Travels in France during the years 1814-1815 - Patrick Fraser Tytler (good books to read in english txt) 📗

all countries, much more important: is the station which they at present fill in France, and far more momentous (owing to the circumstances in which that kingdom now stands), are the duties which they owe to their country. It is there alone that any sufficient antidote can be found for that political misery, occasioned by such a course of unprincipled national triumphs, as had been so long the boast of France, and which we have so lately closed in all the splendour of legitimate victory. It is to them that the court must look for the restoration of that moral principle, which, under the administration of the late Emperor, it so thoroughly despised: It is to them that the army must look for the restoration of those high feelings of military honour, which we shall seek in vain in the present soldiery of France: It is from them that the great landed proprietors and the country gentlemen (if that honourable name is ever again to be realised in France), must learn to sacrifice their schemes of individual enjoyment, and to renounce the dissipations of the capital for the severer duties which await them in the interior of the kingdom.

I have before mentioned that civility and politeness which is still so characteristic of the peasantry of the kingdom. In addition to this, from every thing I could observe, they appeared to be really comfortable, and their invariable cheerfulness was accompanied by that flow of easy unpremeditated mirth, which gave us the impression that they were really happy. In the streets of Paris, and in the different ranks of society in the capital, you see, I think, the same outward symptoms of happiness; but, in many instances, their high sounding expressions of joy appear more like the wish to be happy, than the sober possession of happiness. The soldiery, in particular, seem, by their loud and repeated sallies, to have embraced a desperate kind of plan, of actually roaring themselves into forgetfulness; whereas the peasantry of the kingdom, after having passed the day in the labour of their fields or vineyards, dispersing in little troops through their village, the old to converse over the stories of their youth, the young dancing to the pipe and tabor, or singing in little groupes, arranged on the green seats under their orchard trees, appear, without effort, to sink into that enviable state of unforced enjoyment, which falls upon their minds as easily and calmly as the sleep of Heaven upon their eyelids.

Amongst the French, dancing is that strong and prevailing passion which is found in every rank in society, which is confined to no sex, nor age, nor figure, but is universally disseminated throughout every portion of the kingdom; from the cottage to the court, from the cradle to the grave, the French invariably dance when they can seize an opportunity. Nay, the older the individual, the more vigorous seems to be the passion. Wrinkles may furrow the face, but lassitude never attacks the limbs.

It is their singular perseverance in this favourite pursuit which renders a French ball to a stranger more than commonly ludicrous. In England, when the company begins to assemble, you are delighted with the troops of young and blooming girls, who throng into the dancing room, with faces beaming with the desire, and forms bounding with the anticipation of pleasure. In France, you must conceive the room to be superbly lighted up, and the walls covered with large mirrors, which, in their indefinite multiplication, suffer nothing, however ludicrous, to escape them. The folding doors slowly open, and there begins to hobble in, (as quick as their advanced years will permit them,) unnumbered forms of aged ladies and gentlemen, intermixed with some possessing certainly the firmer step of middle life, but few or none who dare pretend to the activity of youth. On one side comes the old Marquis, dressed in the extremity of the fashion, every ruffle replete with effect, and not a curl but what he would tremble to remove, stepping, with the most finished complacency, at the side of some antiquated dame of sixty, who minces and rustles at his side in the costume of sixteen. Previous to the dancing, it is indeed ridiculous to observe the series of silent tendernesses, the sly looks and fascinating glances with which these old worthies entertain each other. Meanwhile the music strikes up, and the floor is instantly covered with waltzers. It is well known, that the waltz is a dance, above all others, requiring grace and youth, and activity in those who perform it. Nothing, therefore, to a stranger, can be more entertaining, than the sight of those motley and aged couples, who, with a desperate resolution, stand up to bid defiance to the warnings of nature; and who, after they have first swallowed a tumbler of punch, (which is their constant practice,) begin to reel round with the waltzers, putting you in mind of Miss Edgeworth's celebrated Irish horse, Knockegroghery, who needed to have porter poured down his throat, and to be warmed in his harness, before he could achieve any thing like continued motion. In England, few ladies, unless those who are extremely young, ever dream of dancing after their marriage. In France, the young ladies before marriage are seldom admitted into company; after marriage, therefore, their gaiety instantly commences, and continues literally until the total failure of the physical powers of nature puts an end to the ability, though not to the love of pleasure. Any thing, therefore, it may be well believed, which comes between the French ladies and this mania for dancing, produces no ordinary effect. One of our party observed at a ball, a French lady of quality in the deepest mourning. On coming up to her, she remarked to the English lady, with a face of much melancholy, that her situation was indeed deplorable. "Look at me," said she, "these are the weeds for my mother, who has only been two months dead. Do you see these odious black gloves; they will not permit me to join in your amusements; but oh! how the heart dances, when the feet can't." "Come, come," said another female waltzer of fifty, whose round little body we had traced at intervals, rolling and pirouetting about the room; "come, we forget that the fast of Ash Wednesday begins at twelve. We may sup well before twelve, but not a morsel after it. We have but one short hour to eat, but we may dance, you know, all night."

