seclusion, with, perhaps, more of the pomps, vanities, and luxuries of life, than became the followers of their meek and lowly Master, are now the mess-room and dormitories of the soldiers ; who bestow little thought on the original destination of the building, except to mock its former inhabit ants. The long aisles, through which the pealing organ often reverberated, now echo the coarse laugh of the soldiers, or the gloomy murmurs of the weary captives. In the most ruinous part of the palace we were shown the chambers of the inquisition, with the devious passages, formed in the deep walls, and impervious to the light of day. The halls of exa mination, and the places of torture, whose walls were so massive as to exclude the sounds of anguish of the victims, and the fearful abyss called the Gla- ciere, constructed in the wall, and communicating with the place of torture by a large aperture, were pointed out to us ; as well as another gulf of a simi lar description, but of less dimensions, seemingly AVIGNON. 189 constructed for deeds of darkness. It is asserted that the inquisition at Avignon was always extremely mild in its decrees, and that torture was rarely ap plied. But there is something so repugnant to the feelings of a native of dear, free, happy England, in secret charges, and private punishments, that I could not view without shuddering, places designed for such uses, even though led to believe they had not been sullied by such cruelties. But if, in the day of papal power, these dreary walls have not echoed the groans of torture, or shrieks of despair, what dreadful scenes have they not witnessed in the eventful period of the Revolution ! In the chamber of torture, hundreds were massacred, and flung into the Glaciere, the interior of which still retains many an ensanguined stain. Reflecting on the fearful deeds of that Revolution, purchased with the blood of thousands, weU might one exclaim, with Madame Roland, as she apostro phised the statue of the Goddess of Liberty, on her road to the scaffold, " Oh, Liberty! what crimes are committed in thy name ! " One of the gentlemen who accompanied us through the palace, pointed out a chamber in which his 190 AVIGNON. father was for many months a prisoner, during the troubled days of that dreadful epoch, when he daily expected to be led to a violent death. He told us that he paid a yearly visit to this melancholy spot; in order to appreciate more highly the blessing of Hving free from the apprehension of being exposed to any similar calamity, to that of which he was for merly a spectator ; nay more, a partaker, from sym pathy with the sufferings of a parent. The recollections of the terrible Revolution seem fraught with horror to those whom I have encoun tered who can remember it. Not even the long lapse of years that has occurred since its close, can efface the memory of its terrors from their minds ; and, judging from their conversation, my impression is, that they would submit to any species of mo narchical despotism, in preference to braving the dangers of a revolution. Nor can this be wondered at, when one reflects on the scenes they have wit nessed. The tyranny of a democracy is enough to convert to absolutism (or, more properly speaking, absoluteness) the veriest fanatic of liberty that ever dreamt of the Utopia of a republic, in countries where other governments had long subsisted. AVIGNON. 191 The mint is opposite the principal entrance of the palace. It is now occupied by the gendarmerie, and is a building in the very worst style of architecture of the time of Louis XIII. Two figures, meant to personify angels, decorate the front of the mint. They support a shield covered with fleurs-de-lys, surmounted by a crown. The figures are more grotesque than can be imagined ; and to add to their manifold imperfections, have a cloven foot each. Dragons and hydras dire, with other fabulous mon sters, are placed between festoons of flowers mixed with fruit, the ensemble forming a perfect specimen of rococo ; a word for which our language has no synonyme, but which is expressive of the union of finery and bad taste. 23rd. — Yesterday, visited the celebrated fountain of Vaucluse, immortalised by Petrarch. It is within a morning's ride of Avignon, and possesses sufficient natural attractions, independent of its poetical as sociations, to repay one for the trouble of going. The valley of Vaucluse is extremely narrow, and bounded by high rocks of a brownish grey tint: their sombre hue is in some places relieved by 192 AVIGNON. olive and fig trees, with scattered vines, but there is still a great want of wood to break the dull uni formity of the cliffs ; the colour of which is cold, and not sufficiently varied to produce a fine effect. In the time of Petrarch, those gigantic rocks were only seen at intervals, breaking out of large masses of wood, with which the valley was nearly covered ; and which softened the character of the scenery that now presents a wild and savage aspect. After winding for some way among the crags, the road terminates at the village of Vaucluse, which is most romantically situated ; and a broad path formed on the ledge of the rocky chain that bound the river, which here fills the centre of the vaUey, leads to the celebrated fountain which was the Helicon of Petrarch. The valley is here closed by a perpendicular crag of immense height ; within which, is the cavern whence springs the fountain. The entrance to this cavern is above sixty feet high ; and it is screened by rocks which intercept aU view of it until it is neared. The fountain fiUs a vast basin of a circular form, at the base of the perpendicular cHff that terminates this part of the valley. AVIGNON. 193 At a short distance from its source the stream faUs rapidly over huge fragments of rocks, covered with a vivid green mass of aquatic plants and herbs ; which gives to this limpid and sparkling water, the appearance of a river of emeralds. After preci pitating itself with impetuous force over the rocks, it is formed into a river, which rushes along the vale with exceeding velocity. The borders of the fountain abound with wild thyme of a delicious fragrance ; and it only requires a little of the poetic fancy which gives to Italian poetry so many of its concetti, to imagine that it owes its odour to the tears with which the love-lorn Petrarch, that phoenix of lovers, so frequently bedewed this spot, when bewailing the inexorable cruelty of his Laura. As I stood on the spot where he so often reposed, I thought of the passage, " Amor col rimembrar sol mi man tiene — Ed io son di quei che il panger giova — Ed io desio, Che le lagrime mie si spargan sole." The memories of few heroines have been more un kindly dealt by than that of Laura. Not only has her virtue been suspected, but even her very exist ence has been doubted ; and there are still sceptics to vol, 1. o 194 AVIGNON. be found who assert that she was less cruel towards Petrarch than his complaints imply ; while others maintain that the subject of his muse existed only in his own excited imagination. The question rela tive to the identity of Laura, so long a subject of cavil, was put an end to by^the Abbe de Sade having, in the year I76O, discovered in his family archives some contracts and testamentary documents, which have satisfied even the most sceptical of those who doubted her existence, that Laura, daughter of Au- dibert de Noves, and wife of Hugh de Sade, was the object of Petrarch's passion. She was married in her eighteenth year, and Petrarch saw her for the first time at the church of St. Claire, at Avignon, two years after. The House of Noves held the first rank at the town of that name, situated at a short distance from Avignon ; and the family of de Sade filled important offices at the last mentioned place. The peasants at Vaucluse point out the spot where the chateau of Laura stood ; but the life and writings of Petrarch furnish abundant proofs that his seclusion was never cheered by her actual pre sence, although her ideal one continually floated in his mind's eye. Madame Deshoulieres, in her AVIGNON. 195 " Epitre sur Vaucluse," * supposes Laura to have soothed, if not rewarded, the passion she created ; a supposition as little creditable to the delicacy of the French poetess as to the honour of the wrongly accused Laura ; for there is no line in Petrarch's writings that implies a single instance of the absence of that rectitude and decorum, of which he relates so many examples, and against the cruelty of which he breathes such complaints. The Abbe Delille too, in his " Jardins," chant 3, indulges in hypo thetical surmises on this point ; though he is less coarse in them — Oh ! shame to her sex ! — than his countrywoman. He questions the grotto where he imagines them to have reposed : absurdly enough attributing the scene where Petrarch retired to la ment the cruelty of his lady-love, to have been that which witnessed the indulgence of his guilty passion. The letters of Petrarch, as w:ell as his poetry, ex- * Dans cet antre profond, ou, sans d'autre temoms, Laure sut par de tendre soins De l'amoureux Petrarque adoucir le martyre ; Dans cet antre, ou l'amour tant de fois vainqueur, II exprima si bien sa peine, son ardeur, Que Laure, malgre sa rigueur, L'ecouta, plaignit sa langueur, Et fit peut-etre plus encore. O 2 196 AVIGNON. hibit, to the calm and not impure mind, irrefragable proofs that his passion for Laura, if not always Pla tonic, at least never received any reward inconsistent with modesty from her. When he utters the follow ing lines, they cannot surely be taken for other than the murmurs of despair, produced by her rigour : — " Se sapessi per morte essere scarco Del pensier amoroso che mi atterra, Con le mie mani avrei gia posto in terra Questo membra dogliose e quello incarco : Ma perch 'io temo che sarebbe un varco Di pianto in pianto, e d' una in altra guerra." Again, surely the following breathes not of happy love : — " La vita fugge e non s'arresta un' ora; E la morte vien dietro a gran giornate ; E le cose presenti e le passate Mi danno guerra, e le future ancora : E '1 rimembrar e 1' aspettar m' accora, Or quinci, or quindi si, che 'n veritate, Se non ch 'i 'ho di me stesso pietate; I' sarei gia di questi pensier fora. Tornami avanti s' alcun dolce mai Ebbe 1* cor tristo ; e poi dall' altra parte, Veggio al mio navigar turbati i venti. Veggio fortuna in porto, e staneo omai II mio noechier, e rotte arbore e sarte, E i humi bei che mirar sogho, spenti." It is true that Petrarch, in his dialogue with St. Augustin, admits that his passion for Laura was of AVIGNON. 197 too warm and violent a nature to be indulged with out remorse ; but this confession does not necessa rily imply guilt. A man of a religious turn of mind, as Petrarch is known to have been, must have felt compunction at the consciousness of abandoning his heart to so engrossing a passion for a married wo man, without that compunction being occasioned by any deeper sin. It is impossible to wander along the banks of the limpid Sorga, or to recHne by the fountain of Vau cluse, without dwelling with reverence on the me mory of him who has immortalized both. As one of the principal restorers of Hterature to his country ; as a fearless censurer of the vices of the papal court — a court anxious to purchase his silence by its gifts ; and as a writer of exquisite taste and pro found erudition, Petrarch has strong claims on the respect of posterity ; even without the generally ad mitted one of his harmonious and refined poetry, which was so weU calculated to correct the pre vailing licentiousness of the age in which he lived. Even his passion for Laura, however it might be esteemed a weakness, was calculated to raise a more respectful sentiment of admiration for the female 198 AVIGNON, sex : and when her increased age, and diminished charms, had not power to extinguish the flame ; — nay, when death itself could not subdue it, we must admire and marvel at the force and durabiHty of his feelings. The ruins now shown by the peasants as the site of the chateau of "Madame Laure," as they call her, were those of the castle, in which the Bishop of Cavaillon, the dear friend of Petrarch, resided. They stand to the right of the fountain, boldly placed on a pile of stupendous rocks, and command a magnificent view. The walls are on the very verge of the precipice, which overlooks a vast ex panse of mountains, rocks, groves of olive trees, and vineyards ; while, in the immediate foreground, the fountain, with its sparkling waters and snowy foam, reflecting innumerable prismatic hues as the rays of the sun play on it, forms a magical picture. The cataract created by the rocks over which the water rushes from the fountain, is, when the fountain is filled, truly grand. The spray rises in huge masses, resembling immense flakes of snow. As they are impelled into the air, and descend again with sur prising velocity, they are tinged with the brightest AVIGNON. 199 tints of a rainbow, and mingling with the snowy foam and vivid green water, have a beautiful effect. How many great men were drawn to Vaucluse by the desire of conversing with Petrarch ! Here came Robert, the good king of Naples, with his fair queen, and attended by a brilliant train of courtiers. It was this sovereign who exclaimed, that were he compeUed to make the sacrifice of his crown or his love of letters, he would prefer resigning the former. Few men were ever so much esteemed and beloved by their contemporaries as was Petrarch ; and few could have borne the applause and honours lavished on him with such equanimity and meekness. His friends were among the most distinguished of his countrymen ; and neither jealousy, nor envy, seems to have ever interrupted any of the attachments he formed, which were as remarkable for their warmth as for their durability. In the village of Vaucluse is a small inn called the Hotel of Petrarch and Laura. Here sentimental tourists stop to regale themselves on the delicious trout which the river furnishes ; giving, between every morsel of the luscious fare, a sigh to the memory of the celebrated lovers, whose busts deco- 200 AVIGNON, rate the mantel-piece of the chamber where the refection is served. Those travellers who command the most luxurious repasts are considered by the inmates to possess the most sensibility ; and those who submit without resistance to extortion, are esteemed to be mirrors of sentimentality : a regula tion of which our worthy hostess made us aware, by the warmth of her praises of those who expended what she considers a proper sum, and the severity of her strictures against the more economical or less wealthy visitors. The English," she vowed, were the most senti mental people aHve. It was delightful, she said, to see them sit for hours at table, with their eyes turned towards the busts of Petrarch and Laura, and sighing, while they washed down their repast with bumpers to the memory of the lovers. They (the English) never squabbled about the items in the bill. No ! they were too noble-minded for that : they were whoUy engrossed by tender recollections. Of the Germans, Russians, Italians, and even of her compatriots, the French, she spoke less kindly. " Would you believe it, madam," continued she, " many of them pass this inn — yes, the inn — sacred AVIGNON. 201 to the memory of Petrarch and Laura, without ever crossing its threshold ; and the few who do, draw from their pockets biscuits, and demand only a glass of eau sucrie ? They ought to be ashamed of themselves, unfeehng creatures ! How do they imagine we are to exist, paying, as we do, a heavy rent for this inn, and the sensibUity of the visitors to the fountain, being the only means of making it pro fitable. But most people now-a-days have no heart ; ay, and no stomach also, or they could not come here without melancholy feehngs, which naturally beget an appetite ; for though the old proverb only says that sorrow is thirsty, I maintain that it is hungry too ; having observed that the dear English, who showed the most tristesse, always were disposed to do honour to the plentiful collations they com manded. They did not go jabber, jabber, like the rest of the visitors who come here ; nor did they pass mauvaises plaisanteries on the respectable coun tenances of Monsieur Petrarch and Madame Laura, as too many do. No, they said little, and looked sad ; but they relished the trout of Vaucluse in a manner that proved their tenderness for him who gave the fountain its fame." 202 AVIGNON. Our hostess became so animated in her eulogium of the English, that she heeded not the reproving looks of her husband ; who, observing that two of our party were French, was fearful of her giving them offence. At last, somewhat piqued by her obstinate continuation of this apparently impolitic praise malgre his glances, he said, " You forget, ma chere, when you talk of the English never passing any mauvaises plaisanteries on the respectable countenances of Monsieur Pe trarch and Madame Laure, the two mauvais sujets, that, with a burnt cork, gave a pair of large black mustachios to Madame Laure, and, with a red chalk, made the nose of Monsieur Petrarch redder than a tomato ; ay, and gave him a pair of spectacles too. Why, it took me full two hours to get them clean again ! " " Well, then, if they did, in the innocent gaiety naturally excited by two bottles of your best cham pagne, take a Httle liberty with the faces of the busts, did they not throw you down twenty francs extra to pay, as they said, for white-washing the faces?" AVIGNON. 203 28th. — Avignon is really an agreeable place to persons who do not require the excitements peculiar to a great capital. The climate is good, except when the mistrael sets in ; but even then, though the wind is remarkably cold, it is rarely accompanied by rain, and the sky is as bright and unclouded as in summer. House-rent is extremely moderate here ; a fine suite of apartments in a good hotel — by which I mean a private house of large dimensions, all such being designated as hotels — may be had, well fur nished, for about fifty guineas a-year; and provisions of every kind are abundant, and may be purchased on reasonable terms. The country abounds with vineyards, and their produce serves the double pur pose of warming externaUy as weU as internally, the stems and branches of the vine being used for firing. The odour, however, which they emit during combustion, is rather disagreeable ; at least, I find it so, although the inhabitants like it. The inn, L' Hotel de I' Europe, at which we have taken up our abode, is a very good one ; and Madame Pieron, its mistress, leaves nothing undone to secure the comfort of her guests. This inn was, many 204 AVIGNON. years ago, the scene of an incident that gave rise to the comedy of the Deaf Lover, a piece which has had great success. Monsieur Pieron, the son of our hostess, a vale tudinarian, whose health admits not of attending to business, devotes his time to literary pursuits and antiquarian researches, the fruits of which are al ways at the service of those who seek his conversa tion. He peculiarly piques himself on his knowledge of the English language ; his pronunciation of which, however, joined to the habit of employing only the most erudite words, renders it difficult, if not impossible, to comprehend his discourse. He has read many English authors, and prefers the most pedantic, whose phraseology he has studied and adopted. But having conversed comparatively Httle with English people, his pronunciation of the difficult words he employs, has a most ludicrous effect. 29th — Our banker, Monsieur de L. and Madame son Spouse, have been to call on us. They have invited us to their house, which they open once a week to receive le beau monde of Avignon. Mon- AVIGNON. 205 sieur de L. appears well educated and sensible ; and Madame has that ease of manner, joined to a desire to please, peculiar to her countrywomen. They have offered us books, but of them we find no lack, having a large supply with us ; and Avignon, among its other agrSmens, possessing a good circulating Ubrary. Rode out to-day; the weather very fine, the at mosphere clear, and not colder than the end of September in England. 