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LlEltTTEFAFT- 'GENERAL "VTHXETTE S

fnbliHiai hiH. Crumrdl,Bath

A SHORT VIEW
OF THE
LIFE and CHARACTER OF
Lieutenant-General VILLETTES,
Late Lieutenant-Governor and Commander of the Forces
in Jamaica.
f. TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
LETTERS
WRITTEN DURING A JOURNEY FROM
CALAIS TO GENEVA, AND ST. BERNARD,
.IN THE YEAR 1814.

THOMAS BOWDLER, Esq; F.R. S. % S.A.
With an APPENDIX,
CONTAINING A FEW
ORIGINAL LETTERS AND ANECDOTES
OF THE LATE
MADAME ELIZABETH DE FRANCE.

Published to assist in providing Free Seats for the Poor of
Swansea, by enlarging the Parish Church.

PRINTED BY
RICHARD CRUTTWELL, ST. JAMES'S-STREET, BATH;
AND SOLD BY
JOHN ROBINSON, PATER-NOSTER-ROW, AND J. HATCHAKD,
PICCADILLY, LONDON.
1815.

The following Sketch of the Life of the late
Lieut. -General Villettes was written immedi
ately after his death, and was given to his
friends in England, Malta, and Jamaica. It
is now re-printed, in consequence of the acqui
sition of a striking likeness of the General,
which has been recently obtained from an
original picture, in the possession of his sister
at Geneva.

Sni St . 2S0

TO
THOSE PERSONS
WHO FEEL PLEA-SURE IN CONTEMPLATING
A CHARACTER,
NOT MARKED BY A FEW BRILLIANT ACHIEVEMENTS,
BUT BY
CONDUCT UNIFORMLY GOOD AND AMIABLE,
FROM THE EARLIEST TO THE LATEST PERIOD OF LIFE.
THIS HUMBLE TRIBUTE
TO
DEPARTED FRIENDSHIP,
IS
MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED
BY
THE AUTHOR.

AN. 1, 1815.

Mihi prater acerbitatem Amici erepti, auget mcesti-
iiam, quod assidere valetudini, fovere deficientem,
satiari vultu, complexu, non contigit. Excepissem
certe mandata vocesque, quas penitus animo figerem .
Omnia sine dubio, Optime Amicorum, superfuere
honori tuo ; paucioribus tamen lachrymis compositus
es, et novissima in luce desideravere a liquid oculi
lid.

A SHORT VIEW

OF THE

LIFE AND CHARACTER

OF THE LATE

LlEUT.-GENERAL VILLETTES.

rTPHIS respettable officer was descended from
-"- one of the most ancient families in
France. His ancestors were lords of Mont-
didier in Languedoc, in the thirteenth century,
and many of them held considerable offices
uncfer different monarchs. During the civil
wars, they were much distinguished for their
exertions in favour ofthe Hugonots; and after
the revocation of the edicl; of Nantes, they
withdrew from France, and settled in this
kingdom. The father of the late Lieut-
General was educated in the diplomatic
line, and was many years minister plenipo
tentiary to the late and the present king; first
3

[ 2 J
at the court of Turin, and afterwards wjth
the Helvetic Cantons. He withdrew from
public life in the year 1762, and resided at
Bath till 1776, when he died, in the 75th year
of his age.* His second son, William Anne
Villettes, was born at Bern, on the 14th of
June 17.54. He received the early part of
his education at Claverton school near Bath,
and the latter part of it at the university of
St. Andrew's. A mildness of disposition, and
a regular performance of whatever it was his
duty to do, qualities which through life were
distinguished features of his chara&eiy were
remarkable even at this early period. It was
observed at school, that he never received a
blow, either from his master, or any of his
schoolfellows; nor was he ever known at the
university to have experienced a reprimand
from any of the professors, or to have been
engaged in a quarrel with any of his fellow
students. With Mr. Graves, who was his school
master, and Professor Watson, in whose house
he lived, he was the favourite scholar, and
the favourite pupil. Friendship was in each
of these instances continued through life,
* An elegant inscription to his memory, may be, seen in the
parish church of Weston, near Bath.

[ '3 1
His father originally intended him, for the
bar, and he was accordingly entered at Lin
coln's Inn, and kept two or three terms; but
his ardour for a military life was so great, that
Mr. Villettes at last' gave way to his son's
inclinations, and obtained for him, in the
year 1775, a cornetcy in the 10th regiment
of dragoons. In this respectable corps, Vil
lettes continued till he rose to the rank of
major. In this, as in every other part of his
life, a punctual discharge of the duties of his
station was constantly observed. By this he
obtained the approbation of his superiors, and
by his amiable manners he secured the esteem
and goodwill of his equals and his inferiors.
During a great part of this period, Captain.
Villettes attended Sir William Pitt (then com
mander of the forces in Ireland) as his aid-de
camp and secretary. The character of that
venerable officer requires no panegyric; and
it certainly was an honour to Villettes, that he
lived several years in his family, not only as
his secretary, but his confidential friend. His
attachment to Sir William Pitt was, indeed,
that of a son to a parent; and, like all other
attachments that he formed, continued in
variable to the end of his life.
In the year 1792, Major Villettes quitted
the dragoons, and was appointed lieut.-eqlonel
i$ 3

[ 4 ]
ofthe 69th regiment of foot ; which regimant,
in consequence of the breaking out of the war
in 1793, was sent to the Mediterranean, serving
as marines on board a division of the fleet
under the command of Lord Hood. From this
service Col. Villettes was exempt, as being a
field officer; but when Toulon was given up
to the allies, he left England to take the com
mand of his regiment, then forming a part of
the garrison. His services there were much
distinguished by General O'Hara, and his
successor, General Dundas. The heights of
Faron were entrusted to him; and during the
time that he commanded in that important
station, his vigilance was such, that he never
.retired to rest till daylight appeared. All
attempts at surprise were accordingly frus
trated, and every thing remained secure ; the
strength of the position scarcely exposing it to
any other danger. At length, the French army
being increased, after the reduction of Lyons,
the danger to which Toulon became exposed
was proportionably greater; and Col. Villettes
was called to a station of still more importance,
and requiring the exertion of greater military
talents. This was the defence of Les Sablettes,
a narrow isthmus, by which the peninsula that
forms the south side of the road of Toulon is
connected with the main land. As long as

[ 5 ]
•
this post was in our possession, the whole
peninsula was secure, and the ships could re
main in safety in the road : but if this had been
lost, the various batteries on the peninsula
might have been turned upon them ; the ship
ping must have removed into the bay, and the
subsequent embarkation of the troops and the
inhabitants would have been rendered imprac
ticable. At this post Colonel Villettes com
manded; having under him 700 British, and
800 Neapolitan troops.
On the l(5th of December, Faron was taken
by surprise (but not by the fault of any British
officer) ; and Fort Mulgrave, the nearest post
to Les Sablettes, was carried by storm. These
disasters rendered the evacuation of Toulon
unavoidable. The Neapolitan troops, under
the command of Colonel Villettes, behaved
very well as long as they were exposed to no
danger; but when they saw that Fort Mulgrave
was lost, and the French appeared ready to
attack them, they retired in a body, got into
their boats, and embarked on board their ships.
Notwithstanding the desertion of so great a
part of his force, Colonel Villettes kept up so
good an appearance with the remainder, that
Les Sablettes, and, of course, the whole of the
peninsula, continued in our possession till the
evening of the 18th; when the evacuation of

C 6 J
Toulon being complete, he received orders to
Avithdraw his troops. This service, though
rendered very difficult by the proximity ofthe
enemy, was nevertheless effected during the
night; and the troops were marched to the
other end of the peninsula where they were
embarked in boats, which conveyed them,
without loss, on board the fleet.
The next service in which Colonel Villettes
Was engaged, was the conqnest of Corsica.
He acted here in his proper station at the siege
of St. Fiorenzo; and afterwards, in a more dis
tinguished manner, at that of Bastia. Lord
Hood having proposed to the commander of
the land forces the attack of this latter place,
and the measure being deemed inexpedient by
that officer, his Lordship resolved to undertake
the siege, without the assistance of any fcroops
but those -who were originally given him as
marines. Here again Colonel Villettes was not neces
sarily called upon to act; but though, like
other officers of the land forces, he disapproved
ofthe enterprise, not thinking it possible that
the place could be so completely blocked up
as to prevent any supplies from entering the
harbour, yet finding the Admiral was resolved
on the attempt, he volunteered his service
conceiving it a paramount duty to his king

[ 7 ]
and country to do every thing in his power to
render the enterprise successful (since, at all
events, it was to be undertaken) ; though by so
doing he was to prove the Admiral's opinion
to have been well founded, and that of the
landofficers (himself among the rest) erroneous.
After a close blockade of 40 days, Bastia was
taken, and Lord Hood gratefully acknowledged
the essential assistance which he received on
that occasion from Colonel Villettes.
The merit of this service will perhaps be
more fully appreciated, when it is known, that
the force which Colonel Villettes commanded,
was composed of no more than 1000 British
. soldiers, 250 landed seamen, and ] 200 Cor-
sicans, which last were fit only to scour the
country. The garrison, on the other hand,
consisted of 4000 French regulars, and about
as many of the armed inhabitants. Even after
the surrender of the place, the difficulties of
Colonel Villettes' situation did not cease. With
his small force, he was to guard 8000 prisoners;
and this arduous task was continued several
days, the state of the weather rendering it
impossible to send them away in a shorter time.
For this important service Colonel Villettes
was rewarded by being appointed governor of
Bastia; and votes of thanks to him being
proposed both in the House of Lords and House

