The Stranger in France Part 4

Its foundation is nearly similar to that of our own. The great and enlightened genius whose name I have mentioned, has provided that the contumacy of _one_ juryman shall not be able to force the opinion of the rest.

After the court had broken up, I visited the town house, which, before the revolution, was the monastery of the benedictines, who, from what appeared of the remains of their establishment, must have been magnificently lodged, and well deserved during their existence, to bear the name of the blessed. The two grand staircases are very fine, and there is a n.o.ble garden behind. Upon entering the vestibule of the council chamber, formerly the refectory, I thought I was going behind the scenes of a theatre. It was nearly filled with allegorical banners, pasteboard and canvas arches of triumph, altars, emblems of liberty, and despotism, and all the scenic decorations suitable to the frenzied orgies of a republican fete. Thank G.o.d! they appeared to be tolerably well covered with dust and cobwebs. At the end of this n.o.ble room, seated upon a high pedestal, was the G.o.ddess of liberty, beautifully executed in marble. "Look at that sanguinary prost.i.tute," cried Mons.

G----, to me, pointing to the statue, "for years have we had liberty and bloodshed, _thank Heaven!_ we are now no longer _free_." Upon which, he wrote his name in the first consul's book, which was here lying open, upon a table, for the purpose of receiving the suffrages of the department.

The laconic irony, and manner of the speaker, afforded me a tolerably good display of the nature of the blessings conferred upon the french, by their late political philosophy.

From this place I proceeded to the ci-devant convent of the jesuits, built by one of the munificent dukes de Bourbon. It is a magnificent oblong stone building. In the centre of the court was a tree of liberty, which, like almost all the other trees, dedicated to that G.o.ddess, which I saw, looked blighted, and sickly. I mention it as a fact, without alluding to any political sentiment whatever. It is a remark in frequent use in France, that the caps of liberty are without heads, and the trees of liberty without root. The poplar has been selected from all the other trees of the forest, for this distinguished honour, from a whimsical synonymy of its name with that of the people. In french, the poplar is called peuplier, and the word peuple signifies people. This fine building is now converted into an university of learning, and the fine arts. From the number of the students, I should suppose the fashionable fervour of study had not as yet reached Rouen.

The professor of philosophy, with great politeness sent a young man to show me the museum of pictures, for which purpose the church of the jesuits, is at present used. There are several paintings in it, the only fine one, was a dying Jesus by Vand.y.k.e, which was exquisite. Upon my expressing my admiration, a young student near me said "oui monsieur c'est tres jolie." This misapplied remark, from an easy and natural combination of sound, could not fail of seeming a little singular as applied to such a subject, but every thing that pleases in France is tres jolie. From this painting, I was, by importunity, led to view the other parts of the collection, which were composed of large pictures, by french masters; and so natural is local prejudice, every where, that I was almost held down, before the works of the _best artists of Rouen_, upon which, as I am at liberty _here_, I shall beg to make no comment.

In the students' room, below, were some paintings curious, and valuable only, from their great antiquity, and a few good copies by the pupils. A picture was pointed out to me as a very fine thing, the subject was a fat little cherub, with a full flowing wig, fiddling to St. Francis, who from his gloomy appearance seemed not to possess half the musical genius of a dancing bear.

Upon my return through the market place, I beheld the miserable wretch, at whose trial I was present in the morning, led out to execution. He was seated upon the bottom of a cart, stripped above to his shirt, which was folded back, his arms were pinioned close behind, and his hair was closely cropped, to prevent the stroke of the fatal knife from being impeded. A priest was seated in a chair beside him. As the object of my excursion was to contemplate the manners of the people, I summoned resolution to view this gloomy and painful spectacle, which seemed to excite but little sensation in the market place, where its petty traffic and concerns proceeded with their accustomed activity, and the women at their stalls, which extended to the foot of the scaffold, appeared to be impressed only with the solicitude of selling their vegetables to the highest bidder. A small body of the national guards, and a few boys and idlers surrounded the fatal spot. The guillotine, painted red, was placed upon a scaffold, of about five feet high. As soon as the criminal ascended the upper step which led to it he mounted, by the direction of the executioner, a little board, like a shutter, raised upright to receive him, to which he was strapped, turned down flat, and run into a small ring of iron half opened and made to admit the neck, the top part of which was then closed upon it, a black leather curtain was placed before the head, from which a valve depended, which communicated to a tub, placed under the scaffold to receive the blood, the executioner then touched a long thin iron rod, connected with the top of the instrument, and in a moment the axe descended, which was in the form of a square, cut diagonally, heavily charged with lead. The executioner and his a.s.sistants placed the body in a sh.e.l.l, half filled with saw dust, which was almost completely stained over with the brown blood of former executions; they then picked up the head, from a bag into which it had fallen, within the curtain, and having placed it in the same gloomy depository, lowered the whole down to the s.e.xtons, who covering it with a pall bore it off to the place of burial.