30th. — Rode a considerable distance to-day, hut the country around Avignon is, for the most part, so flat and uninteresting, as to offer little temptation to explore it. The peasantry here, are a well look ing and healthy race ; the men active and lively, with animated countenances ; but the women, though generaUy possessing good features and fine hair, are so iU shaped as to appear deformed. This defect is chiefly owing to their having their waists so short, that their petticoats are tied under their arms, which has a most disagreeable effect. They wear large hats, of a circular form, which serve as a parasol in summer, and an umbrella in winter ; 206 AVIGNON. somewhat on the principle of the Irish peasant's inseparable great-coat, which, as he asserts, keeps out the heat in summer, and keeps it in, in winter. Beneath this large hat, the women wear a trans parent handkerchief, of a brown and yellow pattern, which passes over the forehead, and shades the eyes from the scorching beams of the summer's sun, and the not less destructive effects of the mistrael, or vent de bise, to which they are exposed at all seasons. It is strange that the inhabitants of the south of France, although more Hable to diseases of the eyes than those of any other part, from the extreme heat and glare of the sun, as well as the pernicious in fluence of the mistrael, invariably use umbrellas of a deep rose colour, which must be very injurious to the sight, from the red shade they cast. On a wet day, the streets resemble vast beds of damask roses put in motion, and has a fantatastic and pretty effect. December 1st. — Went to see the hotel de Crillon, the residence of him to whom the epithet Brave, always applied, gives a lustre to his memory that AVIGNON. 207 time cannot destroy. How characteristic of, and honourable to, both the sovereign and subject was the letter writen by Henri Quatre to Crillon : " Pends-toi, brave Crillon! nous avons combattu d Arques, et tu n'y Stois pas." This noble mansion was much injured during the Revolution ; since that epoch it has been sold, and is at present divided into two : but though its pris tine splendour is greatly impaired, it still retains many marks of its former grandeur. The principal facade has been repaired, and is remarkably fine : the architraves of the door and windows are orna mented with bold and well executed bassi-rilievi ; but owing to the extreme narrowness of the street in which the house stands, this beautiful fagade is seen to little advantage. The vestibule is paved with marble of a mosaic pattern, and though in jured, still displays some portion of its original beauty ; and the inner salon and entrance, which is of vast dimensions, has some of its pannels left, which attest the richness of its former decorations. The gaUery, which opens on a colonnade roofed with weU executed ornaments, in cut stone, is entered from this apartment : its only ornament are some old 208 AVIGNON. busts, placed on curious brackets. The principal suite of rooms front the garden, which bears marks of having been worthy the mansion. The great salon on the ground floor contains a curious and very handsome mantel-piece of enormous dimen sions, supported by caryatides representing colossal females. It is executed in so bold a style that it conveys an impression of the liberal spirit of the brave owner of the hotel ; and on beholding its ample hearth, the mind is carried back to the olden time, and to the princely hospitality of Crillon, when whole forests blazed to give a warm welcome to his gallant sovereign. The delicacy and good taste of Crillon were ad mirably conspicuous in the manner of his reception of Henri Quatre in this mansion. That monarch having signified his intention of visiting Avignon, was entreated by Crillon to honour his hotel, by taking up his abode there during his stay. Henri declined, not wishing to put his favourite to the heavy expense of entertaining him and his suite ; and declared his determination of resting at the principal auberge. Crillon, comprehending the motive of his sovereign, immediately placed over AVIGNON. 209 the door of his hotel the sign of the Fteur de Lis, with the following inscription : BON LOGIS AUX FLEURS DE LIS. Afterwards, he arranged that the king should be conducted to, and received at the hotel Crillon, as if it were an inn ; and Henri never discovered the deUcate deception until he entered the grand salon, the magnificence of which undeceived him. We were shown the chamber in which the monarch slept. The alcove in which his bed was placed is still divided from the room by the same massive gilded balustrade that was erected for his reception, and the ceiling of the chamber retains much of its beauty. One could fancy the gallant Henri in this chamber, waited on by his no less gaUant soldier, who with manly courtesy did the honours of his house. What very 'different associations do two of the most remarkable monarchs of France call up in the mind, Henri Quatre and Louis Quatorze! The courage and frankness of the first, make posterity regard his memory with affection ; nay, his gal- VOL. I. p 210 AVIGNON. lantries receive a toleration never accorded to those of other sovereigns. He may be considered as "the chartered Hbertine" of the olden time; for those who dared not praise, refused to censure his errors. But the vain-glorious Louis, whose cam paigns were not less ostentatious than his amours, and whose victories in war, as in love, were Httle due to his personal merit, excites but a trifling interest in our minds : and though sung by BoUeau, and bepraised by all his principal cotemporaries, is seldom referred to by posterity, except in conjunc tion with the splendid furniture, and the equally gHttering but flagrant profligacy, which formed the two principal features of his reign. 2nd. — We visited the tomb of Laura, or rather, I should say, the site of it, to-day. It is in a garden which now occupies the place of the church of the CordeHers, of which only a portion of the ruins remains. The spot is marked by a few stunted cypresses planted around it, with some flowering shrubs. One is surprised that the people of Avignon have not erected a simple mo nument over the grave, or even a stone to point AVIGNON. 211 out the spot; and it is the more surprising, as many of the inhabitants are remarkable for their love of literature. Perhaps they imagine, and with reason, that in the poesy of Petrarch, Laura has found a more beautiful and indestructible monu ment, than they could erect to her memory. 3rd. — M. de L. took us to-day to see " the Grand Hdpital" as it is caUed. It is a fine building with a magnificent facade, and holds a vast many, I forget the precise number, of patients. The rooms are spacious, weU ventilated, and perfectly clean ; and nothing can exceed the good order with which all the arrangements are conducted in this establishment. Two apartments, of large dimen sions, are appropriated to patients whose diseases are not infectious. They contain rows of beds ex tending from one end of the apartments to the other, each being divided by a window. The name of the patient is attached to his bed ; on a shelf, at the head of which, is placed every article appropriated to his use. The beds are scrupulously clean ; and the linen and pillows as white as any to be found in the best houses. The two large apartments p 2 212 AVIGNON. contained, on an average, not less than a hundred patients in each ; yet not the slightest disagreeable odour was perceptible, nor the least symptom of a disgusting nature. At the end of the largest apartment is an altar, at which a religious service is daily performed. This chamber communicates, by very large folding-doors, with the entrance hall ; the whole forming an extent of some hundred feet, en suite. The patients were quiet and orderly in their demeanour, many of them occupied in reading ; and though some looked grave, none appeared discon tented. How blessed is the charity that extends succour, to those whose poverty denies them the power of alleviating, or healing the physical suffer ings to which mankind are subjected! Who that visits such institutions as the one I this day saw, could refuse to contribute his mite to support them ? The rich, who can nurse disease on pillows of down, and administer to its wants "with all the appli ances of wealth," know how difficult it is to be borne ; and that, though pomp may be physicked, the potion is not less nauseous from being offered in cups of gold. But they ought to feel, and the AVIGNON. 213 mass, God be thanked, do feel, that the suffering poor should be shielded in their hour of need ; and public and private charities attest the willingness to relieve them. It required all the cleanliness and good order of the hospital I saw to-day, to counteract the depression occasioned by beholding so many fellow mortals assailed by disease ; and by the reflection that they were all away from their homes and hearths, and those near and dear to them, to which persons never turn so fondly as when subdued by physical suffering. The fond wife, the devoted mother, the tender sister, or the duteous daughter, were not there to whisper comfort, or to look hope. But they were, perhaps, thought of more frequently and affectionately, as their absence was missed by those accustomed to share their attentions ; and charity (may it be thriced blessed !) supplied what poverty could not at home furnish ; the knowledge of which consoled the absent. 5th Rode to the Pont du Gard yesterday— a splendid monument of antiquity. It is sixteen miles from Avignon, and worth going a hundred to see. It unites two steep and rocky hills, between which 214 AVIGNON. the river Gardon flows rapidly along its steep and abrupt banks, covered with wild shrubs, mingled with fig and olive trees. The country around is picturesque ; and the magnificent structure which crowns the scene, renders it one of the most imposing and beautiful imaginable — just such a one as Claude Lorraine would have loved to paint. This noble pile consists of three tiers of arches, forming a height of two hundred feet above the river. The length is estimated at eight hundred feet, taking a sloping direction, its extremities resting on the rocks at each side of the river. The principal tier, which is the middle, consists of eleven arches, the height of which in the centre, appears to be about eighty feet. The upper tier, which supports the channel through which the water passed, has thirty-five arches, which are twenty feet high. The bridge annexed to this aqueduct is of modern construction, and is infinitely inferior to the ancient building ; but seen at a dis tance, it adds considerably to the effect of the whole. The blocks of stone with which the Roman works were constructed are so stupendous, that we are led to imagine that the beings who wielded such materials, must have been as superior in physical force to the AVIGNON. 215 present race of men, as are the monuments they erected, to our modern buildings. The Romans, like the Egyptians, seem to have thought of future ages, when they constructed their massive edifices ; whUe we, in a most egotistical spirit, appear to build as if we had only a lease of our Hves, and cared not for our posterity. The works of the aqueduct of the Pont du Gard extended through a course of twenty-six miles, con veying water from two fountains near Usez, into Nismes. The conduit through which the water passed was Hned with a mastic cement, which is stiU in a wonderful degree of preservation. We were enabled, by stooping a little, to walk with ease through this conduit. The date of this fine struc ture is not known, but it bears the initials A. M. A., which are supposed to signify, Aqueductus iEHi Adriani. 7th A long ride in the country yesterday pre vented my writing. The ohve trees begin to look very sombre. One of the most tasteful residences I have seen since I left Paris, is the Maison la Pal- Here, which we went over to-day. It contains a 216 AVIGNON. gallery of pictures, some of which are worth in spection ; and a collection of casts of many of the best statues of antiquity. The drawing-room is of an elhptical shape, divided into equal compartments by pillars, each compartment being filled by a mirror. The doors and windows have mirrors to correspond ; and busts and vases, placed on marble pedestals, are ranged round the room. The whole has a singular, but pleasing effect ; and the apartment must look very brilliantly when lighted up. 8th. — We had a good specimen of a provincial soiree last night, at Madame de L.'s, where all the beau monde of Avignon were assembled. Eight o'clock for an evening party, sounded strangely to our ears, that being about the hour we sit down to dinner in London ; but here, it is the general hour of reunion. The Hotel de L. is a very fine one ; the rooms spacious and tastefully furnished, remark ably well lighted, and containing several good works of art. One card table was set out for some of the elderly guests ; but the rest amused themselves with music and conversation; both very good of their kind. We had duets, which were sung in a style AVIGNON. 217 of exceUence that would not have shamed first-rate professional performers ; and which had a peculiar charm for me, as indicating the perfect harmony not only of the voices, but of the lives of the singers ; for nothing but the habit of very frequently practising together, could have rendered their notes so beauti- fuUy attuned. Indeed, it was gratifying to observe the extreme cordiality that subsisted between the persons as sembled, — all, with the exception of ourselves, old friends and neighbours, who are in the habit of meeting every evening during the winter, at each other's houses. The French possess the talent of conversation in a rare degree ; their apprehension and comprehension are quick, their flow of words ready and vivacious, and their manners are dis tinguished by a desire to please, that half accom plishes its aim. They are, for the most part, well informed on the general subjects of interest. With the light literature of their own country they culti vate a familiar acquaintance ; but their knowledge, though versatile, is rarely profound. They can talk agreeably on most topics, but instructively on few. They have the address of bringing into exhibition 218 AVIGNON. the whole stock of their knowledge, leaving nothing unseen ; like those smaU dealers, who display the greater part of their wares in the windows of their shops, reserving no store on their shelves. In fine, they are witty, playful, and brilliant, but rarely, if ever, thoughtful, and never thoroughly erudite. Of humour, they appear to be not only deficient, but ignorant. A bon mot, an epigram, or a lively sally, they comprehend at a glance ; but broad or sly humour, which is so well understood, and duly ap preciated in England, has no attraction for them. I refer, of course, to the many ; there may be, and I doubt not, are, very numerous exceptions to be found in the more studious and reflecting of both sexes ; but these classes seldom enter society. But to return to the soirSe of Madame de L. ; among many distinguished persons who were as sembled, the individual who the most particularly excited my attention was Madame de Villume, the celebrated MademoiseUe Sombreuil, whose celebrity is among the most honourable that ever was acquired by woman — the heroic discharge of the duties of a daughter in the face of danger and of death. Her father was gouverneur des Invalides at the com- AVIGNON. 219 mencement of the Revolution ; and displayed a firm ness and courage, as well as a devotion to his sove reign, worthy of example. H e was arrested and cast into prison soon after the memorable 10th of August ; and on the 2nd of September was on the point of being massacred by the sanguinary assas sins who immolated so many noble victims ; when his young and lovely daughter threw herself between him and them, and clasping him in her arms, offered her fragile person as a shield against their weapons. Her youth, her beauty, and her self-abnegation, touched even the caUous hearts of the murderous band ; but even their mercy was marked by a refine ment in cruelty not to be surpassed by the most atrocious examples handed down from the dark ages. They consented to spare the life of her father provided she would, on the spot, drink a goblet of the human gore fast pouring from the slaughtered victims around ! She swallowed the fearful draught : and saw her father led back to prison ; whence, in June, 1794, he was consigned to the scaffold, by the revolution ary tribunal : more cruel than the sanguinary band 220 AVIGNON. from whose vengeance his daughter had rescued him. Madame de Villume is wife to the General of that name, and is as remarkable for the exemplary dis charge of all the duties of life as of those of her filial ones. She is still strikingly handsome, though her countenance is tinged with a soft melancholy that de notes the recollection of the bitter trials of her youth. Her complexion is peculiarly delicate, her hair fair, and her features small and regular ; her manners are dignified and gentle, and her voice soft and sweet. She is exceedingly beloved at Avignon, and universally treated with a respectful deference, that marks the profound admiration which her filial piety has excited. I was told that she shrinks from the slightest aUusion to her youthful trials, and cannot bear to look on red wine ; which is never brought into her presence. * 10^. — I have been hearing an interesting account of the family of Sombreuil, in which it appears that a chivalrous spirit, and irreproachable conduct, have been hereditary. Her brother Stanislaus de Som breuil ascended the scaffold at the same time as his AVIGNON. 221 noble father ; but her second brother, Charles de Sombreuil, was reserved to furnish a brilliant exam ple of a heroism seldom witnessed in modern times, and worthy of a Caractacus. In one of the tumults which so often disgraced Paris during the early part of the Revolution, he, at the imminent risk of his Hfe, rescued one of the Polignacs from the san guinary mob. Compelled at a later period to emi grate, he entered the Prussian army, where he soon achieved a mUitary feat that gained him the Order of Merit, conferred on ithe field of battle. With only four hussars he took a convoy defended by an escort of a hundred men ! He continued to distin guish himself during the campaign of 1793 on the borders of the Rhine, and in 1794 acquired a bril liant reputation in Holland. After the evacuation of HoUand he proceeded to England, where a strong effort was making to send an expedition to assist the royalist party in Bretagne and Poitou. The great armee de la Vendee, with its most able chiefs, had been destroyed ; but Charette, Stofflet, and other officers of the Chouans, had concluded an armistice with the republican government, by which they were per mitted to retain their arms. The death of Robes- 222 AVIGNON. pierre, and the disgust which the atrocious cruelties practised by the revolutionists had excited, seemed to present a favourable occasion for the emigrants to make an attempt in favour of the monarchical cause. To Charles de Sombreuil was confided the com mand of the second division of the emigrant army, who were to effect a descent on Bretagne. Four thousand men, with whom he had served in HoUand, were placed under his orders. He went to Hano ver, where they were reviewed, and made aU the necessary arrangements for their embarkation ; then returned to England to wed the object of a long and tender attachment, the charming MademoiseUe de la Blanche. The moment so long and passionately desired, of calling her his, had arrived — the actual day that was to have witnessed their nuptials had dawned — when an express arrived to tell the impa tient lover that the fleet with his army was at Spit- head, the wind favourable, and the troops ardently longing for him to lead them. He tore himself from his betrothed, who was ready to accompany him to the altar, when he went to bid her an eternal adieu ; and left her in her bridal robes, to weep the de parture of the hero who could sacrifice love to duty. AVIGNON. 