First Impressions on a Tour upon the Continent

Upon quitting Fontainbleau, we first observed the sabots (or wooden shoes) worn by the peasantry; they are of enormous size, and must, I should think, be very heavy and inconvenient to the wearer. A piece of sheep-skin, with the woolly side inwards, is often slipt between the sabot and the foot, to prevent the former from excoriating the instep.

At Moret, a dirty little town, we saw a whole row of women washing linen in the river; they were in a kneeling position, and beat the clothes with a wooden mallet; they ought all to be provided with husbands from among the linen drapers, as they are such admirable helps to the trade. We met several donkeys here, carrying rushes, piled up like moving houses, so high, that only the heads and hoofs of the animals were visible. Vast tracts of land, covered with vineyards, extended on every side, and the eternal straight road, where one could see for three or four miles the track one was to follow, began to be excessively tedious and wearing to the spirits: how different from the winding, undulating, graceful roads in England!

Country near Pont sur Yonne open, bald, and monotonous. The French vineyards when seen closely have a formal effect, being planted in stiff rows, like scarlet runners in a kitchen garden, but they much enrich the landscape at a distance. The river Yonne is a pretty little stream, but the nymphs on its banks are not at all picturesque in their costume, which is by no means particularly marked, being dirty and unbecoming, and very much (I am ashamed to say) in the style of our common countrywomen about Brentford, Hammersmith, &c.

Sens is an ancient town: it has a handsome cathedral and gateway. The bread made here (as well as in most parts of France, except partially in Paris) is mixed with leaven instead of yeast, and is sour and disagreeable in consequence. We remarked many gardens richly cultivated, full of choice vegetables and fruit, by the side of the highroad, without the smallest inclosure; a proof, I should imagine, of the honesty of the country people. There are several English families resident here, as the environs are very pretty, and the town itself an agreeable one. We stopped to take our breakfast at la Poste, and bought excellent grapes for four-pence a pound English money. The late Dauphin, father of the present king, is buried in the cathedral of this place, and the duke and duchess d'Angouleme, &c. come once a year to pray for his soul's repose.

Pursuing our route, we met many Burgundy waggons, loaded with wine; the horses were ornamented with enormous collars of sheep-skin, dyed of a bright blue colour: the tout ensemble had a picturesque appearance, and the waggons were the first we had seen in France which had four wheels, the weight being usually balanced between a pair. A sudden storm of rain now coming on, had a beautiful effect; the retreating sunbeams played in catching lights (to use the expression of an artist) upon the abrupt points of the distant hills, and partially illuminated their soft and verdant tapestry of vines. We particularly enjoyed it after the long season of heat and drought. Here are whole groves of walnut-trees, beneath which we met a group of five women belonging to the vineyards; they were every one handsome, with ruddy, wholesome, yet sun-burnt complexions, lively smiles, and long bright dark eyes and shadowy lashes.

Entered Villeneuve sur Yonne; saw loads of charcoal on the river, going to replenish the kitchens of many a Parisian Heliogabalus! this is also an ancient town, with two curious old gateways, but it appeared very dull. I admired some fine hedges of acacia, and four pretty, sleek, grey donkeys, who were drawing the plough. The road is winding here, like those of our own country, for which we were solely indebted to the turns of the river, whose course it accompanied.

Joigny. A handsome stone bridge seems its most remarkable ornament: the river is broad and fine, flowing through steep banks fringed with wood. We dined and slept at les Cinq Mineurs, and this in the same room. A most obliging, intelligent, young woman waited upon us, whose name was Veronique. After dinner we walked on the promenade by the side of the river, and saw the barracks, &c. My friends met with a little adventure in their rambles, while I was resting myself at the inn. Seeing a pretty little boy and his sister at play near the chateau, (belonging to the ancient counts of Joigny,) they entered into conversation with them, upon which they were joined by the father of the children, a French country gentleman, who resided in a small house opposite the chateau: he insisted upon their coming in with him, and as the dinner was ready, much wished to tempt them to partake the meal: this they declined, and their new acquaintance proceeded to shew them his collection of pictures, de très bons morceaux, as he called them, but which did not rank quite so high in the estimation of his visitors. He unintentionally displayed, however, a much more pleasing possession; I mean that of an amiable and grateful disposition, for he said in the course of conversation, that he was always on the watch for an opportunity of shewing hospitality and attention to the English, as some little return for the kindness he had experienced from their nation, during a visit he had formerly made to his brother in Dorsetshire; this brother was one of the monks of the order of La Trappe, a small number of whom had been collected together, and who lived, in their former habits of monastic gloom and austerity, at Lulworth castle in that county, under the protection of an English catholic (Mr. Weld), during the French revolution. He related some interesting anecdotes of this severe establishment; in particular, that of an Austrian general of high rank, who after enrolling himself a member of the community, and living some years in the practice of incredible hardships and privations, at length permitted his tongue to reveal his name and family, about ten minutes previous to his dissolution; faithful to the vow which is common to them all, of not speaking until the moment of death. I was not aware that such an institution existed in England, till this French gentleman related the circumstance, and it strengthened the sensations of mixed horror and pity, which I have ever felt for the victims of fanaticism, in every shape and in every degree. How incredible does it appear, (in the judgment of reasonable beings) that mortals should imagine the benevolent Author of Nature can possibly take pleasure in a mode of worship which restricts his creatures from the enjoyment of those comforts and innocent pleasures with which life abounds, and for which he has so peculiarly adapted their faculties! Shall all created beings express their sense of existence in bursts of involuntary cheerfulness and hilarity of spirit, and man alone offer up his adorations with a brow of gloom, and a heart withered by slavish sensations of fear and alarm? but enough upon so sacred a subject.