[ 8 J
of Commons, it seemed to be a subject of regret
with all persons, that some circumstances of
parliamentary etiquette rendered it impossible
to accede to the motions.*
Inthe year 1796, an intermittent fever, of
a very bad kind, which is common in Corsica,
obliged Colonel Villettes to resign the govern
ment of Bastia, and return to England; and
the following year, Portugal being threatened
by the French, he was sent to that country,
and served in the army commanded by his
friend Sir Charles Stuart, about a year and a
half; when the danger being for the present
removed, the British troops were withdrawn.
and Colonel Villettes came back to England,
where he was promoted to the rank of a major-
general, on the 18th of June 1798.
About this time General Villettes was ap
pointed comptroller of the household of his
Royal Highness the Duke of Kent. His en
joying that honour is supposed to have origi
nated from the following circumstance. Some
years before, that is to say, while the peace
* The high opinion which Lord Nelson entertained of Col.
Villettes, and the essential service which he rendered to the public
cause on this occasion, are strongly expressed in his Lordship's
letters. Vide the Life of Lord Nelson by Clark.
The addresses of the Corsicans are full of gratitude, and
.shew that they considered tliemselves as being in a great measure
indebted to Colonel Villettes for the recovery of the island from
(.he French government.

[ 9 J
still continued, Colonel Villettes having leave
of absence from his regiment, went to Geneva,
to spend some time with his mother, Who,
after she became a widow, had retired with her
daughter to her native city. At this place his
merit did not escape the discernment of Prince
Edward, who was there at that time. An in
timacy then took place, (if the word may be
used without impropriety, when applied to
persons in such different ranks in life,) which
continued ever afterwards. It was, indeed,
highly, honourable to Villettes ; and certainly
reflected no discredit on the Prince, that a
long absence in a distant part of the world
did not make him forget -what had passed at
Geneva; and after an interval of several years.
General Villettes was placed at the head of
his household, when his establishment was
settled. His Royal Highness .continued to
honour the General with his confidence as long-
as he lived ; and it may with great truth be
asserted, that his death was no where more
sincerely lamented than in the very highest
rank of life.
In the year 1799, General Villettes was sent
to Corfu; it being then in contemplation to
raise a corps of Albanians for his Majesty's
service. Ofthe inexpediency of this measure tlie
General was soon convinced; and however ad-

vantageous the adopting it might have proved
to himself, he strongly advised the contrary,
and the plan was accordingly relinquished.
The mutiny which some years afterwards took
place at Malta among troops of a similar de
scription, fully proved the justiceof hisopinion.
When his presence "was no longer necessary
in Corfu, Gen. Villettes was sent to Malta;
where he acted for some time as second in
command to General Pigot, and after his de
parture in 1801, as commander-in-chief of the
forces, in which important situation he re
mained till the year 1807. Those persons who
recollect the stipulations concerning Malta in
tlie treaty of Amiens, the discussions which
arose during the peace in consequence of those
stipulations, and the value attached to this
island by all parties since the renewal of hos
tilities; and who at the same time consider the
situation of Malta, with respect to Naples,
Sicily, Egypt, and indeed the whole of the
Mediterranean and the Levant, will readily
conceive that there were few situations, iu
which a firm, temperate, and judicious con
duct could be more requisite than in the com
mander of the forces in that island. It may
safely be asserted, that few men were superior
to General Villettes in the qualities from which
such a conduct originates. His judgment was

[ IL ]
so good, that he seldom stood in need of
advice, yet, on every proper occasion, he was
ready to listen to it; to adopt it with candour,
if he judged it to be right; or to adhere to
his own opinion, if he saw no just grounds for
abandoning it. His firmness in pursuing the
line of conduct which he thought it his duty
to adopt, was equally remarkable ; and to these
qualities were united a temper the least irri
table, and manners the most conciliatory, that
can well be imagined. The favourite* maxim
of " suaviter in modo, fortiter in re," has per
haps seldom been more perfectly exemplified.
Many instances occurred during his command
in Malta, in which these qualities were exerted,
and exerted with the tery best effects. When
Tomasj, the French elected Grand Master, laid
claim to the island ; when a French agent
sought an occasion of quarrel, and endeavoured
to raise a disturbance in the theatre, as had
been done successfully at Rome, Naples, and
elsewhere; when a most alarming mutiny took
place among the foreign troops in Fort Ricasoli;
on all these, and on many other occasions, the
firm, temperate, and judicious conduct of Gen.
Villettes was successfully employed.
In the year 1807, the personal and profes
sional merit of this officer, his perfect know
ledge- of most of the European languages, and

[ 12 ]
his long acquaintance with the military systems
of the continental powers, pointed him out to
his Majesty's government as a proper person
to command the foreign, troops .who were to
form a part of the army intended to be sent to
the Baltic, under Lord Cathcart. General
Villettes was accordingly recalled from Malta ;
but, though he obeyed the summons with the
utmost promptitude, it was found impossible
for him to arrive in England in time to take
any share in the northern expedition. That
expedition was accordingly dispatched under
other commanders, whose able and successful
conduct is well known; and General Villettes
was, soon after his arrival, appointed to a situ
ation still more honourable, but eventually
fatal to him.
It was in the month of September 1807, that
this valuable officer, now a lieutenant-general,
returned to England, a country in which he
had passed so small a portion of his life, as to
be much less known in it than his worth de-
' served. It was also a country which he was
now to visit for the last time. His reception
from his superiors, and from his friends, was
such as was justly due to his services and his
merit. He was soon after appointed colonel of
the6'4th regiment of infantry; and his talents
Were not suffered to remain long unemployed.

[ 13 ]
A proper person was wanted to be com
mander of the forces, and lieutenant-governor
of Jamaica. Many circumstances in the situ
ation of that island rendered it necessary to be
particularly careful in the appointment of a
general officer suited to that important trust.
General Villettes was selected for this purpose;
aud it would perhaps have been difficult to
have found a man more capable of fulfilling
the duties of the station to the satisfaction of
government, and for the benefit of the colony.
He was accordingly appointed lieutenant-
governor and commander of the forces in
Jamaica, with the rank of a general in that
island, in the latter end of the year 1807.
Highly honourable as this appointment was,
General Villettes would willingly have declined
it. His constitution, which was never very
strong, had been much impaired by bilious
complaints; and having been absent from
England during almost the whole of the last
fourteen years; he would gladly have remained
some time in this country. The last day before
he embarked at Spithead was spent at St^
Boniface in the Isle of Wight, at the house of
the earliest friend of his youth ; to whom, in1
confidential conversation, he expressed his
belief, that the climate of Jamaica would be
fatal to him ; " but," he added, " I Would not

[ 14 1
" object to going there on that account; for if
" I were ordered to* march up to a battery, I
" should do it, though I might be of opinion
" that I should be killed before my troops
" could carry it; and, in like manner, I think
"I ought not to hesitate as to Jamaica, if his
" Majesty's service requires it, though I may
" be of opinion that 1 shall fall a victim to the
" climate."<
But little is known in England of what hap
pened in Jamaica during the short period that
General Villettes lived after his arrival in that
island. It is, however, well known, that his
amiable disposition, and that firm but con
ciliatory conduct which always formed so re
markable a part of his character, soon engaged
the confidence and esteem of the -whole
community. In the month of July, he undertook a military
tour of inspection through the island. Neither
the state of his health, which was not very
good, nor the weather, which was unfavourable,
could induce him to postpone doing what he
considered to be his duty.
General Villettes left Kingston on the Sd
pf July, and proceeded as far as Port Antonio,
where he inspected some of the troops. He
set out from thence on the llth, to go to Buff
Bay, in the parish of St. George, to inspect a

[ 15 ]
battalion of the 60th, which was stationed
there; but in this journey he was seized with a
fever, which, on the third day, put a fatal period
to his existence. He died on the 13th of July,
at Mrs. Brown's estate, named Union ; retain
ing in his last moments the same serenity of
mind for which his whole life bad been so re
markably distinguished.
The regret expressed on this occasion by all
descriptions of persons in Jamaica far ex
ceeded what could have been supposed possible,
Avhen the short period that General Villettes
had resided among them is taken into con
sideration. His body was interred near
Kingston, in the parish of Half- Way Tree, in
which he resided. The funeral was attended
by the Duke of Manchester, (the governor of
the island,) as chief mourner, and was con
ducted with all the military honours so justly
due to the rank and merit of the deceased.
To say much of the character of General
Villettes would here be superfluous. It may,
in somedegree, be learned from the foregoing
sketch of his life. His many amjable qualities
are already Avell known to those who knew him;
and by such as did not enjoy that pleasure, the
enumeration of them would be suspected to
proceed from flattery. One circumstance alone
shall be a little enlarged upon, as conveying an

[ 16 ]
useful lesson — >an example worthy of imitation
Few men have possessed, in a degree superior
to General Villettes, the talent of acquiring the
good-will of almost all, the ill-will of scarce
any who knew him. The chief reason was,
that he felt good-will towards all, and his con
duct was suitable to his feelings. His friend
ship, though by no means restricted to a few,
was far from being indiscriminate; but any
person who once really enjoyed it, was sure
that it would never be withdrawn. The first
connexion of this nature that he ever formed,
was with a school- fellow of his own age,* who
was afterwards his fellow student at the uni
versity. This was followed by an uninter
rupted confidential correspondence during
forty years. Their intimacy in that Avhole
period never once experienced the smallest
abatement or interruption, but went on, con
stantly strengthened and matured as life ad
vanced, and could only be terminated by death.
On his entrance iuto the military profession,
General Villettes' first intimacy was with a
contemporary officerf in the tenth regiment of
dragoons, (now a much-esteemed lieutenant-
general,) and that friendship, like the former,
continued constant to the last moment. When
* Thomas Bowdler, efq; of St. Boniface, in the Isle of Wight.
J Lieut-General W. Cartwright, Equerry to his Majesty.