228 On arriving at Quiberon he found all in confusion. A jealousy between two of the chiefs, to whom the command of the first division had been confided, led to the most disastrous results. The Chouans would only obey one of their rival chiefs, and the soldiers the other; while the successes of General Hoche impaired the confidence of both parties, and for some time withheld them from assuming more than a de fensive position at Quiberon. An attempt made by one of the chiefs to attack St. Barbe, a fortified post occupied by the repubHcans, failed ; and in its failure involved serious consequences, for it encou raged General Hoche to undertake to surprise the Fort Penthievre, an enterprise in which, aided by deserters from the emigrant army, he succeeded ; for they not only acquainted him with their force and resources, but guided the attack. One of the chiefs of the royahst army was mortally wounded ; the other, seeing that aU was lost, and that the troops refused to submit to his orders, embarked, leaving Charles de Sombreuil in command. This noble and gallant soldier, who had no part in the disasters of which he was doomed to become the victim, saw that without artillery or ammunition, 224 AVIGNON. both being seized in the Fort Penthievre, all hope was at an end ; and the republican army, infuriated by the resistance they had met, were rapidly approaching the coast, where Sombreuil and his troops were stationed. The English fleet, which had conveyed Sombreuil and his troops to Qui beron, still floated at a short distance from the shore, and nothing was more easy than for him to have regained it ; but, with that chivalrous spirit which had always characterised his family, he spurned the thought of deserting his companions in danger. Hoche with his troops arrived ; the greater num ber of the soldiers of Sombreuil deserted to him ; and Sombreuil, to save the rest, capitulated. Hoche treated him with marked respect ; but Blad and Tallien, who were sent by the Convention, were less generous. The only favours he demanded at their hands was, to accept the sacrifice of his life as an expiation for his soldiers, and to be permitted, on his parole, to go on board the British flag-ship, to acquaint the English Admiral with the fatal termi nation of the enterprise, and the causes which led to it. His whole thoughts seemed occupied by the AVIGNON. 225 dread of having the blame of this terrible event attributed to him ; and this apprehension had more terrors for him than death. The King of Prussia endeavoured to save Som breuil ; and Admiral Warren left no means untried to induce the heroic young man to permit himself to be saved. A well concerted plan for his escape only waited for his consent to be put into execution ; but he resisted every entreaty, and met death in his twenty-sixth year, beloved by all who knew him per- sonaUy, and respected by aU who were acquainted with his noble self-devotion. Such was the brother of Madame de Villume — worthy to be the brother of such a sister ! ! And such were many of the families doomed to stain with their blood, the land to which they were an honour ! ! 13th. — Four days without adding a line to my journal ! They have been very agreeably passed, making long excursions on horseback in the morn ings, and sitting round a cheerful fire at night, with some of the pleasantest people of Avignon. An EngHsh lady is one of the most distinguished of the female inhabitants of this place — la Baronne de vol. i. Q. 226 AVIGNON. M , who offers an admirable specimen of a high bred and gifted woman. She has married one of the richest proprietors in this neighbourhood, and one of the most agreeable men : weU educated, and an accomplished musician, he and his amiable wife have rendered their home the rendezvous of aU the Slite of Avignon, and dispense their elegant hos pitality to those who are presented to them. The greater part of the last four days has been passed in their society. 15th. — M. de L. would insist on taking us to view the foundry to-day. I confess I had little inclination for the undertaking ; for having seen all that can be seen at Birmingham, and witnessed the forging of anchors at Portsmouth, my curiosity with regard to such matters was fully satisfied. This establishment, which is very extensive, em braces various branches of manufacture in iron, lead, and copper. During the war, innumerable pieces of cannon were cast here, as well as balls, shells, and all the other implements of destruction with which civilisation has enriched us. At present, the articles manufactured here are intended for AVIGNON. 227 pacific uses, and give employment to a vast number of persons. The place chosen for this foundry is the church of St. Dominic, formerly that of the Inqui sition. The residence of the grand inquisitor joins the church ; and its stair-case still bears the vestiges of its former state. The church, though much dilapidated, retains many fragments of its original beauty. It is in the florid-gothic style, richly orna mented ; with the exception of one chapel, which is in the Corinthian order, and admirable in its pro portions and the high finish of its capitals. Many of the windows of stained glass, in their pristine richness, attest the wealth lavished on this church ; and some of the monuments stiU remain unbroken, adding to the sombre effect produced by the ruin around. To gaze on this fine building, with its pointed arches, groined and fretted roofs, its gorgeously-tinted windows, and grotesque figures, with hundreds of black satanic beings moving rapidly around vast furnaces glowing with lurid flames, and casting broad red shadows on the marble monuments where sleep the dead — one could fancy oneself in some unholy place, where men were con demned to torture. But while the ears were assailed 0.2 228 AVIGNON. by the deafening sounds of their anvils, and the eyes struck by the unearthly aspect of those who plied them, the flames of the furnace throwing its red hues on their dingy brows, and muscular arms, the Hght of day streamed brightly through the painted windows, casting prismatic hues amid the lurid ones of the furnace, like a rainbow sun in a storm. The whole presented a scene worthy of being depicted by Michael Angelo, and would have fur nished his mighty pencil with no bad subject for an Inferno. Here, where the pealing organ sent forth its hymns of praise to the Almighty, and the stoled priest offered up the sacrifice of the mass while kneeling hundreds prayed, the loud thunder of the resounding anvil was now heard, mingled with the discordant voices of the dusky cyclops who plied them. The change was revolting to my feelings ; and the impiety that permitted such a desecration shocked us ! In England, this could not have occurred ! Dear happy England I — how frequently do I find myself instituting comparisons between your favoured land and this ; each and aU proving you, to my partial eyes, at least — Oh, how infinitely superior ! AVIGNON. 229 1 8th.— Went over the Mont de Piete to-day. This institution, of which each provincial town of any importance possesses one, is, I believe, peculiar to France. Here, all who are suffering under the pres sure of distress, and who have property of any port able description, may pawn it for a third part of its intrinsic value ; paying for the use of the money they obtained at the rate of three per cent, per annum, with the power of redeeming the property within the limit of three years, the longest period aUowed ; a pubHc sale always taking place at the expiration of that time. The funds for this institution have been furnished by legacies and charitable donations. The duties of the establishment are gratuitously dis charged by respectable individuals, who bestow un remitting attention to their task. The building is of considerable extent ; it is constructed of cut stone, is fire-proof, with the doors of wrought iron. The rooms are of various dimensions ; and are appropriated to contain the different articles pledged. Some have large presses ranged round, formed of strong lattice-work, to admit a thorough circulation of air : these are used for holding silk, cotton, and woollen goods. Other rooms have substantial ward- 230 AVIGNON. robes, with labelled drawers for jewels and plate. Apartments of larger dimensions are allotted to furniture of every description, which is so well arranged, that no confusion or mistake of property can arise. Each article is covered by a wrapper, labelled with a number in a particular colour, and marked with the name of the person who pledged it, and with the date, and the sum for which it was pawned. Those labels correspond with the entries in the ledger, and the receipts given to the indi viduals who pledge. A separate book is kept for each colour, to preclude mistakes arising from simi larity of numbers ; and by this precaution, the property of every person may be quickly discovered. The most careful owner cannot be more attentive in preserving the articles from injury, than are the persons who have charge of them here. The rooms are so well ventilated, and such space is allowed, that the most valuable article cannot suffer dete rioration : hence many families, previously to going into the country for the season, place their plate, jewels, furs, and other valuable property here, pay ing a small remuneration for the space occupied. It was impossible to behold the various articles AVIGNON. 231 deposited in this place without serious and melan choly reflections, on the feelings of those whom the hard grasp of poverty had compelled to resign them. Whether my eyes turned to the positive necessaries of Hfe ranged around me — the bed, with its cover ings, and the clothes, the want of which at this moment may be felt as a heavy privation ; or to the articles of luxury and ornament, rendered almost necessaries by long habitude, or as being the gifts of love or friendship ; imagination painted painful pictures of the situation and feelings of those to whom they belonged. The watch labeUed, " Veuve Marfan" was, perhaps, the last legacy of a dear and lamented husband ; its hands had traced many of her happiest hours ; and had, alas ! marked her heaviest hour of trial ; its smaU but distinct tick had sounded pleasantly in her ear, when, by her cheerful hearth, she was enjoying a loved com panion's society ; and she had gazed on its dial to count the watchful hours of anxiety passed by the bed of sickness, doomed to become the bed of death. But, above aU, it was endeared to her because it had been his. For years and years, his hand had wound it, had placed it by the nuptial couch ; and 232 AVIGNON. she had hoped — vainly hoped, that while she Hved, it should never have passed into other hands! Those only who have treasured some memorial of a beloved object, snatched from them by death, can sympathise with the poor widow's feelings, when compelled by the gaunt fiend Poverty, to consign this watch to its present place. The large gold locket, with the name of " Leontine" engraved on it, was surely the gift of love ; and once held a ringlet more precious to its possessor than the most costly dia mond. He had worn it for years concealed from every eye, it was associated with all the dreams and hopes of his youth, and the sight of it recalled visions of brightness long, long passed away. The blue skies and green fields that she, who bestowed it on him, loved to call his admiration to, were remembered when he looked at it ; the trysting-tree, where they had so often interchanged their vows, seemed again to cast its umbrageous shadow over him, her sweet voice and love-beaming glances were once more present, though the beautiful head whence the ringlet of soft silken hair which filled that locket had been severed, had long been laid in the dust. This had been the last memorial of her that was AVIGNON. 233 left to him ; and dearly, fondly, had it been cherished! How strong was the pressure of that poverty which compelled him to part from this memento, not re signed until every other resource had been ex hausted ! His hand trembled while taking the silken tress from the case that it had so long filled, that case which had lain next his heart through many a sorrowful day and sleepless night ; and the stain that has tarnished the gold, bears evidence to the tears wrung from him when he pressed it to his lips for the last time. I see him approach with hurried, but unsteady steps, casting a timid glance around, and shrinking with the sensitive delicacy pecuhar to those of gentle blood, fallen on evil days, from the gaze of the cold and careless eyes around him. He strains the locket with a con vulsive grasp as he draws nearer to the spot where he is to resign it, and But no— I will not finish the painful sketch my imagination has por trayed. Enough, Heaven knows, enough, of the painful realities of life surround one at the Mont de Piete, without conjuring up ideal scenes of misery. Misfortunes viewed in the mass, however great they may be, fail to excite that interest which indi- 234 AVIGNON. vidual cases awaken, when presented to us. Hu manity would lead me to sigh on beholding the accumulated heaps of articles offered up by the unfortunate at this shrine of adversity, this last fesource of poverty; but where fancy draws por traits, a stronger sympathy is raised, and the suf ferings of the distressed seem brought more forcibly before me. I was roused from my reverie by the Baron de M , who asked me whether we possessed not similar institutions in England? The question made me reflect on the advantages to be derived from such an establishment ; and excited in my mind an anxious desire that such might be formed to supersede the pawnbrokers' shops, at present the sole resource of the unfortunate ; the owners of which fatten on the miseries of their feUow crea tures. I have frequently read accounts of the ex tortion practised in those receptacles of avarice, where private gain is the sole motive that actuates them ; and while public and private charity flows in so many streams of beneficence, succouring hun dreds and hundreds, it is to be regretted that no plan has been adopted, of affording a relief like AVIGNON. 235 that offered at the Mont de Pi6te, to those who are too poor not to feel its want, and too proud to beg. One of the rich streams of benevolence with which England abounds, directed to this channel, would, I am persuaded, yield a salutary assistance to thousands. One of the superintendents of the Mont de Piete told me that the ensuing week, being the one pre vious to Christmas, was their most busy period. I naturaUy concluded, that this arose from Christmas being with the people of Avignon, as with us, the epoch of their yearly payments, which being unpre pared .to meet, they had recourse to the Mont de Piete. He smUed at my simpHcity when I ex pressed this conjecture, and replied, " No, Madam, they bring their household goods here, that they may, with the money they receive for them, be enabled to purchase a turkey for their Christmas dinner ; it being a general custom through this part of France to have that bird on the dinner table. Those who are not rich enough to , buy one, and alas ! they are many, flock here to pro cure the means ! " There was something approaching the ludicrous 236 AVIGNON. in this statement ; and I smiled at the recollection of the sentimental pictures my imagination had painted, but a few minutes before, of the persons, circumstances, and feelings of those who came here to barter their possessions. Instead of a desolate and heart-stricken widow coming to pawn the watch of her lamented husband, or a pale and disconsolate lover bowed down by grief, and driven by poverty to part with the last memorial of affection, imagi nation now pictured a fat and buxom widow hastening to deposit her poor dear husband's watch, in order to purchase for a Christmas dinner, a plump turkey : or a red-faced gourmand, anticipating the savory delights of this too fascinating bird, en hanced by roasted chesnuts, bringing hither a locket given him when the gratification of the heart was more thought of than that of the stomach, and aU his affections were not transferred to the unpoetical charms of a good dinner. I almost smiled as these images passed before my mind's eye, for my sympathy with those who had pledged their properties was destroyed, when I discovered such sacrifices were actuaUy made to satisfy the cravings, not of hunger, but of epicurism. The AVIGNON. 237 superintendent informed me that it is a common custom for persons, on the approach of summer, to bring here their winter garments, which they pawn, and at the return of winter, they exchange them for the more substantial clothing. It is vanity, and not poverty, which in most cases in duces this measure, though expediency also not unfrequently dictates it ; the airy wardrobes of the Mont de Piete being considered a safer place for spare clothes than a confined lodging. 19^ Saw in the Salle de la Commune to-day two good portraits ; one of the brave Crillon, and the other of his son, the Due de Mahon-Crillon. The countenance of the first answered the idial I had formed, for it is frank, open, and manly. The eye indicates that the original never quailed before man, and the expression of goodness about the mouth relieves the face from aU approach to sternness. Does the admiration invariably excited in the breast of woman, by bravery in man, proceed from the con sciousness of her own physical weakness, and the confidence of protection which his strength affords her ? is a question I have often asked myself. And 238 AVIGNON. after serious consideration, and mature deliberation, I am inclined to think that a less selfish sentiment gives birth to it. Yes, it arises from a pure admira tion of what is noble and good, a quality which is inherent in woman's breast. / But to resume the subject of the Salle de la Commune ; I saw there the portraits of Louis XVIII. and Madame la Dauphine. Never was a greater contrast than they present. Louis' coun tenance is singular ; and the artist has caught its peculiar expression. The generaHty of persons with such an enormous embonpoint, look stupid and heavy ; but there is a lurking devil in his eyes, that bids defiance to the lethargic effect of obesity, and . indicates no common vivacity of spirit. He is the very personification of a spirituel bon-vivant, who, while inordinately indulging his own weaknesses, would be a quick observer of, and pitiless railer at, those of others. The Duchesse D'Angouleme's countenance can not be examined without painful sensations. Sorrow has left indelible marks on it ; and were the terrible trials of her infancy and youth unknown, one could not see her without being struck with the conviction AVIGNON. 239 that her Hfe had been steeped in sadness. When I first beheld her in 1820, her smile seemed a forced effort over habitual grief, more expressive of cure less, hapless despair, than any symptom of woe I had ever noticed in others. There was resignation and not hope in that smile — it was that of a martyred saint, and not a future queen. 20th. — Spent last evening at Madame de L.'s, met there the Due and Duchesse de C — G — . Madame was dame-d'honneur to Marie-Louise ; and has aU the air and manner of one accustomed to find herself at home in a court. She dresses a ravir, enters a room comme un ange, and talks d merveille, as a lady who sat next me assured me. Of the truth of the first and last I can bear witness, for she dresses with perfect taste, and in that ordeal of feminine skill, only perfect in France, a demi-toilette, shines with true Parisian elegance. Her conversa tion is brilliant, but its tone so subdued that it impresses one with the idea of how very animated and amusing she could be among her own peculiar circle, with whom she was under no restraint. Her conversation resembled a veiled beauty, that only 240 AVIGNON. allowed sufficient of her face to be seen to make one long to behold the rest. This Duchesse was selected by Napoleon to fill the distinguished place she held near the person of his empress, and discharged its duties with great credit to herself. The Due seems to be the quintessence of good nature, and both he and his Duchesse are very popular at Avignon, near to which they have a large chateau, and give fre quent entertainments. French women appear to be born with an inherent desire to please. Some people are so iU-natured as to call this ambition coquetry, but it arises from a more amiable feeling. The Duchesse de C — G — , after having enjoyed all the gaiety and splendour of a brilliant court, where she doubtless was much admired, is now apparently as contented with her provincial soirSes, and as aimable and as empresske to please those she encounters, as if they were the Slite of the Faubourg St. Germain. Nothing can exceed the polite attention that strangers, if well recommended, receive at Avignon. To the EngHsh, the inhabitants display great civi- Hty, which I attribute to the good impression the Baronne de M. has made in favour of her com- AVIGNON. 