On returning to their inn, the gentlemen met several teams of oxen, decorated with pretty high bonnets (à la cauchoise) made of straw: the natives here seem to take great pride and pleasure in the accoutrements of their cattle. An English family arrived at the Cinq Mineurs at the same time with ourselves; they were well known in London as people of some consequence and property. Their sensations on passing through France were widely different from ours, as they described themselves to have been thoroughly disgusted with every body and every thing they saw; had met with nothing but cheating and imposition among the people; and had not been able to observe any pretty country, or interesting objects en route– yet they had gone over exactly the same ground that we had done. As they sometimes travelled all night, I conclude they slept the whole or greater part of the time; but there are more ways than one of going through the world with the eyes shut.

In the neighbourhood of Joigny, (on the other side of the town,) there is a great quantity of hemp grown; and all the trees are stripped up to the tops, like those in many parts of Berkshire, where the graceful is frequently sacrificed to the useful: they had a very ugly effect.

Approaching Auxerre, the cathedral looks handsome; there are three churches besides. The first view of Burgundy is not prepossessing; nothing but tame-looking hills, with casual patches of vines; the river, however, is a pretty object, and continues to bestow a little life upon the landscape. The same absence of costume continues. At Auxerre, we breakfasted at l'hotel du Leopard; the vines were trained over the house with some degree of taste, and took off from the air of forlorn discomfort which the foreign inns so frequently exhibit. I was rather surprised at being ushered into the same room with a fine haughty-looking peacock, a pea-hen, and their young brood; they did not seem at all disconcerted at my entrance, but continued stalking gravely about, as if doing the honors of the apartment. The salle à manger was in a better goût (although not half so comfortable) than most of our English parlours; the walls were papered with graceful figures from stories of the pagan mythology and bold, spirited landscapes in the back ground, coloured in imitation of old bistre drawings; the crazy sopha and arm chair were covered with rich tapestry, of prodigiously fine colours, yet somewhat the worse for wear. This was our first Burgundy breakfast, and it evinced the luxuriance of the country, for it consisted (as a thing of course) of black and white grapes, melons, peaches, greengages, and pears, to which were added fresh eggs by the dozen, good cafè au lait, and creaming butter just from the churn, with the crucifix stamped upon it. At all French déjeunés they ask if you do not choose fruit, and at dinner it is invariably brought to table in the last course, with a slice of cheese as part of the dessert. Mr. Baillie was not well, and starved like Tantalus in the midst of plenty, which was very unlucky.

Bonaparte on his return from Elba occupied this apartment; and the postillion who drove us was one of those who rendered the same service to him: we had also a pair of the same horses which aided in conveying him on towards Paris. He passed two days here, waiting for his small army of five thousand men to come up with him, as his speed greatly outran theirs. He had six horses to his travelling carriage, and gave each postillion ten francs a piece; "Ma foi!" (said ours in relating the circumstance) "nous avons bien galoppé! quand on nous paye si bien, les chevaux ne se fatiguent jamais!" There was some honesty as well as wit in this avowal.

Quitting Auxerre, we passed a large stone cistern, with a cross on the top; several loaded donkeys were drinking here, and some women washing clothes; it was altogether a picturesque group, and singular to an English eye. Vineyards, vineyards, vineyards! toujours perdrix! I was quite tired of them at last. The country, however, now became much more hilly, and we used the drag-chain, for the first time, between Saint Bris and Vermanton; these hills were richly covered with vines, and woods began to appear, in the form of thick dwarfish oak.

Vermanton. This place is famed for wood and wine. We saw the paysannes here in deep gipsy straw hats, the first we had beheld in France among this class of people; for even in Paris, the petites bourgeoises, as well as the countrywomen, all walk about in caps, or the French handkerchief tied carelessly round the head. The country from hence again changed much for the worse, barren hills extended for several miles, now and then covered with partial spots of vegetation.

Close to the town of Avalon, we remarked a range of hills, one of which is of great height, called Montmartre. We here bid adieu for some time to vineyards. Large extensive woods surround Avalon, from which the greater part of the fuel burnt in Paris is taken. Flocks of sheep were continually passing, numbers of black ones, and some goats always among them. There seemed to be few pigs any where, and all of them were frightfully lean: "as fat as a pig" is a term of reproach for which I have ever entertained a particular aversion, but I am now convinced that these beasts are much more disgusting when deprived of their natural embonpoint. I fancy the French people make too good a use themselves of what we should call the refuse of the kitchen, to have any to spare for the necessities of these their fourfooted brethren. We now came into the neighbourhood of widely extended cornfields – fields I ought not to call them, for there are no inclosures. We saw an old woman at a cottage door, with a distaff in her hand; the first I had ever seen except in a picture. She was a withered, grim-looking crone, but not quite sublime enough for one of Gray's "fatal sisters." Scene the next, a pretty, green, tranquil glen, (where cattle were making the most of the unusually rich pasturage,) bounded by a steep bank, and copse wood; not unlike some spots in Surrey.

We drove on, through a shady wood, to Rouvray, passing on the road crowds of waggons drawn by oxen, loaded with empty wine casks, preparatory to the vintage, which was expected to be very fine this season: the waggoners almost all wore cocked hats, and we remarked that the oxen were yoked by the head. We met a diligence drawn by four mules, and observed many beautiful trees of mountain ash, with their bright clusters of scarlet berries, by the side of the highway.

Stopping for a few moments at la Roche en Berney, we joined a group of the most respectable bourgeoisie, (men and women,) sitting with the hostess on a bench at her door. They all rose up to salute us, and the men stood sans chapeau as we passed, with an agreeable expression of civil good will upon every countenance. Some of the ladies had little French dogs under their arms. The country near this place is covered with wood, yet has notwithstanding a monotonous character; these woods however are worthy of remark, from their extent and duration, continuing on all sides without interruption for many miles.