[ I* ]
the death of his parents put General Vil
lettes in possession of some property, he con
sidered the friends of his family as his own
friends ; and the management of his pecuniary
concerns was ever after intrusted to a very
respeftable gentleman,* at the head of one of
the first foreign houses in the city.
The dean and chapter of Westminster, at the
request of the three friends above mentioned,
consented that a monument should be placed in
Westminster Abbey to the memory of this much-
lamented officer. It was accordingly soon
afterwards eredted, and may be seen in the same
chapel with the much-admired Nightingale
tomb, close to the monument of the General's
late friend, the Hon. Sir Charles Stuart.
The inscription is as follows :
"Sacred to the memory of Lieut.-General William-
" Anne Villettes, second son of Arthur Villettes, esq;
" his late Majesty's Minister Plenipotentiary at the
" Court of Turin, and to the Helvetic Cantons, who^
" during a period of thirty-three years, rendered es-
" sential service to his country, at Toulon, in Corsica,
" at Malta, and in many other places. In consideration
" of these services, he was appointed Colonel of the
" 64th regiment of infantry, and Lieut.-Governor and
" Commander ofthe Forces in Jamaica ; but while en-
" gaged in a tour of military inspection in that Island,
" he was seized with a fever, and died near Port Antonio,
i
* James Cazenove, esq; of Old Broad-street, London.
c

[ 18 1
" on the 13th of July, 1808, aged 54 years. A worthy
" member of society was thus taken from the public ;
" a valuable Officer was lost to the king's service; and
" the island of Jamaica was deprived of a man well
" calculated to promote its happiness and prosperity.
" His residence there was indeed short, yet his manly
*' but mild virtues, his dignified but affable deport-
" ment, and his firm but conciliating conduct, had
" secured him the confidence and esteem of the whole
" community— " The sculptur'd marble shall dissolve in dust,
" And fame, and wealth, and honours, pass away ;
" Not so the triumphs of the good and just,
" Not such the glories of eternal day."
On the black marble, which relieves the
monument from the wall, are these lines,
" Amicitis superstiti sacrum voluerunt."
" W. Cartwright, J. Cazenove, T. Bowdler."
Westmacot sculpsit.
We shall close our remarks concerning this
truly respectable officer, with observing, that
his two brothers having died unmarried, the
male line of this very ancient family, and of
course the name of Villettes, is now become
extinct. The General's property, which was
not very considerable, descends to his only
sister, a lady of great merit, who has been
many years married, and settled at Geneva,*
* Miss Villettes, after her father's death, accompanied her mother
to Geneva, where she was married to Albert Turrettini, a gentle.

[ 19 ]
The management of it was intrusted to the
friends of his earliest years, and his will, like
every other part of his conduct through life,
manifested that kind attention to all who were
connected with him, from the highest to the
lowest, which was expressive of the good heart
and considerate mind, ofthe testator.
man of that city, by whom she had two sons, viz. Charles, who
is now the only representative of the family, and Albert, who en
tered ^nto the British service, and was aid-de-camp to his late
uncle in Jamaica, where he died of the same fatal fever two days
after the decease ofthe General.
An elegant monument to the memory of General' Villettes was
sent to Jamaica, as soon as the monument in Westminster Abbey
was compleated ; Mr. Westnjacott was again employed as the
sculptor. The epitaph, with a few alterations suited to the change
of situation, is the same as the former ; but below the monument of
the General is placed a tablet with the following inscription to
the memory of his Nephew.
'" In memory of Captain Albert Turrettini, second son of Albert
" Turrettini, esq; and Mary his wife, the sister of General Villettes
" This amiable young officer was aid-de-camp to his worthy
" uncle, and promised to be, the heir of his virtues; but a fever
" similar to that which deprived Jamaica ofthe excellent Com-
" mander ofthe Forces, put a period also to the life of his affec-
" tionate nephew. He expired two days after the death of Gen.
" Villettes, and was buried at Port Antonio, July 15 th, 1808.
" Aged *4 years."
General Villettes was esteemed and beloved in every place jn
proportion as he was known. The inhabitants of Malta, where he
was six years commander of the forces, were gratified by having
a handsome memorial of him sent by his sister to that island.

C 2

[ 20 1

POSTSCRIPT. January, 1815.
Mr. Charles Turrettini, the only surviving
nephew, and worthy successor of General
Villettes, was married, in the year 1807, to
Mademoiselle Necker of Geneva. The ami
able sister and brother-in-law of the General,
the parents of the deceased Albert Turrettini,
have, since his death, had the consolation of
seeing four grandchildren, whose birth affords:
a prospecl of the continuance of the two re
spectable families of Villettes and Turrettini,
from which they are descended.
His saltern accumulem donis, et fungar inani
Munere.

The following Letters were written in the course
of a Journey to Geneva, undertaken in per
formance of the last duty of an Executor to
the Sister and Family of a deceased Friend.
They are now collected and published, to pro
mote a Charitable Object in Swansea.

I pray you in your letters,
* * * * *

Speak of me as I am, nothing extenuate,
Sot set down aught in malice.

Letters written in the course of a Journey
through France to Geneva.

LETTER I.

To  , Swansea.

S i u, Paris, July ' 1 0, 1 8 1 4.
T 71 THEN three years have passed in plea-
* * sing tranquillity, without 'the occur
rence of any circumstance calculated to
diminish the happiness which results from
serenity and peace, a grateful mind is led in
the first instance to look up to the Giver of all
good, and in a secondary light to turn the
thoughts to the persons to whom such enjoy
ments are principally owing. These reflections
might indeed at any time be entertained with
propriety ; but how forcibly must they be
impressed on the mind ©f a person who con
templates the state of misery and tumult in

[.24 ]
which a considerable part of the human race
has during that period been involved. When
I viewed this morning the cannon-balls still
fixed in the walls of houses in Pantin and Ro-
mainville, I could not help looking back' with'
grateful feelings to the undisturbed tranquillity
of the Bay of Swansea.
Soon after I left Calais, I was struck with the
melody of an Italian air, sung by some poor
men walking before me ; it was a revolutionary
song; the men were Italian prisoners returning
from England, and I found by their conver
sation that their sentiments were similar to
those of the Frenchmen who were lately em
barked at Swansea. As I had left my carriage
a little way behind me, and was on horseback,
I accompanied them for some time, and the
soldiers seeing me alone, and finding that I
spoke Italian, conversed very freely. They
did not appear to care about the re-establish
ment of their own government, (they were
Venetians,) but they spoke of Bonaparte as a
great conqueror, and seemed full of the idea
of his having intended to make Italy a kingdom
of some importance among the powers of the
continent. I believe, not only from the con
versation of these men, but from many other
circumstances, that the .late Emperor took
great pains, to impress similar notions in the

[ 25 ]
minds of the Italian soldiers, in order to
attach them to his government.
At Abbeville, I spent part ofthe evening with
a French gentleman, who in many respe&s
appeared to be well informed, and a man of a
liberal mind, but I found with regret that he had
adopted an opinion concerning the Slave Trade,
which I fear is too general in France. He at
tacked me very strongly on that subject, urging
it as a proof of insincerity on the part of Great-
Britain. " We affected the praise of liberality
. V in restoring her colonies to France, but we
" meant to deprive her of the means of deriv-
" ing any advantage from them." It was in vain
that I spoke to him ofhumanity ; that I told him
I was present when Mr. Wilberforce fir"st in
troduced the subject in the House of Commons;
that I had paid unremitting attention to the
progress ofthe business during the many years
which elapsed before the passing of the Abo
lition Act. 1 assured him, that if there was
any one point on which I could take upon
myself to speak with perfect confidence, it was,
that my countrymen, from the time that they
were fully apprized ofthe nature of the trade,
and the great evils which result from it, had
with the most perfect sincerity, and from mo
tives of the purest humanity, been desirous of
seeing it abolished by every nation in the world.

[ 26 ]
All this produced no effect on my companion.
Our debate was carried on in civil and friendly
terms, but his behaviour plainly shewed, that
he was ever ready to interrupt me, and say,
" do you Englishmen suppose that we are so
" weak as to be the dupes of such hypocritical
" language?"*
The next morning I was waked at an
early hour with martial music, and saw a
regiment of English dragoons ; it was the 18th
regiment returning from Toulouse, and going
to embark at Boulogne. The appearance of
the men and horses was extremely good, better
indeed than could have been expected after
such service, and such a journey. They ex
pressed themselves well satisfied with the treat
ment which they experienced in France from
all persons except returning prisoners, many
of whom behaved with insolence. It has given
me pleasure to hear from all the French with
whom I have conversed, that the conduct of
our troops in France has been as good in peace,
as we know it to have been in war. I parted
from those brave fellows with a hearty wish that
they may enjoy in their own countiy the
* During the whole.of my journey both in going to Geneva,
and in returning from it, I never met with one Frenchman who
expressed himself on the subject, of the Slave Trade, in a different
manner from the gentleman with whom I conversed at Abbeville.