241 patriots. She is so beloved and respected in the town, that its inhabitants are disposed to think well of all who come from her native land, and to evince this opinion by their friendly reception. Nowhere can society be conducted on a more easy and agree able footing than it is here. There are a few famiHes possessed of large fortunes ; and several are of ancient lineage, but with very contracted incomes. This disparity of wealth would in other countries preclude association ; or at least render it an ex pensive indulgence to those with limited means. But here, the rich give luxurious dinners and soirSes, of which those of narrow fortunes partake ; and in return entertain their opulent hosts at the expense of a Httle extra tea, a lamp or two more than usual, and a few glasses of eau sucrie. The idea of the poor emulating the affluent in their banquets, is unknown here ; and, to their credit be it recorded, those accustomed in their homes to fine suites of rooms richly furnished, seem perfectly satisfied in the petit salons, poorly ameubles, of their less fortunate neighbours. A round of soirtes, in which each family receives their acquaintances, takes place during the winter VOL. I. R 242 AVIGNON. season ; but it is during the carnival that the greatest gaiety prevails. How rational is this sys tem of not exceeding the fortune, by a profuse or unsuitable expenditure, and yet enjoying the plea sure of society. With us, the poor gentleman and his family would either decline accepting engage- ments which his means denied him the power of adequately returning, or he would disburse a sum in returning such hospitalities, as would seriously encroach on his income ; for in England, people think it absolutely necessary to provide fare more suitable to the habits of their guests, than to their own resources. Nay, I am afraid, that few guests would be found with us, who would relish repasts wanting the luxuries which habit has rendered necessary to their comfort. Our ostentatious din ners and soirSes are well calculated to injure society, and, assuredly, have had that effect. The house, plate, and dinner of Mr. Thompson, with two thousand a year, must vie with that of Mr. Seymour with eight, and Mr. Seymour must emulate those of Lord A., B., or C, who possesses twenty. This erroneous system induces people to give one expen sive dull dinner of pretension, instead of a dozen, AVIGNON. 243 that would not cost the sum expended on the one ; hence ceremony is substituted for ease, begetting coldness and indifference. 21st. — I am as " triste as a bonnet de nuit," to use a French phrase I often have heard employed, though why a night-cap should be triste, does not seem evident. It is one of those phrases received into use without a due examination of its aptitude ; for the tristesse of a bonnet de nuit must depend whoUy on the head that wears it. We have no phrase that conveys the same signification : we do not consider the hours aUotted to repose as being duU ; but then, we are a reflecting race,- and are not disposed to find fault with aught that tends to make us think, even though it should not make us sleep. The French, au contraire, being constitu tional gay, are prone to regard the hours given to rest as stolen from amusement. Thence the night cap is viewed as a symbol of dulness, and has given rise to the phrase " triste comme un bonnet de nuit." I have explained this momentous affair according to national prejudice, which invariably operates more or less in all our views and deductions. It is this r 2 244 AVIGNON. national prejudice, which we designate with the high-sounding title of patriotism, that makes me view the gayer and happier temperament of our mercurial neighbours the French, with a sentiment bordering on pity, as I complacently compared it with our more dignified, but less enviable gravity. Nay, I more than once detected myself defending our climate, on the plea that its variability had something very piquant in it ; and, for our dense fogs, I urged the palliation of their mysterious sub limity, which left so much to the imagination. A fog arising from the Seine, I admitted to some Parisians might be, and was a detestable thing — a mere Scotch mist, through which objects might be discerned — no mystery — no sublimity ! But a Lon don fog ! with its mixture of grey, green, and yellow opaque, shutting out every thing, and bidding de fiance to gas-lamps, was quite autre chose. "MonDieu!" replied the French lady, "what droll people you English must be, when you can be proud even of your fogs ! " 22wd — I could not yesterday note down " the secrets of the prison-house" I had seen. My spirits AVIGNON. 245 were depressed, and I endeavoured to recruit them by trifling, as children do by playing, when sent to learn a task, leaving the punishment for their idle ness to another day. " L' Hospice des InsensSs," which I went over, was the cause of this depression. Yet the cleanliness and good order that prevailed throughout was consolatory. After passing through a large court, we entered the kitchen, where the repast for the female maniacs was preparing, under the superintendence of four nuns, Sceurs de la CharitS, of most prepossessing appearance. The eatables consisted of dressed vegetables and bread : both looked excellent, and the most fastidious person could detect no symptom of want of attention in their preparation. It was edifying, as well as in teresting, to observe the cheerfulness and activity of these pious women, wholly engrossed in administer ing to the wants of the unfortunate patients. The scrupulous cleanliness of their persons, and the mild serenity of their countenances, as their black veils floated gracefully from their heads, lent an air of dignity even to the menial offices they were per forming, that took from them every vestige of the vulgarity generally attending culinary details. 246 AVIGNON. We were conducted by the good father who acted as our cicerone, to the salle-d-manger, where the male lunatics were partaking their dinner. Here I beheld, for the first time in my life, a vast number of my feUow-creatures, suffering under that most dreadful of all maladies, the privation of reason ! Here the old, the young, the wild maniac, and the calm idiot, were mingled together in close contact, in soulless companionship. Countenances, animated by undue excitement, with eyes glaring with a frenzied light, were contrasted by faces on which the seal of confirmed imbeciHty was indelibly marked. Some wore the expression of careless, hopeless despair ; and others were distinguished by a coarse and boisterous jocularity, excited by the follies of their companions, as if they were exempt from the fearful malady, the effects of which fur nished their mirth. One fine looking young man, with a fearful brilliancy of eyes, approached and paid his compliments to us with a grace and good breeds ing that would not have disgraced the Tuileries. He entreated our assistance to free him from his hateful captivity ; declaring, with a vehemence of manner which too well proved the disordered state AVIGNON. 247 of his mind, its perfect sanity, and the cruelty and injustice of detaining him in a lunatic asylum. While he was addressing us, one of his companions stole gently behind him, listened to what he said, burst into a loud laugh, and assured us that there was not in the hospital so mad a man ; and that he was the only person in the house who was not a lunatic. The first speaker cast a look of inex pressible rage on the second, then implored us not to attend to the ravings of a maniac, who wished to prove every one mad but himself, and withdrew to the other side of the haU. One man, with a grave countenance, approached and asked us whether we could not find madmen enough in the world without coming there. " The world is only a madhouse on a larger scale," continued he, " where the lunatics follow their own caprices ; instead of, as in asylums like this, being compelled to foUow those of others." Having uttered this opinion, from the truth of which I, at least, was not inclined to dissent, he walked away with an air of great self-complacency. The women are kept in a different quarter of the building. They exhibited all the different degrees 248 AVIGNON. of insanity, from raving madness down to moping melancholy. Some were young, and possessed good features ; but wanting the heavenly ray of mind, the lamp that illumes the countenance, the mere physical regularity only served to make the absence of inteUectual beauty more visible. Many were so wholly absorbed by melancholy, as to be unconscious of our presence ; while others eagerly addressed us with entreaties for freedom, for money, or for coffee. What an appalHng lesson on the infirmity of our natures, and the instability of our most boasted and glorious attribute — reason, did this scene convey. Yes, that divine gift which elevates us above the brute, which enables us to beautify the earth, and to read the heavens, that places science within our reach, and knowledge at our call, may in a moment be forfeited, and man, proud lordly man, with all his boasted powers, be reduced to the level of the beast of the field ! How humihating are such scenes, yet how salutary are the reflections to which they give birth ! The sense of our weakness seems more deeply impressed on our minds ; and, bowed down in spirit by this consciousness, we turn to Him who holds life and reason in his hands, and who can at AVIGNON. 249 a moment deprive us of both. How fervent is the appeal which the soul lifts to its Creator, when sur rounded by hundreds labouring under this fearful affliction ; and we almost shudder while asking, what are we, O Lord, that we should be exempt ? The chapel of the hospital contains some good pictures, among which, two from the pencil of Guido, are the most esteemed; and two by that most effeminate of aU painters, Carlo Dolci, whose warmest admirers are ever to be found among the young and the fair. An ivory crucifix, the work of GuiUermin, ornaments this chapel ; and is one of the most exquisite specimens of carving that ever was executed. Nothing can be more perfect than the anatomy of the figure, and the expression of the countenance. Canova pronounced this crucifix to be a chefd'osuvre. There is a little history attached to the manner in which the hospital became pos sessed of this master-piece, that increases the interest with which it is beheld. The committee of the hospital have the privilege of once in five years demanding the pardon of a condemned criminal, whose life is granted to their intercession. The nephew of GuiUermin was among 250 AVIGNON. those sentenced to death, and the uncle applied to the committee, stating that if they would obtain the pardon of his nephew, he would present this crucifix to the hospital. His request was acceded to, the nephew's Hfe was saved ; and the graven image redeemed one of that mass for whose redemption the Saviour offered up life. 23c?. — The more I see of French society, the more do I Hke its ease and agreeability. We yesterday had a party of our new acquaintances, friends they would style themselves, to dine at our inn ; and good Madame Pieron, animated by that amour-propre peculiar to her compatriots, exerted her and her chef de cuisine's skill, to furnish a good dinner. Nothing could go off better : simply, I beheve, be cause each individual of the party was disposed to please, and be pleased ; a determination that offers a wonderful specific for making every social meeting a pleasant one. What a pity it should not be more generaUy known ! for then, dull soirSes, long faces, and yawning mouths, would become more rare ; and we should seldom see the looks which seem to say, " Amuse me if you can, I defy your most potent AVIGNON. 251 efforts." Ennui appears to be banished from French society ; or, at least, I have never yet detected a single symptom of it. The weather, that inex haustible subject of conversation with us, is seldom referred to ; and iU health is not made the excuse of a piteous monologue, more interesting to the speaker than to the Hsteners. A facility to be amused, is among the peculiarities of the French, and a very enviable peculiarity it is, notwithstanding that we in our superior wisdom are prone to consider it as an indication of their frivoHty ; and pique our selves that we are not formed of such facile materials. No, forsooth, we must expend large sums, and time, and trouble too, before we can condescend to be amused ; nor do we often succeed even then. But we console ourselves by the reflection, that we have minds above such empty pleasures; and this sophis try soothes our pride. Christmas seems a season of general festivity here. The note of preparation is sounding all around, and one cannot walk a step without seeing turkeys borne triumphantly from house to house. Great has been the slaughter of these birds, and many a gourmand in humble life smacks his lips in anticipation of 252 AVIGNON. feasting on one on Christmas day. Happy faces are to be met at each turning, congratulations are ex changed, and an extraordinary hilarity prevails. Every street boasts a vender of roasted chesnuts, which send forth their aromatic fumes from an iron pot placed on a rude brazier filled with burning Charcoal; and lively groups are clustering round the old women who seU this favourite fruit, to indulge their appetites at the expense of a sous. 24^. — Christmas eve is solemnized with great pomp and ceremony in aU the Catholic chapels in France. I went to see the midnight mass celebrated at the fine church of St. Peter's, which was weU lighted, and has a fine organ. The mass was chanted, and the organ pealing forth its mighty voice, had a fine and imposing effect. The women all wore black veils ; which, as the majority of them were without bonnets, floating Hke scarfs from their heads, and leaving the faces, on which the light fell, exposed, added much to the picturesque appearance of the whole coup-d'ceil. The effect of sacred music at night, and in a church, is solemn and beautiful. It excites a gentle melancholy, that disposes the soul AVIGNON. 253 to religious musings ; and sends it on the wings of hope to those regions, where the dear and departed have only preceded us. I never could hear sacred music in my life without thinking of the friends I have lost, as if the sounds were a mysterious medium of communion between our souls ; and, at night, it creates in me still more powerfuUy this sweet, but sad iUusion. Christmas Day. — AU Avignon seemed to-day on good cheer intent, and its results may now be dis tinctly traced in the snatches of song, peals of laughter, and joyous greetings, that are borne to us on the wings of the wind from the adjoining streets. No symptom of ebriety is visible in all this gaiety, which is the work of natural spirits, excited into more than usual exuberance by a good dinner. The French are not addicted to copious libations, and I have not seen an intoxicated man since I left Paris. Madame Pieron, to do honour to our national customs, had concocted a plum pudding, not {grace a Dieu) d-l'anglaise, but as good a specimen of one, a-la-francaise, as could be tasted. Commend me to a French plum pudding ! at once rich and light ; 254 AVIGNON. how far preferable is it to the palate, and how much less pernicious to the stomach, than the impenetrable lump of condensed and opaque fruit and fat served up on EngHsh tables. She, good soul, apologized for its not being tout-d-fait d-l'anglaise ; but we did such ample justice to it, that she must have been satisfied we Hked it. The large logs of wood piled on the ancient gilded dogues on our ample hearth, make one fancy oneself in some old fashioned coun try house ; and the rich silk hangings, and roomy cabriole chairs, and canapSs, which originally graced some lofty residence, support the impression. Mad. Pieron is very proud of this rich and tasteful furni ture, which would reaUy do honour to one of the last strongholds of I'ancienne noblesse, in the Faubourg St. Germain. 26th. — Went over the Hospital for Invalid Sol diers, to-day ; and was highly gratified with the perfect good order, cleanliness, and comfort, that reigned in it throughout. Twelve hundred men are accommodated in this hospital ; which is under the command of General de VUlume. The married men are permitted to have their wives and children AVIGNON. 255 with them. Each soldier has a small garden which he cultivates, the produce of which assists in the maintenance of his family : and though no allow ance for the women and children is given by the government, they seem in no want of the necessaries, nor, indeed, of the comforts of Hfe. It is said that there are at present not less than twelve hundred children in the hospital; aU of whom are well clothed, and healthy in appearance. Les Sosurs de la Charith, those ministering angels, who are only seen when in the performance of their self-imposed duties, instruct the female chUdren of the invaUds in reading, writing, arithmetic, and needle-work; and the boys have a school in the hospital. Such of the invaUds as are capable of working, find con stant employment in public offices and from private individuals ; and as the invalids are lodged, clothed, and fed in the hospital, the money they earn goes to the support of their families. The apartments of the building are spacious and airy ; two large gardens, into which they open, give exercise to the inhabitants. The married men are allowed to dine and sup in their rooms, and to share their repasts with their families, which, as their 256 AVIGNON. supplies are very liberal, they can well do. Their dinners and suppers are sent to them from the hos pital kitchen in large wooden boxes, well closed, laid on hand-barrows, and carried by two men. The unmarried invalids dine in a large mess-room, con taining two rows of circular tables, each sufficiently spacious to accommodate twelve men. In the centre of each is an enormous round pewter tureen, as bright as silver, filled with soup and bouiUi, the savoury odour of which is weU calculated to give an appetite. Each man has a large loaf of bread, and half a bottle of wine, furnished to him. Dinner is served at twelve o'clock, and at four their suppers are sent to them. We were in the kitchen when this last meal was dishing, and a more perfect picture of cleanliness and good order could not be presented. One side of this vast cuisine was appropriated to the use of the invalid officers ; and two white-capped and aproned cooks, with their aides de cuisine, were plying their professional skill on cutlets, poulets, entrees, and entremets, with vege tables and sweet things in abundance. The clean liness of the men, and the culinary utensils they employed, and the excellence of the comestibles AVIGNON. 257 they were arranging, loft nothing to be desired by the most fastidious taste. Two officers superintend the quality and distribution of the dinners and sup pers of the invalids ; and nothing could exceed the precision with which every part of the business of cooking, dishing, and despatching the viands to their different destinations, was performed. It was a pleasant sight to behold the large salle-d-manger fiUed with cheerful countenances. A grey-headed veteran, wanting an arm, was placed next a young soldier who had lost a leg ; and the latter evinced an attention to the wants of the former which it was most agreeable to contemplate, cutting his bread and meat with a good-natured readiness that seemed habitual. At every side, old and young, alike maimed and disabled, met our glances ; yet never did I witness an assemblage of more cheerful and contented beings. We saw one invalid who had lost both arms and legs from their sockets, presenting literally a torso with a head. His countenance is remarkably fine ; and he is said to possess a constant cheerfulness of spirits and good temper. A fellow soldier is paid for attending him, and performs the functions of a nurse vol. 1. s 258 AVIGNON. with gentleness and kindness ; his helpless charge singing, whistling, and chatting with all his compa nions, with whom he appears to be a general favourite. We also saw a very interesting and venerable veteran, who has completed the remarkable age of one hun dred and ten years. He fought in the battles of Fon- tenoy and Jemappes, two epochs very distant from each other. Notwithstanding that he has received no less than five baUs, and innumerable sabre wounds, he still retains such an extraordinary degree of vigour and animation, that he might weU pass for being only seventy years of age. He speaks six languages, and his memory is so good that he re counts many of the scenes of his early life, and the campaigns in which he has served, with vivacity and perfect coherence. He has been twice married, and was the father of twenty-seven children. He told me, that for many years he has rarely slept for more than an hour at a time ; which he accounted for by his always dreaming of battles, in which he imagines that he takes so active a part that his slumbers are broken, and he awakes in a state of agitation. He is often heard in his sleep uttering exclamations and menaces, to supposed enemies ; and is seen to bran- AVIGNON. 