These réposoirs are of more importance than you are aware of. They consist of little spots, or spaces in the streets, garnished with flowers, and intersected by walks, marked with fine gravel, in the centre of which the Host rests, on its passing to and fro from the several parishes. When I rose to dress, I observed the work of art--which had been in progress during the night--perfectly complete. Passengers were forbidden to trespass by pieces of string fastened to different parts by way of a fence--or, whoever chose to walk within, considered themselves bound to deposit a sous as the condition of gratifying their curiosity. Upon the whole, this réposoir might be about sixteen feet square. Towards eleven o'clock the different religious ceremonies began. On one side the noise of the drum, and the march of the national guard, indicated that military mass was about to be performed; on the other, the procession of priests, robed and officiating--the elevation of banners--and the sonorous responses of both laity and clergy--put the whole town into agitation, and made every inmate of every mansion thrust his head out of window, to gaze at the passing spectacle. We were among the latter denomination of lookers on, and recognised, with no small gratification, our clerical friends Messieurs Mouton, Langevin, and the huge father confessor at Guibra, followed by a great number of respectable citizens, among whom the Comte de la Fresnaye and his amiable and intelligent son (recently married) made most respectable figures; They approached the réposoir in question. The priests, with the Host, took their station within it; silence followed; one officiating clergyman then knelt down; shut, what seemed to be, the wooden covers of a book,--with, considerable violence--rose--turned round, and the procession being again put in motion--the whole marched away to the church of the Holy Trinity;--whither I followed it; and where I witnessed what I was unable to comprehend, and what I should not feel much disposed to imitate. But let every country be allowed to reverence and respect its own particular religious ceremonies. We may endure what we cannot commend ... and insult and disrespect are among the last actions which a well regulated mind will shew in its treatment of such matters. I should add, that these réposoirs, a few hours after the performance of the ceremony just described, are indiscriminately broken up: the flowers and the little sand banks falling equally a prey to the winds and the feet of the passenger.
Opposite to the inn was an hospital for the female sick. It had been formerly an establishment of very considerable extent and celebrity; but whether it was originally connected with the hospital of the Léproserie de Saint Lasare, (about which the Abbé Langevin's History of Falaise is rather curious) the Hôtel-Dieu, or the Hôpital Général, I cannot take upon me to pronounce. Certain it is, however, that this establishment does great credit to those who have the conduct of it. As foreigners, and particularly as Englishmen, we were permitted to see the whole, without reserve. On my return from witnessing the ceremony at the church of the Trinity, I visited this hospital: my companion having resumed his graphic operations before the Castle. I shall not easily forget the face and figure of the matron. To a countenance of masculine feature, and masculine complexion--including no ordinary growth of beard, of a raven tint--she added a sturdy, squat, muscular figure--which, when put into action, moved in a most decided manner. A large bunch of massive keys was suspended from a girdle at her side; and her dress, which was black, was rendered more characteristic and striking, by the appearance of, what are yet called, bustles above her hips. As she moved, the keys and the floor seemed equally to shake beneath her steps. The elder Smirke would have painted this severe Duenna-like looking matron with inimitable force and truth. But ... she no sooner opened her mouth, than all traits of severity vanished. Her voice was even musical, and her "façon de parler" most gracious. She shewed me the whole establishment with equal good humour and alertness; and I don't know when I ever made such a number of bows (to the several female patients in the wards) within such limited time and space. The whole building has the air of a convent; and there were several architectural relics, perhaps of the end of the fifteenth century, which I only regretted were not of portable dimensions; as, upon making enquiry, little objection seemed to be made to the gratuitous disposal of them.
The hour for departure, after sun-set, having arrived, we were summoned to the Diligence when, bidding adieu to the very worthy host and hostess of the Grand Turc, (whom I strongly recommend all Englishmen to visit) I made up my mind for a thirty-six hour's journey--as I was to reach Paris on Tuesday morning. The day had been excessively hot for the season of the year; and the night air was refreshing. But after a few snatches of sleep-- greatly needed--there appeared manifest symptoms of decay and downfall in the gloomy and comfortless machine in which we took our departure. In other words, towards daylight, and just as we approached L'Aigle, the left braces (which proved to be thoroughly rotted leather) broke in two: and down slid, rather than tumbled, the Falaise Diligence! There were two French gentlemen, and an elderly lady, besides ourselves in the coach. While we halted, in order to repair the machine, the Frenchmen found consolation in their misfortune by running to a caffé, (it was between four and five in the morning), rousing the master and mistress, and as I thought, peremptorily and impertinently asking for coffee: while they amused themselves with billiards during its preparation. I was in no humour for eating, drinking, or playing: for here was a second sleepless night! Having repaired this crazy vehicle, we rumbled on for Verneuil; where it was exchanged for a diligence of more capacious dimensions. Here, about eleven o'clock, we had breakfast; and from henceforth let it not be said that the art of eating and drinking belongs exclusively to our country:--for such manifestations of appetite, and of attack upon substantials as well as fluids, I had scarcely ever before witnessed. I was well contented with coffee, tea, eggs, and bread--as who might not well be?... but my companions, after taking these in flank, cut through the centre of a roast fowl and a dish of stewed veal: making diversions, in the mean while, upon sundry bottles of red and white wine; the fingers, during the meal, being as instrumental as the white metal forks.