The velocity of this mode of execution can alone recommend it. The pangs of death are pa.s.sed almost in the same moment, which presents to the terrified eye of the sufferer the frightful apparatus of his disgraceful dissolution. It is a dreary subject to discuss; but surely it is a matter of deep regret, that in England, criminals doomed to die, from the uncertain and lingering nature of their annihilation, are seen writhing in the convulsions of death during a period dreadful to think of. It is said, that at the late memorable execution of an african governor for murder, the miserable delinquent was beheld for _fifteen minutes_ struggling with the torments of his untimely fate! The guillotine is far preferable to the savage mode, formerly used in France, of breaking the criminal upon the wheel, and leaving him afterwards to perish in the most poignant agonies.

As I have alluded to the fate of governor W----, I will conclude this chapter by relating an anecdote of the terror and infatuation of guilt, displayed in the conduct of this wretched man, in the _presence_ of a friend of mine, from whom I received it--A few years before he suffered, fatigued with life, and pursued by poverty, and the frightful remembrance of his offences, then almost forgotten by the world, he left the south of France for Calais, with an intention of pa.s.sing over to England, to offer himself up to its laws, not without the cherished hope that a lapse of twenty years had swept away all evidence of his guilt.

At the time of his arrival at this port town, the hotel in which Madame H---- was waiting for a packet to Dover was very crowded--the landlord requested of her, that she would be pleased to permit two gentlemen, who were going to England, to take some refreshment in her room; these persons proved to be the unfortunate Brooks, a king's messenger, charged with important dispatches to his court, and governor W----. The latter was dressed like a decayed gentleman, and bore about him all the indications of his extreme condition. They had not been seated at the table long, before the latter informed the former, with evident marks of perturbation, that his name was W----, that having been charged in England with offences, which, if true, subjected him to heavy punishment, he was anxious to place himself at the disposal of its laws, and requested of him, as he was an english messenger, that he would consider him as his prisoner, and take charge of him.

The messenger, who was much surprised by the application told him, that he could not upon such a representation take him into custody, unless he had an order from the duke of Portland's office to that effect, and that in order to obtain it, it would be proper for him to write his name, that it might be compared with his hand writing in the office of the secretary at war, which he offered to carry over with him. Governor W---- still pressed him to take him into custody, the messenger more strongly declined it, by informing him that he was the bearer of dispatches of great importance to his court, that he must immediately cross the Channel, and should hazard a pa.s.sage, although the weather looked lowering, in an open boat, as no packets had arrived, and that consequently it was altogether impossible to take him over, but again requested him to write his name, for the purpose already mentioned; the governor consented, pens and paper were brought, but the hand of the murderer shook so dreadfully, that he could _not write it_, and in an agony of mind, bordering upon frenzy, he rushed out of the room, and immediately left the town.

The messenger entered the boat, and set sail; a storm quickly followed, _the boat sunk in sight of the pier_, and all on board but one of the watermen, perished!!!

The great disposer of human destiny, in vindication of his eternal justice, rescued the life of this infatuated delinquent from the waves, and from a sudden death, to resign him to the public and merited doom of the laws.

CHAPTER VII.

_Filial Piety.--St. Catharine's Mount.--Madame Phillope.--General Ruffin's Trumpet.--Generosity.--Love Infectious.--Masons and Gardeners._

I have before had occasion to mention the humane conduct of Madame G---- towards the persecuted abbe; she soon afterwards, with the princ.i.p.al ladies of the city, fell under the displeasure of Robespierre, and his agents. Their only crime was wealth, honourably acquired. A committee, composed of the most worthless people of Rouen, was formed, who, in the name of, and for the use of the nation, seized upon the valuable stock of Messrs. G----, who were natives of France. In one night, by torchlight, their extensive warehouses were sacked, and all their stores were forcibly sold in the public marketplace to the best bidder: the plundered merchants were paid the amount of the sale in a.s.signats, in a paper currency which then bore an enormous discount, and shortly afterwards retained only the value of the paper upon which the national note was written. In short, in a few hours an honourable family, n.o.bly allied, were despoiled of property to the amount of 25,000_l._ sterling.