We now arrived at Saulieu, where we supped and slept at la Poste. It was quite in the cottage style, which we all rather liked than not: we had a cheerful little wood fire at night (as the weather felt chilly), and sat round it talking of the adventures of the day, until the hour of repose. This town stands upon the highest ground in France; the snow was never entirely off the neighbouring woods during the whole of the last winter: vineyards will not flourish in so bleak a situation, and other fruits are very scarce. The hostess was a most loyal personage, for upon my observing a bust of Henri quatre over the chimney, and saying he was truly the father of his people, she exclaimed, Oui, Madame! mais à present nous avons aussi des rois qui font le bonheur de leurs sujets. The costume here still continues undecided, and devoid of taste. Two very pretty, modest, rustic lasses waited upon us, named Marie and Lodine. Lodine was a brunette, with an arch, dimpled, comical little face, (round as an apple, and equally glowing,) teeth white as snow, and regular as a set of pearls; but I rather preferred the opposite style of Marie, who was slighter in her person, graver, and whose long dark eyes and penciled brows alone gave lustre and expression to an oval face, and a pale yet clear and fine grained skin: these eyes, however, were not so often illuminated by bright flashes of innocent gaiety as those of Lodine, but they made amends by the length and beauty of their soft black lashes. Lodine's admiration was prodigiously excited by my English ear-rings, and rings, &c. She took them up one by one to examine, and exclaimed frequently that she had never seen such beautiful things in her life. Poor little rustic! I hope no unprincipled traveller will ever take advantage of thy simplicity and love of finery, and persuade thee to exchange for toys of a similar description the precious jewels of innocence and good fame. Mr. W. went into the market the next morning, before either Mr. Baillie or myself were up, and remarked that almost every woman there was well looking; he also saw some really beautiful girls among them. There are two neat churches here. The swarms of beggars which assailed us at every town, in this part of the country, were positively quite annoying; their bold and sturdy importunity made me recollect, with regret, the sensitive delicacy of Sterne's poor "Monk," and wish that they were as easily repulsed! Had this been the case, I dare say we should have given them every sous in our possession; but, as it was, I never felt less difficulty in steeling my ears and my heart.

The face of nature seemed like a map, the road was upon such elevated ground. But leaving Saulieu, our route was agreeably varied by a continual alternation of hill and dale; the foreground rocky, enlivened with purple heath and furze. We frequently made the remark, that we had not yet seen a single cottage which could be called pretty since we landed at Calais; and the lovely and picturesque hamlets of the Isle of Wight, the neighbourhood of the New Forest, and of parts of Surrey, returned upon my imagination in all their force. There are woods of dwarf oak near this place, beyond which we caught, for the first time during our tour, the view of a mountain in the horizon. We changed horses at Pierre Ecrite, where we met with a postillion who was a living image of Don Quixote. I, who am such an enthusiastic admirer of the latter, could willingly have given a double fee for the pleasure I took in contemplating his faithful resemblance; the loose shamoy leather doublet, brown beaver Spanish-looking flapped hat; long, black, greasy hair, hanging in strings about his scraggy neck and doleful visage; the wild, eager, prominent, dark eyes, &c. – all was complete! The French drivers differ in many particulars from ours; in one respect alone there is a wide line of demarcation. The former talk a good deal (en route) to their horses, while the latter confine themselves to the mute eloquence of the whip and spur.

The country now assumes a totally new character. The hills rise into the dignity of mountains, and are entirely barren, save in the immediate vicinity of a little valley or two which smiles between them, when their rough granite sides are clothed with partial underwood; these valleys have a verdant and cultivated effect, from being well wooded, and also from the unusual practice of inclosing the fields with hedges. Indeed the whole scene for three or four miles before you come to Autun is bold, rich, and beautiful. We were told that the people here and in the South of France were (generally speaking) extremely well-disposed towards the Bourbon government, disliking the remembrance of Bonaparte.

Autun, an ugly town, yet most romantically situated at the foot of three mountains covered with superb woods. Here are some fine gateways of Corinthian architecture, baths, and a cathedral. We went to look at the latter, and saw several women there telling their beads, who cast an eye of curiosity upon us in the midst of their devotions, while their fingers and lips continued to move with great rapidity. I peeped into several vacant confessionals, which resembled little sentry-boxes, partitioned into two apartments, in one of which there is a seat for the priest, and in the other a grated aperture through which the penitent breathes his communications.

The tomb of the president Jennin and his wife is shewn here. It was, I believe, concealed during the fury of the revolution, in common with many similar and sacred curiosities. He was one of Henri quatre's ministers, and a man much esteemed by that sovereign. He cannot have a higher professional eulogium. The costume both of the president and his dame is quaint in the extreme, and the length of her waist is quite ridiculous. Our inn (la poste) was comfortable and reasonable. For five francs a-head, they sent us up for dinner (I will for once say what we had for dinner) some capital soup au ris, a magnificent jack, a duck stewed with pickles, a fowl, white and delicate as those of Dorking, a ragout of sweetbreads in brown sauce, a large dish of craw-fish, potatoes drest à la maître d'hotel, Guyere cheese, and four baskets of fruit. The latter evinced the coldness of the climate here, for the peaches were diminutive, crude, and colourless, the grapes rather sour, and the cherries hard, tough, and not bigger than black currants.

