Introduction
. Among ab the arrangements of Nature, for the adaptation of the earth, to the existence and enjoyment of the various bving creatures which inhabit it, we observe none so partial and eccen tric, as the laws by which those effects upon the atmosphere are produced, that constitute the varieties which we term climates. In the dis posal of the myriads of animated beings which we find holding common property with us, in the soil of every region throughout the wide surface of the globe, we perceive one general law, by which
INTRODUCTION.
. all the inferior creatures are adapted to, and placed within, the tract where, one or other of those several diversities of the atmosphere, which con stitute, what we call a good, or a bad, a hot, or a cold climate, is predominant, and from which they cannot be removed, without more or less inconvenience, depending in general, upon the degree of our care, which is commonly, in pro portion to the amount of their usefulness, in aid of the necessary labours in which we engage. Yet in this general fitness, of one part of the material creation to another — of animal bfe, to the particular atmosphere, and the productions of the earth which should nourish it, exceptions, among which, we ourselves are perhaps the most remarkable, are plainly to be found. To the sovereign of the visible creation, has been given, by a variety in his constitution, the capacity to inhabit the whole earth; and wherever the human race are esta blished, from the hottest to the coldest region, we discover some physical differences, which equally adapt all our species to the climate in which we are found, without any variation of so considerable
INTRODUCTION.
. or constant character, as to tie us immovably to any particular land, that we may consider to be that of our peculiar inheritance. Hence, we visit every country, of every cbmate, with im punity, and, even dwell in a land, with the in habitants of which we claim no kindred, save, that of a common origin, or the same nature. And this pririlege, though its misuse, in the general disregard of our evident adaptation, might be attended with evd, should be abundantly bene ficial, in facilitating the exchange of productions, and in the communication of knowledge, where the attainments of one society of men exceed those of another, and also to some in whom accident has wrought any material change, and unfitted in constitution, to the climate in which they were born and nurtured. Thus, at that season of life, when every object of a generous ambition appears open to our attainment, we are not restrained from gratifying, either our justifiable curiosity, or a vague and undefined desire of knowledge, which we bebeve we shab attain in visiting foreign and distant a
INTRODUCTION.
. countries ; and it is at this time, that we receive the highest gratification in travelling. But, whoever should set out upon a journey through many parts of the globe, at a riper age, wib scarcely be without some object in view of more specific character, or more worthy to attain. It may be the study of the political institutions of other lauds, the fine arts, or the subjects which ibustrate history ; and it is at this season of life, that we acquire the largest amount of useful in formation. With eye more severe, the traveber now sees and remarks, whatever should have a tendency to enlarge the sphere of his knowledge — whether, indeed, with fixed designs of prospective benefit, or in obedience to the law of our nature, which prescribes at all times, the acquisition of knowledge, and now adds the caution which is necessary to its proper attainment.
But there is a third stage in men's bves, when, nor "the wonders of the world abroad," nor the desire of knowledge, is able to engage us to undertake long and fatiguing journeys ; and he who should at this time engage in travebing, wib usually be
INTRODUCTION.
. V one of the exceptions, by constitutional adaptation or through accident, which it has been above stated, are to be found in the several climates which we observe in the world. And the traveller of this class, though he might have no object that should be paramount to his own accommodation, and though he should receive less gratification, than a traveber of the first of the classes above men tioned, or acquire less knowledge than one of the other class, he should be, at least, able to exercise freeer thoughts, concerning what should seem to him to be erroneous or detestable, in actions or habits, of which every corner of the world affords sufficient examples, or concerning what shfluld be the more worthy of approval, of all that may fab under his observation. The object of these introductory remarks, it will be perceived, is, to prefer a claim to that degree of consideration, which may be in several in stances required, and to excuse that want of completeness, amounting to the appearance of omission, which is incident to the tenor of the matter contained in these volumes. And it is VI
INTRODUCTION.
. bebeved, without claiming the sub consideration, sometimes due to travebers of that class, from one among whom, it wib quickly be apparent these pages emanate, that what has been substituted for a better motive, for so changeful a journey, though it have no other advantage, wdl assist in maintaining some slight degree of union, throughout the varied subjects which the second and proper title of this book would seem to in dicate it should contain, untd the sequel may more clearly develope the proper aim, of some apparently unconnected remarks and inquiries. One more observation should yet be added. It is to the** effect, to eschew equaby, ab pretensions, to the merit of giving exact descriptions of objects, the review of which is no more than incidental to the main design, and to the use of any means of accomplishing the end in view, superior to that of a faithful record of such impressions, and opinions, as it is bebeved, might have been those of the greater part of our countrymen, who should have accomplished the same journey, under the like circumstances, and during the same period of time.
