Contents
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Palgrave,
1774.
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Palgrave,
Sept. 9, 1775.
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1776.
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Palgrave,
1777.
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Palgrave,
1777.
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Palgrave,
Jan. 19, 1778.
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Palgrave,
1779.
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Palgrave,
Jan. 20th, 1779.
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London,
Jan. 2d, 1784.
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Palgrave,
Jan. 21, 1784.
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Palgrave,
May 1784.
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Dover,
Sept. 17, 1785,
8 o'clock.
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Besançon,
Oct. 9th, 1785.
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Marseilles,
Dec. 1785.
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Aix,
Feb. 9, 1786.
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Thoulouse,
Feb. 27, 1786.
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Paris,
June 7, 1786.
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London,
June 29, 1786.
Letters to Dr. Aikin
Palgrave,
1774.
1. Thanks to my dear brother for his letter, and the copy of verses, which Mr. B.
and I admire much. As to your system, I do not know what to say; I think I could
make out just the contrary with as plausible arguments: as thus, Women are
naturally inclined not only to love, but to all the soft and gentle affections;
all the tender attentions and kind sympathies of nature. When, therefore, one of
our sex shows any particular complacency towards one of yours, it may be
resolved into friendship; into a temper naturally caressing, and those endearing
intercourses of life which to a woman are become habitual. But when
man, haughty, independent man, becomes sensible to all the delicacies of
sentiment and softens his voice and address to the tone of
les
manières douces, it is much to be suspected a stronger
power than friendship has worked the change.
You are hardly social
creatures till your minds are humanized and subdued by that passion which alone
can tame you to "all the soft civilities of life." Your heart
requires a stronger fire to melt it than ours does: the chaste and gentle rays
of friendship, like star-beams may play upon it without effect; - it will only
yield to gross material fire. There is a pretty flight for you! In short, women
I think may be led on by sentiment to passion; but men must be subdued by
passion before they can taste sentiment. Well! I protest I think I have the best
of the argument all to nothing. I'll go ask Mr. Barbauld. Yes; he says my system
will do. I beg I may have Dr. E.'s opinion upon it, as I take him to be a pretty
casuist in these affairs. I hope I am by this time richer by a nephew or niece:
if it is a boy, I claim it; if a girl, I will be content to stay for the next. I
am afraid
my poor child is tossing upon the waves, for I have not
heard yet of its arrival in London; and I cannot help feeling all a parent's
anxiety for
its fate and establishment in the world: several people
here are so kind as to inquire after it, but I can give them no
satisfaction.
1.
Palgrave,
Sept. 9, 1775.
1. I give you joy with all my heart, my dear brother, on the little hero's
appearance in the world, and hope he will live to be as famous a man as any of
his namesakes. I shall look upon you now as a very respectable man, as being
entitled to all the honours and privileges of a father of three children. I
would advise you to make one a hero, as you have determined; another a scholar;
and for the third, -- send him to us, and we will bring him up for a Norfolk
farmer, which I suspect to be the best business of the three. I have not forgot
Arthur, and send you herewith a story for his edification; but I must desire you
to go on with it. When you have brought the shepherd Hidallan a sheet further in
his adventures, send him back to me, and I will take up the pen: it will be a
very sociable way of writing, and I doubt not but it will produce something new
and clever. The great thing to be avoided in these things is, the having any
plan in your head: nothing cramps your fancy so much; and I protest to you I am
entirely clear from that inconvenience.
2. Pray can you tell me anything about Crashaw?
I have read some verses
of his, prefixed to Cornaro's treatise, so exceedingly pretty, that I am
persuaded he must have written more, and should be glad to see them: I would
transcribe the verses, but I think you have Cornaro in your library.
3. Be it known to you, that Palgrave seminary will soon abound with poets, even as
the green fields abound with grasshoppers. Our usher is a poet profest; and two
of the lads have lately exercised their pens the same way, and not amiss. One
especially has written two or three pieces, which, if I am not deceived by the
partiality I cannot help feeling for the little urchins, I may say are really
clever for a boy of twelve years old. Now I am upon poetical subjects, I must
tell you that a young clergyman in this neighbourhood is writing a play, which
he did us the honour to submit to our criticism. The subject is, the resistance
of the Chilese to the Spaniards, by which they recovered their independence. I
am afraid I gave him very wicked advice; for I recommended it to him to
re-convert his Indian from Christianity to Heathenism, and to make his chiefs a
little more quarrelsome.
4. I believe the Devotional Pieces have met with the fate of poor Jonah, and been
swallowed up by some whale, -- perhaps out of pity and compassion, to save them
in his jaws from the more terrible teeth of the critics. St. Anthony, I think,
preached
to the fishes; perhaps I may have the same honour. I should
as soon hope to inspire a porpoise with devotion, as a turtle-eater.
5. You must know I find one inconvenience in franks; one never knows when to have
done. In a common letter you fill your sheet, and there's an end; but with a
frank you may write on and on for ever: I have tired two pens already. But I
will write no more to you: I will write to poor Patty, who wants amusement, --
so farewell! Go and study your Greek, and do not interrupt us.
6. And how do you do, my dear Patty? let me take a peep at this boy. Asleep, is he?
Nevermind; draw the cradle-curtains softly, and let me have a look. Upon my
word, a noble lad! dark eyes, like his mother, and a pair of cheeks! You may
keep him a few months yet before you pack him up in the hamper; and then I
desire you will send him with all speed; for you know he is to be mine ......
7. May every blessing attend you and yours, and all the dear society at
Warrington.
1.
1. Dear Brother,
2. I doubt not but you have been grumbling in your gizzard for some time, and
muttering between your teeth, "What is this lazy sister of ours
about"? Now to prove to you that I am not lazy, I will tell you what I
have been about. First, then, making
up beds; secondly, scolding my
maids, preparing for company; and lastly, drawing up and delivering lectures on
Geography. Give me joy of our success, for we shall have twenty-seven scholars
before the vacation, and two more have bespoke places at Midsummer; so that we
do not doubt of being soon full: nay, sir, I can assure you it is said in this
country, that it will soon be a favour to be on Mr. Barbauld's list: -- you have
no objection, I hope, to a little boasting.
3. I thank you, my dear brother, for so kindly drawing your pen in my defence. An
admirer of Popery! Heaven help their wise heads! when it was one of my earliest
aversions. But this I see, that in religious and political affairs if a person
does not enlist under a party, he is sure to meet with censure from party. I had
not seen the charge till I had your letter: we had had the Review too, but I had
read it carelessly. If they do not insert your letter, I should be glad to see
it..
4. Yes, Sterne's Letters are paltry enough, and so are Lady Luxborough's, which we
ran through in the course of an afternoon. I am afraid the public will be sated
with letters before we publish our correspondence. I could make a neat
pocket-volume or two of yours, and of Mr. Barbauld's a quarto.
5. Adieu, yours ever.
6. Yes, I was somewhat lazy in writing, I confess; but upon my word I could not tell
how to help it, so busy was I: and, by the way, I think I have sometimes been as
long without hearing from Warrington. Well! we will all mend if we can.
7. Mr. Barbauld thanks you for your elegant Pliny, which he intends to make a
school-book immediately after the vacation. Your Tacitus, too, seems a very good
scheme, and we hope to see it in time. But I own I cannot help wishing you would
undertake some original work, either of fancy or elegant criticism; you have the
powers for both. I think we must some day sew all our fragments together, and
make a Joineriana of them. Let me see: -- I have, half a ballad;
the first scene of a play; a plot of another, all but the catastrophe; half a
dozen loose similies, and an eccentric flight or two among the fairies.