Other merchants shared the same fate. This act of robbery was followed by an act of cruelty. Madame G----, the mother, who was born in England, and who married a French gentleman of large fortune, whom she survived, of a delicate frame and advanced in years, was committed to prison, where, with many other female sufferers, she was closely confined for eleven months, during which time she was compelled to endure all sorts of privations. After the committee of rapine had settled their black account, and had remitted the guilty balance to their employers, the latter, in a letter of "friendly collusion, and fraudulent familiarity,"

after pa.s.sing a few revolutionary jokes upon what had occurred, observed that the G----s seemed to bleed very freely, and that as it was likely they must have credit with many persons to a large amount, directed their obedient and active banditti to order these devoted gentlemen to draw, and to deliver to them, their draughts upon all such persons who stood indebted to their extensive concern. In the words of a celebrated orator[7], "Though they had shaken the tree till nothing remained upon the leafless branches, yet a new flight was on the wing, to watch the first buddings of its prosperity, and to nip every hope of future foliage and fruit."

[7] Vide Sheridan's oration against Hastings upon the Begum charge.

The G----s expected this visit, and, by an ingenious, and justified expedient, prevented their perdition from becoming decisive.

Soon after the gates of the prison were closed upon Madame G----, her eldest son, a man of commanding person, and eloquent address, in defiance of every friendly, and of every affectionate entreaty, flew to Paris.

It was in the evening of the last winter which beheld its snows crimsoned with revolutionary carnage, when he presented himself, undismayed, before that committee, whose horrible nature will be better described by merely relating the names of its members, then sitting, than by the most animated and elaborate delineations of all its deadly deeds of rapine and of blood. At a table, covered with green cloth, shabbily lighted, in one of the committee rooms of the national a.s.sembly, were seated Robespierre, Collot d'Herbois, Carnot, and David.

They were occupied in filling up the lists for the _permanent_ guillotine, erected very near them, in la Place de la Revolution, which the executioners were then clearing of its gore, and preparing for the next day's butchery. In this devoted capital more blood had, during that day, streamed upon the scaffold, than on any one day during the revolution.

The terrified inhabitants, in darkness, in remote recesses of their desolate houses, were silently offering up a prayer to the great G.o.d of Mercy to release them, in a way most suitable to his wisdom, from such scenes of deep dismay, and remorseless slaughter.

Robespierre, as usual, was dressed with great neatness and gayety; the _savage_ was generally _scented_, whilst his a.s.sociates were habited, en Jacobin, in the squalid, filthy fashion of that era of the revolution, in the dress of blackguards.

Mr. G---- bowed, and addressed them very respectfully. "I am come, citizens, before you," said this amiable son, "to implore the release of my mother; she is pining in the prison of Rouen, without having committed any offence; she is in years; and if her confinement continues, her children whose fortunes have been placed at the disposal of the national exigencies, will have to lament her death; grant the prayer of her son, restore, I conjure you, by all the rights of nature, restore her to her afflicted family." Robespierre looked obliquely at him, and with his accustomed sharpness, interrupted him from proceeding further, by exclaiming, "what right have _you_ to appear before us, miscreant? you are an agent of Pitt and Cobourg (the then common phrase of reproach) you shall be sent to the guillotine--Why are you not at the frontiers?" Monsieur G----, unappalled, replied, "give me my mother, and I will be there to morrow, I am ready instantly to spill my blood, if it must be the price of _her_ discharge." Robespierre, whose savage soul was occasionally moved by sights of heroic virtue, seemed impressed by this brave and unusual address. He paused, and after whispering a few words to his a.s.sociates, wrote the discharge, and handing it over to a soldier, for the successful pet.i.tioner, he fiercely told him to retire.

Mr. G---- instantly set out for Rouen, where, after a long, and severe journey, he arrived, exhausted with fatigue, and agitation of mind; without refreshment, this excellent man flew to the gates of the prison, which contained his mother, and presented the discharge to the gaoler, who drily, with a brutal grin, informed him, that a trick had been played off upon him, that he had just received a counter order, which he held in his hand, and refused to release her!!!

It turned out, that immediately after Mr. G---- had left the committee room, the relenting disposition, which he had momentarily awakened in the barbarous breast of Robespierre, had subsided.