INTRODUCTION.
. VII Some mere tourists, have even disputed the learned and exact observations of more accomplished travebers, whose impressions and remarks, have been founded upon longer and more accurate observation, with better sources of information, than those from which they should be reduced to acquire their knowledge, and be enabled to draw any just conclusions. But it is bebeved, that every respect may be yielded to the opinions of others, without changing our impressions of what is obvious, or compromising, in any way, the most important of all things to be maintained — the truth. To those whose critical judgment, every pub lication should more or less depend for its pro portion of consideration with the general reader, a great deal might be said, in extenuation of the demerits of this book, concerning the abundant disadvantages under which it has been composed, and the stib greater through which it has been corrected, did not the recollection of former indulgence, encourage the hope, that the rudeness and seeming negbgence of the style, as
INTRODUCTION.
. web as such errors as the frequent inability even to read, during the operations of the press, might alone excuse, with the incompleteness incident to the matter which it contains, may not be thought wholly to extinguish the little merit to which the reabty and genuineness of its contents might seem otherwise to entitle it. CONTENTS.
Chapter I. Paris To Strasburg
It was on the very day, that equal bght and darkness at the autumnal equinox, warns us of the approach of the severer season, that I left Paris, by diligence, for Strasburg. In youth, there are perhaps few sensations more agreeable than the anticipations of a journey. The further we purpose travelling, and the greater the variations which we expect to observe, in the laws, customs and institutions of the coun tries which we are about to visit, the better. But in riper years, when the appetite for change has been sated, and the love of novelty superseded by some steadier object of pursuit, our more delightful anticipations are qualified by the assurance of the inconveniences we must suffer, in the mere transport from city to city and from province to VOL. I. B province, in whatsoever direction we may turn.
But the certain course of this journey was towards the sun ; and the knowledge of this, was sufficient to supply the place of former more sensible im pressions. I was alone in the interior, as we dashed through the crowded streets of the French capital ; hut we were scarcely a mile beyond the bar rier, before we pubed up in the centre of the broad road, near some houses, in the front of which stood a group of some six or seven persons, apparently awaiting our approach. The party seemed to con sist of individuals of every grade in the social ranks ; and as they advanced towards us, it was natural to be occupied with conjectures, concerning which of them might be my companions, perhaps, for the next three nights and days. A gentleman, or web-dressed Parisian, led a lady, who appeared to be about thirty years of age, and held by the hand, at the same time, a peasant girl, of figure and face decidedly the finest 1 had seen during a residence of some time in France ; and these were accompanied by some eight or ten men and women of ab ages, and every one of them apparently Parisians.
When the party reached the carriage, the guard, who had already abghted, was taking leave of some friends on the opposite side of the way ; and there seemed no hurry on the part of any to mount the steps of the diligeuce; but after a few moments, the worthy functionary returned, and it was soon evident that the peasant girl, alone, of the group, was to accompany us. There was no room in the " Rofonde," but it was of no consequence. There was but one in the " Interieur " — a tranquil foreigner on his way home. They might place the young woman under his charge with tbe utmost confidence. Some of the party now took leave of the maiden with the continental hearty double kiss, and se veral who embraced her, wiped their eyes as they bid her fareweb. During this ordinary leave-taking, the lady be fore mentioned, came to the door of the diligence and enquired of me, how far I was going : and when I replied, " to Strasburg," she said, " she trusted it would not be taking too great a liberty to place a peasant girl under my charge."
To which I replied : " that I would endeavour to sup plv the place of her parent, and see her to the end of her journey, wherever she might happen to be travelling." Time permitted the lady to say no more, than, " Monsieur is too kind ;" and she turned to re join the group. The two last of the party that embraced the b maiden were the Parisian gentleman, and the lady who had put the girl under my charge. I did not observe much, or any emotion, on the part of the gentleman ; but, when the lady em braced the departing child, the feelings of mother and daughter seemed too apparent to be mistaken for less holy ties. The mother wept outwardly; but the grief of the daughter was of another character. She tore herself with difficulty from her mother's arms ; and, with the assistance of the guard, who had held the door open, for several minutes, with patience rarely wanting in a French man where mere politeness is concerned, she mounted the steps of the interior of the dili gence, and covering her head and face with a handkerchief, threw herself back in one of the three unoccupied corners, and sobbed and wept bitterly, unheard and unseen, save by myself alone.