8. Did I tell you the boys are going to act the First Part of Henry IV., and I am
busy making paper vandykes, and trimming up their hats with feathers? Do you
know that we make a trip to Holland this vacation?
1.
1. Dear Brother
2. To my sister and yourself Mr. Barbauld and I have a request to make, in which,
though perhaps
it may be rather singular, we are very seriously in
earnest; and therefore, whether you grant or deny, we hope you will neither
laugh at us nor take it amiss. Without further preface, it is this. You enjoy a
blessing Providence has hitherto denied to us, -- that of children: you have
already several, and seem very likely to have a numerous family. As to
ourselves, having been thus long without prospect of any, it is, to say the
least, very uncertain whether that hope, which most I believe form when they
marry, will ever be fulfilled. Some, indeed, say to us, that considering how
large a family we have of others' children, 'tis rather fortunate we have none
of our own. And true it is, that employed as we are in the business of
education, we have many of the cares and some of the pleasures of a parent; but
the latter very imperfectly. We have them not early enough to contract the
fondness of affection which early care alone can give; we have them not long
enough to see the fruit of our culture; and we have not enough the disposal of
them to follow our own plans and schemes in their education. We wish for one who
might be wholly ours: and we think that if a child was made ours by being given
young into our hands, we could love it, and make it love us so well, as to
supply in a great measure the want of the real relationship. We know there are
many instances of people who have taken the
greatest satisfaction
in, and felt the highest fondness for, children who by some accident have been
thrown upon their arms. Why then should not we seek out and choose some object
of such an affection? and where can we better seek it than in a brother's
family?
3. Our request then, in short, is this: that you will permit us to adopt one of
your children; which of them, we leave to you; -- that you will make it ours in
every sense in which it is possible to make it, -- that you will transfer to us
all the care and all the authority of a parent; that we should provide for it,
educate it, and have the entire direction of it as far into life as the parental
power itself extends. Now I know not what to say to induce you to make us such a
gift. Perhaps you will entirely deny it; and then we must acquiesce: for I am
sensible it is not a small thing we ask; nor can it be easy for a parent to part
with a child. This I would say, from a number, one may more easily
be spared. Though it makes a very material difference in happiness whether a
person has children or no children, it makes, I apprehend, little or none
whether he has three, or four; five, or six; because four or five are enow to
exercise all his whole stock of care and affection. We should gain, but you
would not lose. I would likewise put you in mind that you would not part with it
to strangers; the connexion between you and it would not be broken off: you
would see it (I hope), hear of it often; and it should be taught to
love you, if it had not learnt that lesson before. Our child must love our
brother and sister. Its relation to you is likewise a presumption that we shall
not be wanting in that love for it which will be necessary to make it happy. I
believe both Mr. Barbauld and myself are much disposed to love children, and
that we could soon grow fond of any one who was amiable and entirely under our
care. How then can we fail to love a child for whom at setting out we shall have
such a stock of affection as we must have for yours? I hope, too, we should have
too right a sense of things to spoil it; and we see too much of children to
indulge an over-anxious care. But you know us well enough to be able to judge in
general how we should educate it, and whether to your satisfaction. Conscience
and affection, I hope, would unite in inciting us to fulfill an engagement we
should thus voluntarily take upon ourselves, to the best of abilities.
4. Our situation is not a certain one, nor have we long tried it; but we have all
the reason in the world to hope that if things go on as they have hitherto done,
we should be able to provide for a child in a decent and comfortable manner.
5. Now, my dear brother and sister, if you consent, give us which of your boys you
please: if you had girls, perhaps we should ask a girl rather;
and
if we might choose amongst your boys, we could make perhaps a choice; -- but
that we do not expect you will let us. Give us, then, which you will; only let
him be healthy, inoculated, and as young as you can possibly venture him to
undertake the journey. This last circumstance is indispensable: for if he were
not quite young, we should not gain over him the influence, we could not feel
for him the affection, which would be necessary: besides, if at all able to play
with our pupils, he would immediately mix with them, and would be little more to
us than one of the schoolboys. Do not, therefore, put us as off by saying that
one of yours when he is old enough shall pay us a visit. To see any of yours at
any time would no doubt give us the highest pleasure; but that does not by any
means come up to what we now ask. We now leave the matter before you, --
consider maturely, and give us your answer.
6. O no! I never promised to fill this second sheet. Good bye to you.
1.
1776.
1. Your kind and acceptable letter would have met with an earlier answer, if we
could either of us have commanded time to write. The manner in which you receive
our proposal gives us great pleasure. My dear tender Patty! I wonder not that
your softness takes alarm at the idea of part-
ing with any of your
sweet blossoms. All I can say is, that the greater the sacrifice, the more we
shall think ourselves obliged to you, and the stronger ties we shall think
ourselves under to supply, as far as possible, to the child of our adoption the
tenderness and care of the parents we take it from. Though we should be content
with either, yet of the two we shall like better Charles, if you determine to
give him us, than the unborn; -- perhaps, however, by this time I am wrong in
calling him so: but if he was fixed upon, it would be longer before the scheme
could take effect, and more uncertain whether he would live and thrive. This,
however, is a point you must determine for us: we shall acquiesce in either.
2. You are very favourable to my fragments; -- fragments, however, they are like to
continue unless I had a little more time. I want much to see your Essays, -- how
do you proceed with them? To attack Shakespear! heresy indeed! I will desire Mr.
Montague to chastise you, except by way of penance you finish the ode you once
began in his praise. I am of your opinion, however, that we idolize Shakespear
rather too much for a Christian country. That inconsistencies may be found in
his characters is certain: yet, not-withstanding that, character is his
distinguishing excellence; and though he had not the learning of the schools in
his head, he had the theater of
the world before him, and could make
reflections on what he saw. An equal vein of poetry runs through the works of
some of his contemporaries: but his writings are most peculiarly marked by good
sense and striking characters; so that I think you do him not justice if you
call him only a poet..
1.
Palgrave,
1777.
1. You have given us too much pleasure lately not to deserve an earlier
acknowledgement. I hope you will believe we were not so dilatory in reading your
book as we have been in thanking you for it. It is indeed a most elegant
performance; your thought is very just, and has never, I believe, been pursued
before. Both the defects and beauties which you have noticed are very striking,
and the result of the whole work, besides the truths it conveys, is a most
pleasing impression left upon the mind from the various and picturesque images
brought into view. I hope your Essay will bring down our poets from their
garrets to wander about the fields and hunt squirrels. I am clearly of your
opinion, that the only chance we have for novelty is by a more accurate
observation of the works of Nature, though I think I
should not have
confined the track quite so much as you have done to the animal creation,
because sooner exhausted than the vegetable; and some of the lines you have
quoted from Thomson show with how much advantage the latter may be made the
subject of rich description. I think too, since you put me on criticizing, it
would not have been amiss if you had drawn the line between the poet and natural
historian; and shown how far, and in what cases, the one may avail himself of
the knowledge of the other, -- at what nice period that knowledge becomes so
generally spread as to authorise the poetical describer to use it without
shocking the ear by the introduction of names and properties not sufficiently
familiar, and when at the same time it retains novelty enough to strike. I have
seen some rich descriptions of West Indian flowers and plants, -- just, I dare
say, but unpleasing merely because their names were uncouth, and forms not known
generally enough to be put into verse. It is not, I own, much to the credit of
poets, -- but it is true, -- that we do not seem disposed to take their word for
any thing, and never willingly receive
information from them.
