Farewell, therefore, to PARIS. I have purchased a very commodious travelling carriage; to which a pair of post-horses will be attached in a couple of days--and then, for upwards of three hundred miles of journey-towards STRASBOURG! No schoolboy ever longed for a holiday more ardently than I do for the relaxation which this journey will afford me. A thousand hearty farewells!
LETTER XII.
PARIS TO STRASBOURG.
Hotel de l'Esprit, Strasbourg, July 20, 1818.
I can hardly describe to you the gratification I felt on quitting the "trein-trein".of Paris for the long, and upon the whole interesting, journey to the place whence I date this despatch. My love of rural sights, and of rural enjoyments of almost every kind, has been only equalled by my admiration of the stupendous Cathedral of this celebrated city. But not a word about the city of Strasbourg itself, for the present. My description, both of that and of its curiosities, will be properly reserved for another letter; when I shall necessarily have had more leisure and fitter opportunities for the execution of the task. On the eleventh of this month, precisely at ten o'clock, the rattling of the hoofs of two lusty post horses--together with the cracking of an experimental flourish or two of the postilion's whip--were heard in the court-yard of the Hôtel des Colonies. Nothing can exceed the punctuality of the Poste Royale in the attendance of the horses at the precise hour of ordering them. Travellers, and especially those from our own country, are not quite so punctual in availing themselves of this regularity; but if you keep the horses for the better part of an hour before you start, you must pay something extra for your tardiness. Of all people, the English are likely to receive the most useful lesson from this wholesome regulation. By a quarter past ten, Mr. Lewis and myself having mounted our voiture, and given the signal for departure, received the "derniers adieux" of Madame the hostess, and of the whole corps of attendants. On leaving the gates of the hotel, the postilion put forth all his energies in sundry loud smackings of his whip; and as we went at a cautious pace through the narrower streets, towards the Barriers of St. Martin, I could not but think, with inward satisfaction, that, on visiting and leaving a city, so renowned as Paris, for the first time, I had gleaned more intellectual fruit than I had presumed to hope for; and that I had made acquaintances which might probably ripen into a long and steady friendship. In short, my own memoranda, together with the drawings of Messrs. Lewis and Coeuré, were results, which convinced me that my time had not been mispent, and that my objects of research were not quite undeserving of being recorded. Few reflections give one so much pleasure, on leaving, a city--where there are so many thousand temptations to abuse time and to destroy character.
The day of our departure was very fine, tending rather to heat. In a little half hour we cleared the barrier of St. Martin, and found ourselves on the broad, open, route royale--bordered by poplars and limes. To the right, was the pretty village of Belleville: to the left, at the distance of some six or eight English miles, we observed Montmorenci, St. Germain en Laye, and, considerably nearer, St. Denis. All these places, together with Versailles, I had previously visited--Montmorenci and St. Denis twice--and intended to have given you an account of them; but you could have received from me scarcely any thing more than what the pages of the commonest tour would have supplied you with. We first changed horses at Bondy, the forest of which was once very extensive and much celebrated. You now behold little more than a formal avenue of trees. The Castle of Raincy, situated in this forest, is to the right, well-wooded--and the property of the Duke of Orleans. Ville-Parisis was the next prettiest spot, in our route to Claye, where we again changed horses. The whole route, from Ville-Parisis to Meaux, was exceedingly pleasing and even picturesque. At Meaux we dined, and have reason to remember the extravagant charges of the woman who kept the inn. The heat of the day was now becoming rather intense. While our veal-cutlet was preparing, we visited the church; which had frequently, and most picturesquely, peeped out upon us during our route. It is a large, cathedral-like looking church, without transepts, Only one tower (in the west front), is built--with the evident intention of raising another in the same aspect. They were repairing the west front, which is somewhat elaborately ornamented; but so intensely hot was the sun--on our coming out to examine it--that we were obliged to retreat into the interior, which seemed to contain the atmosphere of a different climate. A tall, well-dressed, elderly priest, in company with a middle-aged lady, were ascending the front steps to attend divine service. Hot as it was, the priest saluted us, and stood a half minute without his black cap--with the piercing rays of the sun upon a bald head. The bell tolled softly, and there was a quiet calm about the whole which almost invited, us to postpone our attack upon the dinner we had ordered.
