The little vessel which conveyed us hither was extremely inconvenient, and ill-fitted for the purpose; but her commander, Monsieur Conseil, and his officers, treated us with great civility and regard. She had been a Jersey privateer, and retains her English name, the Betsy. About noon, on the day before yesterday, we anchored just within the mouth of the river that leads to Quimper, within twenty yards of the shore. After so long a residence on ship-board, amidst men of coarse and ferocious manners, I could not withdraw my eyes from the scene before me. It was a clear frosty day, but the deep snow of the winter had been melted by intervening thaws, and the fields bore that fresh and verdant hue, which is so re-animating to the human heart. The river was of a moderate breadth, and on each side stood a parish-church, surrounded by a few scattering houses. Notwithstanding the keenness of the weather, the peasantry were dancing in circles in the open air. The small space which I could see bore no trace of distress or devastation; and so transported was I with the appearance of all around me, heightened by a recollection of the past, that I was almost ready, with the shipwrecked philosopher of antiquity, to cry out to my companions, “Courage, my friends! from these marks I know we are thrown among civilized beings!”
Our commander, who was of a pleasant unsuspicious temper, begged that the Admiral would defer going up to Quimper until the next morning; and offered, if we pleased, to accompany us on shore after dinner for a walk. This was a welcome invitation, and eagerly embraced. About two o’clock we landed with our conductor, and set out for a large handsome looking house, the château of the Marquis de Kersalaun, about a mile off, which we had seen in the morning, in running along-shore, before we entered the river. We passed through thick woods, and when we reached the château found there an engineer, who is stationed on the coast, in the service of the republic, and is a friend of the Marquis. This gentleman is permitted to reside here, and also two of the Marquis’s old female servants. He received us very politely, and led us up large stone staircases, through various apartments lined with old tapestry, and half illumined “by rich windows, which almost exclude the light.” He shewed us also a small chapel within the house, which, though commonly kept shut up, bears marks of the fury of the times. The château is long and low, with a turret, which resembles a pigeon-house, on its centre, and has a fine old avenue leading up to it from the sea-side. Before we left the house, the gentleman presented to us some excellent cyder, and lamented, with evident signs of mortification, that he possessed not a drop of either wine or brandy. From the house he took us into two large walled gardens, forming oblong squares. In the disposition of these, and the other grounds surrounding the house, no mark of taste appears, but they exhibit the hand of wealth and labour. In the centre of the largest garden stands a circular bason or fountain of considerable size, “which once,” said our civil and sensible conductor, “was thought an embellishment to the château. Here,” continued he, “ran the leaden pipes which supplied it, and here were fixed the plates of iron which secured it; but, as you see, all the former are dug up, and cast into bullets, and all the latter have been torn off in wantonness. Mark too the breaches in that wall, through which the cattle and pigs enter; and how the espaliers are either broken, or rooted up. No means to prevent these depredations are left in my power. The château was lately converted into a temporary prison, to contain a party of Englishmen, who, under the guard of a detachment of soldiers, were sent to cut down the Marquis’s woods, for the use of the republic. I have less cause of complaint against the English than against their guards, who were to the last degree insolent and destructive. Twice did they set fire to the house by their carelessness”—(we had seen the marks on the floors and tapestry)—“I complained and remonstrated against them, in vain, to our municipality: I obtained no redress. But this evil was temporary. The fatal change which has taken place in our manners, and the wide-extended spirit of rapine, which it has introduced, has infected our peasantry. The farmers and tenants of the Marquis, who formerly pressed forward to serve him (for he was a kind and generous landlord) are now eager to promote the devastation, and to share in his spoils. This and this,” (pointing to different marks of fury and ravage) “have they committed.”—As we went homeward he made us observe, that all the trees of the avenue were marked, for the use of the republic; “and,” added he, “are all to be cut down soon, with the rest of the wood on the estate, in order to be sent to Brest, the whole being in a state of requisition.” I saw some large groupes of stately firs, many of which were felled and squared on the spot. I put some questions to him about the Marquis and his fortune. “He is,” said he, “between eighty-one and eighty-two years old, and is now at Paris, where he is obliged to reside, and, in return for stripping him of his estate, he has been promised a pension. Perhaps, as matters are certainly softening among us, he may be enabled to make better terms. It is not pretended that he has committed any crime; but he suffers for those of his two sons, who have emigrated; and, at the age of fourscore years, he was thought too dangerous a person to be permitted to dwell on his hereditary estate, where he offered to remain tranquil, and submissive to the ruling powers. He was formerly Doyen of the States of Bretagne. In a letter, which he lately wrote to a friend, he states himself to be in good health, and to have borne the excessive cold of the winter very well; but complains that wood was 400 livres a cord, and meat three livres a pound. The value of his estate was between sixty and seventy thousand livres per annum; but of this to the amount of not more than twelve thousand lies contiguous to the house. The timber, however, on this latter part was so valuable, as to be reckoned at twice the worth of the land.”—It appeared to me, indeed, to be very thickly wooded.