The guard had now mounted, and as the postil lion recommenced the truly national crack, crack, crack, of his whip, the great vehicle dashed over the stony roads as if it had been a small affair for the united power of the fine quadrupeds that drew it. The attire and appearance of the poor girl, which I had now an opportunity of observing, were web in accord with the perfect image which she presented of the simplicity and neatness of the better class of the French peasantry, with the natural confidence of her sex, at her age, which I did not believe to exceed sixteen. And as she sat veiled in the corner of the diligence, it was not possible for foreigner or native, or any one who had not taken leave of every human feeling, sitting at the same time in the opposite corner, to occupy his thoughts with anything belonging to the world without — with anything save the perfect specimen of human beauty in tears before his eyes.
But we were fairly now on our journey ; and the French metropolis with its gaudy palaces, its works of the fine arts, its public gardens and its promenades, were at once forgotten in the first in cident of interest which occurred without its gates; and as the poor peasant girl indulged her grief, it had been natural for any to fall into reflec tions concerning his own first departure from the fire-side of parents, and from the society of, and daily intercourse with, those to whom often nature even binds us with a stronger tie than that e-f her first and more sacred bond. Every separation in our infant days, is like a departure into perpetual exile ; and there are few of us, who, before the age of the first conceptions of ambition, might quit the paternal roof without the same violent pangs that now tore the breast of this simple girl.
Where, and how far, was the poor child going? Perhaps a hundred miles from her home. At about the same age, at least in mind, myself had quitted the hearth of infant affections, it might be for years. At least, before again embracing those whom I regretted, the oceaa should be as my home, the tempest familiar to me. Where were those feelings now ? Was there nothing left of what nature could not have designed to fail us even in age? Was there no string of the heart's earlier emotion unbroken? — ties of blood — friendship — love of country, with the pride of its first obligations. Had an acquaintance with the " cities' usuries " and the " proud man's contumely," with years of homeless wanderings or exile, or want of the ties which should bind us to the generations, that re place us as we disappear from the scene in which we have accomplished our part — had even ab these causes united, so entirely erased from the memory the better feelings of the heart, as to render those of the poor peasant girl incomprehensible?
It was far otherwise. We never change our nature. And if we cannot at ab seasons of bfe, recall in their sub force, the affections that might once have inhabited our bosoms, we may yet find pleasure in reflecting, that time can have no power over the first natural obligations which those above ab who form none of another kind, must acknowledge to be the great solace of life, and among the better gifts of the Creator to imperfect man. The charities of bfe, and the obligations and attendant pleasures which spring from their exercise, though they may change in character cannot be ever destroyed. But these thoughts were but the momentary effects of association and irresistible sympathy with the distress of the poor peasant girl, and they passed quickly away. The postidion had now put his horses at full speed, and we rattled along the stony road at the good pace of, it might be, eight miles an hour ; and as I was now willing to be as far from the pre sence of such grief as no sympathy could appease, as it was in my power to remove, I turned to the window and passed a full half hour in viewing the uniform, tiresome, and tame scenery of the vicinity of the French capital, and contrasting it with the rich and varied landscapes which surround the metropolis of Britain.
For our arable lands, hilly or plain, and our rich pastures, with the noble elm and beautiful hedges that divide and ornament them, you have here a tame plain of corn fields or the plantations of stunted vine, and nothing that in any sort supplies the place of the fresh and green scenery to which an English eye is accustomed. But we were now well out of Paris ; and as we removed yet further and further from the site of the fair peasant girl's deepest distress, I began to conjecture, whether it were not time to offer her such consolation as her situation suggested; but I had scarce turned my head from the window and my thoughts from the different occupation in which they had been engaged, when the maiden put an end to my difficulties, by herself breaking the long silence we had maintained. The question she first put, has escaped my memory ; but her words were accompanied with a smile of per fect confidence, and led to a conversation which soon induced me to elicit her history, at least as far as regarded her appearance in the metropolis, to which it was evident she did not belong.