259 dish his arms, as if firing, or cutting with a sword. I never beheld any man, however young, who pos sessed the same degree of exuberant animation as this old soldier displays when talking of the past. It is really Hke the neighing of the old war-horse at the sound of the trumpet. I smile now, on reflecting on the prejudices I formerly entertained against the soldiers of our Galhc neighbours. I believed them unprincipled, uneducated, and dissipated ; and very religiously nursed the conviction, that one English soldier was a match for at least three French. I am now willing to accord to them, and it is surely no mean praise, an equal physical and moral force with our own troops ; and this is the fruit of much observation, with opportunities of making it such as are rarely aUowed to travellers. An acquaintance with the commanding officers of many of the regiments in garrison towns through which we have passed, afforded us facilities of judg ing the conduct and habits of the French soldiers ; and the impressions received have been very favour able..* A good understanding, approaching to friend ship, subsists between the officers and soldiers ; and s2 260 AVIGNON. it is difficult, with our notions of the distance and hauteur which a strict attention to discipline re quires, to believe that a perfect subordination can exist where so much good will is visible. Yet such is the case. A frank, manly confidence is evident in the manners of the soldier towards his officer ; but this demeanour is however entirely free from a disrespectful familiarity. It resembles the conduct I have remarked in dear England, from a very young officer to an old and brave colonel, a respect towards him, that did not interfere with self respect. The soldiers, for the most part, can read, and write tolerably ; are fond of reading, selecting generally campaigns, and memoirs of celebrated commandersj for their favourite studies. They are most power fully actuated by an inordinate amour-propre ; which, though it leads them to dare danger, even unto death, renders them impatient under control, unless the controller wields his power without any exhibition of arrogance. It also renders them vio lent and ungovernable under even slight personal insults, which almost invariably are followed by duels ; the prevention of which is often found; to be difficult, if not impossible. I have observed, with AVIGNON. 261 great satisfaction, the high estimation in which the military character of our nation is held by the French ; for notwithstanding their extreme vanity, which might tempt them to deteriorate the reputa tion of other soldiers, they are always ready to render justice to the bravery and high discipline of ours, as well as to their probity and humanity. 27th. — Performed a feat to-day, which, now that I reflect on it, makes me wonder at my own courage. I rode up to VUleneuve, an enterprise that has ex cited great astonishment among the dowagers and ancient spinsters of Avignon. VUleneuve was a fortress situated on a steep lull at the side of the river opposite to Avignon ; and though greatly dUapidated, is stiU a great ornament to the place, particularly when seen at a distance. Its battle ments command an extensive view, the beauty of which repays one for the trouble of ascending them. The approach to it is curious, being a narrow road cut through a bed of solid rock, with railroads formed for the wheels of vehicles to reach the fortress. The road is exceedingly steep, and ex tremely slippery; yet my good steed, Mameluke, 262 AVIGNON. carried me up and down without making a false step, to the wonder of many spectators, who seemed embarrassed which most to admire, his steadiness and sure feet, or the courage of his mistress. The French ladies are not bold riders, which is strange ; for nearly all the fine points of view, and pic turesque sites in France, can only be reached on horseback ; the roads being impracticable in a carriage. I confess I was not sorry, when I found myself safely returned from my dangerous ride; and the fame my horsemanship has acquired, will long be remembered among people who have not often a subject of wonder to talk about. 28th. — Went over the public library. It is of considerable extent, and contains a large and valu able coUection of books, as weU as some rare and curious manuscripts. This Hbrary has been united to that of the Calvet ; so named, from having been bequeathed to Avignon by the late Monsieur Calvet, who also enriched it by the bequest of his cabinet of natural history, medals and antiquities of Egypt, Greece and Rome. A MS. bible of. the twelfth century, in fine preservation, a large and AVIGNON. 263 splendid bible, the date unknown, and said to have cost one thousand louis-d'or, with some rare missals, are shown as among the most valuable part of the coUection. Monsieur Calvet inserted a clause in the bequest, that his library, &c. should never be merged in any other : a little piece of vanity very excusable in a man who had devoted a long Hfe, and a very large fortune, to the forma tion of this collection. To avoid infringing on this prohibition, the pubHc library has been added to M. Calvet's, and the whole is called the Calvet Library. The medals are very fine, and weU classed, so are the coins. 29th Went over the cathedral of Notre Dame de Don, a very ancient building, and a perfect pot-pourri of architecture ; uniting so many dif ferent orders, that they present an ensemble of most " admired disorder." It is supposed to have been a temple dedicated to Hercules, a statue of him having been found there, with an inscription on the base. The porch of the church, which was once a portico, as well as the interior entrance, is evi dently of a much earlier date than the rest of the 264 AVIGNON. building, and bears evidence of Roman taste and workmanship. The columns of the peristyle are said to be Saracenic. One chapel is ornamented with an exquisitely executed frieze of large oak leaves intertwined with a band, on which is an inscription. This frieze is in alto rilievo, and is continued round the whole of the chapel. As many, and as various, specimens of architecture and sculpture may be viewed in this cathedral, as could be found in several countries ; but the mix ture has as inharmonious an effect as a medley has in music, when, though the component parts may be fine, the ensemble is not agreeable. The churches of St. Agricol, St. Pierre, St. Didier, and des Carmes, have Httle worthy of notice, except the doors of St. Pierre, which are of great beauty, being admirably sculptured with large figures. I love wandering through old churches. The reflections to which they give birth, transport us from the busy scenes of every day life, to which we are but too prone to confine our thoughts ; and force upon us the conviction of the transitoriness of human existence, and of that dread future, which we banish from our minds in AVIGNON. 265 the routine of pleasures and occupations in which we suffer ourselves to be engrossed. The keeping churches open all day, and per mitting those who are disposed to enter is, I think, a very salutary measure ; it maintains the habit of prayer, and the reverence for religion, which must surely act as a check, if not as a preventive, to the indulgence of evU passions. I have seldom entered a church in France or Belgium without having observed a number of persons passing and repassing, all of whom devoted at least some mi nutes to prayer. The modiste with her carton, or the cuisiniere returning with her basket of pro visions from the market, would esteem it sinful to pass the ever-open doors of the church, without entering to beg a pardon or a blessing ; nay, the marmiton with his apron on, and the artisan, who is taking to his employer the produce of his labour, wiU step in, and lowly bending, utter a few short, but fervent prayers. 31st. — I took such a long ride yesterday, and had so agreeable a party at home in the evening, that I played truant to my journal. The French women 266 AVIGNON. are very pleasant companions ; so easily amused, and so naturally disposed to be amusing. They have more animal spirits than the English ; but it never degenerates into aught approaching boisterousness. But this extreme facility of pleasing and being pleased, argues a want of that sensibility which renders EngHsh women so captivating. A French woman seems born to amuse, and to be admired ; an English woman to interest, and to be loved. A man must have a more than common share of vanity, who could imagine that a French woman, however she might profess to like him, would break her heart at his loss. She is too spirituelle, too vivacious, and too prone to be diverted, to indulge a settled melancholy ; but an English woman, with her naturaUy soft and reflective character, her power of concentration, and the gentle pensiveness which is a characteristic of her countrywomen, conveys an impression that her happiness would be for ever destroyed by the loss of the object of her affection ; and this impression has a powerful in fluence over him who loves her. From what I have seen of French women, I can believe them capable of the most heroic sacrifices, the most generous AVIGNON. 2(>7 and noble actions ; but I think they would like an audience to applaud the performance of their parts. I cannot picture to myself a French woman passing months in a sick chamber, noiselessly gliding to perform those duties which are so admirably ful- fiUed by EngHsh women. No, she presents herself to my imagination, brilliant and elegant, happy in the consciousness of being mise dans la derniere mode, content with her modiste, her couturiere, and herself; and, par consequence, with all the world. The English woman is by nature timid, and doubtful of the effect she produces. She thinks more of the object she wishes to please, than of the means used to accomplish this desideratum. She is afraid la derniere mode may not suit her as well as it does others ; she has not an impHcit con fidence in her modiste and couturiere, and still less in herself : hence, she wants that air dSgagS, that sparkling animation, which appertains to the French woman ; and which is founded on the unshakable basis of her vanity. Jan. 1st, 1823.— A new year. There is some thing that excites grave and solemn reflections in 268 AVIGNON. this new page opened in the book of life. I never could understand how people can dance out the old year, and welcome in the new, with gaiety and re joicings. If the departed year has brought us sorrow (and over how few does it revolve without. bringing it!) we look on its departure with chastened feelings ; and if its circle has been marked by some bright days, how can we see it die without indulging a tender melancholy? I felt all this last night, when the ghosts of departed joys stood before my mind's eye ; and I breathed a heart-felt aspiration that the coming year may pass as free from heavy trials as the last. What a merciful arrangement of the Almighty is the impenetrable veil which covers our destinies ! And yet there have been mortals who have desired to pierce it ; and who have thirsted for that knowledge which, if obtained, might empoison the present. How worse than vain is this desire of prying into futurity! Do we not know that our lives, and those of all dear to us, hang on so frail a thread, that a moment may see it cut by inexorable Fate ! — that it is the condition of our being to behold our friends (the links that bind us to existence) snapt rudely asunder ! And yet we would wish to lift the AVIGNON. 269 dread veil that hides the yawning graves, to be filled, perhaps in a few hours, by some one whose death renders earth a desert. Far — far from me, be this unenviable prescience ; and let me not tremble for the future, by foreseeing what it contains. My sombre reflections this morning were inter rupted by a visit from the domestics of our inn, dressed in their holiday finery, each bearing a bou quet of flowers, and the upper servant a silver salver; on which was a large cornucopia of white satin, richly embroidered with flowers, and filled with bonbons, which he prayed me to accept as a trifling mark of the respect and divouement of himself and feUow servants. The presentation speech was neat and appropriate ; the compliments well turned, and the bows and courtesies that marked its close, grace ful. It is strange to observe the superiority of manner which the lower classes in France possess over the same class with us. Every person in hum ble life with whom I have been brought in contact at this side of the water, has that conventional good breeding only found with us among the upper classef— and not always with them. Every French man and woman can bow and courtesy gracefully ; 270 AVIGNON. enter and leave a room without embarrassment ; and turn their conversation either in a deferential or complimentary manner, as occasion requires. Yet the servants are far inferior to ours in that ^balm and regular discharge of their duties, which marks the conduct of a well ordered establishment. The politeness of a French servant is that of one member of society to a person more elevated than himself. If a question is asked of a French ser vant, instead of confining himself, as in England, to a laconic and respectful reply, he will enter into a diffuse explanation : civil, it is true ; but too verbose to be tolerated by those accustomed to the concise answers and deferential demeanour, of the English domestic. The French servant intends no want of respect by his loquacity, and would be sur prised and mortified if checked in it. 2nd. — Nearly the whole of yesterday was passed in receiving visits and cadeaux, pour lejour de Van. Madame, Monsieur, and Mademoiselle Pieron had each a bouquet to present, and, with it, a copy of verses. Our new friends at Avignon were not less generous ; consequently our rooms are so filled with AVIGNON. • 271 flowers, that it is difficult to believe we are in Janu ary, instead of June. It is the universal custom of the French, of all classes, to present to each other, on the first day of the year, gifts in token of good wiU and attachment ; and though the evidences may be as fragile as the sentiment that prompts them, the usage is nevertheless a pleasant one, conveying reciprocal gratification at slight cost. The servants in the pro vinces subscribe to buy a rich bouquet, and a large cornucopia of bonbons, which they present with a letter, expressive of their attachment, signed by each individual of the establishment, to the mistress of the chateau, on le jour de Van, and the anniversary of her birthday. There is something affectionate and touching in this custom, which is indicative of the good feeHng existing between masters and servants. Nowhere is servitude rendered so easy and agree able as in France : the masters taking a lively interest in the welfare of their domestics, rebuke any symptom of extravagance which they may ex hibit, and assist them with their advice in the management of their private affairs, or in the esta- bHshment of their children whenever they deem it necessary. The mistress of a house regulates the 272 AVIGNON. dress and expenditure of her female servants, is often requested by them to buy their habiliments, and will bargain, and abate the price ; stating that such or such a sum is too much to charge a servant. The servants repay this kindness by considering the house of their employers as a home, only to he forfeited by ill conduct ; and not murmuring at, or attempting to infringe on, the system of economy established. In short, they look on the fortune of their employers as a fund in which they have a common interest ; they do not calculate on the pro spect of finding a richer or more extravagant master, nor do they dread being discharged, unless they behave ill. This mutual confidence begets a species of familiarity more like friendship than that distant behaviour which exists in England, between master and servant : but as the French understand each other, it is never meant nor mistaken for im pertinence ; although we are sometimes somewhat surprised, if not shocked, at witnessing it. A French lady of the highest rdnk will call her maid, ma chere; and a French nobleman will tell his valet, or laquais, that he is un bon enfant, or un bon garcon, without thinking it indecorous. AVIGNON. 273 3rd. — If so objectionable a word as talented could ever be employed with propriety, the French seem to be precisely the persons to whom it is most appli cable ; they possess so many accomplishments, such a versatility of superficial acquirements, and such a good-humoured readiness in making them available. Every house among the upper class contains a tole rable versifier, ready to pen a sonnet, write an epithalamium, elegy, or monody, as the occasion may require ; which, if not remarkable for poetic fire, are at least verv readable, as vers de sociktt. The men, as weU as women, are nearly aU musi cians, draw with spirit and accuracy, can get up a concert on the shortest notice, and fiU the albums of their friends, as weU as their own, with clever sketches. But it is their acting that most surprises a stranger. French men and women seem really born to act. Each goes through his or her rdle with an ease and vivacity that I had hitherto thought was confined to professional performers, and only to the best of them. No awkwardness, no shyness, and yet none of that over-acting, which so often spoils a too confident actor. A comtdie larmoyante vol. 1. T 274 AVIGNON. they enact a merveille; but it is in pieces represent ing the manners of actual life, in which vivacity is tempered by quiet satire, that their chief excellence lies ; for it is only in them that their perfect ac quaintance with the bon ton of society is rendered completely available. In deep tragedy, where the passions and not the manners are the principal features, a want of knowledge of conventional re finement may be overlooked ; and many actors and actresses, denied the opportunity of acquiring it, have yet arrived at a high degree of perfection in the serious department of histrionic art. But in genteel comedy this qualification is indispensable ; and hence it is that amateur actors in France are so good. English ladies, however high-bred, always retain a certain timidity, (and it is one of their greatest charms,) which precludes that perfect ease so essentially necessary in dramatic exhibitions. And this national peculiarity is not confined to the upper classes. I have remarked it on our stage ; where, in genteel comedy, I have been seldom per mitted to indulge the iUusion that the female repre sentatives of the characters were not acting. In tragedy, the passions excite the performers into a AVIGNON. 275 temporary oblivion of their individuality ; and, con sequently, the majority of them excel in serious parts ; as also in the broad comic Hne, in which we have had several remarkable actors. These reflections were excited by having last night been present at the Baronne de Montfaucon's at the performance of a comSdie, foUowed by a comic opera. The Duchesse de Caderousse Grammont enacted the heroine, the Baron de Montfaucon the hero, and Madame de Leutre the suivante. The other parts were well filled ; and the whole went off so ad mirably that I doubt if at the Theatre Francais at Paris it could have been better acted. The per formance of the Duchesse de Caderousse Grammont reminded me very much of the manner of Made- moiseUe Mars ; in short, it was that of a perfectly high-bred fine lady, with aU the airy elegance and sparkling vivacity of a beauty and a bel esprit con versing in her own circle. A peculiarity struck me, which the managers of amateur performances would be right glad, I am persuaded, to see carried into practice in England ; namely, that there was no emulation among the actors or actresses, as to which should enact the principal parts. The dis- T 2 276 AVIGNON. tribution of the characters was left entirely to the manager; and all are, as I am told, invariably satisfied with his allotment. Hear this, ye ama teur performers in England ! where aU would fain fiU the principal roles, to the no slight annoyance of the unhappy manager, who has so many vanities to concUiate that the pieces are seldom cast as they should be. The French are more partial to difficult than harmonious, and to loud than soft, music. Perhaps it may be deemed a criterion of their musical taste, that they do not particularly admire Mozart ! Mo zart, who finds an admirer in every English ear, whether in the palace or beneath no canopy but that of the dark and hazy atmosphere ; from the refined auricular organ which conveys sound to a duchess, down to the lowest auditor of the street -roving musician, who gathers applause and halfpence every time he plays one of that inimitable composer's airs. 4sth. — Dined yesterday at the Baron de Mont faucon's ; a very agreeable party. The conversa tion brilliant and lively ; forming a pleasant mklange of Hterature, les beaux arts, music, and antiquities., AVIGNON. 