The generous sentiment was of a short, and sickly growth, and withered under the gloomy, fatal shade of his sanguinary nature. A cha.s.seur had been dispatched with the counterorder, who pa.s.sed the exulting, but deluded G---- on the road.

A short time after this, and a few days before Madame G----, and her unhappy companions were to have perished on the scaffold, the gates of their prison flew open, the world was released from a monster--Robespierre was no more.

This interesting recital I received from one of the amiable sufferers, in our way to St. Catharine's Mount. The story afforded a melancholy contrast to the rich and cheerful scenes about us.

From the attic story of a lofty house, built under this celebrated cliff, we ascended that part of it, which, upon the road to Paris, is only accessible in this manner. When we reached the top, the prospect was indeed superb; on one side we traced for miles, the romantic meanders of the Seine, every where forming little islands of poplars; before us, melting away in the horizon, were the blue mountains of Lower Normandy; at their feet, a variegated display of meadows, forests, corn fields, and vineyards; immediately below us, the city of Rouen, and its beautiful suburbs. This delicious, and expanded prospect, we enjoyed upon a seat erected near a little oratory, which is built upon the top of the mountain, resting, at one end, upon the pedestal of a cross, which, in the times of the revolution, had been shattered and overturned.

From this place, before dinner, we proceeded to la Montagne; a wild and hilly country, lying opposite to St. Catharine's. Here we were overtaken by a storm, upon which, a cure, who had observed us from his little cottage, not far distant, and who had been very lately reinstated in the cure of the church, in the neighbouring village, came out to us, with an umbrella, and invited us to dinner. Upon our return to our inn, to dress, we were annoyed by a nuisance which had before frequently a.s.sailed us. I knew a man, who in a moment of ill humour, vented rather a revengeful wish that the next neighbour of his enemy might have a child, who was fond of a _whistle_ and a _drum_! A more insufferable nuisance was destined for us; the person who lodged in the next room to mine, was a beginner (and a dull one too) upon the _trumpet_. It was general Ruffin, whom I have mentioned before, forcing from this brazen tube, sounds which certainly would have set a kennel of hounds in a cry of agony, and were almost calculated to disturb the repose of the dead.

General Ruffin, in all other respects, was a very polite, and indeed a very _quiet_ young man, and a brave warrior; but in the display of his pa.s.sion for music, I fear he mistook either his talent or his instrument. At one time we thought of inviting him to dine with us, that we might have a little respite, but after debating the matter well over, we conceived that to entertain an italian hero, as he ought to be received by those who admire valour even in an enemy, was purchasing silence at a very advanced price, so we submitted to the evil with that resignation which generally follows the incurable absence of a remedy.

We now addressed ourselves to Madame P----, to know how long the general had learned the trumpet, and whether his leisure hours were generally occupied in this way. Madame P. was, strange to tell, not very able to afford us much information upon the subject. She was under the influence of love. The natural tranquillity of her disposition, was improved by the prospect of connubial happiness, which, although a widow, and touching the frontier of her eight and thirtieth year, she shortly expected to receive from the son of a neighbouring architect, who was then a minor. In this blissful frame of mind, our fair hostess scarcely knew when the trumpet of general R---- sounded. Her soul was in harmony with all the world, and it was not in the power of the demon of discord, nor even of this annoying brazen tube, to disturb her. Madame P---- well deserved to be blessed with such equanimity, and if _she_ liked it, with such a lover, for she was a generous and good creature.

A gentleman to whom I was afterwards introduced, when the revolution began to grow hot, fled with his lady and his children into a foreign country, where, upon the relics of a shattered fortune he remained, until things wore a better aspect, and enabled him, with a prospect of safety, to return to his native country. In better times, upon his annual visits to a n.o.ble chateau, and large estates which he once possessed in this part of Normandy, he was accustomed to stop at the Hotel de Poitiers. His equipage was then splendid, and suitable to his affluent circ.u.mstances. Upon his return to France, this gentleman, hara.s.sed by losses, and fatigued by sickness, arrived with his accomplished lady, and their elegant children, in a hired cabriole, at the gate of Madame P----. As soon as their name was announced, the grateful hostess presented herself before them, and kissing the children, burst into tears of joy; when she had recovered herself, she addressed her old patron, by expressing her hopes, that he had amended his fortune abroad, and was now returning to enjoy himself in tranquillity at home. "Alas! my good Madame P----," said this worthy gentleman, "we left our country, as you know, to save our lives, we have subsisted upon the remains of our fortune ever since, and have sustained heavy and cruel losses; we have been taken prisoners upon our pa.s.sage, and are now returning to our home, if any is left to us, to solicit some reparation for our sufferings. Times are altered, Madame P----, you must not now consider me as formerly, when I expended the gifts of Providence in a manner which I hope was not altogether unworthy of the bounty which showered them upon me, we must bow down to such dispensations, you see I am candid with you; we are fatigued, and want refreshment, give us, my good landlady, a little plain dinner, such as is suitable to our present condition."