Leaving Autun, we passed over a very steep granite mountain of that name, covered in the most luxuriant profusion with trees of every sort, but chiefly oak: the road wound round the sides till it reached nearly the summit of this mountain in graceful sweeps. It rained during our ascent, and the groups of women emerging at intervals from the woody recesses in the steeps above us, with their gay coloured cotton handkerchiefs held over their white caps, to shelter them from the scudding shower, looked highly picturesque. The male costume here becomes marked; it consists of a very large black hat, (with a low crown and an enormous breadth of brim,) round which is sometimes worn a string of red and white beads; a dark blue linen jacket and trowsers, coloured waistcoat, white shirt, with a square deep collar thrown open at the throat, and sabots. We could plainly hear the babbling of the brook which runs among these sylvan retreats. My husband gathered me some blackberries in the woods, and I longed to accompany him in his rambles, instead of remaining in the carriage. Altogether it was the most romantic scene I had ever beheld, and my exclamations of admiration reaching the ears of the postillion, (who was easing his horses by walking by their side) he came up to the window, to ask me if I had ever seen such a beautiful thing in my own country? I assured him I had not, and he graciously added that he would shew me a very grand plain also in a few minutes. Our Swiss attendant, however, (Christian) did not seem to approve of all these commendations, and could not refrain from throwing out a hint, that we should see much finer things in his country. This mountain is covered with wild strawberries in the season. Bonaparte intended to have made a wider road through it, had not the Fates thought proper to cut short his plans when he least expected it. The view of the promised plain was fertile as that of Canaan; the glimpses of it caught occasionally through the openings of the rocks were charming. I liked the national pride of the postillion; applied thus to the beauties of nature, it had almost a character of refinement: he was a good-humoured, merry-looking, ugly fellow, who seemed as if he had never known a care in his life; but (the truth must be told) he was a great admirer of Bonaparte, and said he should live and die in the hope of his return. He had laid by his green jacket and badge in his box, thinking it not impossible that he might want to wear it again one day; at all events he trusted to see the young son upon the throne, and spoke of him with much affectionate emotion. Bonaparte had been driven by this man (upon his flight from Elba,) and this puts me in mind, that I omitted to mention the circumstance of my having slept in the same bed which he then occupied at Autun; I think he must have left his troubled spirit behind him, for my dreams were perturbed and melancholy in the greatest degree! There are plenty of wolves and wild boars in this neighbourhood; five of the latter were killed the week before. I expected to have met with gipsies, but neither here, nor in any other part of the continent, had we yet encountered one of the race.

At St. Emilan, (a small village) we stopt to breakfast: it was a merry, cheerful meal. We sat round the blazing faggots in the cottage kitchen of la Poste, and boiled our eggs in a vessel which I believe was an old iron shaving pot; the milk (for our coffee) was served up in a large earthen tureen, with a pewter ladle; and the cups were of a dirty yellow cracked ware, that I am sure my cook would not suffer to be exhibited in her scullery. The bread was sour, and so was the fruit, but I never remember to have enjoyed a breakfast more thoroughly; so true is it, that hunger is the best sauce. The host (seeing that we were English) asked if we would not choose our pain to be grillé? and was proceeding to broil it accordingly, instead of toasting it, if we had not preferred the loaf in its natural state. We were somewhat surprised at seeing a print over the chimney of Dr. Nicholas Saunderson, Professor of Astronomy at Cambridge. An obscure village kitchen in the heart of France was the last place where one would have expected to have found such a thing. The hostess had bought it many years since at a sale of the property of the celebrated Buffon.

Seeing some cows ploughing in the fields here, which was what we had never before witnessed, our servant Christian gave us an account of the manner of conducting that operation in Switzerland; "de only difference is (said he) dat dere de cows be all oxes." The costume of the paysannes is very picturesque; a straw hat, of the gipsy form, and large as an umbrella, rather short petticoat, gay coloured handkerchief, deep bordered white cap, and sabots. The landscape was rather pretty for some distance beyond St. Emilan.

We now began to meet with vineyards again, as we descended from these bleak and elevated regions. A brook wound through the lowlands, fringed with willows, by means of which we could as usual trace its course for miles. I forgot to mention the cajoleries made use of by a set of little beggar children, the preceding day. The white beaver hats worn by my husband and Mr. W. struck their fancy not a little, and they ran after the carriage with incredible perseverance, calling out, Vivent les chapeaux blancs! Vivent les jolis messieurs! vive la jolie dame! vive le joli carrosse! vive le roi, et vive le bon Dieu! We were engaged in lamenting the drawback of a goître (or swelling in the throat) to the beauty of a very pretty woman, whom we had just seen, when in going down a steep hill we met with an accident, which might have been serious. The harness (made of old ropes) suddenly broke, one of the horses fell down, the postillion was thrown off, and the other horses continuing to trot on without stopping, we felt the carriage go over some soft substance, which we concluded to be the person of their unfortunate driver. Both the gentlemen involuntarily exclaimed "he is killed!" when we were relieved by seeing him running by the side of the animals, very little the worse for his fall. The poor horse was the greatest sufferer, as the wheels went twice over his neck! however, even he was not much hurt, and was able to rise and go on with his work in a few seconds. The great creature in the middle was an old, scrambling, wilful beast, who liked his own way, and I believe he would never have stopt, had not his bridle been seized by a man in the road. I was very much alarmed for the moment, and so I rather suspect was our trusty valet, who presented himself at the door to inquire if "Madame was frighted," with a face as white as his own neckcloth. This contretems would not have occurred had we not changed our horses and postillion a few moments before it happened, with those belonging to another carriage which we met on the way. The country continued rather pretty, and was also inclosed; were it not for the vineyards, it would be like many parts of England. We saw a little insignificant chateau or two, and that reminds me of the very dull effect of all the houses in France when seen from a distance – they have universally the air of being shut up, owing to the jalousies being painted white instead of green.

Chalons sur Saone; rather a pretty town: there is a stone fountain here, with a statue of Neptune, well executed. We stopt at the hotel du Parc, a reasonable and tolerably well appointed inn, though by no means deserving of the pompous commendation bestowed upon it in the printed Tourist's Guide, where it is mentioned as being the best in France. Mr. W. suffered some annoyance from bugs, which I must ever consider as great drawbacks to comfort. We were attended at dinner by the first male waiter we had seen since leaving Paris, from which Chalons is about two hundred miles distant. The people in the town stared at and followed us about in rather a troublesome manner; I believe they were attracted by the white hats, and my travelling cap, so different from any of their own costumes.