By our acquaintance with the best society in Aix, we have enjoyed no unfavourable opportunity of forming an idea of the present condition of society in the south of France. One of the first circumstances which we all remarked, and which has probably occurred to most who have associated in French society, was the wide range over which the titles of nobility extended. We indeed heard, that at Aix, where we resided, and at Toulouse, there were to be found more of the old nobility than in any other parts of France. These towns were, on account of the cheapness of living, the depôts of the emigrant gentlemen whose fortunes had been reduced by the revolution, the receptacles of the ancient aristocracy of France. Yet even making every allowance for this circumstance, when we recollect the appearance and manners of many who were dignified by the titles of Marquis, Counts and Barons, it was impossible not to feel that, when compared with our own country, there was a kind of profanation of the aristocracy; and I should not be much surprised, if it was afterwards discovered, by some who would take the pains to investigate the subject narrowly, that in these remote parts of the kingdom, there subsisted a species of silent understood compact, by which the parties agreed, that if the one was dignified by his friends with the title of Marquis, he would in his turn make no scruple to favour the other with the appellation of Count. Certainly, when requested to explain the principles upon which titles of dignity descended, the account given by these noblemen themselves was quite unsatisfactory, and nearly unintelligible. The different orders also of knighthood, appeared to us to be very widely extended. The Chevaliers de St Louis were literally swarming. You could scarcely enter a shop, where you did not instantly discover one or more of these gentry sitting on the counter, conversing with the shopkeeper, or flirting with his daughter or wife. In their dress and general appearance in the forenoon, there appeared to be an unlimited latitude of shabbiness allowed both to the ladies and gentlemen; while in the evening, on the contrary, whether at home or abroad, we found them uniformly handsomely, and, making allowance for the difference of national costume, often elegantly drest. Nothing, indeed, could be more singular than the contrast between the extraordinary apparel of the same ladies (and those ladies of quality, marchionesses and countesses) whom we had visited at their own houses in the forenoon, and their appearance, when we met them in the evening, at the public concerts or private parties given at Aix. In the morning, you will find them receiving visits in their bed-rooms in the most complete dishabille; their night-cap not removed, a little bed-gown thrown carelessly over them; their hair in papillots, and their handsome ancles covered by coarse list slippers. In the evening, the bonnet de nuit is discarded, and a snow-white plume of feathers waves upon its former foundation; the little bed-gown is thrown aside, and a superb robe of satin rustles and glitters in its stead; the head, instead of being bristled with papillots, is clothed with the most luxuriant curls; and the unrivalled foot and ancle display at once, in the beauty of their shape and the elegance of their decoration, the bounty of nature and the unwearied assiduity of nature's assistant journeymen—the shoemakers. The style of French parties is certainly very dissimilar to those we are accustomed to in our own country. And this difference is easily to be traced to the remarkable differences in the character of the two nations. To the prevailing influence of the fancy, the power of imagination and the love of amusement amongst the French, and to those ideas of sober sense, that spirit of phlegmatic indifference, and the engrossing influence of public employments, which are remarkable in the English nation. During our residence in the south, we were invited by the Countess de R—— to a ball, which, she told us, was given in honour of her son's birth-day. We went accordingly, and were first received in the card-rooms, which we found brilliantly lighted and decorated, and full of company. We were then conducted into another handsome apartment fitted up as a theatre. The curtain rose, and the young Count de R—— tripped lightly from behind the scenes, with the most complete self-possession, and at the same time, with great elegance, begun a little address to the audience, apologising for his inability to amuse them as he could have wished, and concluded his address, by singing, with a great deal of action, two French songs. He then skipped nimbly off the stage and returned, leading in the principal actress at the theatre here, M. de——. They performed together a little dramatic interlude composed for the occasion; the company then adjourned into the card-rooms, and the evening concluded by a ball. At another private party we attended when the company were assembled; a folding door flew open, and a party of ladies and gentlemen, fantastically drest as shepherds and shepherdesses, flew into the room, and to our great amusement, began acting with their pipes and crooks and garlands, and all the paraphernalia of pastoral life, those employments of rural labour, or scenes of rustic courtship, which, in their public amusements, we have before remarked as peculiar favourites with the French people.

If, as we have above remarked, for the hopes of the