277 The French certainly shine in conversation. They sustain it without effort, change it when no longer amusing, and never permit those duU pauses, so often observable in English society, and which pro duce an awkwardness, difficult to be conquered, but easy to be avoided. Apropos of antiquities, the Baron de Montfaucon this morning sent me a pre sent of a cinerary vase of glass, finely formed, with two handles, and fiUed with dust — human dust — reduced by the process of fire to a fine powder. This vase was found on his estate, close to the spot traversed by Hannibal, and bears testimony of the perfection at which the ancients had arrived in their manufacture of glass. Various objects of rare antiquity have been found on the Baron de Montfaucon's property ; but the vase presented to me is the largest piece of glass they have yet discovered. I wish it was safely lodged in London, for I am uneasy at the perils by sea and land which it wiU have to encounter ere it shaU arrive. Nothing can exceed the kindness and hospitality of our acquaintances at Avignon. Invitations come pouring in upon us every day ; and the consequence of our acceptance of them would be a round of 278 AVIGNON. gaiety at the houses of aU the people we know. The perfect harmony and good understanding that subsists between the persons here is truly mar vellous. No pohtical discussions disturb the social reunions ; no defamation, the tranquiUity of families. I have not heard a single scandalous anecdote re peated of any one member of the society, though they are all given to be communicative : hence, one must conclude, either that extraordinary virtue pre cludes a foundation for such comments, or that an extraordinary good-nature prevents them from re vealing their neighbours' faults. Whichever may be the cause, the effect is certainly very agreeable. It is strange how soon one becomes habituated to a place. I really feel as much at home at Avignon as if I had spent years here ; and shaU not leave it without regret. Among the most agreeable of the mihtary here, is Comte T. Sebastiani, brother to the General of that name at Paris. He commands a Corsican regiment stationed here, and is an acquisition to society. Comte Buotafoco, grandson to the cor respondent of Rousseau, belongs to the same regi ment, and is a well educated gentlemanly man. AVIGNON. 279 6th. — The public theatre has opened here, and is, as the Morning Post would state, fuUy and fashion ably attended. We visited it last night ; and al though the company are of a very inferior description, the performance was above mediocrity. Yes ; the French are born actors, and fiU the rdles assigned to them as naturally as if they were not acting. The habit of seeking amusement seems to be innate in this people. To find a domestic circle assembled round their fire-side would be here a dif ficult matter. They must either give, or go to, a soirSe, or the theatre ; no one ever thinks of staying quietly at home, unless compelled by indisposition ; and even then, unless his malady is deemed con tagious, his chamber is nearly filled by his ac quaintances. They appear to have an inherent dread of solitude, or the privacy of a mere family circle. The more I observe this peculiarity, the more I am convinced ofthe truth ofthe story related of a French nobleman de I'ancien rSgime; who had been long accustomed to pass his evenings at the house of a lady to whom he was supposed to be much attached, but whom he could not marry, on account of a slight obstacle in the shape of a husband. 280 AVIGNON. When, however, on the removal by death of this seeming impediment to his happiness, a friend con gratulated him, and expressed his conviction that now Monsieur le Due would marry Madame la veuve, he replied, " Mais non, mon cher ; car si j' Spouse Madame, oil passer ai-je mes soirSes?" This perplexing question was considered by all to be an unanswerable objection to the connubial engagement. I have nowhere observed a greater degree of harmony than seems to subsist here between families. A lady to whom I made the observa tion answered, "It is true, relations do agree perfectly well with us ; but the fact is, we live so much in public, that we have not time to quarrel. We cannot ennuyer each other by long dull evenings ; when, tired of others, and ourselves, we avenge our ill-humour on each other by saying a thousand spiteful things, or doing a thousand tormenting ones. Under the tedious influence of a domestic imprison ment, husbands, brothers, and brothers-in-law, for get the distinctions of sex in their female relatives ; or, at least, are too apt to neglect the habitual politeness the recollection of it should excite. They AVIGNON. 281 make no ceremony in your country, I am told, of yawning, or slumbering in their presence ; or of taking possession of the easiest chair, or most com fortable sofa, in which to pore over a newspaper, or to court the influence of sleep. We preclude the possibihty of such irregularities by never being at home of an evening, except when we have company ; and this habit, I assure you, is the secret of our good ihtelHgence." 9th — Took a long ride to-day. The olive-trees, which are abundant in the country around Avignon, prevent its bearing that desolate aspect which a landscape generaUy assumes in winter ; and though their foHage is not of the most vivid green, stiU they have a good effect, now that aU other trees are stripped of their leafy honours. The gardens, too, look verdant. The arbutus, laurel-rose, and lauris- tinus, flourish here, and nearly prevent our missing the plants and flowers they supersede. I have nowhere seen the laurel-rose grow so luxuriantly as in this neighbourhood, and it is singularly beautiful. I mean to try if I cannot introduce it in Ireland, where the arbutus and myrtle flourish so well. 282 AVIGNON. Apropos of Ireland, the people here often remind me of the Irish. The same vivacity and gaiety of disposition, with the same tendency to excitement ; a similar desire of enjoying the present, though its enjoyments may be purchased at the expense of the future ; and a quickness of feeling, and a liability to angry emotions, with a facility to be appeased, mark the lower classes here. But they do not seem prone to that short-lived but deep melancholy to which the Irish are subject ; and which urges them to seek in ebriety a relief from depression. They have more fancy and less imagination ; and their spirits, arising from physical rather than mental sources, are more stable than are those of our more impressionable islanders. In judging of a nation, as well as of individuals, a sufficient aUowance is seldom made for peculiar temperaments ; and yet how greatly are both influenced by them! Half the crimes that suUy Ireland, and which are attributed to political excitement, have little reference to this imagined fruitful source of quarrels, but spring from the natural proneness of the people to indulge irritable feelings. Theirs is indeed a poetical temperament; easily urged to anger, and as easily appeased by AVIGNON. 283 kindness. Would that the latter experiment was more frequently tried ! 10th. — Our Corsican acquaintances related to us last evening several interesting details of the Buona parte fannly. Even while yet a mere child, Napo leon was distinguished from his companions by a decision of character, and promptitude of action, as weU as \>ya,flertS, that led him to usurp a command over those with whom he was brought in contact, very remarkable in so young a boy, and strongly indicative of his future career. The mother of Napoleon, on returning from church, was suddenly seized with the pangs of labour, and gave birth to him in her salon, before she eould be removed to her bedchamber, on a tapestry carpet, on which was represented the heroes of Homer. This circum stance was frequently referred to when Napoleon, in after days, became the hero of deeds equally worthy of being made the subject of an epic ; and was, by the superstitious, considered to have been an omen of his destiny. The Corsicans — officers as well as the private sol diers here — are remarkable for their physiognomies, 284 AVIGNON. which partake of the French and Italian character of countenance, and yet are different from both. They are darker than the Italians, even more ani mated than the French, and more impetuous than both ; they possess an uncommon degree of quick ness of apprehension and comprehension ; but are self-opinionated, and impatient of control. The regiment here, nevertheless, is extremely weU con ducted, and appears to be much Hked by the in habitants ; among whom Colonel Sebastiani, who commands them, is a general favourite. 12th. — It is difficult to convince the French that people can prefer staying at home to going out to soirSes; and although their politeness prevents their giving utterance to their opinions on this point, it is easy to perceive that they think the pre ference rather absurd. Now that the season — for even Avignon has its fashionable season — has com menced, gaieties, on a more extended scale, are going forward; balls interrupt the more sedate soirSes ; and it is evident that the younger part of the society rejoice in the change : nor do the more mature regret it ; for in France people do not con- AVIGNON. 285 sider their dancing days to be over as soon as with us ; and ladies and gentlemen trip ij; on the light fantastic toe at an age when the gout precludes the men, at least, in England, from such an amusement. Apropos of gout : it might lead to beneficial results, were it more generaUy known that this disease is of rare occurrence in France. Query, is it not because the use, or abuse, of stimulating wine is avoided ? \3th. — AU that we hear in praise of French dancing is borne out by what I have seen even in this provincial town. Nothing can be more grace ful, or unaffected : no attempt at display is visible ; no entre-chats, that alarm people with tender feet for their safety ; and no exhibition of vigour likely to bring its practisers to the melting mood ; a mood never sufficiently to be reprobated in refined society. The waltz in France loses its objectionable fami liarity, by the manner in which it is performed. The gentleman does not clasp his fair partner round the waist with a freedom repugnant to the modesty, and destructive to the ceinture of the lady ; but so arranges it, that he assists her movements, without 286 AVIGNON. incommoding her delicacy or her drapery. In short, they manage these matters better in France than with us ; and though no advocate for this exotic dance, I must admit that, executed as I have seen it, it could not offend the most fastidious eye. The French toilette, too, even at this distance from the capital, is successfuUy attended to : an elegant simplicity distinguishes that of the young ladies, whose robes of organde or tulle, of a snowy whiteness, weU buckled ceinture, bouquet of flowers, well cut shoes, and delicately white gloves, defy criticism, and convey the impression of having been selected by the Graces, to be worn for that night only. No robe of materials too expensive to be quickly laid aside, or chiffonSe and fanSe by use, here meets the sight ; no ceinture that betrays the pressure it inflicts ; and no gloves that indicate the warmth of the wearer's feelings, or those of her partner, are to be seen. The result is, that the young ladies are simply and tastefuUy attired, with an extreme atten tion to the freshness of their toilette, and a total avoidance of finery. A much greater degree of prudery, if it may be so called, is exercised in France than in England, with regard to dress ; the AVIGNON. 287 robes of ladies of all ages conceal much more of the bust and shoulders. They claim some merit for this deHcacy, though iU-natured people are not wanting who declare that prudence has more to say to the concealment than modesty ; the French busts and shoulders being very inferior to the English. Of the former I have had no means of judging, be cause they are so covered by the dress ; but of the latter, aU must pronounce that they are charming. Great reserve is maintained by the French ladies in society : shaking bands with gentlemen is deemed indecorous ; but to touch a lady's hand with the lips, while bowing over it, is considered respect ful. The conversation of young ladies with their partners in the dance is nearly confined to mono- syUables ; and when ended, they resume their seats by the side of their respective mothers, or chaperons, only speaking when spoken to, and always with an air of reserve, which is never laid aside in public. 16^ How different is aU that I see, from what I had imagined, of French manners and customs ! of which, in England, people form truly erroneous opinions. There, those who have never resided in 288 AVIGNON. France, suppose that in it a much greater latitude in respect to demeanour prevails than with us ; but judging by what I have observed, I consider that here a stricter attention to decorum, in externals at least, is exhibited. I am, however, far too pa triotic to admit that this reserve and decorum arises from, or indicates, a superiority of the French ladies over our own in moral worth or real modesty ; for, in these qualities, none can exceed ours ; the frankness of their manners, and the freedom allowed them in society being irrefragable proofs of the just confidence reposed in them by those to whom they are best known. But to strangers, who behold only the surface, the impression produced by the extreme reserve of young French women, is, that they are more carefully brought up than ours are, and impose a greater restraint on their male ac quaintances. 18th. — A box of English books and news papers — what a comfort! Strange how the love of home grows on one when absent from it ! Like the effect produced by absence on lovers, all faults are forgotten ; and all merits remembered with in- AVIGNON. 289 creased fondness. The very smell of the brown paper in the packing-case breathed of London, the recoUection of whose dense fogs and smoky coal fires, I can at present dwell on with something ap proaching to good-will, because they are so mingled with pleasant reminiscences. And now I can read the papers, which prate of the whereabouts of many dear friends. It is like hearing Parisian anecdotes six months old, in the province, when they are for gotten in the capital. I can ascertain when the King took his airings, where Lord A. dined, and Lady B. dejeunSe'd; who are among the fashion able arrivals and departures, and a hundred other equaUy interesting particulars. Commend me to The Morning Post, which keeps the world au fait of how patricians are passing their time ; and wafts over to me the inteUigence of their doings even at this remote spot. The habit of noting down the movements of fashionable people is one of the cus toms which the French people cannot comprehend. The aristocracy with them has ceased to possess power, or to inspire interest ; hence, they are sur prised that people can attach any curiosity to their movements in other countries, and are disposed to vol. I. u 290 AVIGNON. ridicule rather than imitate our practice. They shrug their shoulders, smile, and exclaim j " C'est Men drdle ;" and rejoice in the perfect freedom from notoriety which they possess. They ask many questions relative to fashion and fashionable people, terms very embarrassing to their comprehension. " Is fashion," demand my French acquaintances, (C confined to the aristocracy ? is wealth an indis pensable requisite for its attainment ? and is beauty deemed necessary ? " When told that none of those advantages are positively essential ; nay, that a fashionable person may be destitute of them all, they are astonished : but when informed that individuals in possession of all three, are frequently not considered fashionable, there is no bound to their surprise. " What, then, is fashion?" ask they. To the simple answer that it is a conventional mystery, and, like many of those practised by the soothsayers of old, which even the framers, while juggling others, did not quite understand, they exclaim, " Yes, you English are the strangest people in the world! and this slavery to fashion proves it. AVIGNON. 291 But how does a person become fashionable without rank, wealth, or beauty ? " "A lucky introduction to one or two individuals belonging to a society deemed d-la-mode; half a dozen people proclaiming the person to be charming, spirituel, or full of talent; untU the whole circle, growing accustomed to hear it, at last repeat it in the most devout good faith to others. Hence, it travels into the papers ; the person is seen in a few distinguished houses, asked to others because seen in them; and finally becomes thoroughly rSpandu in society, although, were the claims for this po pularity analysed, they would be found very few and trifling. Perhaps "it is to this very medi ocrity, that the fashionable people owe their suc cess ; for having no qualities calculated to excite envy, they are allowed to pass current Hke an ordinary coin, when a fine medal would be strictly examined." " What is a bore?" asked one of my French female friends last night. " At Paris," continued she, " I have heard English people, when talking to each other, say, What a bore he or she is ! Now pray give me your definition of a bore ?" u 2 292 AVIGNON. " A person who tells you about himself, when you wish to hear only of yourself," was my simple explanation, which made them smile. One said, " Ah I oui, vous avez raison; Mon sieur , par example, est un bore." What made it more piquant was, that a few evenings before, one of the company, the same lady who approved my de finition, had denounced an acquaintance as a person Men ennuyeux, who knew little of the usages of good society, for he had usurped the conversation for a quarter of an hour, talking of himself all the while. 20th. — As the time draws near for quitting Avignon, I begin to regret the many amiable and agreeable acquaintances we shall leave behind. They appear, and in truth I believe are, equally loth to see us depart; for without arrogating to ourselves any very extraordinary powers of pleasing, we must have assisted to enHven the monotony of a provincial town ; where the same faces, and the same opinions, are as well known as the hangings of the rooms their owners occupy. The French are prone to seek and to find amusement in all things ; a fresh visitor, a new source of conversation, gratifies them, AVIGNON. 293 and they are gracious and kind to those who furnish them. I shaU depart from Avignon with regret, taking, and leaving behind, kind recollections. 23rd. staid with us two days, on his route to Italy. Poor man, he looks as if his search after health would be a fruitless one. How a long resi dence in England narrows the thoughts, if not the feelings ! He could talk of nothing but London and its exclusive circles ; to which people are only proud to belong, because they are exclusive. Vanity of vanities ! The exclusive circle reminds one of free masonry, where the mystery and difficulty of entering forms the chief attraction ; and the ceremonies of which the neophytes are bound to conceal, in order that others may be equally induced to fraternize. When poor has spent some months at Rome or Naples, he wiU be able to talk of the principesse, duchesse, marchese, or contesse, with some dulcet names attached to them, with as much unction as he now names the leaders of fashion in London ; and the exchange will, at least in sound, be more har monious. Strange, that people should imagine the circle in which they live, to be the world : the spider 294 AVIGNON. probably thinks that the web it has created is the universe ! is a man by no means deficient in inteUigence or education, but he has wasted the powers of his mind by dwelling in a narrow focus, and by adopting the conventional notions of its members. It would be difficult to persuade him that persons who do not belong to the clique to which he appertains, can be distinguished for attain. ments or agreeability ; although he is ready to admit that many of those who do, are sadly wanting in those qualifications. Yet how many are to be found who resemble in this respect, without possess ing his mildness, good breeding, and good nature ! 