[ 27 J
laurels and the gratitude to which their bravery
and their success have entitled them.
Proceeding through Picardy, I was struck
with the apparent high state of cultivation o*
the country, and the prospect of an abundant
harvest, though this province is not one of the
finest in France. The last harvest was very
good; and the present prospect is such, that
bread is little more than a penny a pound*
Let it not, however, be supposed that all things
are proportionably cheap in this country; some
articles of food, and many of other kinds, are
much dearer in France than in England. My
method of travelling gave me an opportunity of
acquiring more information of the sentiments
of the country people than a person who travels
post can possibly obtain. I frequently quitted
my carriage, and proceeding with no other
company than my horse, entered into con
versation with the labourers in the field, and
tlie cottagers in the villages. One sentiment
appeared universal, namely, joy at being no
longer subject to the Conscription ; the rigour
of which was such, that it would be difficult to
describe it in terms adequate to the distress
which it occasioned. Boys of sixteen were
torn from their parents; and I was informed
that no less a sum than 2001. sterling was paid

[ 28 ]
for a substitute, by persons who were just able
to raise the money.
At Chantilly I saw the spot where the fine
palace of the Prince of Conde once stood, of
which little was left by revolutionary fury,
except the stables. The Prince has not yet
been there, but his return appears to be ear
nestly and very generally desired.
The Church of St. Denis was another object
calculated to excite serious reflections. The
sepulchres of the dead were violated, as well as
the palaces ofthe living. All the coffins ofthe.
kings of France were taken from the royal
vaults, and burned near the church, in a spot
where a little garden has since been made.
St. i Denis, however, is now going to be re
paired; and if I may judge from what is already
done, it will be a magnificent church, but very
different from what it formerly was.
At no great distance from Paris, 1 saw a
regiment of French cuirassiers, who were just
returned from Hamburgh. Their polished-steel
breast-plates, which weighed ^2 lbs., their hel
mets, the horse-hair hanging from the helmet,
and the armour for the back, altogether gave
them a very martial appearance; not very un
like the pictures of our ancestors, which we
still see in their family mansions. The lan-
o-ua£re of these cuirassiers was somewhat

[ 29 J
guarded, but in general it was pretty much
what might be expected from those troops who
had formed the garrison of Hamburgh, a city
where the events which have taken place, are
too well known to stand in need of any com
ment or recital.
With every good wish to you, your town,
and all in its vicinity, I remain your's, &c.

P. S. I shall at present say nothing of this
place, except that I have seen here, in good
health, and good spirits, a gentleman, who
during a residence of many years in or near
Swansea, deserved and acquired the goodwill
and esteem of all who knew him ; I scarcely
need say that his name is Sejan.

[ 30 ]

LETTER II.

Paris, July 18/A, 1814.
I Have employed this day in examining the
scene of action of the 30th of March. If a
traveller is desirous of acquiring a perfedt
knowledge of that ever-memorable day, I
would advise him, in the first place, to go to a
windmill at the east end of Montmartre, from
whence he will have an excellent bird's-eye
view of the greater part of the field of battle.
At this place let him read the account which is
given in the London Gazette of April 6th. He
should then descend the hill, and crossing the
Canal de L'Ourque, proceed to the village of
Pantin. Here the marks of the engagement
are indeed manifest in the appearance of the
half-ruined houses, and the cannon-balls still
remaining fixed in many of the walls ; others
I saw lying in different rooms, being left in
the places in which they fell. The possession
of this village was obstinately contested, and it
was at last carried at the point of the bayonet.
From Pantin the traveller should proceed a
little way along the high road to Bondy, and
then turning to the right should ascend the
Heights of Romainvilie. Here he will not

[ 31 ]
stand in need of instruction to follow the
course of the battle. Its progress through the
village is marked in characters which can-
not be mistaken. The villa of General
Valence should next be visited : here were
the head-quarters of the Allied Sovereigns
during part of the day. Not far off is a little
Inn, just beyond the plantations, where I
dined : this was the scene of the hottest part
of the engagement. I found the people at this
place very intelligent, and more dispassionate
than I could have expected, considering that
the house was so pierced with cannon shot, as
to have been nearly beat down, and almost every
thing belonging to them entirely destroyed.
Just by is a mound of earth which covers a
great number of dead bodies that were buried
in a pit under it. The traveller will now find
himself on a woody hill, which reaches from
Romainvilie to Belleville. Through the plan
tations which almost cover this hill, the allies
forced their way at the expence of much blood.
Proceeding towards Belleville, a road goes off.
to the right hand, and descends to St Gervais.
It would be worth while to take that road,
and examine that village, and then, returning
in the same manner, proceed to Belleville.
Here you may have a good view towards Vin
cennes, and going quite through Belleville,

[ 32 J
you come very soon to the Buttes de Chaumont,
which command the whole of that part of the
field of battle, which is not visible from the
windmill of Montmartre. At this place the
ridge of the hill on which the French were en
trenched, from Romainvilie to Belleville, ter
minates abruptly. Paris is here seen imme
diately below you, and a very short time would
be sufficient to go from the bottom ofthe Buttes
de Chaumont to the Barrier which leads
to the Temple. I shall not attempt to describe
the battle, or add any thing to the account
which is given in the Gazette. The advantage
in numbers was on the side of the Allies, in
situation on that ofthe French. The troops
on both sides are said to have fought with
equal courage, but the persevering energy of
the Allies overcame all obstacles, though at the
expense of much bloodshed in the contest.
The French were finally driven from all the
positions which they occupied on the outside
of the Boulevards of Paris, and that city was
at the mercy of the Allied Princes. The event
which followed is I believe without a parallel
in historv.
The rich capital of a great and opulent
nation, was now taken by force, without ca
pitulation for its safety, nothing having been
said respecting it, but that it was recommended

•( 33 ]
to the generosity of the Allies. This town wa>s
not burnt, was not destroyed; was riot plun
dered; the inhabitants as well as the city
suffered no injury; but as the French them
selves acknowledge, derived advantage, instead
of prejudice, from the entry of the allied army.
Let it at the same time be considered', that this
army was composed of troops of three nations ;
that Russians might say, our capital, Moscow,
was burnt in consequence of your unjust in
vasion. Austrians and Prussians might say,
our capitals were plundered by you ; wherever
your arms prevailed, rapine and' pillage eqtfaWy
prevailed. Notwithstanding all this, .Paris^and
its inhabitants remained inviolate. The sup
plies which were furnished to the foreign trctopfi
were honourably paid for, the valuable monu
ments of the fine arts-, which had been ii$-
gracefully stolen by the French from oppressed
Italy, were not taken away ; nothing; as f&t as
I can learn, was ca*rried from Paris, but a sta-tue
of Napoleon, which he had placed on the top
of a fac simile of Trajan's pillar in the Place
Venddme. This statue was ordered by the
Emperor Alexander to be sent tfr Peters-burgh.
Champagne and other parts' of France which
were the seat of war suffered*, as I am told; very
considerably, and perhaps unavoidably; and
the cannon-balls which I saw sticking in the

C 34 j
walls, the broken windows, and still unrepaired
houses in Pantin and Romainvilie, gave me
ocular proof of the .state of villages taken by
force after an obstinate resistance.
... Paris, on the contrary, suffered no loss, but
was actually a gainer by the entrance of the
allied forces; the increased value both of the
luxuries and the necessaries of life, enriching all
those who had any thing to dispose of. The
price of lodgings, of food, of raiment, I might
almost say of every thing, was immediately
raised to such an amount as would scarcely be
credited, if I were to mention it.
Another reflection occurred to me when I
viewed the Canal de L'Ourque, which I can
not help mentioning as being rather of a
singular nature. This canal is one of many
great works undertaken by Bonaparte to em
bellish and improve Paris. It supplies the
town with wholesome water, of which few
cities stood so much in need; and the fountains
in different streets and squares add as much to
its beauty, as to its convenience. But when
this noble work was undertaken, who could
have imagined that one advantage to be de
rived from it would be the impeding the ap
proach of a Russian army. I remain, your's, &c

[ 35 ]

LETTER III.
Gibbeville, July 22.
TT would be idle to attempt a description of
-*- Paris in this letter; it may be found in many
publications; I shall confine myself to a few
observations. The general appearance of the
city is greatly improved; the bridges, the
quays, the fountains, &c. attest the attention
which was paid by Bonaparte to whatever could
be gratifying to the inhabitants of the capital.
On the other hand, the population of Paris has
been greatly diminished, 70,000 men are stated
to have been furnished to the French armies
by this city; and the number of its inhabitants
is said to be reduced to less than 600,000. The
diminution was not sensible to my superficial
view of the streets, but it is universally allowed
that Paris has lost a tenth of its population. I
mentioned iu a former letter, that in distant
parts of France 2001. sterling was paid for a
substitute during the conscription. I saw per
sons in Paris who had paid 4001. and I heard of
d 2