2. We are wondrous busy in preparing our play, The Tempest; and four or five of our
little ones are to come in as fairies; and I am piecing scraps from the
Midsummer Night's Dream, &c., to make a little scene instead of the mask
of Ceres and
Juno. We have read Gibbon lately, who is certainly a
very elegant and learned writer, and a very artful one. No other new books have
we yet seen, -- they come slow to Norfolk, -- but the Diaboliad, the author of
which has a pretty sharp pen-knife, and cuts up very handsomely. Many are the
literary matters I want to talk over with you when we meet, which I now look
forward to as not a far-distant pleasure.
3. We will come and endeavour to steal away Charles's heart before we run away with
his person. Adieu! Heaven bless you and yours.
Palgrave,
1777.
1. I am happy that I can now tell you we are all safe at Palgrave, where we arrived
last night about ten o'clock. Charles has indeed been an excellent traveller,
and though like his great ancestor "some natural tears he
shed," -- like him too "he wiped them soon." He had a
long sound sleep last night, and has been very busy to-day hunting the puss and
the chickens. And now, my dear brother and sister, let me again thank you for
this precious gift, the value of which we are both more and more sensible of, as
we become better acquainted with his sweet disposition and winning manners. As
well as a gift it is a solemn trust,
and it shall be our study to
fulfill that trust. The thought of what parents we have taken him from will be
constant motive for our care, tenderness and affection.
2. Remember us most affectionately to Dr. and Mrs. E., and Betsy ---, and give a
kiss for me to Arthur and George; and so you may to Betsy, now I think of it.
3. Every body here asks, "Pray is Dr. Dodd really to be executed?"
- as if we knew the more for having been at Warrington.
1.
Palgrave,
Jan. 19, 1778.
1. It is a real concern to me that I could not write to you from London ...... Let
me now then begin with telling you, that we two, Miss B---, and one of our boys,
got safe to Palgrave this afternoon. And now for the first time Mr. Barbauld and
I experienced the pleasure of having something to come home for, and of finding
our dear Charles in perfect health and glad to see us again; though wondering a
little, and rather grave the first half-hour. Well, and what have you seen, you
will say, in London? Why, in the first place, Miss More's new play, which fills
the house very well and is pretty generally liked. Miss More is, I assure you,
now very much the ton, and moreover has got six or seven hundred pounds
by her play: I wish I could produce one every two winters; we would
not keep school. I cannot say, however, that I cried altogether so much at Percy
as I laughed at the School for Scandal, which is one of the wittiest plays I
remember to have seen; and I am sorry to add, one of the most immoral and
licentious; -- in principle I mean, for in language it is very decent. Mrs.
Montague, not content with being the queen of literature and elegant society,
sets up for the queen of fashion and splendour. She is building a very fine
house, has a very fine service of plate, dresses and visits more than ever; and
I am afraid will be full as much the woman of the world as the philosopher.
Pray, have you read a book to prove Falstaff no coward? I want to know what you
think of it: the present age deals in paradoxes. A new play of Cumberland's, and
another of Home's, are soon to come out. Charles's little book is very well, but
my idea is not executed in it: I must therefore beg you will print one as soon
as you can, on fine paper, on one side only, and more space and a clearer line
for the chapters. Prefix if you please, to that you are going to print, the
following
2. "This little publication* was made for a particular child, but the
public is welcome to the use of it. It was found that amidst the multitude of
books
professedly written for children, there is not one adapted to
the comprehension of a child from two to three years old. A grave remark, or a
connected story, however simple, is above his capacity, and nonsense is always
below it; for folly is worse than ignorance. Another great defect is, the want
of
good paper, a clear and
large type, and large
spaces. Those only who have actually taught young children can be
sensible how necessary these assistances are. The eye of a child and of a
learner cannot catch, as ours can, a small obscure ill-formed word, amidst a
number of others all equally unknown to him. To supply these deficiencies is the
object of this book. The task is humble, but not mean; for to lay the first
stone of a noble building, and to plant the first idea in a human mind, can be
no dishonour to any hand."
1.
Palgrave,
1779.
1. 'Tis well I got a letter from Warrington when I did; -- very well indeed; for I
began to be in such a fury, and should have penned you such a chiding! Do you
know, pray, how long it is since I heard from any of you? But as I do sometimes
offend myself, I think I will forgive you, especially as I wonder how you find
time even to read, with labours so multifarious (as Johnson says) going forward.
The fate of Miss B.'s letter is
very remarkable. It was written as
full, -- I am sorry to mortify you, my dear sister, -- as the paper would hold,
folded, sealed, directed, and put
somewhere; but when I had
finished mine, and wanted it to put in the frank, it could be found
nowhere. 'Tis needless to tell you how the papercase was
cleared, the cupboard routed out, pockets searched, and every body who had
entered the room squinted at with an evil eye of suspicion. The letter has never
made its appearance to this day; and what vexes Miss B. is, that Patty can but
be in her debt, and that she was before. Now half this letter she says was about
Charles, which may serve to excuse me, who finished in a violent hurry. I left
him to the last, but was obliged to conclude abruptly. I am afraid to tell you
much about him, lest you should fall in love with him again, and send somebody
to kidnap him; though I think Charles would have a good many defenders in this
house if you did. You will see by the inclosed I have been employing my pen
again for him, and again I must employ you to get it printed.
1.
Palgrave,
Jan. 20th, 1779.
1. You are a pretty fellow to grumble, as my mother says you do, at my not writing!
Do not you remember when you sent a sheet of Charles's book, you said you did
not mean the line you sent with
it for a letter, but would write
soon; so that by your own confession you are now in debt to me. Charles bore a
part in our examination, by repeating a copy of verses on the boy who would not
say A lest he should be made to say B: and we, let me tell you, deserve great
praise for our modesty and self-denial, in not making a parade with his Greek,
for he
could have repeated an ode of Anacreon. But notwithstanding
this erudition, a few English books will still be very acceptable.
2. We are just returned from Norwich, where we have been so much engaged with
dinners and suppers, that though I fully intended to write from thence, and
began a letter, I really could not finish it. The heads of all the Norwich
people are in a whirl, occasioned by the routs which have been introduced
amongst them this winter; and such a bustle with writing cards a month
beforehand, throwing down partitions, moving beds, &c. Do you know the
different terms? There is a squeeze, a fuss, a drum, a rout; and lastly, a
hurricane, when the whole house is full from top to bottom. It is matter of
great triumph to me that we enjoy the latter for ten months in the year.
1.
London,
Jan. 2d, 1784.
1. Well, my dear brother, here we are in this busy town, nothing in which (the sight
of friends excepted) has given us so much pleasure as the
balloon
which is now exhibiting in the Pantheon. It is sixteen feet one way, and
seventeen another; and when full (which it is not at present) will carry
eighty-six pounds. When set loose from the weight which keeps it to the ground,
it mounts to the top of that magnificent dome with such an easy motion as put me
in mind of Milton's line, "rose like an exhalation." We hope
to see it rise in the open air before we leave town. Next to the balloon, Miss
B. is the object of public curiosity: I had the pleasure of meeting her
yesterday. She is a very unaffected, modest, sweet and pleasing young lady: --
but you, now I think of it, are a Goth, and have not read Cecilia. Read, read
it, for shame! I begin to be giddy with the whirl of London, and to feel my
spirits flag. There are so many drawbacks, from hair-dressers, bad weather and
fatigue, that it requires strong health greatly to enjoy being abroad. The
enthusiasm for Mrs. Siddons seems something abated this winter. As the last
season was spent in unbounded admiration, this, I suppose, will be employed in
canvassing her faults, and the third settle her in her proper degree of
reputation.
1.
Palgrave,
Jan. 21, 1784.