Madame P---- was so much affected, that she could make no reply, and left the room.

Immediately all the kitchen was in a bustle, every pot and pan were placed in instant requisition, the chamber-maids were sent to the neighbouring confectioners for cakes, and the porter was dispatched all over the city for the choicest fruits. In a short time a n.o.ble dinner was served up to this unfortunate family, followed by confectionary, fruits, and burgundy. When the repast was over, Mons. O---- ordered his bill, and his cabriole to be got ready. Madame P----entered, and in the most amiable manner requested him, as she had exceeded his orders, to consider the dinner as a little acknowledgement of her sense of his past favours; money, though earnestly pressed upon her, she would not receive.

The whole of this interesting party were moved to tears, by this little act of nature and generosity. When they entered their carriage, they found in it bouquets of flowers, and boxes of cakes for the little children. No doubt Madame P----moved lighter that day, than she ever did in her life, and perhaps found the remembrance of her conduct upon the occasion almost as exquisite as the hours of love, which she appeared most happily to enjoy, when we had the honour of being under her roof.

Monsieur O---- could not help exhibiting much feeling, when he related this little event to me. I must not fail to mention that all the house seemed, for the moment, infected with the happy disease of the mistress.

General Ruffin's valet de chambre was in love with Dorothee, our chamber-maid; the porter was pining for a little black eyed grisette, who sold prints and pastry, in a stall opposite; and the ostler was eternally quarrelling with the chef de cuisine, who repelled him from the kitchen, which, in the person of the a.s.sistant cook, a plump rosy norman girl, contained all the treasure of his soul--love and negligence reigned throughout the household. We rang the bells, and sacre dieu'd, but all in vain, we suffered great inconvenience, _but who could be angry?_ In the course of our walks, and conversations, with the workmen, whom we met, we found that most of the masons, and gardeners of Rouen, had fought in the memorable, b.l.o.o.d.y, and decisive battle of Marengo, at which it appears that a great part of the military of France, within four or five hundred miles of the capital, were present.

The change they presented was worthy of observation; we saw men sun-browned in campaigns, and enured to all the ferocity of war, at the sound of peace a.s.suming all the tranquil habits of ingenious industry, or rustic simplicity. Some of them were occupied in forming the shapeless stone into graceful embellishments for elegant houses, and others in disposing, with botanic taste, the fragrant parterre. After spending four very delightful days in this agreeable city, I bade adieu to my very worthy companion, captain W. C----, whose intention it was to spend some time here, and those friends, from whom I had received great attention and hospitalities, and wishing the amiable Madame P---- many happy years, and receiving from her the same a.s.surances of civility, about seven o'clock in the evening I seated myself in the diligence for Paris, and in a comfortable corner of it, after we had pa.s.sed the pave, resigned myself to sleep.

CHAPTER VIII.

_Early dinner.--Mante.--Frost.--Duke de Sully.--Approach the Capital.--Norman Barrier.--Paris.--Hotel de Rouen.--Palais Royal._

At day break, the appearance of the country in all directions was delightful. The faint eastern blush of early morn, threw a mild, refreshing light over the moist and dew-dripping scenery.

The spirit of our immortal bard, awaking from the bosom of nature, seemed to exclaim--

------------Look love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds, in yonder east; Night's candles are burnt out; and jocund Day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.

About eight o'clock in the morning, we arrived at Mante, a picturesque town, built upon a fertile mountain, at the base of which the Seine flowed along, rippling against its many islands of beautiful poplars. At this hour, upon our alighting at the inn, we found a regular dinner ready, consisting of soups, meats, fowls, and confectionary. To the no small surprise of the host, I expressed a wish to have some breakfast, and at length, after much difficulty, procured some coffee and rolls.

The rest of the party, with great composure, tucked their napkins in the b.u.t.tonholes of their waistcoats, and applied themselves to the good things before them, with very active address. What a happy race of people! ready for every thing, and at all times; they scarcely know the meaning of inconvenience.