We set off at a good round trot for Dreux: and, in the route thither, we ascended a long and steep hill, having Nonancourt to the left. Here we saw some very pretty country houses, and the whole landscape had an air of English comfort and picturesque beauty about it. Here, too, for the first time, I saw a VINEYARD. At this early season of the year it has a most stiff and unseemly look; presenting to the eye scarcely any thing but the brown sticks, obliquely put into the ground, against which the vine is trained. But the sloping banks, on each side of the ascending road, were covered with plantations of this precious tree; and I was told that, if the autumn should prove as auspicious as appeared the spring, there would be a season of equal gaiety and abundance. I wished it with all my heart. Indeed I felt particularly interested in the whole aspect of the country about Nonancourt. The sun was fast descending as we entered the town of Dreux--where I had resolved upon taking leave both of the diligence and of my companions; and of reaching Paris by post. At seven we dined, or rather perhaps made an early supper; when my fellow travellers sustained their reputation for their powers of attack upon fish, flesh, and fowl. Indeed the dinner was equally plentiful and well cooked; and the charge moderate in proportion. But there is nothing, either on the score of provision of reasonableness of cost, like the table d'hôte throughout France; and he who cannot accommodate himself to the hour of dining (usually about one) must make up his mind to worse fare and treble charges.
After dinner we strolled in the town, and upon the heights near the castle. We visited the principal church, St. Jean, which is very spacious, and upon the whole is a fine piece of architecture. I speak more particularly of the interior--where I witnessed, however, some of the most horrible devastations, arising from the Revolution, which I had yet seen. In one of the side chapels, there had been a magnificent monument; perhaps from sixteen to twenty feet in height--crowded with figures as large as life, from the base to the summit. It appeared as if some trenchant instrument of an irresistible force, had shaved away many of the figures; but more especially the heads and the arms. This was only one, but the most striking, specimen of revolutionary Vandalism. There were plenty of similar proofs, on a reduced scale. In the midst of these traces of recent havoc, there was a pleasure mingled with melancholy, in looking up and viewing some exceedingly pretty specimens of old stained glass:--which had escaped the destruction committed in the lower regions, and had preserved all their original freshness. Here and there, in the side chapels, the priests were robing themselves to attend confession; while the suppliants, in kneeling attitudes, were expecting them by the side of the confessionals. From the church I bent my steps to the principal bookseller of the place, whom I found to be an intelligent, civil, and extremely good- natured tradesman. But his stock was too modern. "Donnez vous la peine de monter"--exclaimed he precipitately; begging me to follow him. His up- stairs collection was scarcely of a more ancient character than that below. There were more copies of Voltaire and Rousseau than I should have supposed he could sell in six years--but "on the contrary" (said he) "in six months' time, not a single copy will remain unsold!" I marvelled and grieved at such intelligence; because the poison was not extracted from the nourishment contained in these works. To an enquiry about my old typographical friends, Verard, Pigouchet, and Eustace, the worthy bibliopole replied "qu'il n'avoit jamais entendu parler de ces gens-la!" Again I marvelled; and having no temptation to purchase, civilly wished him good evening.