1. My dear Brother,
2. We arrived at Palgrave yesterday. I much wished to have written again from
London; but I could
not get further than half a letter, which was
therefore committed to the flames. Bating the circumstance of being greatly
hurried, we spent our time very pleasantly in London, and had a great deal of
most agreeable society. Our evenings, particularly at Johnson's, were so truly
social and lively, that we protracted them sometimes till ..... But I am not
telling tales. Ask --- at what time we used to separate. Our time, indeed, in
London was chiefly spent in seeing people: for as to seeing sights, constant
visiting and the very bad weather left us little opportunity for any thing of
that kind. There is a curious automaton which plays at chess. His countenance,
they say, is very grave and full of thought, and you can hardly help imagining
he meditates upon every move. He is wound up, however, at every two or three
moves. The same man has made another figure, which speaks: but as his native
tongue is French, he stays at home at present to learn English. The voice is
like that of a young child.
3. We spent two very agreeable days at Mr. ---'s. We saw there may Americans,
members of congress, and plenipos. We were often amused with the different
sentiments of the several parties in which we passed the day. At Mr. Brand
Hollies's the nation was ruined; notwithstanding which we ate our turkey and
drank our wine as if nothing had happened. In the evening party there was
nobody to be pitied but the poor king: and we criticised none but
Mrs. Siddons. It is impossible, however, not to be kept awake by curiosity at
learning the extraordinary manæuvres and rapid changes that have
happened lately. Do you know that at two o'clock on the day the Parliament met,
Mr. Pitt had not received his return; so that Mr. Fox had almost begun the
debates before Pitt knew he was even a member!
1.
Palgrave,
May 1784.
1. Let me begin with telling you, what you have some reason to complain of me for
not having told you before, that we are very well. Mr. B. has begun to eat his
dinners; and we smile upon the year, as the year begins to smile upon us. We
propose going to Birmingham this vacation, and we understand Oxford and Daventry
are in the way; so that we hope a great deal lies before us to please the eye
and touch the soul of friendship: but busy must we be before we have earned our
vacation.
2. What do you think of the behaviour of our great ladies on the present election?
I thought the newspapers had exaggerated: but Mr. --- says he himself saw the
two Lady ---'s and Miss ---'s go into a low alehouse to canvass, where they
staid half an hour; and then, with the mob at
their heels offering
them a thousand indignities, proceeded to another. These he mentioned as
unmarried ladies, and therefore less privileged. The Duchess of ---, Mrs. ---,
and many others, equally expose their charms for the good of the public.
3. Have you got Hoole's Ariosto? we are reading it; but think the translation,
except in a few passages, wonderfully flat and prosaic: the adventures are
entertaining, however.
1.
Dover,
Sept. 17, 1785,
8 o'clock.
Fair stood the wind for France -- |
When we our sails advance; |
Nor now to trust our chance |
Longer would tarry .... |
1. It is not very fair neither, for there is scarcely wind enough; but what there
is, is in our favour. We are just got here, and a packet sails to-night, so I
suppose we shall go in a few hours; for the night is the most beautiful, the
most brilliant, that ever rivaled day. The moon, which is nearly full,
illuminates the majestic chalky cliffs, the stately Castle, and the element we
are going to trust ourselves to. The views about Dover are very bold and very
beautiful. -- But let me give a regular account of ourselves. From London we
had the good fortune to take part of a chaise to Dover with Dr.
Osborn. He is a most entertaining, agreeable companion; and we never had a more
agreeable journey, especially to-day, for yesterday it was rainy, and we did not
get into Rochester till nine at night; consequently lost in a great measure the
windings of the silver Medway. But to-day was uniformly fine; and greatly
delighted we were with the view of Chatham, Stroud, and Rochester, from a hill
just above the town, which we walked up. The Medway makes a fine bend here. The
hop-pickers were at work as we went along, but not with their usual alarcrity;
for the late storm has blasted them to such a degree, that twenty thousand
pounds worth of damage, they say, is done. The country is beautifully variegated
all the way, and has many fine seats; among which Sir Horace Man's was pointed
out. From this rich inclosed country you come to the open downs, more grand and
striking. the first view of Dover castle is noble; and still more finished that
of the town, which we saw from Dr. O.'s house where we dined. It has the castle
on one side, hills on the other, a valley between (in which is the town), and
the sea beyond. I think we shall hardly see more beautiful scenes in France. We
here took leave of our last English friends. -- I forgot to say we took a hasty
peep at the venerable cathedral of Canterbury, to which
I would at
any time willingly go a pilgrimage -- though not barefoot.
1.
Besançon,
Oct. 9th, 1785.
1. I wrote letters from Calais and from Troyes, the contents of which have, I hope,
been communicated to you. From Troyes we proceeded to Dijon by a road so
delightful that I strongly wished my sister and you could have been with me, --
a wish which I cannot help forming, though a vain one, whenever any object
particularly pleasant presents itself. During the greatest part of this road we
had the full view of the Seine, which we traced upwards to within half a league
of its source, and saw it grow less and less, untwisting, as it were, to a
single thread. The valley in which it ran was narrow, of a beautiful verdure,
and bounded by hills of the most gentle ascent covered with trees or herbage:
cattle of all sorts, among which were several flocks of goats, were feeding in
sight. The road often ran upon the ascent; and we saw the river, sometimes
bordered with trees and sometimes fringed with grass or rushes, winding beneath
in the most sportive meanders, -- for we saw and lost it nine times from one
spot. The scene was in general solitary; but if we came to a spot particularly
pleasant, it was sure to be marked by a convent, the neatness of
which, (generally white,) added to the beauty of the scene. After we had lost
the Seine, we came to the Val de Suson, a still more romantic place, and very
like Middleton Dale, only that the rocks were richly covered with trees. Through
the first part of this valley runs the river Suson; the rest is still narrower,
and between high rocks.
2. At Dijon we delivered our first letter of recommendation, which introduced us to
M. de Morveau, a man of great merit, who was
avocat-général,but has quitted his
profession for the sake of applying himself to philosophical studies, and
chiefly chemical. He writes all the chemical articles in the New Encyclopedie.
He esteems Dr., Priestley, Dr. Black, and Mr. Kirwan, to be the chief men in
England in the philosophical way. M. de Morveau was one of the first who
ascended in a balloon. He showed us their Academy, which is one of the first
provincial ones. The Palais des Etats in Dijon is the finest
building in it; the front of it forms one side of a very handsome square, and
the wings extend much beyond it. It is adorned with statues and paintings by the
pupils of the drawing-school. From the tower, on which is an observatory
belonging to this building, is a charming view of the country: the hills of
Burgundy covered with vines; the rivers of Ouche and Suson, which encircle the
town; and the town itself, which is large though
not very populous.
