Edward Stanley to his brother, J. T. Stanley.
Hotel de Boston, Rue Vivienne,
June 21, 1802.
My Dear Brother,— ... I sailed from Brighton on the evening of 8th and was wafted by a fine Breeze towards this Coast, which we made early on the morning of 9th, but owing to the tide, which had drifted us too much to leeward of Dieppe, we were unable to land before noon. We were carried before the Officer of the municipality, who after taking down our names, ages, & destination, left us to ramble about at pleasure. Whatever Dieppe might have been before the Revolution, it is now a melancholy-looking place. Large houses falling to ruin. Inhabitants poor, Streets full of Soldiers, & Churches turned into Stables, Barracks, or Magazines. We staid there but one night & then proceeded in one of their Diligences to Rouen. These Conveyances you of course have often seen; they are not as Speedy in their motion as an English Mail Coach, or as easy as a Curricle, but we have found them very convenient, & shall not complain of our travelling[36] accommodation if we are always fortunate enough to meet with these vehicles. At Rouen we staid four days, as the Town is large and well worth seeing; I then made an attempt to procure you some painted glass; as almost all the Churches and all the Convents are destroyed, their fine windows are neglected, & the panes broken or carried off by almost every person. The Stable from whence our Diligence started had some beautiful windows, and had I thought of it in time I think I might have sent you some. As it was I went to the owner of the Churches & asked him if he would sell any of the windows. Now tho' ever since he has had possession of them Everybody has been permitted to demolish at pleasure, he no sooner found that a Stranger was anxious to procure what to him was of no value, & what he had hitherto thought worth nothing, than he began to think he might take advantage & therefore told me that he would give me an answer in a few days if I would wait till he could see what they were worth. As I was going the next morning I could not hear the result, but I think you could for one guinea purchase nearly a whole Church window, at least it may be worth your while to send to Liverpool to know if any Ship is at any time going there. The Proprietor of these Churches is a Banker, by name Tezart; he lives in la Rue aux Ours.
I arrived in Paris on the 15th, and intend staying even till the 14th of July if I cannot before then[37] see the chief Consul. Hitherto I have been unfortunate; I have in vain attended at the Thuilleries when the Consular guard is relieved, and seated myself opposite his box at the Opera. On the 4th of July, however, there is a Review of his Guard, when he always appears, then I shall do my utmost to get a view of him. I cannot be introduced as I have not been at our Court, and no King was ever more fond of Court Etiquette than Buonaparte. He resides in the Thuilleries; opposite to his windows is the place de Carousel, which he has Separated from the great Area by a long Iron railing with three Gates. On each side of the 2 side Gates are placed the famous brazen horses from Venice, the middle Gate has 2 Lodges, where are stationed Horse Guards. Above this Gate are four Gilt Spears on which are perched the Cock & a Civic wreath which I at first took for the Roman Eagle, borne before their Consuls, resembling it in every other respect. These Gates are shut every night and also on every Review day. Paris, like all the Country, swarms with Soldiers; in Every Street there is a Barrack. In Paris alone there are upwards of 15 thousand men. I must say nothing of the Government. It is highly necessary in France for every person, particularly Strangers, to be careful in delivering their opinions; I can only say that the Slavery of it is infinitely more to my taste than the Freedom of France. The public Exhibitions (and indeed almost Every thing is public) are on a scale of Liberality which should[38] put England to the blush. Everything is open without money. The finest library I ever saw is open Daily to Every person. You have but to ask for any book, & you are furnished with it, and accommodated with table, pens, ink, & paper. The Louvre, the finest Collection of pictures and Statues in the world, is likewise open, & not merely open to view. It is filled, excepting on the public days, with artists who are at liberty to copy anything they please. Where in England can we boast of anything like this? Our British Museum is only to be seen by interest, & then shewn in a very cursory manner. Our Public Libraries at the Universities are equally difficult of access. It is the most politic thing the Government could have done. The Arts are here encouraged in a most liberal manner. Authors, Painters, Sculptors, and, in short, all persons in France, have opportunities of improving themselves which can not be found in any other Country in the World, not even in Britain. You may easily conceive that I who am fond of painting was most highly Entertained in viewing the Great Gallery of the Louvre, & yet you will, I am sure, think my taste very deficient when I tell you that I do not admire the finest pictures of Raphael, Titian, Guido, and Paul Veronese, so much as I do those of Rubens, Vandyck, & le Brun, nor the landscapes of Claude and Poussin so much as Vernet's. Rembrandt, Gerard Dow & his pupils Mieris and Metsu please me more than any other artists. In the[39] whole Collection they have but one of Salvator's, but that one, I think, is preferable to all Raphael's. I have not yet seen statues enough to be judge of their beauties. The Apollo of Belvidere & the celebrated Laocoon lose, therefore, much of their Excellence when seen by me. There is still a fine Collection in the Palace of Versailles, but the view of that once Royal Palace excites the most melancholy ideas. The furniture was all sold by auction, & nothing is left but the walls and their pictures. The Gardens are much neglected, & will soon, unless the Consul again makes it a royal residence, be quite ruined. You have, I daresay, often heard that the Morals & Society of Paris were very bad; indeed, you have heard nothing but the truth. As for the men, they are the dirtiest set of fellows I ever saw, and most of them, especially the Officers, very unlike Gentlemen. The dress of the women, with few exceptions, is highly indecent; in London, even in Drury Lane, I have seen few near so bad. Before I left England, I had heard, but never believed, that some Ladies paraded the streets in men's Clothes. It is singular that in the first genteel-looking person I spoke to in Paris to ask my way, I was answered by what I then perceived a lady in Breeches & boots, since when I have seen several at the Theatres, at the Frascati & fashionable lounges of the evening, & in the Streets and public walks! I have not heard from you since I left England. Excepting the letter which was forwarded from Grosvenor Place. I[40] hope to hear at Geneva, where I shall go as soon as the great Consul will permit me by shewing himself. The Country is in the finest state possible, and their weather most favourable. They have had a scarcity of corn lately, but the approaching Harvest will most assuredly remove that. Adieu; I hope Mrs. Stanley has already received a very trifling present from me; I only sent it because it was classic wood. I mean the necklace made of Milton's mulberry-tree. I brought the wood from Christ's College Garden, in Cambridge, where Milton himself planted it.
Believe me,
Yours sincerely,
Edwd. Stanley.
From Edward Stanley to his Father and Mother.
Lyons, July 20, 1802.
I shall not write you a very long letter as I intend to send you a more particular account of myself from Geneva, for which place we propose setting out to-morrow, not by the Diligence, but by the Vetturino, a mode of travelling which, of course, you are well acquainted with, being the usual and almost only method practised throughout Italy unless a person has his own carriage. I am to pay £3 10s. for ourselves and Suite, but not including bed and provisions. South of the Alps these are agreed for.
After every endeavour to see Buonaparte had proved vain, on the 6th of July we quitted Paris in[41] a Cabriolet. All this night, and especially the next day, we thought we should be broiled to death; the thermometer was at 95 the noon of July 7th; as you relish that, you may have some idea of the Luxury you would have enjoyed with us.
We arrived at Troyes on the evening of the 7th, an old town in Champagne. People civil and excellent Living, as the Landlord was a ci-devant Head cook to a convent of Benedictines, but Hussey and Charles were almost devoured in the Night by our old enemies the Bugs. Hussey was obliged to change his room and sleep all next day. I escaped without the least visit, and I am persuaded that if a famine wasted the Bugs of the whole Earth, they would sooner perish than touch me.