Meanwhile Mr. L. had attained the castle heights, and was lost in a sort of extacy at the surrounding scene. On entering the outer walls, and directing your steps towards the summit, you are enchanted with a beautiful architectural specimen--in the character of a zigzag early Norman arch-- which had originally belonged to a small church, recently taken down: The arch alone stands insulated ... beyond which, a new, and apparently a very handsome, church is erecting, chiefly under the care and at the expence of the present Duke of Orleans;--as a mausoleum for his family--and in which, not many days before our arrival, the remains of one of his children had been deposited. I wished greatly for a perfect drawing of this arch ... but there was no time ... and my companion was exercising his pencil, on the summit, by a minute, bird's eye of the sweep of country to be seen from this elevated situation--through the greater part of which, indeed, the diligence from Verneuil had recently conducted us. I should add, that not a relic of that CASTLE, which had once kept the town and the adjacent country in awe, is now to be seen: but its outer walls enclose a space hardly less than twenty acres:--the most considerable area which I had yet witnessed. To give a more interesting character to the scenery, the sun, broad and red, was just hiding the lower limb of his disk behind the edge of a purple hill. A quiet, mellow effect reigned throughout the landscape. I gazed on all sides; and (wherefore, I cannot now say) as I sunk upon the grass, overwhelmed with fatigue and the lassitude of two sleepless nights, wished, in my heart, I could have seen the effect of that glorious sun-set from, the heights of Dover. Now and then, as when at school, one feels a little home-sick; but the melancholy mood which then possessed me was purely a physical effect from a physical cause. The shadows of evening began to succeed to the glow of sun-set--when, starting from my recumbent position, (in which sleep was beginning to surprise me) I hastened down the heights, and by a nearer direction sought the town and our hotel. We retired betimes to rest--but not until, from an opposite coach maker, we had secured a phaeton-like carriage to convey us with post horses, the next day, to Paris.
Excellent beds and undisturbed slumber put me in spirits for the grand entrée into the metropolis of France. Breakfasting a little after nine-- before ten, a pair of powerful black horses, one of which was surmounted by a sprucely-attired postilion--with the phaeton in the rear--were at the door of the hotel. Seeing all our baggage properly secured, we sprung into the conveyance and darted forward at a smart gallop. The animals seemed as if they could fly away with us--and the whip of the postilion made innumerable circular flourishes above their heads. The sky was beautifully clear: and a briskly-stirring, but not unpleasantly penetrating, south-east wind, played in our faces as we seemed scarcely to be sensible of the road. What a contrast to the heat, vexation, and general uncomfortableness of the two preceding days of our journey! We felt it sensibly, and enjoyed it in proportion. Our first place of halting, to change horses, was at HOUDAN; which may be about four leagues from Dreux; and I verily believe we reached it in an hour. The route thither is through a flat and uninteresting country; except that every feature of landscape (and more especially in our previous journeys through Normandy) seems to be thrown to a greater distance, than in England. This may account for the flatness of views, and the diminutiveness of objects. Houdan is a village-like town, containing a population of about 2000 inhabitants; but much business is done on market days; and of corn, in particular, I was told that they often sold several thousand sacks in a day. Its contiguity to Paris may account for the quantity of business done. In the outskirts of the town,--and flanked, rather than surrounded, by two or three rows of trees, of scarcely three years growth--stands the "stiff and stower" remains of the Castle of Houdan. It is a very interesting relic, and to our eyes appeared of an unusual construction. The corner towers are small and circular; and the intermediate portion of the outer wall is constructed with a swell, or a small curvature outwards. I paced the outside, but have forgotten the measurement. Certainly, it is not more than forty feet square. I tried to gain admittance into the interior, but without success, as the person possessing the key was not to be found. I saw enough, however, to convince me that the walls could not be less than twelve feet in thickness.
The horses had been some time in readiness, and the fresh postilion seemed to be lost in amazement at the cause of our loitering so long at so insignificant a place. The day warmed as we pushed on for the far-famed "proud Versailles." The approach, from Houdan, is perhaps not the most favourable; although we got peeps of the palace, which gave us rather elevated notions of its enormous extent. We drove to the Hôtel de Bourbon, an excellent, clean mansion, close to the very façade of the palace, after passing the Hôtel de Ville; and from whence you have an undisturbed view of the broad, wide, direct road to Paris. I bespoke dinner, and prepared to lounge. The palace--of which I purposely declined visiting the interior--reserving Versailles for a future and entire day's gratification--is doubtless an immense fabric--of which the façade just mentioned is composed of brick, and assumes any thing but a grand and imposing air: merely because it wants simplicity and uniformity of design. I observed some charming white stone houses, scattered on each side of this widely extended chaussée--or route royale--and, upon the whole, Versailles appeared to us to be a magnificent and rather interesting spot. Two or three rows of trees, some forty or fifty generations more ancient than those constituting the boulevards at Houdan, formed avenues on each side of this noble road; and all appeared life and animation--savouring of the proximity of the metropolis. Carriages without number--chiefly upon hire, were going and returning; and the gaits and dresses of individuals were of a more studied and of a gayer aspect. At length, we became a little impatient for our dinner, and for the moment of our departure. We hired one of these carriages; which for nine francs, would convey us to the place of our destination. This appeared to me very reasonable; and after being extravagant enough to drink Champagne at dinner, to commemorate our near approach to the metropolis, we set forward between five and six o'clock, resolving to strain our eyes to the utmost, and to be astonished at every thing we saw!--especially as this is considered the most favourable approach to the capital.