In our way from Dijon to Dole we saw more of the vintage than we had hitherto
done, -- and a gay scene it is; though I must confess my disappointment at the
first sight of the vines, -- which are very low, and nothing like so beautiful
as our apple-trees. They say they have more wine this year than they can
possibly find vessels to put it in; and yet the road was covered with teams of
casks, empty or full, according as they were going out or returning, and drawn
by oxen whose strong necks seemed to be bowed unwillingly under the yoke. Men,
women and children were abroad: some cutting with a short sickle the bunches of
grapes; some breaking them with a wooden instrument; some carrying them on their
backs from the gatherers to those who pressed the juice; and, as in our harvest,
the gleaners followed. From Dole we should have gone directly to
Besançon, but were induced to strike out of the road to visit the
grottes stalactites of Auxcelles, to see which we crossed in a
ferry the river Doux, a fine stream with banks beautifully wooded, and got into
a place most wild and solitary, through such terrible bad roads that what we
thought would have been the affair of a few hours detained us there the whole
night: the grotto, however, repaid our trouble. Had you been there, you would
have seen it with a more philosophical eye, and have told us how the con-
tinual dropping of waters through those rocks forms those beautiful
petrifications, which when polished, as they sometimes are, have the lustre and
transparency of crystal. But it required only eyes to be struck with the view of
a vast subterranean running through a whole rock, which had the appearance of a
most magnificent Gothic church; -- tombs, images, drapery, pillars, shrines, all
formed without much aid from fancy, by nature working alone for ages in these
long and lofty caverns. We walked in it, I believe, about two furlongs, and it
might be another to the end. Besançon is by far the best town we have
seen; the streets are long and regular, the hotels of the chief inhabitants
palaces for princes, and the public buildings noble. But you would have been
most struck with the hospital, managed in all the internal part by those food
nuns
Les Hospitalieres, with such perfect neatness, that in a long
chamber containing thirty-five beds, most of them full, there was not any
closeness or smell to be perceived. The beds were of white cotton, and by each
bed a table and chair. Some of the nuns were attending here; others in the
dispensary making up medicines; others in the kitchen making broths,
&c.: and all this they do without salary, and many of them are of food
families.
3.
Noyon, Oct. 13th, -- I could not finish my letter time enough to
send it from Besançon, which
gives me an opportunity to
tell you in brief that we are got to within a stage of Geneva, and are now
sitting in a room which overlooks the delightful lake. We were too late last
night for Geneva, as they shut the gates at half-after-six, and open them for no
one. We hope to get there this morning, and to receive letters from you, which
my heart longs for. I have only to tell you further, that I have seen the Alps,
-- a sight so majestic, so totally different from anything I had seen before,
that I am ready to sing
Nunc dimittis.
4. Tell me in your next how long you have been sitting by a coal fire. We have had
no fire, but twice or three times a little in the evening, since we set out; and
in the middle of the day the heat has been very strong. I suppose, however, we
shall find it colder at Geneva.
1.
1. *******
2. And so much in French; which, though it begins to be easier to me, is still to me
either in writing or speaking like using the left hand; and I now want the
language the most familiar to me, the most expressive, that with less injustice
to my feelings I may thank you for your charming letter. It is not necessary for
you to travel in order to write good verses; and indeed, to say
truth, in the actual journey many things occur not alto-
gether so
consonant with the fine ideas one would wish to keep upon one's mind. The dirt
and bustle of inns, and the various circumstances, odd or disgusting, of a
French
diligence, are not made to shine in poetry. I shall,
however, keep your exhortation in mind; and when, to complete the inspiration, I
have drunk of the fountain of Vaucluse, which we are going to do, if the Muse is
not favourable, you may fairly conclude I no longer possess her good graces.
From Lyons we took the
diligence d'eau down the Rhone to this
place, a voyage which in summer, and in a vehicle more neat and convenient,
would have been delightful. But we had incessant rain for two of the days; and
the third, though bright, was very cold, with a great deal of wind; so that we
did not reach Avignon till the morning of the fourth day. The Rhone is rapid all
the way; but at Pont St. Esprit particularly so, insomuch that many passengers
get out there: we did not. The Rhone has high banks all the way, or rather is
inclosed between hills, covered in many places with vines and pasturage, in
others pretty barren. Near St. Esprit begins the olive country. This was the
first time we had been in a public voiture; it is a very reputable one, and yet
you cannot conceive the shabbiness and
mal propreté of
the boat.
3. We are now in a land of vermicelli, soup, and macaroni, -- a land of onions and
garlic, -- a land flowing with oil and wine. Avignon is delightfully situated;
the Rhone forms two branches here, and incloses a large fertile island. The
Durance (another fine river, at present so overflowed that it is not passable,)
joins the Rhone some way below the town. The churches here are numerous, highly
adorned, and have several good paintings. The streets are darkened with cowls
and filled with beggars; drawn here, they say, by the strangers, -- for the
people are no ways oppressed by the government, the revenue to the pope hardly
paying the expenses. We are not yet, however, in the climate of perpetual
spring; -- like an enchanted island, it seems to fly from us. All along the
course of the Rhone there are cold winds. Lyons is disagreeable in winter, both
with fogs and cold. At Geneva every body had fires and winter dresses before we
left it; and Avignon, though much warmer, is not enough so to invite us much
abroad, or permit us to dispense with fires. To-marrow we set off for Orange,
and from thence shall go to Lisle, perhaps to Marseilles; but where we shall
spend these next two months we have not yet determined. May you and my dear
sister spend them with health and pleasure in that dear society where our hearts
perpetually carry us, and to which we hope to return with
increased affection!
4. I forgot to tell you that all the people speak patois to one
another, though they speak French too; and when we landed, the people who came
about us to carry our things had absolutely the air of demoniacs, with their
violent gestures and eager looks, and their coarsest exclamations at every
second word.
Marseilles,
Dec. 1785.
1. Health to you all -- poor mortals as you are, crowding round your coal fires,
shivering in your nicely closed apartments, and listening with shivering hearts
to the wind and snow which beats dark December! The months here have indeed the
same names, but far different are their aspects; for here I am sitting without a
fire, the windows open, and breathing an air as perfectly soft and balmy as in
our warmest days of May; yet the sun does not shine. On the day we arrived here,
the 5th of December, it did; and with as much splendour and warmth, and the sky
was as clear and of as bright a blue, as in our finest summer days. The fields
are full of lavender, thyme, mint, rosemary, &c.; the young corn is
above half a foot high: they have not much in-
deed in this
neighbourhood, but from Orange to Lisle we saw a good deal. The trees which are
not evergreens have mostly lost their leaves; but one sees every where the pale
verdure of the olives mixed with here and there a grove, or perhaps a single
tree, of cypress, shooting up its graceful spire of a deeper and more lively
green far above the heads of its humbler but more profitable neighbours. The
markets abound with fresh and dried grapes, pomegranates, oranges with the green
leaves, apples, pears, dried figs, and almonds. They reap the corn here the
latter end of May or the beginning of June. The gathering of the olives is not
yet finished: it yields to this country its richest harvest. There are likewise
a vast number of mulberry-trees, and the road in many places is bordered with
them; but they are perfectly naked at present. Marseilles is, however, not
without bad weather. The
vent de bise, they say, is penetrating;
and for this last fortnight they have had prodigious rains, with the
interruption of only a few days; so that the streets are very dirty and the
roads broken up. But they say this is very extraordinary, and that if they pass
two days without seeing a bright sun they think Nature is dealing very hardly
with them. I will not, however, boast too much over you from these advantages;
for I am ready to confess the account may be balanced by many inconveniences,
little and great, which attend this favoured country. And thus I
state my account.
