First Impressions on a Tour upon the Continent. Marianne Baillie
nights almost as light and as free from damps as the days: I never beheld the moon in greater majesty. Airaines is an uninteresting little town, not worth mentioning. Our postillion here was a most ruffian-like, cut-throat looking creature, all over dirt, and having a true jacobinical air. He cast several glances full of sullenness and malignity at my companions; so much so, that I felt very thankful we were in the cheerful haunts of men, and not in the solitary Alps, or the black forests of Germany, with such a conductor.
We dined at Granvilliers, where we were waited upon by a little girl of thirteen, fair and lively enough, with an English bloom. She spoke our language remarkably well, although she had only been six months en pension at Amiens, in order to acquire it! Her instructress was a French woman, which is singular, for she seemed to have given her little pupil a perfect knowledge of our idiom, and an excellent accent.
From Granvilliers to Marseille, the country rapidly improves in beauty. Just beyond the latter place we remarked a very fine old chateau, embosomed in extensive woods: it must formerly have belonged to some of the rich noblesse, and perhaps does so still. Near Marseille, vineyards appeared for the first time. We now approached the town of Beauvais, which had a very pretty effect, surrounded by woods, with the cathedral standing proudly conspicuous over all. It just now occurs to me to mention (though not immediately à-propos to Beauvais), that the houses, in most of the French towns and villages we have yet seen, are numbered, and in a singular method; for the several streets are not allowed their numbers, separately reckoned, but they go on counting from the first house in the place to the last, so that it sometimes happens you might be directed to call upon a friend at number 1000, or 2000, and so on. In Paris they have another peculiarity, for the even numbers, such as 2, 4, 6, 8, &c. are all on one side of the street, and the odd ones, 7, 9, 11, &c. on the other.
Beauvais is a filthy town; the streets narrow and dark, and the houses very ordinary. The diversity of intolerable smells here nearly overset me, and made me wish almost to lose the power of my olfactory nerves. The inn was miserable, dirty, inconvenient, badly attended, and noisy. The only good things we met with were beds; indeed we have been fortunate in that respect every where, and the linen throughout France is excellent and plentiful.
We had (with some difficulty) prevailed upon the awkward Maritornes of a fille de chambre to set a tea-board before us in the little chair-lumbered closet dignified by the name of a salle a manger, and into which three or four doors were perpetually opened sans ceremonie, when our Swiss travelling valet, Christian, came in to tell us of the hard fate of an English family who were just arrived, and whose fatigue obliged them to sleep here; but as the sitting-rooms were all occupied, they were under the necessity of taking their tea in the kitchen, which did not, alas! boast the cheerful and clean appearance of the cottage kitchens I have formerly described. Common politeness, therefore, laid us under the necessity of sending an invitation to these unfortunates, to share our sitting-room, and join us at our tea. Accordingly, in came two ladies; one a fat, comely, masculine dame, of a certain age; the other lean, tall, plain, and some few years younger. In a few minutes they were joined by a large, gruff, sour-looking old gentleman (the husband of the elder lady), who, without attempting any salutation or apology to us, began to express his dissatisfaction at finding tea going forward, 'when you know (said he) I never drink any.' He then settled himself at a small table, and ordered a pâté for his supper. The style of the ladies may easily be guessed by the sort of language in which they described every thing they had seen. The younger, mentioning a tempestuous passage which they had encountered, from Dover to Boulogne, told us that the air smelt quite sulphurus, and the lightning tizzed in the water very frightfully. The old gentleman grumbled himself by degrees into conversation, and we soon discovered that he was a genuine Squire Sullen, and that his companions were fully aware of it. These poor people seemed to dislike almost all they had met with in France; persons, places, travelling, &c. They beheld every thing en noir, and appeared to make mountains of mole-hills. Peace be with them! and a speedy release from each other's society.