25th. — There is really no end to the kindness of our new friends at Avignon. AU manner of edibles are showered into our hotel as presents — fish, game, fruit, preserves, cakes, and wine ; and, what is more acceptable than all, fresh butter, that being a rare luxury here, and only attainable by those who have estates in the neighbourhood. Among other gifts, is a rare and curious book of plates, with epigraphs, a political party satire on James II,, entitled Le Theatre d'Angleterre. Some AVIGNON. 295 of the prints are very amusing, although not very reverential towards majesty. Some fine specimens of coloured glass, of the fifteenth century, have also been presented to me ; so that I shall have many tangible, as well as mental, souvenirs of Avignon. 27 th. — The Rh6ne has shown itself to-day in more than usual grandeur. Two days of incessant rain, a rare occurrence here, has swoln it far beyond its ordinary bounds, and it rushes rapidly along; its turbid water, of a dark yellow colour, resembling gold that has lost its brightness.. The boats pass on its bosom with a fleetness quite surprising, and the boatmen seem to Hke the velocity with which they are -swept along. The sight is reaUy an imposing one ; and the animated groups that hover by the sides of the impetuous river, enjoyed it, apparently, as much as we did. The fashionable ladies of Avignon now exhibit les demieres modes de Paris ; not those of a past season, but fresh as imported, being sent, not through the medium of a milHner in the town, but direct from the magazines of Herbault and Victorine to their respective customers. Even in this remote and retired place, fashion holds 296 AVIGNON. her subjects in control ; and each of the gentle sex is anxious to propitiate the capricious divinity by courting her smiles in the newest bonnet, mantle, or shawl, that she has invented. 29^. — The carnival has commenced, for even Avignon indulges in this pleasure, which resembles the saturnalia of the Romans, when the slaves were allowed to forget their bondage; all ranks and classes partaking in the somewhat riotous gaiety of this celebration. Young ladies are getting ready their simple but becoming robes de bal; and matrons their more costly ones of satin and velvet. The dili gence from Paris arrives laden with packing cases, containing hats, caps, wreaths of flowers, and tasteful dresses, to be exhibited at the fetes to be given during the carnival. And all the results of this prepara tion, attended with no inconsiderable expense, will meet no other eyes than those accustomed to behold the wearers every evening during the winter. This increase, therefore, of expenditure, surely indicates a strong wish to please either their friends qr — themselves. The truth is, women have an innate love of dress ; and, I believe, many a one might be AVIGNON. 297 found who would attire herself with a careful atten tion to taste, though her mirror alone was witness to the effect produced. 31st. — The vent de bise has set in, and realised all the fears we entertained of its severity. Nothing can be more detestable or perfidious ; for while a bright sun lures one from the fireside, this treacher ous wind rushes from behind the corner of the first street you enter, and penetrates through every muscle of the frame, making the cheeks blue, the nose red, and the eyes tearful. Every soul one en counters in the streets, looks like a gorgon ; curls are blown into straight and lanky locks ; bonnets are twisted into most uncouth shapes, and draperies are driven from the limbs they were meant to cover. In short, the streets present figures that strikingly resemble some of the good prints of a windy day. The inhabitants, although accustomed to the visits of this rough and disagreeable guest, betray no inconsiderable dread at his approach ; and each person one encounters exclaims, " Ah, quelle hor- reur ! le vent de bise est venu." Our east wind is not to be compared with the 298 AVIGNON. bise in its chilling coldness ; although I think its effects on the spirits is much more depressing. Here, the people complain of the wind incessantly, but it leaves them the power of complaining ; while an east wind, with us, attacks the trachea, and de prives one nearly of the capabUity of expressing the injury it inflicts, even when most tormentingly in cited to it by physical suffering. The streets and roads, which, two days ago, were inundated with water .and mud, are now as dry as in summer ; so completely has the wind parched up the watery substance that covered them. I believe that a gloomy person is a creature un known among the French. Whatever cause for dis content or affliction which may occur, the effect is an increase of animation. Joy and sorrow find the same safety-valve for the escape of undue excite ment. " Je suis si malheureux," or " Je suis si content," is uttered with an earnestness that leaves no doubt of the truth of the assertion, whatever suspicions it may excite as to the duration of the sentiment that prompted it. The suppression of external symptoms of grief or happiness among the French is rarely practised. They give utterance to AVIGNON. 299 their feelings with a naivetS resembhng that of children ; and this naivetS has a peculiar charm, as an indication of an amiable confidence in the in terest of those to whom it is evinced. We betray a deeper knowledge of human nature, by concealing, except from a few dear and chosen friends, our sorrow and our joy. February 8ih — A long chasm in ray journal, the result of indisposition. The vent de bise has proved too severe even for my northern nerves ; and I have been unable to read, writer or think, under the severe cold it inflicted. I am told change of air will cure me ; and mean to try its effect in a few days. l2th.~-,Mardi-gras was ushered in with various ceremonies, offering a strange mixture of devotion and profaneness. Processions of the different re hgious orders, male and female, bearing crosses and other symbols of their faith, were met at every street by groups dressed in the most fantastic and gro tesque masquerade habits. AU this was not pleasing to EngHsh eyes, and was calculated to convey no very favourable notion of the religion that tolerates 300 aix. it. It was curious to see scaramouches and other ridiculous masks bowing to the cross and saintly ban ners of the church, as they came in contact, and then turning away to perform the antics of their rdles. Aix, 17th The parting from our friends at Avignon yesterday, was more painful than one could have imagined a parting could be, from persons to whom three months ago we were strangers. But there is truth in the old adage, that " Liking be-^ gets liking," and we experienced too many proofs of good-will from our acquaintances, not to feel a lively interest in their welfare, and a strong sympathy in their regret at our separation. The pockets of our carriages were plentifuUy fiUed with cakes, bonbons, orange-flower water, and bouquets of flowers, each fair friend bringing an offering for our journey ; and many were the reiterated good wishes and kind adieus that greeted our ears as we drove off from the hotel, in which we had spent many agreeable days. And aU this has passed away like a dream ; and here we are en route again. The road between Avignon and Orgon has nothing to diversify it, ATX. 301 except the wooden bridge, of an immense span, which crosses the Durance ; and the convent of the Chartreuse, which is romanticaUy situated. The aspect of the country is wild and dreary, bounded by barren hills, with sombre olive trees and ce dars, which are so few, and far between, that they only increase the gloomy character of the scenery. Our courier having advanced rapidly before us, we found an exceUent dinner, and a blazing wood fire ; a dinner so good as to lead to the belief that an inn producing such a one must afford tolerable sleeping rooms. But this was far from being the case ; and more wretched apartments, or more miserable-looking beds, than those aUotted to traveUers, I never beheld. It is a remarkable cir cumstance that, while even in a bad inn in France a good dinner can generally be obtained, the sleeping and sitting rooms are destitute of all comfort ; whereas, in England, it is precisely vice versd. The rooms and furniture in an English inn present reaUy a respectable appearance ; while the dinners are in general execrable, and served with a pretension that renders one stiU less disposed to pardon their bad ness. Soup, tasting of nothing but pepper, fish not 302 aix. often fresh, the everlasting beefsteak, with its ac-> customed garnish of horse-radish, an unsuccessful attempt at cutlets pannS, half-boiled vegetables, and a stale tart, is the general bill of fare served up : and all this melancholy resemblance of a dinner is introduced with a flourish of gaudy plated covers, borne by two or three well dressed waiters, headed by the master or mistress, who seem to think that the showy covers are more important than the viands they conceal. The fable presents a goodly appearance until the dishes are uncovered ; when lo ! the paucity and ordinary quahty of their contents sadly disappoint the incipient hopes and aspirations of the hungry traveller ; whose expectations of a plenteous repast have been most powerfuUy excited by the attendant finery. Then comes the biU, as ample in its dimensions as the dinner was scanty ; every item being a separate charge, and the total amounting to a sum for which an exceUent dinner might have been furnished. Yes, with all my love of England, and no one loves it more, I must con fess that there are some things in it that require correction ; and bad dinners, and expensive charges, are amongst the number. aix, SOS In a French inn, the table linen is not remark able for its fineness or whiteness, but still it is clean; the viands are not served up under richly chased plated covers, nor are the knives of a good appear ance ; and the dishes are not brought up by two or three weU dressed waiters. But a good soup, africandeau d-Voseille, or chicorSe, with cdtelettes d-la-minute, poulet d-la-Tartare, pomme de terre d-Ja-maitre-d'hdtel, followed by a smoking hot soufflS h-la-vanille, consoles one for these good things being placed on the table by a gar con in a jacket of coarse materials, assisted by a girl whose dress is more picturesque than neat : and, subsequently, a small piece of paper, on which the sum of five francs per head for each guest is inscribed, is a crowning grace to the whole, and saves time and money. That they manage a dinner, at least, better in a French inn than with us, surely every traveller who is capable of judging of one must admit. Aix is a place of considerable extent, and has one extremely fine street, which is separated from the boulevards at each side of it by rows of large trees ; simUar ones dividing the boulevards from the paved narrow street, at each side beyond them. A long 304 aix. line of remarkably fine houses bound the view, run ning the length of the street, and three handsome fountains grace the centre. The effect is very striking ; and conveys more the idea of a quarter in some large capital than the principal street in a provincial town. 18th. — The sun shines so brilliantly, and the air is so mild, that one might fancy it the end of April, instead of February. How delightful to anticipate the genial spring by two whole months ! If this weather will but last, it is worth coming to France to enjoy it ; at least to persons like me, who suffer from cold. The climate is, I am told, infinitely superior to that of Avignon ; and I can readily be lieve this, from the specimen we have had already, the difference in warmth being very great. The town is of considerable extent, the streets good and clean, the shops apparently well stocked, and the cafSs, those indispensable luxuries of French towns, thronged with guests, sipping their mocha or le monade. House rent is so very moderate here, and provisions so cheap and abundant, that many families make it their winter residence. aix. 305 The cathedral is worthy of notice, for its ad mirably carved doors, and its fine remains of ancient architecture. The cloisters are very interesting. They form a square, in the centre of which is an open space ; the arcades are supported by double columns of good proportions, and excellent work manship; the capitals of which are of different orders, some crowned by grotesque figures, and others by foliage. In one of the aisles of the church a circular dome has been erected, sustained by eight stupendous Corinthian columns, six of which are of marble, and two of granite. They are very ancient, and were formerly appropriated to some other build ing. Fine as they are, they must be acknowledged to be misplaced in their present situation. A curious picture, said to be painted by King Renne, ornaments the church. It is inclosed in a very singular old frame, which opens in the centre ; and on fete days, or on the visit of strangers, it is unlocked, that the picture may be seen. The me mory of the good King Renne is still reverenced at Aix, and his accompHshments as a poet, painter, and musician, are recorded. He was a warm en- courager of, if not one of the Troubadours of Pro- vol. i. x 306 aix. vence; and Jane de Laval, his consort, emulated him in her love of the fine arts. Aix was also the residence of Raimond Berenger, of the House of Barcelona, and last Count of Provence. He was an admirer and patron of poetry, and is said to have cultivated the gentle art with no mean skill; but for this assertion we have only tradition, as no speci men of his verses is given by St. Pelaie. Beatrix, Countess of Provence, his wife, is included among the Troubadours, and the only specimen of her poetry given, by no means justifies this distinction, either in the sentiment or expression, for it contains an encouragement to a timid lover, that argues little for the modesty of the writer. Beatrix was cele brated for her beauty, talents, and generosity. To her husband the poets owed an exemption from aU public taxes. It was this Raimond who was re proached by Dante, in his sixth canto, " del Para- diso," for his conduct to Romieu, in which the in gratitude not unfrequently attributed to the great towards those who have served them, was said to have been strongly marked. It is, however, but justice to add, that Raimond, becoming subsequently sensible of his error, generously recompensed the aix. 307 services of Romieu by the grant of the town of Vence, and other possessions. A considerable por tion of the exterior of the church is highly decorated in the florid gothic style. An octagon tower, the most ancient part of the building, is of plain and simple architecture, more remarkable for sohdity than for beauty. 19^ Delivered our letters of introduction to the Marquis de L. and to M. RevoU, which brought us both these gentlemen shortly after, with pohte offers of enacting the- parts of ciceroni to us during our sojourn here. There are no less than seven private collections of objects of art and antiquity at Aix, each and all worthy of attention ; but M. Revoil's is the most perfect of its kind. It embraces pictures and ena mels by the earhest masters, with those of a late date ; forming a series iUustrative of the history of the progress of the two arts. Among the enamels, we noticed the portrait of Dianne de Poitiers, with a child. They are drawn as Venus and Cupid, and nothing can be more graceful or happily portrayed. It would be tedious to enumerate even a quarter of x 2 S08 aix. .the treasures in this coUection ; in which are com prised ancient armour, chased and ornamented, war like implements of every description, armoires of finely carved ebony, filled with all the paraphernalia of female toilets of early date ; mirrors of polished steel, pins, combs, rings, and costly ornaments; vases, enriched with antique gems, smaU busts of onyx, sardonyx, and white cornelian, set with pre cious stones ; daggers mounted, with carved handles of ivory, mother-of-pearl, steel, amber, silver and gold, many of them with jewelled settings ; watches of every age ; keys of every description ; and, in short, every object of art and taste, from the grand to the minute, that could serve as specimens of the articles used in the past ages. All the things are so well classed and arranged, that they serve to form a sort of history of each century, by displaying the objects of use and luxury, and marking the pro gressive improvement made in them. M. Revoil is considered one of the best modern French painters, and at Paris his pictures are eagerly sought, and liberally purchased, by the most fastidious connoisseurs. On looking at his col lection, one is surprised that so extensive and aix. 309 choice a one could have been brought together in the life of one individual, or by a person whose wealth was not very great ; but it is a proof of what industry, indefatigable zeal, and good taste, can accompHsh, when they are combined. The fifteenth century was, indeed, an epoch rich in art ; and the beautiful specimens of it here assembled impress the beholder with an increased veneration for the worthies of that period, and the artists who wrought for them. 20th. — M. Revoil accompanied us in our pere grinations to-day, and it would have been impossible to have found a more enlightened or erudite cice rone. He has studied Aix and the different treasures it contains con amore, and explains them with a precision that leaves nothing to be desired. Our first visit was to the coUection of Monsieur Sallier, which contains pictures, statues, Egyptian, Grecian, and Roman antiquities, vases, lachrymatories, and sarcophagi, all of great rarity and beauty. The gem of his coUection is a smaU statue of Jupiter, found at Orange, which, for dignity and expression, could not be surpassed by a statue of large dimen- 310 MARSEILLES. sions. It is partly draped, and the execution of the folds is admirable. The coUection of the Marquis L. is confined to medals, in which it is very rich. The owner ex erted towards us all the attention which the French are never backward in paying to those weU recom mended to them ; and has impressed us with a very favourable opinion of his hospitality. We have had nothing to complain of at Aix, except the impossibility of procuring either cream or butter, or, at least, any that is palatable. There is only one cow in the town, which is the property of an English family settled here ; and goats, of which there are an abundant stock, serve but as sorry substitutes ; their milk destroying the flavour of tea and coffee. The inhabitants of Aix are quite satisfied with goat's milk, proclaim that it is far more wholesome, and quite as agreeable ; but in the latter assertion I cannot coincide with them. The butter is brought from a distance, and is abo minable ; but to its bad quality habit has inured the people here ; and our landlady seemed to think us very fastidious when we desired it to be removed from the table, where its odour was really offensive. MARSEILLES. 811 Marseilles, 22nd. — Travelling is the true secret of multiplying enjoyment, by furnishing a succession of new objects. I feel this, as fresh scenes are presented to me, keeping the mind in a continual state of agreeable excitement, without fatiguing it. The approach to Marseilles is striking, and the first view caught of the sea from a steep hill at some distance is truly grand. The blue waters extend boldly to the left, untU they are seen mingling and confounded with the distant horizon ; while, to the left, Marseilles, with her forest of masts, and stately buildings, bounds the prospect. Villas, thickly scattered round the environs, greatly ornament the scene, by affording a pleasing contrast to the view. The quays offer a never-faihng object of interest. Here crowds of persons of all nations may be daily seen, aU apparently absorbed in business : — the Turk and Armenian, in their picturesque costumes, are seen mingling with Italian sailors, in their bright scarlet caps, and English ones, with the round glazed hats, trim jackets, and white linen, conspicuously dis playing that personal cleanHness for which they are remarkable. Merchants of aU countries, servants of aU nations, are bustling about; the mSlange 312 MARSEILLES. giving animation to the varied picture, which forcibly reminded me of many paintings of the old masters, in which similar scenes are represented. The inns are good, and the one in which we have taken up our abode is excellent. The cook gave us a good specimen of his talents last evening, on our arrival ; and maintained his reputation to-day by a dSjeuner-d-lafourchette, that would not have dis honoured Monsieur Ude himself. How much more rational are dejeuners-d-lafourchette than luncheons ; the first succeeding to a single cup of coffee or tea, taken some three hours before, and the second being the successor to a plentiful morning repast, pro ducing repletion, with its long catalogue of evUs. Drove to-day to the Villa or Chateau La Pannis, in the environs of Marseilles, and saw some good pictures; but a Georgione, radiant as sunshine, threw all the others into the shade. It positively was dazzling ; — such golden hues, and such carna tion tints — none but one of the Venetian school, and one too of the very best of it, could ever have achieved. I was tempted to break the tenth com mandment, and to envy the Marquis La Pannis the possession of this beautiful picture. MARSEILLES. 