Advantages of Traveling.
|
Per Contra.
|
A July sun and a southern breeze. |
Flies, fleas, and all Pharoah's plague of vermin. |
Figs, almonds, &c. &c. |
No tea, and the very name of a tea-kettle unknown. |
Sweet scents in the fields. |
Bad scents within doors. |
Grapes and raisins. |
No plum-pudding. |
Coffee as cheap as milk |
Milk as dear as coffee. |
Wine a demi-sous the bottle. |
Bread three sous the halfpenny roll. |
Provençal songs and laughter. |
Provençal roughness and scolding. |
Soup, salad and oil. |
No beef, no butter. |
Arcs of triumph, fine churches, stately palaces. |
Dirty inns, heavy roads, uneasy carriages. |
A pleasant and varied country. |
But many, many a league from those we love. |
2. From Avignon (whence I wrote to you last) we went to Orange, where we were
gratified with the sight of an arc of triumph entire, of rich architecture; and
though the delicacy of the sculpture is much defaced by time, it is easy to see
what it must have been when fresh. There is likewise a noble ruin of an
amphitheatre built against a rock, of which you may trace the whole extent,
though the area is filled with cottages. These were the first remains of
antiquity of any consequence I had seen, and they impressed me with an idea of
Roman grandure. Orange is a poor town, but
the country is green and
pleasant, and they have all country houses. When the principality came under
French government, it was promised that they should have no fresh taxes imposed;
but
peu a peu, say they, taxes are come. They had salt springs
which more than supplied them with that article; -- they are forbidden to work
them. They grew tobacco; -- now, if any one has more than three plants in his
garden, he is punished. From Orange we went to Lisle. In the way we stopped at
Carpentras, where we were shown another arc of triumph, over which a cardinal,
the bishop of Carpentras, built his kitchen; very wisely judging that nothing
was more worthy to enter through an arc of triumph, than a nobel haunch of
venison or an exquisite ragoo. Lisle is a small town, very pleasant in summer,
because it is surrounded with water; and still more noted for its neighbourhood
to the source of that water, the celebrated fountain of Vaucluse.
3. During the few fair days we have had, the warmth and power of the sun has been
equal to our summer days: it is truly delightful to feel such a sun in December;
to be able to saunter by the shore of the Mediterranean, or sit on the bank and
enjoy the prospect of an extensive open sea, smooth and calm as a large lake. It
is likewise very pleasant to gain an hour more of day-light upon these short
days. However, though
the middle of the day is so warm, in the
mornings and evenings a fire is acceptable, I must confess.
4. The Marseillians value themselves upon being a kind of republic, and their port
is free: the lower rank are bold and rude; the upper, by what I hear, very
corrupt in their manners. There are 30,000 Protestants: their place of worship
is a country house, which they have hired of the commandant himself. They meet
with no molestation, and hope from the temper of the times that they shall ere
long have leave to build a church. The minister is an agreeable and literary
man, and is very obliging towards us; his wife has been six years in England,
and speaks English well. Her family fled there from persecution; for her
grandfather (who was a minister) was seized as he came out from a church where
he had been officiating, by the soldiers. His son, who had fled along with the
crowd and gained an eminence at some distance, seeing they had laid hold on his
father, came and offered himself in his stead; and in his stead was sent to the
galleys, where he continued seven years. L'honnête
Criminel is founded on this fact. Besides this family we have hardly any
acquaintance here, nor are like to have. We have, however, been two or three
times with the Chanoines de St. Victor, who are all of the best families of
France, as they must prove their nobility for 150 years. They
are
very polite and hospitable, and far enough from bigots; for we were surprised to
find how freely to us they censured auricular confession, the celibacy of the
clergy, and laughed at some of legendary miracles. I forgot to say that the
country about Marseilles is covered with country-houses; they reckon 10,000.
They were first begun to be built on account of the plague: every body has one.
There is a fine picture of the terrible plague here at the
Consigne
and another at the Town-house. They are very exact at present in their
precautions. I am sure the plague cannot be occasioned merely by want of
cleanliness, for then Marseilles could not escape.
5. Remember that we are longing for letters, and that new from you will be more
grateful to us than groves of oranges or Provençal skies.
1.
Aix,
Feb. 9, 1786.
1. *******
2. With regard to ourselves, we have at length quitted Marseilles; where, to confess
the truth, we stayed long enough to be pretty well tired of it; for we had
scarce any acquaintance, and no amusements (the Play excepted) but what we could
procure to ourselves by reading or walking. Some delightful walks we did take
under a bright sun and a clear blue sky, which would have done honour to the
fairest months in the English ca-
lender. We sailed one fine day to
the little chateau
d'If, a league from the port. It is used as a
prison for extravagant or disorderly young men, whom their parents get shut up
here -- sometimes to avoid the disgrace of a more public punishment. We had a
great pleasure at Marseilles in seeing your friend Mr. Howard: he was well, and
in good spirits. He went by the name of the English Doctor, and as such has
prescribed, he told us, with tolerable success. If you have a mind to strike a
good stroke in London, introduce magnetism; 'tis in France the folly of the day.
There is a society at Marseilles for that purpose composed of gentlemen. They
boast they can lay asleep when they please, and for as long as they please; and
that during this sleep or trance the mind can see the operations going forward
in the corporeal machine, and predict future events. One of them offered to try
his skill on Mr. Barbauld; but after a long and unpleasant operation of rubbing
the temples and forehead, he was obliged to desist without success. Mr. Howard
will tell you, however, they operate better at Lyons, as he saw several women at
the hospital put to sleep in a minute by only passing the hand over their
forehead.
3. At Marseilles we again bought a carriage (an English chaise), in which we hope to
perform the rest of our journey, -- at least to Paris. The road
from
Marseilles to Toulon is over mountains which, though not very high, are the
beginning of the Alps. They are in many parts quite naked and craggy; in others
covered with forests of pines; and in many they have had the industry to make
terraces one over another to the very top, on which they have planted vines,
though the culture must demand prodigious labour, for they must bring all the
earth. The almond-trees, which are now in full flower, scattered here and there,
embellish the scene. At Toulon we saw the arsenal, which contains the
corderie, the
sallee d'armes, the naval stores,
&c. There is something horrible in the clanking of the chains of the
galley-slaves, who are chained two-and-two, and employed in various works within
the place. Three or four galleys lie in the harbour, but they are not used
except for lodging the
forçats. From Toulon we went to
Hieres; -- and how think you did we go? On foot every step of the way, and it is
nine miles at least. We went on foot because the roads are still so bad we dared
not venture in a carriage. Hieres is a specimen of the Italian climate and
Italian productions: to the south it is open to the sea; every other quarter is
fenced with hills. The town lies on the descent of a hill, and is surrounded
with groves of orange and lemon trees, glowing in the brightest beauty, and with
all the variety of colour, from the palest lemon
to the deep and
almost blood-red species of orange. The leaves, of a vivid green, give a relief
to the fruit, which is in so great an abundance that I have hardly seen
apple-trees so full. It is a delicious spot, quite the gardens of the
Hesperides, and enjoys a constant verdure. The hedges are composed of myrtle,
holm-oak, and lentisk, of the ashes of which latter they make a lye with which
they preserve their raisins. They gather green peas soon after Christmas: every
month brings its peculiar harvest. Besides the corn, wine and oil, which they
share in common with their neighbours, they have vast quantities of
strawberries, peaches, kidney-beans, all kinds of fruit and garden stuff. Sweet
waters and essences are distilled from the orange flowers, and the peel of the
bergamot, the cedrat, and some other kinds valuable for their fragrance. Some of
the orange gardens are worth from twenty to twenty-six thousand livres a year.
From an opposite hill there is a view of the town; above it a convent of
Bernardines, and higher still the ruined walls and castle of the old town; --
the whole surrounded with a bright circle of green and gold, and the houses of a
shining white in the midst of the orange gardens; further the paler green of the
olives; to the south the sea, and the fishery salt-works; and opposite, the
islands of Hieres, where is plenty of game. Winter is seen peeping at this
little paradise from
the top of a distant mountain covered with
snow; and sometimes, indeed, he sends a hoar frost -- after which the oranges
drop by hundreds from the trees.
