NORTH-EASTERN FRANCE.
Tournay in the coal region, fifty miles from Brussels, is the last town of Belgium; eight miles further is Valenciennes, one of the strong frontier fortresses of France, with over 20,000 inhabitants, an active trade and the worth of a dukedom wasted on its fortifications. Here our baggage underwent a new custom-house scrutiny, which was expeditiously and rationally made, and I kept on twenty-three miles farther to Douai, where our Railroad falls into one from Calais, which had already absorbed those from Dunkirk and Ghent, and where, it being after 10 o'clock, I halted for the night, so as to take a Calais morning train at 4½ and see by fair daylight the country thence to Paris, which I had already traversed in the dark.
This country presents no novel features. It is not quite so level nor so perfectly cultivated as central Belgium, but is generally fertile and promises fairly. The Rye harvest is in progress through all this country, and is very good, but the breadth of Wheat is much greater, and it also promises well, though not yet ripened. Westward from Brussels in Belgium is an extensive Grazing region, bountifully irrigated, and covered with large herds of fine cattle. Something of this is seen after crossing into France, but Wheat regains its predominance, while large tracts are devoted to the Beet, probably for the manufacture of Sugar. There are few American gardens that can show the Beet in greater perfection than it exhibits here, in areas of twenty to forty acres. Wood also becomes far more abundant in the Grazing region, and continues so nearly up to the walls of Paris, Poplars and other trees of slender foliage being planted in rows across the fields as well as by the streams and road-sides. The Vine, which had vanished with the bolder scenery of the Rhine, reappears only within sight of Paris, where many of the cultivated fields attest a faultiness or meagerness of cultivation unworthy of the neighborhood of a great metropolis. I presume there will be more middling and half middling yields within twenty miles of Paris than in all Belgium.
I find Paris, and measurably France, in a state of salutary ferment, connected with the debate in the Assembly on the proposed Revision of the Constitution. The best speeches are yet to be made, but already the attention of the People is fixed on the discussion, and it will be followed to the end with daily increased interest. That end, as is well known, will be a defeat of the proposed Revision, and of all schemes looking to the legal and peaceful reëstablishment of Monarchy, or the reëlection of Louis Napoleon. And this discussion, this result, will have immensely strengthened the Republic in the hearts of the French Millions, as well as in the general conviction of its stability. And if, with the Suffrage crippled as it is, and probably must continue to be, a heartily Republican President can be elected here next May, an impulse will be given to the movement throughout Europe which can scarcely be withstood. Live the Republic!
XXXV.
PARIS TO LONDON.
London, Tuesday, July 22, 1851.
The quickest and most usual route from Paris to London is that by way of Calais and Dover; but as I had traversed that once, and part of it twice, I resolved to try another for my return, and chose the cheapest and most direct of all—that by way of Rouen, Dieppe, New-Haven and the Brighton Railroad—which is 32 miles shorter than the Calais route, but involves four times as long a water passage, and so is spun out to more than twice the length of the other. We left Paris at 8 yesterday morning; halted at the fine old town of Rouen before noon; were in Dieppe at 2½ P. M.; but there we waited for a boat till after 6; then were eight hours crossing the Channel; had to wait at New-Haven till after 6 this morning before the Custom-House scrutiny of our baggage was begun; so that only a few were enabled to take the first train thence for London at a quarter to 7. I was not among the lucky ones, but had to hold on for the second train at a quarter past 8, and so did not reach this city till after 10, or twenty-six hours from Paris, though, with a little enterprise and a decent boat on the Channel, the trip could easily be made in 14 hours—four for the French side, six for the Channel, two for the English side and two for Custom-House delay and leeway of all kinds. If Commodore Vanderbilt or Mr. Newton would only take compassion on the ignorance and barbarism prevailing throughout Europe in the matter of steamboat-building, and establish a branch of his business on this side of the Atlantic, he would do the cause of Human Progress a service, and signally contribute to the diminution of the sum of mortal misery.
The night was mild and fair; the wind light; the sea consequently smooth; and I suffered less, and repented my choice of a route less, than I had expected to; but consider the facts: Here was the most direct route by Railroad and Steamboat between the two great Capitals of Europe—a route constantly traveled by multitudes from all parts of world—yet the only boats provided for the liquid portion of the way are two little black, cobbling concerns, each perhaps seventy feet long by fifteen wide, with no deck above the water line, and not a single berth for even a lady passenger, though making one passage each night. Who could suppose that two tolerably civilized nations would endure this in the middle of 1851?