People talk a great deal about the warmth of the South of France, but all I can say is, that as soon as we approached it, we ordered fires, while we had left our countrymen in frigid England fainting with heat! I may as well indulge myself in a few more desultory remarks while I am about it, particularly as our narrative just now is rather bare of incident. The first is, the great inferiority of the French cutlery to ours: all their knives are extremely coarse and bad; and with regard to the forks and spoons (both of which, to do them justice, are almost always of silver), they do not seem ever to have come in contact with a bit of whiting or a leather rubber since they were made! Plate-powder of course is an unknown invention here. How would our butlers at home (so scrupulously nice in the arrangement of their sideboard) have stared, could they have beheld these shabby appurtenances of a foreign dinner table! They are not less behind-hand also with respect to the locks of their doors, all of which are wretchedly finished, even in their best houses. Their carriages are generally ugly, shabby, badly built, and inelegant; and they have some domestic customs (existing even in the midst of the utmost splendor and refinement,) which are absolutely revolting to the imagination of an English person, and to which no person who knows what real cleanliness and comfort means, could ever be reconciled; but the French are, beyond all doubt, an innately filthy race, – with them l'apparence is all in all.

Leaving Chalons sur Saone, we observed large fields planted with Turkey wheat, called here Turquie; they mix it with other flour in their bread. There is nothing but barren stubble for a length of way, and we should have found the prospect excessively wearying and tiresome, had not a bold hill or two in the distance afforded a slight degree of relief. We saw a man sowing among the stubble, which they plough up after the seed is sown, thereby saving the labour of the harrow; the practice is not general, however.

About three miles from Tournus, we ascended a very steep hill, covered with underwood and vines, and were refreshed by the sight of a little pasture land. From the summit a surprisingly fine country burst upon us – the river Saone leading its tranquil waters through a rich plain, the town of Tournus with its bridge and spires, and the chain of Alpine mountains bounding the distant horizon, were altogether charming; the latter appeared like a continued ridge of gray clouds, Mont Blanc towering far above them all. We formed some idea of the magnitude of this hoary giant from the circumstance of our being able thus to see him at the distance of a hundred and fifty miles! He looked, however, like a thin white vapour, rising amid the lovely blue of the summer sky.

At Tournus, where we stopt to breakfast, the maîtresse de la maison was a very pretty woman, but I cannot praise her taste in china ware; the cups she set before us were of a most disgusting shape and material, and of enormous proportions; they resembled our coarse red flower-pots glazed, and it was with difficulty that I could prevail upon myself to taste the tea or coffee (I forget which) that they contained. The women in this neighbourhood wear a singular head-dress, a black beaver hat, of the size and form of a small soup plate, placed flat upon the crown of the head, with three long knots of broad black riband, hanging down, one behind, and one on each side the face. They have a little white cap, called la coquette, under this, with a coarse open lace border, standing stiff off the temples, something like that of Mary, Queen of Scots. This place is celebrated for its pretty women, and we remarked many ourselves. I took a hasty sketch of one as we changed horses. There is a great quantity of hemp grown here. The weather now began to be intensely hot; and we did not wonder at this, as we were in the same latitude as that of Verona and Venice. The former chill, which I mentioned upon first approaching the south of France, was quite an accidental circumstance, partly induced by our being at that time upon extremely high ground, whereas the temperature of the valleys is very different.

We saw the peasants making ropes by the side of the road; one man carried a distaff in his hand, much bigger than a large stable broom. I bought of a villageoise at Macon one of the little hats and caps before mentioned. She attempted to impose upon me as to the price; but I do not consider this at all as a national trait. I am afraid an English countrywoman would have been equally anxious to make the best bargain she could, fairly or otherwise! The cap was really very becoming, even to my British features. I saw in one of the cottages a loaf of their bread: it was extremely coarse, and as flat, round, and large as a table. There is a grand chain of mountains on the right, called the Charolais. We again observed cows ploughing in the fields: they had all a curious head-dress, a sort of veil or network, to preserve them from the flies, like the military bridles of our dragoon horses. Most of the cattle hereabouts (and we had seen quantities) were of a cream colour. The country is luxuriant, full of chateaux, fertile, and cultivated, more so than any we had yet observed, and it is allowed to be the finest part of France. Mr. W. examined the nature of the soil, and found it fat and rich in the highest degree. I must once more repeat my admiration of the frequent and great beauty of the young children in this country, more particularly in these parts. I saw several with cheeks like the sunny side of a peach; little, round, plump faces, and delicately chiselled features, with a profusion of luxuriant hair hanging in natural ringlets upon their shoulders: the mere babies also are very interesting. The parents throughout France are remarkable for love of offspring[4 - Vide Spurzheim's Craniology.].

About three or four miles from Macon you enter the department of the Maconnais, and afterwards that of the Jura (so called from the mountains of the same name), but formerly known by that of the Lyonnais. We saw at St. George de Rognains a most beautiful woman, a villageoise; her proportions were fine, and rather full; her face very much in the style of our well-known English belles, Lady O. and Mrs. L.; but she was not so large as either of them. She wore the usual costume of her native place, which was more peculiarly marked in the cap. It is extremely becoming, and pretty in itself. I know not how to describe it exactly; but it is flat upon the crown, with a good deal of coarse transparent lace, like wings, full every where but on the brow, across which it is laid low and plain, in the style of some antique pictures I remember to have seen. This superb woman's fine features set it off amazingly. She also wore a flowered cotton gown (of gay colours upon a dark ground), a crimson apron and bib, with a white handkerchief. What a charming portrait would Sir Thomas Lawrence have made of her, and how she would astonish the amateurs of beauty in England, were she suddenly to appear among them! I am thus particular in describing costume, to please the readers of my own sex. We met here some religieuses walking in the road, belonging to a convent in the distance. Their habit was not very remarkable, except that they wore black veils, with high peaks on the front of the head, and long rosaries by their sides.