The artless girl, without the sbghest hesitation or want of confidence in herself, such as in Britain we are accustomed to find where there might seem less disparity in worldly condition, began to tell her story; and before the daylight disappeared, for the sun was now near its setting, she had related all that my curiosity had thirsted to obtain ; and her brief tale may be repeated in a few words. She was an orphan, and had been left at a very tender age to the care of the lady I had supposed to be her mother, but who was only an aunt. This lady, about two years since, in consequence of having formed a connexion with a Parisian of some estate, which was similar only to that of marriage, had consigned the fair child who had hitherto called her mother to the care of another relation, a worthy burgess of her native town ; but her new protector having died about six months before this period, she had since that event dwelt with a farmer of the neighbourhood, from whom she had first learned the true con dition of her whom she had loved as her sole parent, and from whom she had received up to the time of the irregular alliance ab the tenderness and care of a mother.
The tidings concerning her aunt's real situation, had been communicated to her by some of her equals in age of her own sex, and when confirmed by the honest man with whom she dwelt, she had taken the resolution to embrace the bfe of the convent, to atone for the errors of her protector, as soon as she might be permitted so to do, and had made the journey on foot to Paris to take a farewell leave of her whom it was plain she stdl regarded with the affection that should be a just mother's due. I b5 gave her the usual advice that suggests itself to superior age on such occasion, accompanied with a strong protest against her resolution. Our conversation occupied but a short watch of the night, after which the peasant girl fell into a sound sleep; and it was not long, before I was overcome by the same welcome state of forgetfulness, and we had few or no disturbances during the remaining hours of the night.
About sun rise I awoke, and was as much re freshed as if I had been sleeping upon a bed of the softest down. The peasant girl still slept. She sat or reclined directly opposite to me ; but while my eyes were fixed upon those features which might only be described, by confessing, that I could not bring to recollection any parabel face or figure, save in one whom, indeed, she resembled, that was transported to a better world about the same age that the artless girl now before me had attained, she suddenly awoke ; and before there was time for more than the accustomed morning greetings in ab lands, the diligence drew up in front of a "Cafe," and the guard announced that coffee awaited all those that should choose to take it. In France, this announcement generally signifies also a length of time sufficient to partake what awaits your acceptance.
The doors of the diligence, therefore, were no sooner open, than I alighted, and after assisting the peasant girl to do the same, I was preparing to conduct her to the room within, when she suddenly exclaimed : " Mon Dieu ! I am at home !" as, at the same time, she jumped into the road to embrace a fine-looking old fellow of the ancient French school, of apparently well mingled feelings, native politeness, and simple attire ; and as I did not wish by any ceremonious leave-taking to disturb the intercourse between the fair peasant and her present protector, I entered the " Cafe." But I was not doomed to experience quite so abrupt a separation; and I was scarcely seated, before the good man came to thank me, both for the care I had taken of the young maiden during the passed night, and, as he expressed him self, for the discourse with which I had honoured her.
There was not time for much conversation ; but ab that passed, was well calculated to give the most favourable impression of the provincials of this district of the kingdom. There was that mixture of simplicity and intebigence in this honest man's speech, with perfect ease in his manner, which could not fad to remind the stranger of the better age of the French — of that period in their social history, before manhood had " melted into courtesies," but to give place in their turn to the boorishness and love of change and excitement without a generous object, which are characteristics of the present generation of this volatile people. The good man remained to see the diligence off, and after expressing many regrets that the occa sion did not permit of my partaking of his hospi talities, he gave me his address, and then lifted his hat with as much elegance as any count might have performed that nice salutation ; and, as his beautiful "protegee" bowed with a grace that many a lady of the court of Louis Phibippe might, doubtless, have copied with advantage, I jumped into the diligence, which, at the crack of the whip, again proceeded on its steady way.
We now trotted on at the average pace of about six miles an hour. I was alone ; but I was glad of it ; for I did not wish to lose the impressions which my companion of the passed night had left upon my mind. They were of a kind which lead to reflections that should afford pleasure or pain according to the time or place, and to the age of those who entertain them, or to the claim of those they may rest upon, to our respect or regard. At an earlier age, and under most circumstances, perhaps the majority of the rational world would have re jected them; but when the better wine of bfe is full drawn, and we want that which should accompany old age — " love, obedience, troops of friends" — we are not so ready to deny a free entrance to the thoughts which make us seem a second time actors even in those scenes which have been the most painful passages of our passed lives.