[ 30 j
persons who were said to have paid double
that sum.
I was twice at the Comedie Francoises the
house was full, but the appearance of the com
pany, particularly the women, was the reverse of
elegant or genteel. A cautious silence seemed
to be observed by the audience on all subjects
that had apolitical allusion. I observed but two
exceptions. A slight applause was given to the
Duke of Berri, when he entered the theatre;
and some clapping and laughing took place,
when an actor in the farce said, I love soldiers,
we never had so great need of them. None oi
the Royal Family were visible, while I was at
Paris, but the Duke of Berri; the King being
ill at the Thuilleries, and Monsieur at St. Cloud;
the Duke d' Angouleme, was in the western pro
vinces, and the Duchess in bad health at Vichy.
The meetings of the Senate are not
open to any persons. I was present at one
assembly of the Corps Legislatif ; the room is
handsome; and the dress of the members (blue
! embroidered with gold) has a good effect.
The debate was not very interesting; the
speakers were numerous, but the speeches not
long-, nor very striking.
I went to view the ruins of the Temple before
I left Paris. I say the ruins, for Bonaparte,
'some yeare since,- ordered all that part of the

[ 37 ]
building to be pulled down in which the Royal
Family had been confined. A model of the
towers remains, and that is sufficient to give
some idea1 of the misery of their situation.
Mafmaison, where Jdsephine lived and died,
is a good house, elegantly furnished, in a low,
dull situation, abbut five miles from Paris. Her
servants, and indeed every body iri the neigh
bourhood, spoke of her with great affection
and regret. Her conduct in private life, and
her charities to the poor, have, I believe, bfcen
for S6me years past very commendable.
Versailles has gone mucti to decay. I should
haveJ gone fb see it, but I understand that it
is now full of workmen, and undergoing a
thorough repair.
It would, perhaps, be unpardonable, if I
were to quit Paris without Saying any thing of
the" Museum. It is, undoubtedly, the finest
collection in the world; yet I confess that I
have felt? more pleasure in viewing those
noblest rnonurriertts of sculpture and painting
at? Rdme, than I now experienced at Paris,
The Apbllb and7 the Laoccori were seen to more
advantage in the VaticSan than in the Louvre.
The Transfiguration has been so damaged, so
restored, a^id so varnished, that I scarcely could
have known it to be the same picture which I
have so oftenVviewed with admiration at Rome,

[ 38 ]
and the same may be said of many other chef
d ceuvres of the greatest masters. I must, how
ever, acknowledge, that on this subject I am
not an unprejudiced person, for in viewing the
Museum at Paris, rich with the spoils of de
fenceless Rome, I never can banish from my
mind the idea of the shop of a Jew broker,
filled with the watches and jewels which have
been plundered from unoffending travellers on
Hounslow or on Bagshot heaths.
I cannot quit this subject without adding
that as I have long been a most enthusiastic
admirer of Raphael, I deeply lament the injury
which has been done to the Transfiguration,
and the Madona della Sedia, on account of
the injury which will result from it to the fame
of the first of painters. Let a few years pass,
and no one will remain who has seen those
inimitable works in their original beauty. The
next generation will form their judgment from
what they see in the Louvre, and contemplating
the Ti'ansfiguration in its present disfigured
state, will suppose the merit ofthe artist to have
been far inferior to what they would certainly
have esteemed it, if they could have, seen this
master-piece of painting in the, state in which
it was long seen in St. Pietro di Montorio. I
would recommend the stranger who wishes to
become acquainted with Raphael, from, the

[¦' 39 ]
pictures in the Louvre, to fix his attention on
the Cecilia from Bologna. I remain, your's, &c.
P. S. July 23. If any of my countrymen,
disgusted with the reception which they ex
perience at Paris, and, in other places in
France, suppose that friendly unaffected hospi
tality is no where to be found, I wpuld advise
them to endeavour to procure an introduction
to the Villa in which I am now writing.

[ 40

LETTER IV.

Fontmnekleflu J#ly 23, 1814.
T Resolved to give one day to Foutainebleau,
-*- where the last days of the Emperor of
France were spent, The town is small, in a
low situation, surrounded by an extensive
forest, which rendered it a favourite hunting:
seat of the Kings of France. The palace is
large and very old; part of it is of the time of
Francis the First, and one tower is said to be as
old as St. Lewis. The principal apartments
were, within these few years, fitted up by Bo
naparte in a style of magnificence superior to
most palaces in Europe; the Hall of Audience,
the Council Chamber, the dining-room, and
the bedchambers of the Emperor and the Em
press, are covered with a profusion of gilding,
which astonishes, but does not please, the eye
of an Englishman. At this place Bonaparte
arrived on the 30th of March, hastening to the
defence of Paris, which his ill-judged march
to the eastward had left exposed to the Allies.
He proceeded forward with four of his principal
officers with the utmost expedition, and from

[ 41 ]
the best information that I can obtain, he was
within four leagues of Paris about two hours
after the Russians entered the town. If the
place had still held out, I believe there is no
doubt that his intention was to enter it, and
to defend it, if possible, till the next day, when
his army from Fontainebleau would have joined
him ; and if that had taken place, he would
probably have risked the destruction of Paris,.
and have pushed every thing to the last ex
tremity. Disappointed in this hope, he returned
to Corbeil, about half- Way between the capital
and Fontainebleau; and finding by the next
advices that there was no hope of recovering
Paris, he went back to his army. It is not
easy to know exactly what the number of his
troops might at that time amount to ; it is
generally said to have been between 60 and
70, 00(>. The soldiers are supposed ¦ to have
been ready to follow him, but his officers, and
particularly the general officers, had lost much
of the confidence which they once placed in
him; they considered his situation as being
quite desperate, and refused to undertake any
thing more against the Allies. From this time
Bonaparte appears to have been as totally
depressed in spirits as he was m fortune. He
remained at Fontainebleau till the 20th of April;
but during that time he seldom went out of

[ 42- ]
the palace. His attempts to secure the empire
to his son, and his other negociations, were on
his part feeble, and ill conducted. He pro
longed his stay at Fontainebleau as much as
possible, deferring his departure under various
pretences; but at last he found it necessary to
begin his journey. Till that day nothing worth
notice took place; but every person that I spoke
to assured me, that at his departure his beha
viour was in the highest degree affecting. He
addressed the troops with great feeling, but
not without dignity; he thanked them for their
exertions and their fidelity; wished that he
could embrace every one of them, but as that
was impossible, he would embrace the com
manding officer, and the eagle. Great part of
the assembly were in tears, and the eyes of
Bonaparte were not free from them. Since his
departure, his picture, and various inscriptions
and emblematical ornaments, have been re
moved from the palace, the gardens, and the
adjoining buildings; but two golden eagles in
the magnificent entrance to the court of the
palace still remain; perhaps they will not re
main many hours longer.
On Monday a grand entertainment is to be
given by the Duke de Berri. In the principal
avenue to the palace great preparations are
making on this account; arches of triumph,

o

L 43 3
with white flags, fleurs de lis, and all the orna
ments of flowers and foliage, with suitable
inscriptions, are preparing on every side but
though all the troops, and I might almost say, all
Fontainebleau is to partake of feasting and
dancing, there is yet a gloom in the place,
which I think cannot be mistaken. I am not
a disciple of Lavater, but I think that no person
of the smallest discernment can find it difficult
to distinguish between real and affected hap
piness. No person who travelled through
Picardy as 1 have done, could possibly doubt of
the sincerity of the joy with which the peasants'
expressed themselves at being released from
the conscription ; and I confess that I feel
equally convinced of the sentiments ofthe in
habitants of Fontainebleau in general, and the
military in particular, being widely different.
The Pope was a prisoner in this palace
during 20 months. He was lodged in the
apartments which the King used to occupy
when he was Monsieur; thev are handsome, but
nothing more. His Holiness never went out,
nor received company. I remain, your's, &c.
P. S. The inn at this place is as expensive
as the very best inns near our own metropolis.

[ 4-4 ]

LEfTER V.

Poligny, July 30, 18 J 4.
T Have employed seven days in Coming from
-*¦ Fontainebleau to this place, a distance of
about 220 miles, travelling slowly, and en
deavouring to acquire the best information
respecting the state of the country through'
which I passed, and the sentiments of its in
habitants. No signs of war, or of the march
of armies, were visible, in the fields, for they
were every where covered with vines, and with
luxuriant crops of all kinds of grain ; btrt in
several villages and hamlets which had been the
scenes of different engagements, Some ruined
buildings were still unrepaired; and I observed
many gentlemen's houses near the high road,
which had evidently been plundered, andnot'
yet restored to their former condition. I
crossed several rivers on planks, laid to form a
temporary communication where the bridges
liad been broken down by the French to
ofetmct' the marcri of the allied armies. Of

[ 45 J
the field of battle at Montereau I had an ex
ceeding good view, and a well-contested en
gagement it certainly was. As I proceeded
further I quitted the country which had been
the seat of war, but I heard accounts in every
place of the march and behaviour ofthe Aus
trian and French troops. The Russians and
Prussians were not in this part of France. In
general the inhabitants, both of the towns and
ofthe country villages, acknowledged that they
suffered less from the soldiers than might have
been expected. They ate and drank, and took
for themselves and their horses whatever they
wanted, without paying for any thing; but
this was all that was complained of. I scarcely
heard of any instances of pillage, cruelty;
or the wanton destruction of property; and I
think it was every where confessed, that the
French troops did more harm than the Austrians.
Many fine churches and large buildings ad
joining (formerly monasteries or convents) are
to be seen in ruins in various parts of France;
but these are the remains of revolutionary
fury, not the consequences of the late war.
My slow method of travelling, sometimes in
my carriage, and sometimes on my horse, gave
me an cpportunity of seeing a good deal ofthe
country, and conversing asmuch as I pleased
with the inhabitants. I could allow the car-