We were nearly two hundred passengers, and the boat just about decently held us, but had not sitting-room for all, above and under the deck. But as about half, being "second class," had no right to enter the main cabin, those who had that right were enabled to sit and yawn, and try to cheat themselves into the notion that they would coax sleep to their aid after a while. Occasionally, one or two having left for a turn on deck, some drowsy mortal would stretch himself on a setter at full length, but the remonstrances of others needing seats would soon compel him to resume a half-upright posture. And so the passage wore away, and between 2 and 3 this morning we reached New-Haven (a petty sea-port at the mouth of the little river Ouse), where we were permitted promptly to land, minus our baggage, and repair to a convenient inn. Here I, with several others, invested two British shillings in a chance to sleep, but the venture (at least in my case) proved a losing one. It was daylight when we went to bed, and the incessant tramping, ringing of bells, &c., kept us for the most part awake and called us up at a very early hour, to fidget uselessly for the recovery of our baggage, and lose the early train at last.
The country stretching north-westward from Paris to Dieppe (125 miles) is less thoroughly cultivated than any other I have seen in Europe out of Italy. I saw more weedy and thin Rye and ragged Wheat than I had noted elsewhere. Grass is the chief staple, after leaving the garden-covered vicinity of Paris, though Wheat, Rye and Oats are extensively cultivated. The Root crops promise poorly. Indian Corn is hardly seen, though the Vine is considerably grown. This region is generally well wooded, but in a straggling, accidental way, which has the effect neither of Lombard nicety of plantation, nor of the natural luxuriance of genuine forests. Fruit is not abundant. Irrigation is considerably practiced. The dwellings of the majority have an antiquated, ruinous, tumble-down aspect, such as I have observed nowhere else this side of Lower Italy. On the whole, I doubt whether this portion of France has improved much within the last fifty years.
Rouen, the capital of ancient Normandy, is the fifth city of France, only Paris, Lyons, Marseilles and Bordeaux having more inhabitants. Here the Railroad for Havre diverges from that to Dieppe, which we adhered to. Rouen is interesting for its antiquities, including several venerable and richly adorned Churches which I had no time to visit. Dieppe, on the Channel, has a small harbor, completely landlocked, and 17,000 inhabitants. It is considerably resorted to for sea-bathing, but seems to have very little trade. I judge that the Railroads now being extended through France, are likely to arrest the growth or hasten the decline of most of the smaller cities and towns by facilitating and cheapening access to the capital, where nearly every Frenchman would live if he could, and where the genius of people and government (no matter under what constitution) conspires to concentrate all the intellectual and artistic life of the Nation.
The Railroad from New-Haven to London passes through no considerable town, though not far from Brighton and Tunbridge. The country is undulating and beautiful, mainly devoted to Grass, Wheat and Wood, and in the very highest condition. It is now toward the end of Haying, and the Wheat is just beginning to ripen, though that of Central Italy was mainly harvested a full month ago. But the English Wheat covers the ground thickly and evenly, and promises a large average crop, especially if the present fine weather should continue through the next two weeks.
Noble herds of Cattle and flocks of Sheep overspread the spacious grounds devoted to Pasturage, especially near the Channel, where most of the land is in Grass. English Agriculture has a thorough and cleanly aspect which I have rarely observed elsewhere. Belgium is as careful and as productive, but its alternations of tillage or grass with woodland are by no means so frequent nor so picturesque as I see here. The sturdy, hospitable trees of an English park or lawn are not rivaled, so far as I have seen, on the Continent. I have rarely seen a reach of country better disposed for effect than that from a point ten miles this side of New-Haven to within some ten miles of this city, where Market Gardening supplants regular Farming. Women work in the fields at this season in England, but not more than one woman to five men were visible in the hay-fields we passed this morning—it may have been otherwise in the afternoon. As to beggars, none were visible, begging being disallowed.
Crossing the Channel shifts the boot very decidedly with respect to language. Those who were groping in the dark a few hours ago are now in the brightest sunshine, while the oracles of yesterday are the meekest disciples to-day. I rode from New-Haven to London in the same car with three Frenchmen and two Frenchwomen, coming up to the Exhibition, with a scant half-allowance of English among them; and their efforts to understand the signs, &c., were interesting. "London Stout," displayed in three-foot letters across the front of a drinking-house, arrested their attention: "Stoot? Stoot?" queried one of them; but the rest were as much in the dark as he, and I was as deficient in French as they in English. The befogged one pulled out his dictionary and read over and over all the French synonyms of "Stout," but this only increased his perplexity. "Stout" signified "robust," "hearty," "vigorous," "resolute," &c., but what then could "London Stout" be? He closed his book at length in despair and resumed his observations.