The Ecole Militaire, to the left, of which Marshal Ney had once the chief command, struck me as a noble establishment. But it was on approaching Sèvre that all the bustle and population, attendant upon the immediate vicinity of a great metropolis, became evident. Single-horsed vehicles--in many of which not fewer than nine persons were pretty closely stowed--three upon a bench, and three benches under the roof--fiacres, barouches, and carriages of every description, among which we discovered a great number from our own country--did not fail to occupy our unremitting attention. Sèvre is a long, rambling, and chiefly single-street town; but picturesquely situated, on a slope, and ornamented to the left by the windings of the Seine. We were downright glad to renew our acquaintance with our old, and long-lost friend, the river Seine; although it appeared to be sadly shorn of its majestic breadth since we had parted with it before the walls of Montmorenci castle, in our route to Havre. The new nine-arch bridge at Sèvre is a sort of Waterloo bridge in miniature. Upon the heights, above it, I learnt that there was a beautiful view of the river in the foreground with Paris in the distance. We passed over the old bridge, and saw St. Cloud to the left: which of course interested us as the late residence of Bonaparte, but which, in truth, has nothing beyond the air of a large respectable country-gentleman's mansion in England. We pushed on, and began to have distinct perceptions of the great city. Of all the desirable places of retreat, whether for its elevated situation, or respectable appearance, or commodious neighbourhood, nothing struck me more forcibly than the village of PASSY, upon a commanding terrace, to the left; some three or four English miles from Paris--and having a noble view both of the river and of the city. It is also considered to be remarkably healthy; and carriages of every description, are constantly passing thither to and from Paris.
The dome of the Pantheon, and the gilded one of the Hôtel des Invalides, together with the stunted towers of Notre Dame, were among the chief objects to the right: while the accompaniment of the Seine, afforded a pleasing foreground to this architectural picture in the distance. But, my friend, I will frankly own to you, that I was disappointed ... upon this first glimpse of the GREAT city. In the first place, the surrounding country is flat; with the exception of Mount Calvary, to the left, which has nothing to do with the metropolitan view from this situation. In the second place, what are the Pantheon and Notre Dame compared with St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey?--to say nothing of the vicinity of London, as is connected with the beautifully undulating ground about Camberwell, Sydenham, Norwood, and. Shooter's Hill--and, on the other side of the water, Hampstead, Highgate and Harrow: again, Wimbledon and Richmond!... What lovely vicinities are these compared with that of Mont Martre? And if you take river scenery into the account, what is the Seine, in the neighbourhood of Paris, compared with the Thames in that of London? If the almost impenetrable smoke and filth from coal-fires were charmed away--shew me, I beseech you, any view of Paris, from this, or from any point of approach, which shall presume to bear the semblance of comparison with that of London, from the descent from Shooter's Hill! The most bewitched Frenchified-Englishman, in the perfect possession of his eye sight, will not have the temerity to institute such a comparison. But as you near the barriers, your admiration increases. Having got rid of all background of country--as you approach the capital--the foregoing objections vanish. Here the officers of police affected to search our luggage. They were heartily welcome, and so I told them. This disarmed all suspicion. Accordingly we entered Paris by one of the noblest and one of the most celebrated of its Boulevards--the Champs Elysées. As we gained the Place Louis Quinze, with the Thuileries in front, with the Hôtel des Invalides (the gilded dome of which latter reflected the strong rays of a setting sun) to the right--we were much struck with this combination of architectural splendour: indisputably much superior to any similar display on the entrance into our own capital.[174] Turning to the left, the Place Vendome and the Rue de la Paix, with the extreme height of the houses, and the stone materials of their construction, completed our admiration. But the Boulevards Italiens--after passing the pillars of the proposed church of Ste. Madelaine, and turning to the right-- helped to prolong our extreme gratification, till we reached the spot whence I am addressing you. Doubtless, at first glance, this is a most splendid and enchanting city. A particular detail must be necessarily reserved, for the next despatch. I shall take all possible pains to make you acquainted with the treasures of PAST TIMES--in the shape of Manuscripts and printed Books. THE ROYAL LIBRARY has as much astonished me, as the CURATORS of it have charmed me by their extreme kindness and civility.[175]