[ 46 ]
riage to go forwards while I chatted with a
peasant in the fields ; or I could ride forwards
and converse with, the owners of a cottage, or
a cabaret, till the carriage rejoined me. I have
seldom seen a country in a' higher state of cul
tivation, than the part of France through which
I travelled in coming from Paris to this place'.
The crops of grain of all kinds, now nearly
ripe, had indeed a most luxuriant aspect. The
last harvest was very abundant, and the ap
proaching harvest promises to be equally so.
The consequence is, that notwithstanding the
increased consumption, occasioned by the
foreign armies; notwithstanding the waste of
provisions, inseparable from a state of war;
and notwithstanding the season of the year,
when the quantity of old corn in the country
may naturally be supposed to be the least
abundant; France is at this moment amply
supplied with all kinds of grain, the price of
which is of course very reasonable, and not
such as a bill at an inn at Fontainebleau misrht
psad one to imagine. I saw the harvest of rye
beginning in Burgundy on the 26th of July,
and the barley harvest in Franche Compte on
the 29th; the wheat harvest was to commence
in a few days. The reapers were almost all of
the female sex ; and the reap-hook, not the
scythe, was used for the barley as well as for

[ 47 '-]
the other kinds of grain! t Hemp and flax looked
well; and in Franche Compte I saw some Indian
corn, which made almost, but not quite, as fine
an appearance as in the plains of Lombardy.
The prospect; of a good vintage was not equal
to that of the harvest; but the fine weather in.
July had rendered the state of the vines more
promising than it was at Midsummer.
As far as I could judge of the sentiments of
the peasants, and in general of the lower class
of persons in this part of France, I should say
that they care but little whether they have a
King or an Emperor, whether he is Louis or
Napoleon ; but they all wish to be free from the
conscription. Of the military and the return
ing prisoners, I believe it may generally be
said, that they love war, and would be glad to
see it renewed ; and I believe it may be asserted
of almost all Frenchmen who think at all, that
they feel their national pride and vanity (of
both they possess a large share) deeply wounded
at the manner in which this lone; war was
brought to a close; and they cannot endure the
idea of submitting quietly and permanently to
a peace, which deprives France' of all those con
quests, of which the acquisition had cost so
much blood, and the possession had added so
greatly to the power and influence of a nation,
which aspired at nothing less than universal

[ 48 ]
dominion. Perhaps the pang of disappointed
ambition has been felt the more deeply, because
the wound has been inflicted by a rival, the
destruction of whose power has loug been the
great object of the wishes and exertions of
th§ French nation. This object, notwithstand
ing the friendly disposition of the French king,
will, I believe, long continue in the breast of
the greater part of his subjects. They all are
sensible that the Duke of Wellington's victories
encouraged the Allies to attempt, and the sub
sidies of England enabled them to perform,
what would otherwise never have been at
tempted, or if attempted would never have
-fee^n; completely successful. I remain, your's, &c.

[ 49 ]

LETTER VI.

Geneva, August 12, 1814.
AT Poligny I quitted the fertile plain of
Franche Coihpt6, and entered the moun
tainous tract Of the Jura, which continues
almost to the territory of Geneva, a distance of
about seventy miles. At the first-mentioned
place I was struck with the frequent appear
ance of tumours in the throat, which in the
language of this country are called goitres,
a word which we have pretty generally adopted
in English. Several of those which I saw at
Poligny, were as large as oranges, but not so
large as some which I have frequently seen in
the Valais. Like the latter, they occasion no
pain, and but little inconvenience; and the
deformity is not much attended to. The oc
casion of them does not seem to be thoroughly
ascertained; I have seen them in Hungary, at
the foot of the Carpathian mountains, in the
vallies at the foot of the Alps, and under the
Jura at Poligny. The drinking snow-water has

[ 50 ]
been sometimes ascribed as the cause of the
disorder, but I think not satisfactorily ; for the
tumours are more frequent among those who
live at the bottom of the mountains, (of whose
drink the melted snow forms but a small part,)
than they are among the inhabitants of the
higher regions, whose chief supply of water is
of that description. I should rather suppose
that these swellings are owing to impurities
contracted by the water in running over some
particular kinds of soil with that violence Which
a mountain torrent acquires, before it arrives
at the end of its descent, and becomes a
tranquil stream. The Rhone, when it descends
from the Alps, and enters the lake of Geneva,
is muddy, like milk and water, and goitres
abound among those who drink it. All im
purities subside during its long course in this
beautiful lake; it issues from it clear as the
finest crystal, and no such tumours are to be
seen at Geneva.
The ascent of the Jura is steep and rugged,
the views are picturesque, as mountain scenery
almost always is ; but I do not think that this
is quite equal to many others. At Les Rousses,
a village near the highest part of the road, I
observed one circumstance, which would lead
me to hope that French infidelity had not
extended its baneful influence to the seques-

[ 51 ]
tered inhabitants ofthe mountains in the ex
tremity of the kingdom. In France I observed
that the number of the churches was much
diminished, and when I went into any of
them, I found them nearly empty, or I may
safely assert, very generally ill attended. At
Les Rousses, on a Sunday morning, 1 went into
the church, and found it crowded both with
men and women. The priest was delivering
a plain discourse upon sincerity, and the con
gregation appeared to listen with a good deal
of attention.
The descent of the Jura is the most striking
object of the kind that I ever beheld, though
I am told that the passage of the Simplon far
exceeds it. Instead of broken rocks and pre
cipices, among which it was absolutely im
possible for any carriage, and very difficult for
a mule, to pass, a most excellent road has been
made by Bonaparte, which is a work worthy
of Trajan or Augustus. An inscription on a
pillar commemorates the completion of this
stupendous and most useful undertaking.
I remain, your's, &c.
P. S. August 15. A very sensible and well*
informed friend, who left Paris a fortnight
after me, says that the state of the public mind
£ 3

[ 52 ]
in that city appeared to be gradually improving.
He adds, that if I had travelled tlirough Cham
pagne instead of Burgundy, I should have seen
far more striking effects of the ravages of war :
that he saw many towns much damaged, and
many villages and hamlets totally destroyed
and burnt to the ground.
Let us all feel duly grateful to God and our
country, that no such calamities have been
experienced in our happy island !
I have said nothing to you of the close of
my journey, or my arrival at Geneva, because
it would be impossible to do justice to the warm
expressions of friendship with which I was re
ceived at this place. The meeting of two
persons whose childhood and youth were spent
in the intercourse of sincere and uninterrupted
friendship, and who have been separated from
each other during thirty-five years, as far as
England is distant from Geneva, may be justly
felt, but cannot be easily described.

J 58 ]

LETTER VII.

Geneva, Sept. 10.
I Have this day visited Ferney, once the re
sidence of the celebrated Voltaire. The
village is between three and four miles from
Geneva, On the territory of France. At one end
of it is a small church, over the door of which
I remember to have seen, in 177.9, the following'
inscription, Deo erexit Voltaire. He was in the
habit of saying that many persons had built
churches to the honour ofthe Virgin, St. Peter,
&c. but that he was the only person who had
built one to the honour of God. In the vio
lent proceedings of the Revolutionists, the in
scription was removed, and the church was
shut up during several years. Divine service
is now performed in it as usual ; and I was told
that the inhabitants of Ferney have ordered
the old inscription to be engraved on a new
stone, which is to be placed as formerly over
the door. I have always considered that in
scription as one of many circumstances which

I 54 ]
prove that vanity was the ruling passion of
Voltaire ; I fear it is also a proof that truth was
not one of his ruling passions. The church
was not built to the honour of God, but to the
gratification of vanity. I would willingly write
under Voltaire's inscription the beautiful lines
of our own poet :
" Who builds a church to God, and not to Fame,
" Will ne'er inscribe the portal with his name."
The church has nothing remarkable in it.
On the outside is a tomb, which Voltaire
built with the intention of being buried in it;
but as he died at Paris his remains were not
brought to Ferney, but were deposited at Ses-
sieres, till they were removed by the Revolu^-
tionary Government, and conveyed with great
ceremony to the Pantheon at Paris.
At a short distance from the church is the
house, which is neither more nor less than a
good residence for a private gentleman ; it
stands in a pleasant situation, with a good
garden, but has nothing particular, either
in or near it, to distinguish it from the mul
titude of delightful villas with which the
neighbourhood of Geneva abounds. When
Voltaire died, his niece Madame Denys suc
ceeded to his property; and after her death,
Ferney was sold to one of the respectable

[ 55 ]
family of Bude, who now resides in the house.
The bedchamber in which Voltaire used to
sleep has been kept by those who have suc
ceeded him, in exactly the same state in which
he kept it in his life-time ; the bed and
bedding, the chairs and furniture, the pic
tures, prints, and in short, all things, are
precisely as he left them : but of course, have
now, at the expiration of thirty-five years,
a tarnished, or 1 may say a shabby, appearance,
which they had not when I saw them in 1 779. I
viewed the bedchamber very attentively ; it
contains a remarkable picture of the King qf
Prussia, which he gave to Voltaire; it is said to
be a striking likeness, and it certainly gives an
idea of a man of no ordinary description. Near
this picture is a piece of needle-work with a
profile ofthe Empress Catherine; it is much
faded, and is but a poor performance. His own
picture next attracted my notice : it is ex
tremely animated, and exactly resembles a
small print of Voltaire, which I recollect to
have seen near Swansea, in a collection of
French poets. The admirable lines of Juvenal
aTe written Under the print :
" Aude aliquid brevibus Gyaris aut carcere dignura,
f Si vis esse aliquis prcbitas laudatur et alget."