Villefranche; a populous old town. It was market day; yet not one instance of intoxication did we see, neither here nor in any other part of France through which we had passed. Certainly drunkenness is not the vice of the nation, although they have a due admiration for strong beer, which is sold under the name of bonne bierre de Mars. There is a fine church here, of Gothic architecture.

We did not reach Lyons until late at night; and, as I was very much fatigued, and longed to get into the hotel, I thought the length of the environs and suburbs endless. However, we arrived at last, and after a refreshing sleep, were awakened the next morning by the firing of cannon close under our windows. It was the fête of St. Louis, which is always celebrated with particular pomp and splendour. It was also the great jubilee of the Lyonese peruquiers, who went in procession to high mass, and from thence to an entertainment prepared for them. The jouteurs (or plungers in water) likewise made a very magnificent appearance. They walked two and two round the town, and after a famous dinner (laid out for them in a lower apartment of our hotel) proceeded to exhibit a sort of aquatic tournament, in boats, upon the river. This is a very ancient festival, and is mentioned (if I recollect right) by Rousseau. The dress of the combatants (among whom were several young boys of eight and five years old) was very handsome and fanciful, entirely composed of white linen, ornamented with knots of dark-blue riband. They had white kid leather shoes, tied with the same colours, caps richly ornamented with gold, and finished with gold tassels. In their hands they carried blue and gold oars, and long poles, and upon their breasts a wooden sort of shield or breastplate, divided into square compartments, and strapped firmly on like armour, or that peculiar ornament, the ephod, worn by the ancient Jewish high priests. Against this they pushed with the poles as hard as possible, endeavouring to jostle and overturn their opponents; the vanquished, falling into the water, save themselves by swimming, while the victors carry off a prize. We went down stairs to see these heroes at dinner, and one of them civilly invited us into the room, to observe every particular at our ease.

The military were all drawn out this morning, and I thought there never would be an end of their firing, trumpeting, &c.; the whole town resounded with noise, bustle, and gay confusion. We distinguished the Swiss guards, who wore a red uniform, like the English troops; a fine regiment of chasseurs, green, faced with red; a troop of lancers, on beautiful spirited black horses, uniform green and orange; the national guards, dark blue and red, with cocked hats; and, lastly, the foot guards, in white: the officers of the latter really looked like London footmen; nothing could be more ugly and ungentlemanly than their costume. All these were reviewed in la Grande Place, built by Bonaparte, who laid the first stone. The houses there are very handsome, and some of them rise to the height of seven stories. A steep hill, covered with vines, and crowned by buildings like castles, forms the background of this fine place, at the bottom of which rolls the grand and magnificent Rhone. Our inn (l'hotel de Provence) stood here. It is a very comfortable, excellent, well-ordered establishment: the apartments assigned for our particular use put me in mind of the old state-rooms in our shabby palace of St. James. The furniture was of crimson and white satin damask, and the beds of rich crimson damask; Lyons, as all the world knows, being famous for its rich silks. The ancient arm-chairs were studded with gilt nails, and the brick-floors carefully rubbed and polished till they resembled marble. That of the salle à manger was of curiously inlaid oak. The attendants were all men: one of them made my bed, and was perpetually frisking in and out (in his department of housemaid), rather to my annoyance and surprise. The first night of our arrival, I was shut up (as I thought) in my own room, unpacking my sac de nuit, when, upon turning suddenly round, I saw the great rough figure of our postillion, who had entered without knocking, and was standing much at his ease, expecting to be paid. The garçon who waited at dinner was a fine specimen of the honest, cheerful French peasant lad, his countenance and manner the perfection of good humour and simplicity.

The promenade of the town (a walk of shady trees in the midst of la Grande Place) being filled with gay groups in every possible variety of costume, offered a most amusing spectacle to a stranger's eye. We sat there some time upon the hired chairs, which are in as great request as at Paris. Here we found booths, kept by venders of tisanne, lemonade, &c. who were, some of them, niched in little covered tubs, like Diogenes. We were much stared at; but not with any rudeness or incivility. We even imagined that we saw a more favourable expression of countenance in the people of Lyons (while gazing upon the English) than in those of Paris. In the latter we certainly did now and then discover the signs of unequivocal hatred and dislike; and although they never gave vent (in our hearing at least) to their ill-will in words, there was a mute eloquence of eye, which it is difficult to mistake.

But to return to the promenade, &c. my petticoat of moravian work seemed to catch the admiring observation of all the females who passed; and indeed I ought, in justice to our British needlewomen, to remark, that their performance is rarely equalled, and assuredly never surpassed, by their continental rivals, however highly French work may be praised and sought after by our capricious leaders of ton.

The confluence of the rivers Rhone and Saone here is reckoned to be one of the finest things of the kind in Europe. We went to see it, but were rather disappointed in its effect; for the late uncommonly dry season had greatly diminished the pride of both these celebrated streams. It takes place at a spot about half a mile distant from the town, and we drove thither in a ridiculous hired vehicle, called a carriole, very like a long four-posted bedstead, on wheels, with coarse linen curtains for summer weather, and black shabby leather ones for winter. A seat, resembling a mattrass, was slung on the inside, upon which the people sit back to back, like those in an Irish jaunting car. The driver is upon a seat in front, and manages two horses, which are generally ornamented with frontlets, and knots of gay riband and bells. Our coachman was quite a coxcomb, sporting smart nankeen trowsers, gaiters, and yellow shoes of washed leather.