4. To complete our expedition and vary the mode of travelling, we returned as
follows: I upon the bourique of a paisanne, between
two loaded panniers, Mr. B. walking before; and the woman, a stout, sunburnt,
cheerful Provençal, by the side of the ass, driving, guiding, and
hallooing it onward. Bread and figs, which we put in the pannier and ate as we
went along, were our breakfast. I rode thus two leagues, and walked with Mr. B.
the third. And now, having touched the utmost limit of our long tour, it is with
inexpressible pleasure we reflect that every step we shall for the future take
will bring us nearer again to those dear friends in whose society we hope to
spend the rest of our life. We propose returning by Nismes, Montpelier, and
Bourdeaux. Aix is a clean pretty town: the baths and the fountains of hot water
are worth seeing. It is full of clergy and men of the law. We got acquainted
with two gentlemen (an officer and an ecclesiastic) who were very civil to us;
but we could not help being diverted with the eagerness with which they recited
their own verses (for they were both versifers), their gestures, their
compliments to each other, and their total freedom from that awkward bashfulness
which hangs on us English when we have written
something clever that
we long to bring into notice, and do not know how to bring it about.
1.
Thoulouse,
Feb. 27, 1786.
1. I begin this letter from Thoulouse, though I shall probably not finish it before
we get to Bourdeaux. -- We got here last night, and hoped to have walked about
the town to-day, where they say there is a good deal to be seen; but we are
confined to our room by a pretty heavy fall of snow, which has continued the
whole day. We are at present convinced that it is a vain expectation to escape
from winter by going to these southern climates -- at Bengal I suppose it may be
done: but the southern provinces of France differ more in the duration than in
the degree of their winter; and beyond all doubt they have more sudden and
violent changes of weather than we have. In consequence they dress
warmer than we do. The pelisse, the muff, the fur gloves and shoes, the hussar
cloak and flannel linings, are all common here, and found necessary. Yet it is
also true that through a great part of the winter they enjoy the most delicious
weather; and that, with regard to one or other of their productions, there is
not any time of the year in which you do not meet with harvest or blossoms; for
before the gathering of
olives is over, the almond-tree is in
flower. Till within these four days we have had fine weather for a long time;
and Lower Languedoc, through which our route has lain since we crossed the
Rhone, has worn all the lovely features of spring. At Pezenas (the last place
where we made any stay) the peach, apricot, and bean were beginning to blossom;
the gardens were all green with various vegetables, the fields with corn, and a
few trees were even in leaf. But their springs are apt to be premature. Here (in
Upper Languedoc) it is colder.
2. Gratified as we have been by the spring of Nature, we have been no less so by
the hoary ruins of Antiquity. The vast cirque of the amphitheatre at Nismes
fills the mind with an amazing idea of Roman greatness. It is defaced by a
number of buildings in the area; which, however, are to be demolished, and the
venerable ruin kept in better repair. To repair a ruin carries a
better sound with it than to build a ruin, as we do in England.
La Maison Carrée is a bijou; it has all
that the utmost delicacy and richness of architecture can give. But we prefer to
them both the Pont du Gard.
3. Nismes is the very centre of the Protestants. They are computed to be 30,000, and
the richest part of the inhabitants: for here, as the Dissenters in England,
they give themselves to trade.
They have no church, nor even barn;
but assemble in the
desert, as they call it, in the open air, in a
place surrounded by rocks which reverberate the voice. The pulpit is moveable,
and there are a few seats of stone for the elders. On their great festivals,
they say, the sight is very striking.
4. I wish you, who have a quarrel to some of our English axioms of taste in
gardening, could see the public walks of Nismes and Montpelier; both,
(especially the latter) laid out with great magnificence, but quite in the old
style of terraces, fountains, straight alleys, and exact symmetry: but the whole
is great, and was to me very new. We intended to have taken the canal at
Beziers, but the bad weather prevented us. From Narbonne till near Thoulouse we
had on our left a long chain of mountains, the Pyrenees. I love to see those
everlasting boundaries of nations. We had not, however, any wish to cross them
and try the Spanish accommodations -- there are difficulties enow of that kind
in France. This is the height of the Carnival, and we have seen as we came
along, the dance on the green, and the masque by torch-light; but in general I
am afraid there is a good deal of coarseness in the mirth of vulgar, and of
licentiousness in the gaiety of the rich. From Narbonne to Thoulouse there are a
great many chateaus, pompous buildings with towers, but no
ornamented grounds about them as in England,
nor any thing in the
avenues, hedges, &c. that has a look of neatness. I fancy the rats hold
a glorious
sabat in some of them. -- I should tell you that at
Montpelier we saw the anatomical theatre, where they have two hundred students,
who shave and dress hair to pay their board and lodging, and attend dissections
and study surgery with great application the rest of their time: and they say
they make better progress than those that have money. I am sorry I cannot send
you a slip of Rabelais' scarlet gown, with which sacred relique the students are
invested when they take their degrees. The meaning of which I take to be this,
-- that laughing may cure you when physic would miss.
5. The situation of Thoulouse seems calculated for trade, as the noble canal of
Languedoc meets there the still more noble river of the Garonne: yet it is not
commercial, as the great ambition of all the rich inhabitants is directed
towards gaining a seat in parliament, which ennobles them; and then they leave
trade. You may guess with what feelings we saw the seat of that parliament which
condemned Calas. The spirit of the times, however, thank Heaven! is greatly
altered.
6.
Bourdeaux,March 3. -- We are arrived here today. The road from
Thoulouse to this town is remarkably pleasant. It lies mostly along the banks of
the Garonne, and several fine rivers which fall
into it; the Tarne,
the Aveyron, &c. On the other side is a ridge of hilly ground quite
sandy, covered with vines, which indeed have a most desolate appearance at this
time of the year; but fancy can spread the foliage and hang the purple clusters.
On the driver-side are fine rich valleys covered with corn, and here and there
pasture ground: -- no more olives, but groves of oak; no more almond-blossoms,
but hedges of hawthorn. On Shrove Tuesday (which was a remarkably fine day)
every town and every village was poured out upon the road, all dressed, and
dancing each lad with his lass. What I should not have supposed, they dance too
on Ash Wednesday; for though the churches were pretty full in the morning of
dismal-looking figures in black hoods, who came to confess the sins of the
Carnival, the greater part put the English interpretation upon a holy day, and
considered it as a holiday. Though we have not yet seen much of Bourdeaux, a
walk this afternoon has convinced us it is a more magnificent town than any we
have yet seen in France. It happens too to be the fair.
1.
1. . . . . . The road from Tours to Orleans on the winding banks of the Loire is
delightfully pleasant; but we had not fine weather enough to enjoy
all its beauty; for we have had the second winter you speak of, in all its
severity of snow and frost. We were particularly pleased, however, with Tours.
It has one street of more complete beauty than any
street I have
yet seen, terminated at one end by a fine bridge over the Loire, at the other by
one of the noblest malls in the kingdom. Blois is delightful from its situation,
and interesting from the events which have taken place within its now deserted
walls. Orleans is entirely a town of commerce; and it seems to flourish, for
they live remarkably well there. Trade may have been despised formerly in
France; but I am sure it cannot now there are such towns as Lyons, Bourdeaux,
and Orleans, where it displays its effects in all the pride of opulence. We have
been now a month in Paris, and here the objects of curiosity crowd upon us. In
the provinces they are scattered here and there; but in the capital, -- palaces,
pictures, statues, public gardens, meet you at every step, and all the powers of
observation and organs of perception are agreeably filled. The societies of
Paris do not obtrude themselves in like manner on your notice; on the contrary,
it is pretty difficult to get sufficiently into them to judge of their
complexion and character. We shall have been, however, in a few of them, and
shall have seen many agreeable individuals. English is very much studied here at
present: there are a great many
who read, and some who talk it.