[ o6 ]
Near his own picture is an indifferent por
trait of his mistress La Marquise du Chatelet ;
and on the furniture of the bed, close to the
pillowj is a head in crayons ofthe celebrated
French Roscius. At the other end of the
room are prints of D'Alembert, Diderot, Hel
vetius, and other disciples and fellow labourers
with Voltaire in compiling the Encyclopedia,
aud endeavouring to undermine the principles
of tbe Christian religion. There are also,
persons of a different description — Racine,
Corneille, Newton, Franklin, Washington,
and, above all, I feel pleasure in mentioning
Galas. To describe Ferney would indeed be a
pleasing task, if it raised no reflections in the
mind but such as are suggested by Voltaire's
conduct in respect to that unfortunate family :
but the print and the story are so well known,
that it would be superfluous to say any thing
further on the subject.
Among the prints at this end of the room is
an allegorical drawing of a rather extraordinary
kind; Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, per
sonified by D'Alembert, the Empress Catherine!
Prince Oronooco, and Dr. Franklin, are com"
ing forward to adorn the tomb of Voltaire,
but are driven away by the demon Superstition.
The emblems are as extravagant as the idea.
The following lines are pn the tomb:

[ 57 ]
Dans ce triste et fatal tombeau
Repose l'ombre de Voltaire.
Pleurez Beaux Arts, vous n'avez plus de pere,
Et 1'Europe a perdu son flambeau.
The last thing to be described in the bed
chamber in an odd piece of masonry, on which
is placed a bust of Voltaire, and in which his.
heart, enclosed in a leaden box ornamented
with gold, was deposited at his death, being
brought to Ferney when his corpse was taken
to. Sessieres. The following inscription marks
its place: Son Esprit est partout, son Coeur est ici.
Above the whole are these lines: —
Mes Manes sont consoles,
Puisque mon Coeur est au milieu de vous.
I was^ however, informed, by the servant
who shews the house, that Voltaire's heart is
no longer at Ferney, though the ornamental
building which contained it still remains in his
bedchamber. She said, that she saw the
leaden box taken out, when the house was to
be sold, and she was informed that it was then
sent to Paris ; and is now placed with his body
in the Pantheon. I have, perhaps, entered
more minutely than was necessary into the
description of Voltaire's apartment, but I hope
I may be able to offer some useful observations

[ 58 ]
which were suggested to my mind when I
viewed it attentively. I begin with his bed ;
let me call it his death-bed.
I well remember when I was at Paris, in the
year 1779, not long after Voltaire's death, I
heard such an account of the close of his life,
and the terror with which he viewed his ap
proaching fate, as filled my youthful mind
with most serious reflections. I felt at the
samextime the gratitude which I owed to Pro
vidence, for having blessed me with parents
who had taught me better principles than those
of Voltaire. I was, however, soon informed,
that there was no truth in the narrative which
I had heard ; and it was so generally and so
confidently asserted in Paris, and indeed every
where else, that Voltaire died as he lived, a
philosophe calme et eclaire, that 1 really believed
this to have been the case. We have, never
theless, been lately assured from the best au
thority, namely, the testimony of Dr. Tronchin,
the physician who attended him in his last
illness, that the close of Voltaire's life was at
tended with that apprehension of death, and all
those horrors, which I had heard described in
such terrific colours. The exact agreement of
the two accounts left but little doubt in my
mind of the truth of the fact, notwithstanding'
all the pains which were taken by his fellow

[ 59 ]
inhdels to conceal it. Since my arrival at
Geneva, I have been told by a very respectable
person in this place, Mr. Trembley, that he saw>
soon after Voltaire's death, a letter of Dr.
Tronchin's to my late excellent friend the ce
lebrated Mr. Bonnet, in which the Doctor gave
him a very minute detail of every circumstance
which fell under his observation respecting the
last days of this extraordinary man. The nar
rative was awful; his fear of death was so great,
the terror with which he viewed its approach
so dreadful, that more than once he seized the
hand of the physician, crying in an agony of
despair, " Faites moi vivre." But to prolong
his life was beyond the power of any physician.*
The effect which the sight of Voltaire's bed,
and the consideration of his last moments, now
produced on my mind, was perhaps heightened
by my having been employed, just before I
Went to Ferney, in reading to one of my ami
able countrywomen an Essay on the Duties
and Advantages of Sickness, which forms the
conclusion of the tenth edition of the writings
of the late Miss Bowdler. The author of those
Essays, in which the mild and genuine spirit of
Christianity is found unadulterated by any
* Mr. Trembley said that this letter is still preserved among
the papers of Monsieur Bonnet.

[ 60 ]

spark of enthusiasm, feeling her bodily strength
gradually sinking under. long continued pain
and sickness, contemplated her decease as no
distant object. After describing in most pa-
thetie language the conduct of a sincere chris
tian when oppressed with the severest sufferings-,
concludes with saying, " he may wait for the
" hour of death, not only without terror, but
" with a joyful, a triumphant hope; yet without
" impatience, since we may be certain that
" every additional day of suffering, if well
" used, andimproved to the greatest advantage,
" will contribute to increase our happiness
" hereafter. With the same filial submission
" and entire confidence with which we have
" resigned every day of our lives into the hands
" of our Creator, we shall resign the last; and
" all our transitory sufferings will be amply
" compensated by joy unspeakable and full of
" gl°ry-" 1 snaM not presume to hazard any
further reflections, or dwell any longer on a
comparison between the death of Voltaire and
the writer whom I have now quoted ; but I
cannot quit Ferney without offering some
observations on the inscription in the bed
chamber, Son Esprit est partout, son Cwur
est ici. A little ambiguity may perhaps arise
in the English reader, as to the word Esprit.
When we have spoken of the body, we often

t «1 ]
speak of the spirit or soul of a dead person
almost as synonimous words. In such a sense
it would not become me to say any thing of the
Esprit de Voltaire; but in that sense the writer
of the inscription never thought of using the
word; nor did he intend to confine his meaning
to the talents of Voltaire, for then he would
have used the word genie. Like the author
of VEsprit de la Ligue, cu de la Fronde, he
meant by Son Esprit, the spirit and tendency of
, his life, of his writings, his sentiments, and
those anti- christian opinions which he took
such great pains to disseminate every where.
Son Esprit may then be truly said to have
been partout. But though universally known,
and too well received on the continent in gene
ral, and in France in particular; yet let us thank
God that in our island very few have adopted
it. In France Son Esprit was almost univer
sally embraced, and in other countries on the
continent very generally so ; and what was the
consequence? It contributed, joined with
other causes, but itself one of the foremost,
to annihilate all religious and moral principles,
and to render France, during several years of
democratic anarchy, a scene of bloodshed and
of such horrid crimes, as it will require the
whole weight of historic evidence to make pos
terity believe. The same spirit too generally,

[ te j
though not universally, received in Other coun
tries, by destroying unanimity of sentiment and
integrity of principle, rendered them victims to
the unrestrained violence ofthe French nation;
and Europe for a long period became a prey
to those calariiities, which either in a greater or
less degree, were experienced in every part of
the continent. I cannot dismiss the consider
ation of this inscription without one more
observation. If Voltaire could now read, * ' Son
" Esprit est partout, son Cceur est ici," and
could speak his sentiments on the subject, may
I not be allowed to assert, that he would gladly
resign all the applause which was bestowed on
him in the theatre at Paris, all the flattery which
was offered to himself during his life, and to
his memory since his decease ; I say, that he
Avould gladly resign all these for the single ad
vantage of having son Esprit (I repeat, that
it means his sentiments and opinions) not
repandu partout, but closely buried, or (which
would have been still better) never entertained
in that heart which has been so ostentatiously
exhibited at Ferney. I shall close the whole
subject with applying to Voltaire the words im
agined by a poet to proceed from the tomb of
one, as wellknown on the theatre of the drama,
but happily not as well known on another
theatre, as the poet of Ferney.

[ 63 ]
The shouts of loud applause which thousands gave,
On me nor pride, nor pleasure, now bestow;
Like the chill blast that murmurs over my grave,
They pass away, — nor reach the dust below.
One virtuous deed, to all the world unknown,
Outweighs the highest bliss which these can give,
Can cheer the soul when youth and strength are flown,
In sickness triumph, and in death survive.

The following letter, written by La Marquise
de Gages to a friend, relates a circumstance
connected with the death of Voltaire, which
is of so peculiar a nature, that it is thought
right to subjoin it to the foregoing account:
" Madame la Marquise de Gages- a la Comtesse — — .
" Vous me demandez, Madamela Comtesse, de vous ecrire ce que
" je me rappelle avoir entendu dire a la Garde qui avoit veille
" Voltaire dans sa maladie mortelle. Le voici. Cette femme
" ayant 6te demandee pour etre pres d'un de mes amis, voulut
*' sgavoir avant de lui venir s'il etoit bon chretien. Son malade
" etant mieux, nous lui m arquames avoir ete surpris de la question
" qu'elle avoit faite pour venir donner ses soins a quelq'un qui en
" avoit besoin. A quoi elie nous repondit, que c'etoit le malheur
" qu'elle avoit eu de se trouver pres de Voltaire qui en etoit cause,
" lui etant reste depuis, une telle terreur de l'etat ou elie 1'avoit vu,
" de ce qu'elle lui avoit entendu dire, et du desespoir ou il etoit
" mort, que pour l'empire du monde elie ne voudroit plus servir
" personne qu'elle ne seroit pas certaine avoir de la religion. Elie
" ajouta a ces propos beaucoup de ceux qu'elle avoit entenda
" tenir a Voltaire qui nous firent fremir ; mais ma memoire ne
" pouyant se les remettre exactement, je crois devoir m'en taire.
" Mes mauvais yeux ne me permettent pas d'ecrire plus longue-
"• ment."