The women at Lyons struck us as remarkably ugly, and we actually were unable to discover a single pretty face among them. We met a country dame, stumping into town to partake in the gaieties of the fête, dressed in a bright yellow gown, tucked up at the pocket-holes, so as to display a full rose-coloured petticoat beneath, white stockings, black slippers, a deep gipsy hat of Leghorn straw, and a white handkerchief with the usual flowered border.

Nothing can be handsomer than this town: it much resembles Bath, particularly in its environs, which are built upon hanging hills, and embosomed in woods and vineyards. The convent of St. Michael, rising among them, is very ugly, however, reminding one of a large Birmingham manufactory. Here dwell les Sœurs de la Charité, and we were informed that they really are of great use, and do much good in their generation, which cannot, alas! be said of the regular nuns, poor victims!

At night we went to the comedie. The theatre was dirty, and somewhat shabby; all the light thrown exclusively upon the stage, as usual in foreign theatres. The actors were really extremely good, and the audience seemed a loyal one upon the whole, which was discoverable by their seizing and duly applauding the several claptraps which occurred in the piece they were exhibiting. It was La partie de Chasse de Henri quatre– the first scene a beautiful part of the forest of Fontainbleau. The story, though familiar to every body, seemed to interest all hearts, ours among the rest. I confess that, for my own part, I was surprised by feeling the tears coursing each other down my face, when I least expected it; and yet I was a stranger and a foreigner! How must the French, then, feel in the recollection of this and all the other thousand acts of benevolence and magnanimity of their glorious monarch, whose now beatified spirit seems to shed a guardian glory around the heads of his descendants! We returned home immediately after the representation of this piece, not staying the farce; and after taking coffee, once more sallied forth to view the beautiful illuminations which were displayed in honour of the day. The night was clear, warm, and balmy, and the whole population of the city (a hundred and nine thousand persons) seemed to be walking about, enjoying themselves completely. The effect of the lights reflected upon the distant vine-clad hills was singularly beautiful. I admired the costume of many of the children here; they wore large shepherdess-sort of Leghorn hats with very low crowns, wreathed with pretty roses, which harmonized with their little innocent round faces remarkably well. The soldiers, paysannes, and some of the bourgeoises, were dancing quadrilles under the trees of the promenade, which was lighted much in the manner of Vauxhall. There was a busy hum of voices in the air, swelling upon the breeze, mixed with notes of animating music, and occasional bursts of mirth and laughter, which, I believe, might have been heard for miles. In short, the scene was a perfect carnival. On reaching our inn, we saw the officers of the foot guards (who had been dining together in the same apartment occupied by the jouteurs in the morning) dancing waltzes to the loud music of their own band, in which the brazen tones of the trumpet were painfully pre-eminent. For want of female partners, they had, some of them, taken off their coats, and dressed themselves up in mob caps, shawls, and petticoats made of the dinner napkins. In this strange costume they tore about the room, swinging each other in a manner that disgusted while it made us smile. The master of the house, who seemed to think all this very fine, wanted to know if Madame would not join in the merry dance? (meaning me); but Mr. B. quietly declined the obliging proposal, saying, "I was not quite strong enough for such an attempt just now." Upon which Monsieur came behind me, and, supporting me under both the elbows, almost carried me up the stairs to the door of our apartment; so obsequious are the French to all women. There is a proverb relative to our sex, which observes, that Paris est le paradis des femmes, le purgatoire des maris, et l'enfer des chevaux. I, as an English wife, however, can imagine no place to be a paradise for me, which is at the same time a punishment to my husband; neither could I taste perfect felicity, if it was purchased at the expense of my brute fellow-creatures. But I do not mean tediously to moralize upon a little jeu d'esprit, which has some wit and truth in it, after all.

Determined to make the most of our short time, we went the next day to see the cathedral, which is of Moorish architecture. Within we found a singular mixture of orders; the Corinthian, composite, Gothic, Saxon, and a sort of nondescript, which (as we were none of us particularly learned on the subject) we concluded to be the regular Moorish. The whole body of this fine building appeared glowing with the rose and purple tints of sunset, and the gold ornaments upon the high altar actually flamed resplendent in this lovely light, as if they had been formed of solid fire! The effect was produced by the stained glass of the windows, of every possible variety of colour, magnificent beyond all idea, and far different from any which we had ever seen before; indeed, in attempting to describe their peculiarity, I feel that I have done foolishly, as it is impossible to give my readers any adequate notion of their extraordinary splendour and beauty. We did not so much admire another curiosity exhibited here, which is a clock, from a niche in the front of which, when it strikes the hours, a figure of the Virgin suddenly protrudes, and makes a gracious inclination of the body; while in another recess above there is a very paltry and shocking representative of the Father, who also leans forward in the act of giving his benediction. The attempt thus to embody the inconceivable glories of person belonging to the unseen God is both absurd and impious; yet surely not so much so, as the wish and endeavour of some fanatics to shroud the ineffable mercy and benevolence of the same being beneath a dark, chilling, and repulsively gloomy veil of severity, wrath, and implacability. In both cases, the true features of the Divinity are shamefully and ridiculously misrepresented. We also saw two fine white marble statues of St. Stephen and St. John, both spoilt by crowns of trumpery artificial flowers and tinsel, which gave them the air of our "Jacks in the green" on May-day.

We returned to our hotel, when, after an excellent dinner, we tasted for the first time fresh almonds, brought up in their outside rinds; they resemble small withered peaches in a green state, and I believe, speaking scientifically, that they are in fact a species of that fruit, and are classed accordingly; we found them very good, resembling filberts in flavour, and they are eaten with salt, in the same manner.

