In the evening Lord Wellington gave another more magnificent ball at the Prefecture. It was too crowded to dance much, or well, but went off with great glee and general satisfaction. The ladies were very prettily dressed, in general, with the exception of a few of the high ugly bonnets, and there were several very pleasing-looking girls, and good dancers; but I do not think that in general the women are handsome here. I met with one very good-humoured chatty lady, about eighteen probably, who said she had only left her “Maman,” with whom she had always lived near Carcassonne, one month, and that, in that time she had witnessed many strange things:—the ravages of the French army, the passage of our army over the Garonne, a great battle (which was all visible quite plainly from the churches here, and even from the houses), the preparations for a siege, the retreat of the French, our triumphal entry, the change of the national government, and her own marriage.
Captain Tovey, of the 20th, taken at Orthes, has escaped, and came in here yesterday. He would not give his parole, and made several attempts to be off. In consequence he was hardly treated, but is now safe. He met with every assistance from the French inhabitants; and at the last house he was in, the owner made him leave his peasant’s dress, and equipped him in a new suit, boots and all, French cut, to pass our lines, and go to head-quarters in. The villages through which he passed were proclaiming the King; and he was told that Soult’s house, near Carcassonne, had been destroyed by the mob.
The French here discover the same volatile character as ever. Vive le Roi! is shouted as vigorously as Vive l’Empereur! was, I am told, a few years since, when Bonaparte made his then really popular entry, and gave his fêtes here, of which the most fulsome procès verbal still exists, signed by a maire-adjoint of the same name as the one who now signs the King’s proclamation, and I believe he is the same man—Lameluc.
The inhabitants are all at work as usual, and very active. Fleurs-de-lys are now upon the skirts of the coats instead of eagles, and last night on the theatre dropscene. The busts of Bonaparte are smashed. The Capitolium ornaments are all undergoing a change. All the N.’s and B.’s, &c., are effaced; and the workmen are now busily employed working round the cornice of the great staircase at the Capitol, changing all the alternate ornaments of a handsome cornice, every other one having been a bee. The English are everything, and in general estimation. To return the compliment of our wearing their white cockade on our black one, they now wear a black one on their white. The Spaniards are considered much as the Cossacks. The Capitolium is a very fine building, and as the splendid velvet and gold canopy, and the throne of Bonaparte at one end, had no decided emblems except that of authority generally, it has, after some doubts, been allowed to remain, and is not destroyed. We are to have a grand ball there, it is said, given on Sunday, by the inhabitants, if approved of, and we stay.
The theatre is about the size of the Haymarket Theatre; in width rather larger, but much deeper, and something in the improved shape of Covent Garden. The actors are tolerable. It is, however, inferior to the Bordeaux Theatre, and certainly to that of Lyons.
The stone bridge over the Garonne, of seven arches, is very solid and substantial, wide, and upon the whole a splendid work, but not very graceful in its architecture. It is like Kew bridge in general shape, but in much heavier and substantial proportions.
Several improvements have been some time since commenced in the city, but most of them are now at a stand, and have been so for some time. The cathedral of St. Etienne is an unfinished Gothic building, the great aisle being wanting to the new building. Instead of this, a large sort of Westminster Hall, of more ancient date, joins the cathedral on one side. This was originally intended to be pulled down or altered.
There is some good tapestry and fine painted glass, which have escaped here, as in several other churches, the revolutionary destruction.
The streets here are like the old parts of Paris, in general narrow, with a gutter in the middle; and the houses very good, but high shops below, and three stories of good rooms above. Several handsome hotels, with their great gates and small gardens. I am in a dirty place, but tolerably well off. The people are civil; I have good stabling, and one comfortable room, now it is cleaned.
C—— gives rather a strange account of our Allies, but seems to think from their numbers, and the general feeling, that the business has at last been well-blundered through. There is a good story told of an incident which happened at the interview with Soult the other day. The substance of the news somehow got wind, and the army, whilst the Marshal was closeted with C——, gave a loud shout. The aide-de-camp went to inquire the cause, and returned saying, “Ce n’est qu’un lièvre, Monseigneur.” You ought to know that nothing causes a louder shout amongst troops than a hare crossing them. General M—— said the aide-de-camp should have been asked whether it was a Leipzig hare? If Soult does not declare himself, his army will, I think, desert him. I have now only just received a letter from you, of the 22nd March, and papers.