Every thing of English fabric and workmanship is preferred here, and not without
reason. They have an idea here very contrary to ours; for they say The English
invent, and the French bring to perfection. They are going to inclose all Paris
and its suburbs by an immense wall: it puts one in mind of hedging in the
cuckoo; but it is to prevent smuggling. We have had the good fortune to get very
clean lodgings: they are near the Pont Royal and the Tuilleries, both which we
often cross, and never without fresh admiration at the number of beautiful
buildings and gay objects. I like the gardens of the Tuilleries better than our
St. James's Park; for though they are somewhat disgraced by the old-fashioned
parterre, yet on the whole they are more gay, more lively: the view from the
terrace commands a greater variety of objects; the Tuilleries is more adorned;
and the various groups of all ranks, -- some taking lemonade, some sitting on
the grass, some even reading, -- give an air of ease and enjoyment more than is
to be seen in our Park. This is rather an unfortunate time for seeing paintings,
as the king's pictures are all taken down in order to be arranged and put up in
the gallery of the Louvre, which is preparing for their reception: and when that
fine building is filled with so noble a collection, it will have few things in
Europe superior.
2. One great advantage which Paris has as a town over London is its
quais, by which means they enjoy their river and fine buildings
upon it. As to the streets, most of them are certainly narrow, but not
absolutely impracticable to the poor piéton, as I had
been taught to believe; for when not dressed I walk about a good deal. They say,
however, a great many accidents happen, which their boasted police takes more
care to stifle than to prevent: if a man is run over by a coach, they dare not
put it in any public papers. The streets are full of little cabriolets, which
drive very fast: they are forbidden, but people have them notwithstanding. We
have been at two of their academies, that of Sciences, and that of
Belle-lettres. Several éloges were
read, well drawn up; prizes proposed, &c. They clap hands as at the
playhouse when a sentiment or expression pleases them. The theatre sinks in
France as well as England; for as Mrs. Siddons stands alone, we may well say it
sinks. They are building a very fine church, St. Geneviève; and in
general there is a good deal of new building as well as in London. We have yet a
vast deal to see; but we shall see it as fast as we can, That we may return to
those friends who will be only dearer to us from absence.
Paris,
June 7, 1786.
1. . . . . . . The affair of Cardinal Rohan, which has so much engrossed the talk
at Paris, is at length decided: but we have not been able to see without
indignation the decisions of the Parliament altered in almost every instance by
the pleasure of the king; so that judicial proceedings are mere child's play in
this country. A grocer has got himself into the Bastille by writing a pamphlet
on this occasion; in which he insinuates that the queen herself was in the plot,
and that Madame Oliva was the cloud by means of which she played the fable of
Ixion of the poor Cardinal. In short, people's conjectures are as much afloat
since the decision as before. The king of Prussia is reported to have said,
"Qu'il falloit que le Cardinal montrat beaucoup d'esprit pour prouver
qu'il n'avoitété que bête." Among the
long list of titles which figue at the head of his Memoire, that of
Academicien is not found: the reason, they say, is, that his
avocat, at the request of the Academy, (who feared they might
be disgraced by the fellow-ship of such an associate,) persuaded him to leave it
out, by telling him that, for the other titles, they implied no parts; but that
of Academicien -- supposing a man of superior genius and knowledge
-- might hurt him in his trial, as his only
defence must rest on his
proving himself
un imbecille. -- And so much for the Cardinal.
2. We were the other day at the Museum, a place lately set up, intended as a
repository for works of art; likewise as a centre of communication with the
learned in any part of Europe, who, by corresponding with M. de la Blancherie,
may have their discoveries published or their questions answered, if possible to
answer them: nay, I believe I need not have put in that restriction, for a
Frenchman is never at a loss to answer any question. The plan seems good: but I
was greatly diverted with the following question, published in one of their
weekly papers; "Whether the societies called Clubs in England, and now
imitated in Paris, might not tend to render their members morose and
taciturnes; since by the laws of such meetings only one person
must speak at a time, and that only for a certain number of minutes?"
An author may read his piece at this Museum; but as the doors are not locked, it
may chance that the company slip away one by one and leave him alone, as I
suspect might be the case with a young novel-writer whom we in the like manner
escaped from there the other day. By the way, I have found out the reason why
the French have so little poetry: it is because every body makes verses.
3. We have been at Versailles and St. Cloud: the
latter is now fitting
up for the queen. The situation is far more delightful than Versailles; but
that, by force of expense, has a magnificence which no palace I
have seen can compare with. We saw it on Whitsunday, when the waters play. The
environs of Paris are now very pleasant; and they are very animated, without
being, I think, quite so crowded as those of London. They do not make hay here
till St. John's day, (the 24th of June,) which I think is later than near
London; yet the weather has been very hot.
4. I was recommended to an English nun; and after going to see her twice, she had
the goodness to send a parcel of books to convert me: so you see there is some
zeal left in the female convents at least: -- as to the priests and monks, I
believe they have very little indeed.
1.
London,
June 29, 1786.
1. My dear Brother,
2. I am happy to write to you again from English ground. We set out from Paris on
the 17th, but went no further than Chantilly, as we meant to devote the whole of
the next day to seeing that noble seat of the prince of Conde, which, both for
the house and grounds, is the finest we have seen in France. The stables, which
hold three hundred horses, are a most beautiful piece of architecture. There is
a noble museum and ar-
mory in the palace; a fine piece of
artificial water in the gardens, which are laid out partly in the English,
partly in the French style, and in the best taste of both; a dairy floored and
lined with marble, and in which all the utensils are of marble or fine
porcelain; a
menagerie; an
orangerie, all the plants
of which (some hundreds) being set out and in full blossom, diffused the richest
perfume I ever was regaled with.
L'isle d'Amour is one of the
prettiest parts of the garden, abounding with alleys and walks, some close,
others gay and airy, formed by light lattice-work covered with privet and
adorned with the greatest profusion of honeysuckles and roses. In the centre of
the island is a statue of a Cupid without wings or quiver, holding a heart with
these lines:
"N'offrant qu'un cœur à la beauté |
Aussi nud que la verite, |
Sans armes comme l'innocence, |
Tel fut l'Amour au siècle d'or; |
On ne le trouve plus, mais on le cherche encore." |
3. The temple of Venus is a large saloon, in which are fountains continually
throwing up water, which falls again into agate vases; leaning over which are
Cupids of marble. The whole room is painted, and breathes a coolness and gaiety
quite enchanting. As we were walking in these gardens we had the pleasure of
seeing a balloon fly over our
heads: it was in full sail for England
with M. Tetu, who had set off from Paris that morning. However, with our humbler
mode of travelling we got to Dover first: for the lightning caught the car; and
though the ærial traveller received no damage from it, he was obliged
to lie by to refit his balloon, which descended not far from Boulogne. From
Boulogne we took our passage. We had intended to have gone on to Calais, but it
was four posts more; and besides, we were told that the passage from Boulogne,
though longer, was generally performed in less time, and was now preferred;
which we found to be true: we were obliged indeed to wait a day for a vessel,
but we got over in less than four hours. And not without a pleasing emotion did
we view again the green swelling hills covered with large sheep, and the winding
road bordered with the hawthorn hedge, and the English vine twisted round the
tall poles, and the broad Medway covered with vessels, and at last the gentle
yet majestic Thames. Nor did we find these home scenes had lost of their power
to strike or charm us by all we had seen abroad.
1.
1. * Lessons for Children, from two to three years old. London: J. Johnson, 1787.
Microfilmed, Opie Collection of Children's Literature 015:160, Opie G 40
1.
Date: 1825
(revised 01/26/2005) Author: Anna Letitia Barbauld
(revised Zach Weir).
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