313 23rd. Went to the museum, which has some good specimens of Grecian sculpture and sarcophagi, and then visited the public library, which is exten sive, and has many manuscripts, but none very remarkable. Visited the coral manufactories, and saw that ma rine substance converted into every possible shape that fancy could devise, or industry execute : it forms a considerable branch of commerce here, and is in great demand among strangers. The mistrael, or vent de bise, which is so much felt at Avignon, is scarcely less powerful or less dreaded here. It prevaUs during a great part of the year in Provence ; but is most prevalent along the banks of the Rh6ne, on whose breast it disports with no gentle gambols, but with the anger of Bo reas, in his most ill-natured moods. So destructive are the effects of this wind to the eyes, that the greater number of the class most exposed to it are martyrs to diseases of these organs. Yet, though so pernicious to the sight, it is not without its ad vantages in other respects ; as it purifies the air, and renders the excessive heat less injurious to health. It generally blows after heavy rain, all 314 MARSEILLES. traces of which it dispels with a rapidity almost incredible. Marseilles has less of the characteristics of a large city than any town of its extent that I know, but bears in every street the impress of a sea-port. Sailors of every grade, from the yeUow-faced ad miral, whose countenance has been bronzed by ex posure to tropical climes, down to the rosy-cheeked midshipman, whose plump face has not yet lost the sleekness pecuhar to childhood, and whose curly locks look as if a mother's hand had often played with them, are met at every step ; bustling along with that heaving motion which would always indi cate their profession, even without the uniform that belongs to it. SaUors of every nation are a fine race ; but, with out undue partiality, I may say, that none can be compared with our own ; and as I heard some of them conversing as they walked, in those accents and that language dear to me, I felt as if each rough face was that of an old friend, with whom it was a pleasure to meet. It is in a foreign land that we most love our own, and turn with kindness to every individual belonging to it. Precious and TOULON. 315 mysterious sympathy implanted in our hearts for wise purposes, cold must be the heart where thou art not cherished ! Toulon, 25th — The route from Marseilles to Toulon, for the first few miles, is rendered tedious and monotonous by being inclosed between stone walls. The viUas too, scattered at either side of the road, are disfigured by the same hideous barrier which gives them the appearance of prisons. With all the advantages of climate and situation, the total want of taste and neatness evident in the gene rality of country houses in France, renders them httle desirable as residences. Often therefore in passing through beautiful and romantic scenery, disfigured by edifices bidding alike defiance to taste and comfort, I have wished that some of our pic turesque EHzabethan structures, or pretty cottages, were transported thither, and interspersed through the rich landscapes which only require their pre sence to be perfect. Aubagne, two posts from Marseilles, was the birth-place of the Abbe Barthelemy. The house in which he resided still exists ; and, as I viewed 316 TOULON. it, I thought of the pleasant hours passed in reading Anacharsis' Travels, with a sentiment of gratitude towards the memory of its author, that gave the abode an additional interest for me. The neigh bourhood of Aubagne is remarkable for its romantic features ; and De LiUe has celebrated the valley of Gemenos, which is in its vicinity. As we advance more southward, a considerable dif ference is visible in the appearance of the country. The oHve trees are larger, and their green is of a less sombre hue than those around Avignon ; and the almond-trees, with their delicate and snowy blos soms, form a beautiful contrast to the dark foliage of the other trees. The fields too, are clothed with vegetation of the most lively and briUiant verdure, and the climate is more genial. The approach to Toulon is striking and pic turesque, being a narrow ravine, bounded at each side by steep rocks of fantastic forms, rudely piled in large masses, some overhanging the road, half poised, as it were, in air. 26th — This is a town of considerable extent, and • the modern portion of it is well built, and remark- TOULON. 317- ably clean. Three sides of the town are bounded by lofty mountains, and the fourth is open to the sea. Male foreigners are not permitted to see the arsenal ; but ladies are more gallantly treated, and an inteUigent guide was appointed to attend my female friends and self over the whole building. The first place shown to us was the sculpture hall, which is divided into two compartments. One is occupied by persons employed in carving the dif ferent ornaments for ships ; and in the other are arranged with the utmost order, models and skele tons of ships, with aU the parts from the hold to the most minute rope, each object marked and num bered to explain its use. Every modern invention and improvement that has been applied to ships is exhibited in miniature ; and mechanism, to judge by the specimens here displayed, seems to have attained no ordinary degree of perfection in France. The sides of this fine hall are covered with carved figure heads and sterns for vessels, on which much work manship and gilding has been lavished. Among the best, are some colossal figures by the celebrated Puget. The drawing-room of one of our neatest English houses could not be more perfectly free from •318 TOULON. the least soil than was this hall ; and the compart ment occupied by the sculptors wore an air of cleanli ness and order that I thought incompatible with the habits of artisans. We paused to examine the works in hand, some of which were executed with a spirit and skill that emulated those of Puget. Some pannels with bassi rilievi, admirably carved, would not have disgraced Fiamingo. From the hall of sculpture we proceeded to the guard-room, which was also scrupulously clean. The beds and tables were so well contrived, that they might be turned up or down in the space of two minutes. The knapsacks of the soldiers were hung at the heads of each bed, and the apartment was so well ventilated, that its atmosphere was pure. We next visited the building allotted to the Qal- leriens, and were gratified by observing that the captivity of these wretched beings was rendered less disagreeable by their having the benefit of clean Hness and good air. Their dormitories are of large dimensions and are arranged in rows, the bedding clean and white ; but our humanity was not a little shocked at beholding the large staples attached to TOULON. 319 the foot of each bed for fastening the chains of the convicts, so that even in sleep, they feel the galling fetters of slavery. The great number of these un happy men are linked in couples ; those sentenced for Hfe are distinguished by green cloth caps, and the whole are dressed in a brick-coloured cloth. It not unfrequently occurs that those paired, but not mated couples, quarrel and proceed to personal violence ; in which case, they are treated as refrac tory dogs would be under similar circumstances. Those who have any trade are aUowed to prac tice it, provided their conduct is found deserving of this indulgence ; and we saw several ingenious toys and trinkets, the produce of their industry, by the sale of which they earn a considerable sum. Those who have not been brought up to any trade are employed in laborious occupations. The celebrated Comte de St. Helene is among the convicts ; and shrinks from observation with a sensitiveness that precludes the indulgence of cu riosity — at least, in every humane person. Another individual was pointed out to us as having acquired an unenviable celebrity by his crimes. The appear ance and manners of this convict were those of a 320 TOULON. gentleman, notwithstanding the hideous dress he wore. He was employed in engraving a cocoa- nut, and displayed great taste and skiU in the execution of his task, and presented it for our inspection with a grace that would not have shamed a finished courtier. This man once possessed a large fortune, and had been mayor of Dijon. His wife had great wealth independent of him, and he sought every means to induce her to resign it in his favour. She resisted all his entreaties and threats ; and was shortly after found dead in her apartment. with her feet and legs scorched. The body bore the marks of strangulation, as also of fire ; for the assassin had attempted to consume the corse, in order that it might be believed that she had been accidentally burned ; but all his efforts to ignite the body were fruitless. He was taken up on suspicion of the murder ; and though the proofs of his guilt were not sufficiently strong to convict him to death, they were deemed conclusive enough to draw on him a sentence of condemnation to the galleys for life. This man's countenance would have puzzled Gall and Spurzheim, so calm and benevolent was its character. One cannot help TOULON. 321 wishing that crime had fixed an indelible stamp on the physiognomies of those who so cruelly violate the laws of humanity, to serve either as a beacon to warn us of danger ; or else as a visible sign of that internal torture which we would fain believe must spring from the commission of guilt. It is revolting to witness the calmness that should only accompany conscious innocence, marked on the front of guilt and vice. When remorse or its effects are visible, we forget the sternness of justice in commiseration for the criminal ; but when obduracy or indifference are evident, disgust and horror alone prevail. A large haU is filled with convicts, who are employed in hackling, and dressing flax and hemp ; another apartment contains some two or three hun dred spinners, who use wheels similar to those com mon in Ireland ; and in another haU are looms, at which several hands are employed, A tread-mill is also established here, turned by three men, who are changed every three hours. The salle des armes, or armoury, was the next object that attracted our attention. The arms are arranged in three parallel lines, the centre wide, with a less at each side. In the middle of the interior line is a highly ornamented pedestal, on vol. i. Y 322 TOULON. which stands a finely executed marble bust of Louis XVIII., surrounded by military trophies formed by swords and bayonets, diverging into rays, the whole surmounted by white flags richly embroidered. At the end, is a large figure of BeUona, richly habited ; and at the other termina tions, are figures in fine armour. The arms in this room are as bright as silver; and the effect of the whole is very brilliant. The timber-yard and forges are on a large scale, but immeasurably inferior to those at Portsmouth. The corderie, or rope-walk, surpassed our expecta tions. It is built of stone, and is constructed in three parallel lines, divided by pillars that support the roof, which is arched and groined. This room, if. room it may be called, is above two thousand feet in length, and people seen from one extremity of it, at the other, have the appearance of puppets. This building was planned by Vauban, and does credit to his skiU as an architect. We were shown the process by which cables are manu factured, as also the voilerie in which the sails for ships are made. The forges and joiners' shops next claimed our attention. They are on an exten sive scale, and good order prevails over each. We TOULON. 323 then visited the magazine, the various contents of which are arranged with an exactness that pre cludes the possibility of mistake or confusion. The dock is about three hundred feet long, and one hundred wide ; in front is a sluice-gate, which may be opened or shut as required ; and at the back, is a molding containing a vast number of pumps. By the sluice-gate the basin is filled with water, when ships require admission into it ; and by the pumps it is emptied, when they stand in need of repair. 28th. — We saw eight very fine ships of one hun dred and twenty guns each, and several ones of a less calibre. We went on board one of the first mentioned, named Le Royal Louis, a very magnificent vessel, at least as far as decoration is Concerned. It strikes me that the whole of the arsenal, as weU as the ships, have a pretension to ultra good order about them which indicates that the navy, with our Gallic neighbours, is as yet but an affair of luxury ; while with us there is much less display, but infinitely more utility. The Duchesse de Berri came to France in this ship, which was splendidly furnished for the occa sion ; and the gaUery that surrounds the state cabin, y2 324 TOULON. which she occupied, was filled with the rarest flowering shrubs and exotics. Little could she have anticipated the melancholy event that awaited her ! but happily the book of Fate is sealed ; or few even of the most prosperous could support the anticipated knowledge of their destinies. Pro vidence has mercifully so constituted us, that our minds adapt themselves to calamities, because our sensibihty of their poignancy is dulled by some miti gating circumstance attending them, and by the pre vious experience of minor afflictions. But although the gradation of suffering may inure, or enable us to bear them, an aggregate view of the misfortunes all are born to undergo, would be more than humanity could support. The Bourbons, like the Stuarts, seem fated to many trials. Heaven send they may have more wisdom to profit by them ! Misfortune should teach us to avoid every road that may lead to its portals; and I trust Louis XVIII. has acquired this wisdom. Toulon is indebted to Louis XII. for its origin as a harbour ; and to Francis I. for the completion of the tower commenced by Louis. Henry IV. fortified the town, but Louis XIV. has been its greatest benefactor; for to him it owes all the FREJUS. 325 various works that now enrich it. Napoleon also was among the patrons of Toulon ; for, grateful for the fame acquired here in early manhood, he planned and caused to be erected a fortification that attests his skUl as an engineer. The climate is much mUder than at MarseUles, and many curious plants are indigenous to the soil ; deHcate exotics, too, which in other parts of the south of France, gardeners have faUed in rearing, here flourish. The botanical garden, though not extensive, con tains many valuable specimens of shrubs, plants, and flowers, as weU as trees. The palm-trees are large and healthy, and the tea and coffee trees, the latter covered with berries, thrive well. Frejus, 28th. — The country between Toulon and this place is the most interesting that we have yet traversed in France, particularly towards the latter part of it. Large rocks are scattered along, nearly covered with aloes of luxuriant growth, which add much to the picturesque effect of the scenery. The entrance to Frejus is very striking. To the right, a fine view of the sea presents itself; and to the left, some remains of Roman buildings, consisting of a pile of broken colonnades. The ruins of an amphi- 326 FREJUS. theatre, an arch, a temple, and an aqueduct, are still visible ; the latter must have been of consider able extent, as many of its arches remain, the intervals between them fiUed up by fragments of stone overgrown with ivy, or broken by groups of olive trees, mingled with the melancholy cypress, which harmonises well with these interesting monu ments of antiquity. I have never seen a more pic turesque scene than was here presented to me. The blue waters of the Mediterranean, sparkling like sapphire beneath the rays of the sun, spread them selves out until their hues mingle in the far distant horizon with the fainter blue of the clouds ; while innumerable white sails are wafted over their surface, looking like birds skimming some immense lake. When the eye turns to the other side of the picture, snatches of a rich landscape are seen through the different arches of the ruins, which are festooned with ivy and drooping wreaths of wild flowers. There is no such beautifier of scenery as Time ; he wreathes the ruin with parasitical plants, and gives to the oak its grandeur. Beneath his touch the feudal castle loses its harshness, and the abbey recevies a more mellowed tint. It is on us poor mortals alone that his power is terrific ; for in destroying every frejus. 327 beauty, he gives not even a picturesque effect to the ruins he has made. Whoever saw a picturesque looking old man, or woman, except in a picture ? and to produce this effect, the painter is obliged more to imagine, than to imitate. Frejus was much favoured by Caesar, who com menced a port here, which was completed by Au gustus. It is reputed to have been of immense extent ; and it is said that Augustus sent to it three hundred vessels, taken from Antony at the battle of Actium. A fleet was kept here, which served to defend the coast as far as Marseilles ; so that this now deserted place was once considered an important one by the masters of the world. Here was born JuHus Agricola, the conqueror of Britain, and the father-in-law of Tacitus the historian. Conqueror of Britain ! I do not Hke the sound ; it is, God be thanked, one unknown to English ears for many a century. May it ever, ever, so continue! It was at this port that Napoleon landed in 1799, on his return from his unsuccessful expedition in Egypt ; and that he embarked, in 1814, to take pos session of his narrow dominion at Elba. Frejus could, therefore, have no agreeable associations for his mind, being the scene of two of the most mor- 328 CANNES. tifying events in his life. The climate of Frejus is considered to be peculiarly unhealthy ; yet the ap pearance of the place, or its inhabitants, bears no indication of the truth of this imputation. The soil is fertile, and the sea breezes invigorating ; so that the insalubrity of the neighbourhood appears to be an unaccountable phenomenon. Cannes, March 2nd. — Nothing can be more agreeable than the situation of the Pinchina, the inn where we have taken up our abode for a few hours : it fronts the sea, of which it commands an extensive view, with the islands of St. Marguerite and St. Honorat, which seem placed as if to guard it. I should Hke to visit St. Marguerite, to see the chamber in which that, as yet, unsolved enigma of modern history — the man with the iron mask — was confined ; but the sea is too rough for so timid a sailor as I am to venture on to-day, even for the gratification of my feminine curiosity. The route from Frejus to this place passes through a very picturesque country, and affords a fine view of the sea and land. The mountains of St. Tropez and Lestrelles add much to the beauty of the prospect. As we approached nearer to Cannes, cedars were CANNES. 329 mingled with the orange and lemon trees, which, even at this early season, look well. Of all that I have seen of France, this part of it is by far the most beautiful, and resembles the notion I have formed of Italy. The beach is animated by groups of fishermen busily employed in arranging their boats, while the women are seated on benches that front the sea, placed close to the long row of mean houses in which they reside, occupied in knitting, making nets, or in plying the distaff. Their dress, although sadly deficient in cleanliness, is picturesque ; and the huge pUes of fruit exhibited near them for sale adds to the picture. At a short distance from Cannes, one of our postihons pointed out the place where Napoleon landed, on his disastrous return from Elba. " He took some slight refreshment," said the man, " and then bivouacked on that spot ; " directing our attention to a smaU field surrounded by olive trees, close to the beach. Nothing could be more beautiful than the scene, the tranquil character of which must have offered a painful contrast to the internal agitation of its beholder — returned to the country that had rejected him, to plunge it in all the miseries of a civil war, and to accelerate his own destruction. 330 NICE. Nice, 4