The road between Montargis and Briare, though not of hard mettle and without causeway, is yet level and in good condition. The country, except in the immediate vicinity of Briare, is flat and uninteresting; no inclosures; the soil of a gravelly nature, mixed in some parts with chalk. It seems, from the stubble of last year and the young wheat of this, to be very poor indeed. There is here an odd species of wheat cultivation, in which the grain, like our potatoes, is seen growing on the tops of high separate ridges. It struck me that the deep hollows left between each ridge, might be intended to keep the water. The instruments of agriculture are quite the same as we have seen all along. Almost all of the peasants whom we saw to-day wore cocked hats, and had splendid military tails; we supposed, at first that they had all marched. There are great numbers of soldiers returning to their homes, pale, broken down and wearied. Some of them very polite, many of them rough and ruffian-looking enough. About Briare, there are innumerable vineyards, and yet we had very bad grapes; but that was our landlord's fault, not that of the vines.
The rooms at this inn (Au Grand Dauphin), smoke like the devil, or rather like his abode. It is a wretched place; the inn opposite, called La Poste, is said to be better. The weather is now as cold here (10th of November), as I have ever felt it in winter at home, and it is a more piercing and searching cold.
We had last night a good deal of rain. The weather is completely broken up, and we are at least three weeks or a month later than we ought to have been.
We have arrived at Cosne to-night, (the 11th), after a journey through a country better wooded, more varied, and upon the whole, finer than we have seen yet on this side of Paris, though certainly not so beautiful as Normandy. The road is pretty good, though not paved, excepting in small deep vallies. It lies along-side of the river Loire, and on each side, there are well cultivated fields, chiefly of wheat, but interspersed with vineyards.
For the first time, this day we had a very severe frost in the morning, but with the aid of the sun, which shone bright and warm, we enjoyed one of the finest days I ever saw. I sat and chatted with the coachman, or rather with Monsieur le Voiturier. I led the conversation to the past and present state of France, and the character of Napoleon, and immediately he, who till this moment appeared to be as meek and gentle as a lamb, became the most eloquent and energetic man I have seen. It is quite wonderful, how the feelings of the people, added to their habits of extolling their own efforts, and those of Bonaparte, supply them with language. They are on this subject all orators. He declared, that Paris was sold by Marmont and others, but that we English do not understand what the Parisians mean when they say that Paris was sold. They do not mean that any one was paid for betraying his trust by receiving a bribe, but that Marmont and others having become very rich under Bonaparte, desired to spend their fortunes in peace, and had, therefore, deserted their master. He said that Bonaparte erred only in having too many things to do at once; but that if he had either relinquished the Spanish war for a while, or not gone to Moscow, no human power would have been a match for him, and even we in England would have felt this. He seemed to think, that it was an easy thing for Bonaparte to have equipped as good a navy as ours. He was quite insensible to the argument, that it was first necessary to have commerce, which nourishes our mariners, from among whom we have our fighting seamen. He said, that though this was a work of years for others, it would have been nothing for Napoleon: In short, he venerates the man, and says, that till the day when he left Paris, he was the greatest of men. He says, he knows well that there is still a strong party favourable to him among the military; yet that if they can once be set down at their own firesides, they will never wish to quit them, but that the danger will be, while they remain together in great bodies.
To-day we saw several soldiers wounded, and returning to their homes in carts; they were fierce swarthy looking fellows, but very merry, and travelled singing all the way. To-morrow we expect to be at Nevers. At Cosne, the only objects of curiosity to the traveller are the manufactories of cutlery and ship anchors. The cutlery seems as good as any we have seen, but far inferior to even our inferior English cutlery: It is also dear. Thousands of boxes, with cutlery, were, immediately on our arrival at the inn, presented to us. Their great deficiency is in steel, for their best goods are nearly as highly polished as in England. We bought here some very pretty little toys for children, made of small coloured beads. We start to-morrow at six.——Distance about 19 miles to Cosne.
This day's journey (the 12th), was the most fatiguing and the least interesting we have had. The country between Cosne and Nevers is, with the exception of one or two fine views from the heights on the road, the poorest, and, though well cultivated, has the least pretensions to beauty of any we have seen, particularly in the vicinity of Pouilly. It seems also to be nearly as poor as it is ugly. The soil is gravelly, with a mixture of chalk, and there occurs what I have not yet elsewhere seen, a great deal of fallow land, and even some common. The face of the country is considerably diversified by old wood, but we have only seen one plantation of young trees since we left Paris. The instruments of agriculture and carriage the same as before mentioned. The farm horses good. There seems a scarcity of milk, but this may be from the winter having set in. At the inn here I met with a young officer, who although only (to appearance) 17 or 18, had been in the Spanish war, at Moscow, and half over the world. He struck his forehead, when he said, [4]"Nous n'avons plus la guerre." There were at the inn here a number of officers and soldiers of the cavalry. Their horses are not to be compared with ours, either in size or beauty, and those of their officers are not so good, by any means, as the horses of our men in the guards.—— Distance, 34 miles—to Nevers.