We went (although the day was sinking into twilight) to view the magnificent cathedral, which for beauty of architecture I have seldom seen equalled. It is not finished. The different chapels of the saints, and the high altar, were very striking, seen through the solemn gloom of the fine old stained glass windows. Lights were burning before the shrine of one single saint, the patron of the town; they twinkled dimly through the Gothic pillars and tracery, and had a highly picturesque and singular effect2. Many peasants were kneeling round the altar at this shrine, and the old woman (our guide) informed us they were praying for rain, now the harvest was got safely in: we asked her if she thought the saint would grant their prayers, and she replied she had no doubt but that he would. Prostrate on the steps of the altars, in the different small chapels of this cathedral, half lost in shadow, were several other devotees, who had come there for the purpose of confessing themselves previous to the great and solemn festival of the assomption de la Sainte Vierge, which was to take place on the morrow. Altogether the spectacle was interesting and imposing, nor could I find any disposition in my heart to ridicule a religion which seemed to be carried on with so much sacred solemnity, and in so awe inspiring a temple. Certainly the absence of pews in the body of a place of public worship is a great advantage, both in a religious and a picturesque point of view. There is something soothing and elevating to the imagination in the idea of so grand a building being open equally, and at all times, to the noble and the peasant, who, it might easily happen, may be seen side by side kneeling on the same steps of the magnificent altar, wrapt in devout adoration of that Being, in whose sight all men are equal. In my opinion (and I have ever since I can remember thought the same) a Gothic cathedral is the most appropriate style of building for a place dedicated to the worship of the Almighty, nor can I look upon the magnificent style in which the Roman catholics adorn their altars, and array their officiating priests, without some feelings of approbation and reverence.
We were right glad to quit Beauvais early the next morning; and, as we advanced towards Beaumont, were delighted with the beauty of its environs. The river Seine has a fine appearance here, although vastly inferior to our Thames; and we remarked a great number of chateaus rising among the woods, on every side: many of them, with their parks and domains, were really superb. Some peasants here attempted to impose upon us as foreigners, in a very disgusting manner, asking a franc for a couple of greengages, and three sous a-piece for pears, which they offered at the windows of our carriage. Our servant was very indignant at their impudence, and sent them off in a hurry, saying, "Dey ought to be shamed of demselves." Upon entering Beaumont, we met the population of the place returning from mass, in their costumes des fêtes. Nothing can well be more sweetly pretty, and delicately neat, than the dress of the women! snowy caps, with deep lace or thin linon borders plaited, white cotton gowns and stockings, gay coloured cotton handkerchiefs crossed smartly over the bosom so as to display the shape to advantage, a large gold cross suspended from the neck by a black narrow riband, or gold chain, with ear-rings, and pin for the forehead of the same material. Some few wore a crimson apron and bib, over the white gown, and others crimson gowns, with aprons of a bright antique sort of blue – a mixture of colours which is for ever to be remarked in the paintings of the old masters, and which has a singularly becoming effect upon the skin. A little worked muslin fischu, with a vandyke bordering, is sometimes added, as a finish to the dress, worn over all.
We now came to St. Denis, and at length beheld Paris! We did not pass the heights of Montmartre, &c. without emotion, when we recollected the memorable contest which so lately took place there between the veteran Blucher and the French! The country in the immediate vicinity of Paris is flat and ugly; but we thought not of nature upon entering this celebrated work and wonder of art. Covered with dust, and followed by the eyes of the multitude, who easily discovered our English physiognomies, we drove up to several hotels, at every one of which we were refused admittance for want of room to accommodate us, there being at this moment no less than thirty thousand English at Paris. At last, we were comfortably housed at the hotel Rivoli (near the jardins des Tuileries), one of the best in the city, where we found abundant civility and attention, and every convenience.
Why should I attempt to describe Paris? It has already and so often been done by abler pens than mine, that the very school girl in a country town in England is perfectly acquainted
The principal beauty of this cathedral is the choir, and it is also famous for Gobelin tapestry.