We bade adieu to our obliging informer, and returned towards our ship, by a different way from that which we had come. On this road I observed three or four stone crosses, broken and thrown down. When we reached the landing-place, the peasants were again dancing, with some soldiers, sailors, and fishermen. We went close to look at them, and, except from one lady, who told us, in broken French, she did not like the English, met with neither rudeness or insult. The figure of their dance was very simple, consisting only of describing a circle, through various parts of which, with joined hands, they threaded from time to time; and notwithstanding their wooden shoes, I thought they executed it with more spirit and less awkwardness than our clowns generally perform. None of the women were handsome, but they had all healthy cheerful countenances, and were coarsely but cleanly dressed; their long white caps, which form a sort of hood behind, giving to the younger ones a very sober and matron-like appearance. A publick-house, which the dancers of both sexes frequently visited, was close by, where cyder and a small acid red wine were retailed. These people conversed entirely in the Breton language, the sound of which, had I not forcibly felt from other circumstances where I was, would have made me swear that I was in Wales. I found, upon trial, that not one in ten of the peasants could speak French, or even understood it when spoken to them. I asked if the gaiety which I saw was continual, or only occasional; and was told, that this was the week of the carnival, a period of festivity, which the Bretons of all ranks, notwithstanding the austerity of the times, have never failed to celebrate in revelry and dissipation.
I went into several houses. They form a medium between the neatness of an English, and the filthiness of an Irish, cottage; they are dark and gloomy like the latter, but the walls are strongly built of stone, the roofs well thatched, and none of them are without a chimney. There was a moderate quantity of necessary household utensils in all, and a good fire burning, over which, in most of them, hung large pots boiling. Here was no indication of want or distress. “Destruction to the châteaux, peace to the cottages,” is an aphorism, which has been often repeated in the convention, to instigate the poor to plunder the rich.
The church-door being open, I walked in, and found it converted into a barrack for the soldiers belonging to a small fort which stands at a little distance. There was a large fire burning in it, and it was filled by the bedding and other effects of the men; but I observed that the altar was entire. A serjeant, seeing me regard it with attention, whispered me, that it owed its preservation to him: a piece of intelligence of which I could not doubt the truth, when he carried me into a little vestry, which he unlocked with a key that he took from his pocket. There he showed me the images of our Saviour and the Virgin, which were here deposited uninjured. I commended the zeal of this honest halberdier, and we parted good friends, it being time to return on board.
Next morning after breakfast we were conveyed hither, in one of the ship’s boats. The distance is about three leagues; and a cold easterly wind blowing strongly against us, made the passage tedious and disagreeable. The river winds very much, and gradually narrows, until it becomes contracted at Quimper to a fresh-water brook, deep enough, however, to permit vessels, which do not draw more than eleven feet, to reach the town at high water. Its banks are highly picturesque, very woody, and rather wild and bold than fertile. They are besides adorned by many gentlemen’s houses, on a smaller scale than the Marquis de Kersalaun’s château, but built in the same taste, and surrounded by plantations of fir-trees. Like the château too, they all bear marks of the unhappy state of the country, the windows being broken, the garden-walls and fences destroyed, and an air of desolation spread around them.
About one o’clock we reached Quimper, and were taken to the house of the commissary of prisoners, whose reception of us did not forebode the pleasing consequences which followed; for this man of power, when acquainted with our names and ranks, neither did us the honour to return our salute of the hat, or to ask us to sit down. However, after having given a receipt for us to the captain of the vessel, he condescended to conduct us in person to the house of Mademoiselle B—— (to whom he is related) whose polite and obliging reception of us, soon caused us to forget the republican manners of Citoyen Precini.
We have found here abundance of our countrymen, this town being the principal depôt of prisoners of war in the Western departments. In this unfortunate list are Captain Kittoe, of l’Espion sloop of war, and his two lieutenants; Colonel Caldwell, who is a native of Ireland, and in the Portugueze service; with many other officers and gentlemen, and several hundred British seamen.
LETTER VII.
Quimper, 2d March, 1795.