But we trotted on ; and it was not long before new incidents and new thoughts and reflections took the place of those which were yet not of a nature to be easily obliterated from the memory. As you proceed in this direction, the country generally assumes a more agreeable aspect ; yet it is very rarely undulated ; nor did we during all this day, see a single view that should merit particular notice. Ab the villages and towns we passed through during the second dayr's journey, were, without ex ception, uninteresting and dirty; and they afforded nothing that might give occasion for any notice, that should come within the scope of these en quiries. And here the opportunity occurs of re markiug, that no more deviation from the general rule which should restrain these observations will be found throughout the following pages than such as the nature of the matter out of which they proceed may seem to render unavoidable.
Chapter II. Paris To Strasburg
On the morning ofthe third day of our journey we breakfasted at Saverne, where two gentlemen, one of them of middle age, the other young, came into the interior. This was a welcome change to me, after being so long alone. We exchanged the accustomed greetings on those occasions in France; but this did not, for some hours at least, lead to any discovery on my part of the nation to which my febow -travebers belonged. They were cer tainly not of the class of travebers more common in our own country ; but as I was too much fatigued to keep pace with them in conversation, I became rather a bstener to what passed, than a sharer in their discourse. The one spoke with the confidence of experience, if not with the wisdom which should accompany a true knowledge of the world, and the other seemed to me to betray by his questions rather a disposition to arm himself for the varied species of combat which a young man, sent to make his way among a foreign people is usuaby warned to prepare.
It was soon evident that they had but just met, and that they had been previously unknown to each other ; yet the first question which came from the elder bore, in man ner as in matter, the appearance of being the first essay of a future friendly intercourse between them. " You are from Paris?" said he, famibarly, to the young man. " I left Paris the day before yesterday," answered the other. " It is a gay city, sub of attractions, especially for the young." " There seemed to he no scarcity of anything adapted to satisfy the appetite for knowledge, whatever the age or the taste." " Or to gratify the senses," quickly rejoined the elder traveber. " True," continued the young man. " I was most indeed struck with the luxury, the wealth and the gaiety of the Parisians when I first came to the capital; but had I had any knowledge of the French character, of which I cannot indeed say I have now much, I think Paris is just what I should have expected to find it."
" That is," said the elder, " the centre, doubtless, of the extremes of very contrary things." " I have hardly thought sufficiently of these matters," said the youth, " to have formed any de cisive opinions upon the subject. That may be a just description of the French capital ; but my im pressions were — first, admiration of the gaiety which seems every where to surround you, and of the appearance, which is perhaps beyond the reality, of the universal pursuit of pleasure. This was exciting and agreeable for a time; but I found, following day after day the same course, whether from habit or necessity, in the end rather depressed my spirits than increased my enjoyments." " Why you must certainly be an Enghshman," said the elder traveller, laughing. " Oh no," replied the young man, " I have never seen the misty country of that gloomy people.
I am of very different origin." But before the young man might have indicated the country of his birth, the elder traveller somewhat abruptly rejoined : " But, by the bye, it is not ab of that peer .iar people to whom pleasure is new, and in whom its pursuit for so short a time, at least, is found wearisome. In England, though there may not be enjoyments among all classes, yet there are such, at least among the more numerous; but they are such as foreigners in that country do not perceive nor cannot understand. To enter into the pleasures of another people, we must not only discover that certain something upon which this, as other attributes, is based, but we must also plant the same principle, before we can reap tbe same effects. In that strange Island, at least, in London, ab that goes under the name of pleasure is based in the vain display of riches : at least all that a foreigner may observe.
The amusements of the Parisians are the mere excitement which the native spirit requires, or the commendable emulation of excebing in conversation. The one leads to the apparent gaiety which you every where observe, and the other to truly social pleasures which if not pecubar to the French, at least, abound in Paris, whde they are almost entirely unknown in the capital of England." The elder traveller now paused ; and as no ob servation was made, he seemed willing to arrest his course of criticism ; and addressing himself as before, said, somewhat abruptly, "Pray what is the end of your travel ?" " Perhaps I may, most correctly, in one word, reply," answered the youth, " general useful in formation." " And where going ? " " Into Italy." " Using, again then, the privilege of years," said the elder, " let me give you the advantage of the observations of a traveller of at least great experience ?
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