Ten francs for a miserable cutlet--and a yet more wretchedly-prepared fricandeau--with half boiled artichokes, and a bottle of undrinkable vin ordinaire--was a charge sufficiently monstrous to have excited the well known warmth of expostulation of an English traveller--but it was really too hot to talk aloud! The landlady pocketed my money, and I pocketed the affront which so shameful a charge may be considered as having put upon me. We now rolled leisurely on towards La Ferté-sous-Jouarre: about five French-leagues from Meaux--not without stopping to change horses at St. Jean, &c. The heat would not even allow of the exercise of the postilion's whip. Every body, and every thing seemed to be oppressed by it. The labourer was stretched out in the shade, and the husbandman slept within the porch of his cottage. We had no sooner entered the little town of La Ferté-sous-Jouarre, and driven to the post-house, when not fewer than four blacksmiths came rushing out of their respective forges, to examine every part of the carriage. "A nail had started here: a screw was wanting there: and a fracture had taken place in another direction: even the perch was given way in the centre!" "Alas, for my voiture de voyage!" exclaimed I to my companion. Meanwhile, a man came forward with a red-hot piece of iron, in the shape of a cramp, to fix round the perch--which hissed as the application was made. And all this--before I could say wherefore! or even open my mouth to express astonishment! They were absolutely about to take off the wheels of the carriage; to examine, and to grease them--but it was then for the first time, that I opened a well-directed fire of expostulation; from which I apprehend that they discovered I was not perfectly ignorant either of their language or of their trickery. However, the rogues had four francs for what they had the impudence to ask six; and considering my vehicle to be now proof against the probability of an accident, I was resolved to leave the town in the same good humour in which I had entered it.
On quitting, we mounted slowly up a high ascent, and saw from thence the village of Jouarre, on a neighbouring summit, smothered with trees. It seemed to consist of a collection of small and elegant country houses, each with a lawn and an orchard. At the foot of the summit winds the unostentatious little stream of Le Petit Morin The whole of this scenery, including the village of Montreuil-aux-Lions--a little onwards--was perfectly charming, and after the English fashion: and as the sky became mellowed by the rays of the declining sun, the entire landscape assumed a hue and character which absolutely refreshed our spirits after the heat of the previous part of the journey. We had resolved to sleep at Chateau-Thierry, about seven leagues off, and the second posting-place from where we had last halted. Night was coming on, and the moon rose slowly through a somewhat dense horizon, as we approached our rendezvous for the evening. All was tranquil and sweet. We drove to the inn called the Sirène, situated in the worst possible part of the town: but we quickly changed our determination, and bespoke beds for the night, and horses for the following morning, at the Poste Royale. The landlady of the Inn was a tartar--of her species. She knew how to talk civilly; and, for her, a more agreeable occupation--how to charge! We had little rest, and less sleep. By a quarter past five I was in the carriage; intending to breakfast at Epernay, about twenty-five miles off.
The first post-station is Parois. It is a beautiful drive thither, and the village itself is exceedingly picturesque. From Parois to Dormans, the next post village, the road continues equally interesting. We seemed to go each post like the wind; and reached Epernay by nine o'clock. The drive from Dormans to Epernay is charming; and as the sky got well nigh covered by soft fleecy clouds when we reached the latter place, our physical strength, as well as animal spirits, seemed benefited by the change. I was resolved to bargain for every future meal at an inn: and at Epernay I bespoke an excellent breakfast of fruit, eggs, coffee and tea, at three francs a head. This town is the great place in France for the manufacture of Vin de Champagne. It is here where they make it in the greatest quantities; although Sillery, near Rheims, boasts of champagne of a more delicate quality. I learnt here that the Prussians, in their invasion of France in 1814, committed sad havoc with this tempting property. They had been insulted, and even partially fired upon--as they passed through the town,--and to revenge themselves, they broke open the cellars of M ..., the principal wine merchant; and drank the contents of only--one hundred thousand bottles of champagne!" "But," said the owner of these cellars, (beyond the reach of the hearing of the Prussians, as you may be well assured!) "they did not break open my largest vault ... where I had half as much again!. "Indeed, I was told that the wine vaults of Epernay were as well worth inspection, as the catacombs of Paris.
I should observe to you that the river Marne, one of the second- rate rivers, of France, accompanies you pretty closely all the way from Chateau Thierry to Chalons--designated as Chalons-sur-Marne. From Epernay to Chalons you pass through nothing but corn fields. It is a wide and vast ocean of corn--with hardly a tree, excepting those occasionally along the road, within a boundary of ten miles. Chalons is a large and populous town; but the churches bear sad traces of revolutionary fury. Some of the porches, once covered with a profusion of rich, alto-relievo sculpture, are absolutely treated as if these ornaments had been pared away to the very quick! Scarcely a vestige remains. It is in this town where the two great roads to STRASBOURG--one by Metz, and the other by Nancy--unite. The former is to the north, the latter to the south. I chose the latter; intending to return to Paris by the former. On leaving Chalons, we purposed halting to dine at Vitry-sur-Marne--distant two posts, of about four leagues each. La Chaussée, which we reached at a very smart trot, was the first post town, and is about half way to Vitry. From thence we had "to mount a huge hill"--- as the postilion told us; but it was here, as in Normandy--these huge hills only provoked our laughter. However, the wheel was subjected to the drag-chain--and midst clouds of white dust, which converted us into millers, we were compelled to descend slowly. Vitry was seen in the distance, which only excited our appetite and made us anxious to increase our pace.