The next morning we bade adieu to Lyons; on the road from thence, at a place called St. Laurent des Mures, we saw the women as well as the men threshing corn, and this in the open air – a strong proof of fine climate: we afterwards remarked the practice universally. There are many walnut trees about here, but the country was flat and dull for some miles. We now however passed over a heath, (where, as Shakespeare expresses it, "the air smelt wooingly,") enriched by wood, and banks of waving fern, bounded by some near mountains; there was a picturesque view of a castle, upon the summit of a hill, embosomed in trees. These objects were a great relief to the eye, after the eternal stubble fields near Lyons. Here we observed ploughing performed by mules, which I approved of much, when compared with the use of cows for these sort of labours; the latter, poor things, are of such inestimable value in other respects, that surely it is very unfair to require their services as beasts of burthen. The roofs of the buildings in this neighbourhood now first began to assume an Italian character, and to harmonize with the ideas I had formed of the vicinity of the Alps, which were visible in the distance; but the latter did not improve the landscape so much as my hitherto untravelled eyes had expected, for they were so far off, that they resembled clouds, for which I should certainly have mistaken them, had I not been told what they really were. We here encountered a peasant, who was thin enough to have passed for the Death in Burgher's "Leonora: " his face was a mere skull, with a sallow skin strained over it; his black eager eyes deep sunk in their immense sockets. I was quite afraid of dreaming of him.

For several days past, we had taken leave of the peculiar costume of the postillions, which is not much retained on this side of Paris. Cattle now were seen of all colours; the country became more undulating and woody, and the vineyards wore a very different and much more graceful appearance, being trained far higher, not formally planted, (as I have before described) but frequently twined around standard apple and other trees, from which they hung in light and careless festoons, forming altogether a singular effect of blended foliage. They are universally trained in this manner in Italy; the French pretend that the produce is thereby rendered less plentiful, and that what is gained in beauty is lost in value: I cannot pronounce upon the truth of the assertion. The walnut-tree grew here in increased profusion, mixed frequently with the mulberry, forming an agreeable shade to the road.

We breakfasted at Bourgoin, where they gave us good provisions, but charged in a most extravagant way. There is a great deal of marshy land, and the inhabitants look unhealthy: some of them have goîtres (or glandular swellings) in consequence of extreme relaxation from the moisture of the air. Two filthy girls waited upon us at breakfast: they wore no caps, and their hair was in a most disgusting condition. We afterwards remarked numbers of women, equally devoid of coifs and cleanliness. Apropos to the former, I certainly greatly incline to prefer them to the more classical and simple fashion of wearing the head wholly uncovered: there is something very feminine and pretty in a white, neat, well-plaited cap, set off by a bright coloured riband and smart knot; and I really think the French paysannes knew what they were about, when they so universally adopted that costume.

The country shortly changed to a scene of wonderful richness and beauty, resembling the finest parts of Devonshire; but the view of an immense crucifix rising picturesquely amid the woods gave it a foreign character at once. Nothing can exceed the loveliness of this part of France; it is indeed exquisite, and doubly pleasing from its rarity. The unusual heat of the late summer (felt as sensibly as in England) had dried up most of the smaller rivers and brooks hereabouts, and the dust was actually flying in their sandy channels. We were now in Dauphiny.

A few miles before we entered Beauvoisin (which divides Dauphiny from Savoy), a very grand amphitheatre of the Savoy mountains rose suddenly upon us. The sight was peculiarly striking to me, as I had never yet seen the effect of this sort of scenery. We frequently observed buildings here of the pisè or mud, very neatly finished; indeed we were surprised to perceive how much they had contrived to make of so base and common a material. We met some countrywomen riding astride, which had a very odd appearance —odd is a vague term, and rather an unclassical one: I am perfectly aware of its defects but I cannot at this moment think of any other which would so well express my meaning; yet confound me not, kind reader, with that mass of ignorant and conceited persons, who always call every thing odd which they themselves either cannot understand, or to which they happen to be unaccustomed. Such, for instance, whom I have heard designating Byron's grand poetical conceptions as odd fancies, or the exquisite sketches of Westall's imaginative pencil as odd things, or calling the truly enlightened and liberal theological sentiments of Paley, Watson, Fellows, &c. odd opinions. But I have rambled strangely from the point; the little countrywomen and their nags completely ran away with me! In spite of the oddity of their position, I am ready candidly to allow that there is a great deal of safety in it.

Beauvoisin is in the near vicinity of prodigiously fine scenery. We passed through groves of the grandest chestnut trees, loaded with a profusion of fruit, and the whole face of nature afforded such a superb union of the beautiful and sublime, that we thought all we had previously seen in France paltry in the comparison. The silkworm is much cultivated here, and we saw many of the peasants employed in spinning both silk and flax with distaffs and wheels; multitudes of women and girls were seated at their doors, as we passed through Beauvoisin, all busied in this occupation: they seemed to be chatting together very happily, their tongues going as fast as their fingers. I thought of Shakespeare's "spinners and knitters in the sun" telling "their tales." We dined at the horrid little hole of an inn at this place, dirty, dark, and full of the usual bad odours so prevalent in continental habitations. The meal was served, as might be expected, in a slovenly manner, and we were glad to proceed on our journey as soon as it was despatched; previously submitting our luggage, &c. to the inspection of the custom-house officers, having now entered the Sardinian territories.

We had not advanced far, ere the country opened, if possible, into an increased blaze of beauty. Close to us were well-wooded mountains; on the left, vineyards trained in the graceful Italian fashion I have lately mentioned; far below us, on the right, was a limpid river, sweetly winding though a valley, and on all sides villas (beautiful in themselves and most romantically situated) lent an additional grace and charm to the scene. The road was a perfect bower of walnut trees; and the attractions of some of the peasant children, whom we now and then met, with their large black eyes, and peculiar style of beauty, told us that we were fast approaching the confines of Italy.