[ 64 ]

LETTER VIII.

Aosta, Sept. 21, 1814.
TTAVING paid the tribute of friendship
-*¦ ¦*¦ which induced me to take this long jour
ney to Geneva, I felt an irresistible desire
before I returned to England, to trace that
astonishing march of Bonaparte's army in 1800,
which led to the victory of Marengo, and
placed Italy a second time under the power of
France. I remembered perfectly well what it
was to ascend the passage ofthe Great St. Ber
nard in 1779; I remembered the difficulty with
which a mule could ascend the mountain at
that period, when the idea of an army of
60,000 men, with artillery and baggage being
able to effect the same, never entered into the
contemplation of any man. Some few persons
have, indeed, supposed that it was by this pass
that Hannibal crossed the Alps; but the argu
ments in support of this opinion are so weak,
that it would be waste of time to confute them.

£ 65 J
Having passed along the whole of the north
bank of the Lake of Geneva, a most beautiful
tract of country, extending between fifty and
sixty miles ; having viewed at Vevay the tomb
of Edmund Ludlow, one of our regicides ; and
having looked at Clarens, Meillierie, and Chil-
lon, the scenes of the Eloise of Rousseau; I
arrived at Martigni on the evening of the 1 8th.
The next morning I mounted my mare, and
attended by a mule and a guide, I ascended
the celebrated passage ofthe Alps. The ascent
is indeed steep, and the path, for it cannot be
called a road, is in most places rugged, in some
not a little dangerous. I need not say that it
is steep, when I mention that the Convent of
St. Bernard, according to Monsieur de Saus-
sure, is at an elevation of 8074 feet (more than
a mile and a half) above the Lake of Geneva.*
Perhaps I shall convey a more distinct idea of
that elevation, by saying that there is no moun
tain in Wales, Cumberland, or Scotland, which
exceeds one half of that height; neither
Snowdon, Skiddow, or Benevish, the highest
spots in those Countries, being more than 4387
feet above the level of the ocean. But if my
path was steep and rugged, the picturesque
scenery which accompanied it, made ample
compensation for every difficulty. A torrent
* The Lake is iaoo above the Mediterranean.

[ 66 ]
which descends from the melting snows of the
glacier of St. Bernard, was on my left hand;
sometimes (but for a very short way) running-
like a smooth river, where there is a little flat
ground ; mudh oftener rolling with great vio-
leface among broken rocks, immense blocks of
which are frequently carried to a great distance
by its impetuosity: in many places it falls
from cliff to cliff in broken cascades, the fbam
and sound of which ate no small additions to
the sublimity of the scene. " For some Way after
I left Martigni, whatever spots of ground were
Capable of cultivation, Were occupied by vine
yards, but they Were soon lost, and were Suc
ceeded by corn fields. When the elevation was
too great for agriculture, pasture succeeded,
but all these were frequently interrupted, many
parts of the sides of the mountains being too
steep to admit of any thing of that nature.
These were for the most part covered with
thick woods, chiefly of pine, intermixed with
craggy rocks, which in many places project in
such a manner, that a traveller is at a loss to
imagine in what direction a path can possibly
be traced. The whole picture is rendered
truly sublime by the snowy summits of the
Alps, which rise to such an elevation, as fre
quently to leave but narrow openings for sun
shine, and the contemplation of the heavens,

C 67 ]
In four places, where the mountains recede
sufficiently to admit of it, some miserable vil
lages are situated ; at the highest of which I left
my mare, and trusted myself to a mule, which
is indeed the only proper conveyance for the
higher parte of the passages of the Alps. No
persons reside during the winter above this
village, except the Monks at the Convent;
but I came soon after to the summer pastures,
which have a very pleasing appearance.
Whatever spots of ground in these elevated
regions are large enough to admit of pasturage,
are occupied by the peasants during three
months in the year. They go there with their
cattle in June, and stay till September. They
live in little chalets or huts; which are fur
nished, however, with all that is necessary for
making butter and cheese, and whatever con
cerns their cattle and their dairy.
The grass in the fields near the villages has
time to grow and increase during their absence,
and about the autumnal equinox, the peasants
descend with their flocks and herds, leaving
their chalets shut up for the nine following
months. Soon after I had left these pleasing
little pastures, my road became more difficult
of ascent; I was now above all the ordinary
habitations of man, pot only above agriculture,
but above pasture. I looked down on those
F 2

L 68 ]
groves of pine trees, Which a few hours before
I saw suspended over my head. The blue sky,
the. snowy summits of the Alps, and the pro
jecting craggy precipices, whose sides -were
too perpendicular • to afford a lodgement for
the snow, were now the only objecis above me.
Various little streamlets from the melting
snows were falling on - all sides, to form the
torrent which I before described; almost all
vegetation was now at an end, a few Alpine
plants, being the only interruption to that
general scene of desolation, which wide ex
tended beds of snow and broken rocks of granite
presented to the view. Among these rocks,
anal on the stony surface On which they lie
scattered, my mule carried me in safety. We
crossed one bed of snow which covered the path
for about a hundred yards, and ascending
still more and more perpendicularly, we at last
arrived at a spot where the opposite points of
the mountains seem almost to touch each other;
there is, however, a space between them, and in
that space is situated the Hospice de St. Ber
nard. Its appearance at first, sight is, indeed,
very striking; the stones of the walls are
scarcely distinguishable from the stones ofthe
¦adjoining rocks ; and when the whole of the
surrounding scenery is embraced by the eye,
the traveller feels it almost impossible to believe

L 69 ]
that what he now sees is the habitation of man.
— The Monastery, or as it is generally called,
the Hospice de St. Bernard, is, I believe, with
out doubt, in the most elevated situation of
any building in the Old World. It is a large
parallelogram of thick masonry, but ill con
trived, and not handsome; the rocks rise so
very close to it, and are of such a height, that
for some days before and after the winter
solstice, the sun, even at .noon, does not rise
high enough to be visible in the principal
building. Rain is a thing almost unknown;
for even in July and August, if any thing falls-
it is commonly snow. The thermometer has
been known at the foot of the mountain on the
Italian side to stand at seventy degrees at six^
in the morning, and the same evening at six
to be at the freezing point on the outside of
the convent. There are, indeed, not many
nights in the year when it does not freeze,
and during eight or nine months every thing
around is covered with ice and snow. On the
south side ofthe building, and a little below it,
the rocks recede, and leave a small plain, in
which is a lake about half a mile in circum
ference, which commonly is a sheet of ice, but
was in its liquid state when I saw it.*
* The following observations made by M. Rauriz, a former
prior of St. Bernard, may be of some use in giving a just idea of

C 70 ]
Beyond the lake, and just before the place
where the rocks again approach each other,
so as scarcely to leave room for the path which
leads to the south, stood the Roman Temple of
Jupiter Poeninus. The spot may be traced
very distinctly; many fragments of Roman
bricks are scattered round it; and a small col
lection of antiques, some of which are of great
beauty, is preserved in the Hospice. Near
this temple is the separation between Italy and
Switzerland, a stone pillar marking the spot;
the arms of Piedmont being on one side, and
those of the Valais on the other; A fine eagle
soared majestically over our heads, while the
Prior shewed me the ground where the temple
was situated. From this place to the convent,
a little terrace walk has been made, in the
most sheltered situation that could be found;
and four or five little spots, about the size of
the rooms at Rhyddings, are walled in, and are

th'e cold which is felt in winter in that elevated situation. They
are dated March it, 1784:
" During fix weeks Reaumur's thermometer was observed, morn-
" ing and evening, between 18 and f 9 degrees below congelation.
" This day it is i'6-§. I have known it in the course of other
" winters sink as low as ao and 2? ; but that excessive cold has
" seldom lasted more than a 'day or two."
The winter of 1784 was very severe on the continent. Faren-
heit's thermometer, according to the foregoing observation ofM.
Rauriz, would have been during six weeks from 8 to 10 degrees
below zero, Reaumur's being between 18 and 19 below congelation.

[ 71 J
called gardens; a little lettuce and sina.ll salads
" were the whole of their contents, and even
those appeared sickly and frost-bitten in Sep
tember. Such is the situation of this extraor
dinary building, in which I was received with
a degree of unaffected civility, hospitality, and
kindness, which could not be exceeded in any
of those friendly mansions which adorn the
Bay of Swansea, from Mount P leasantto
Woodlands. The Prior, to whom I was particularly re
commended, received me as the friend of a
friend ; but no recommendation would have
been required to insure a most hospitable,
though not a luxurious, entertainment. This
leads me to speak of the object of this foun
dation, which shall be the subject of a future
letter. At present I will only say, that the
Jives of these monks are not spent in useless
severities on themselves, or in ostentatious
acts of devotion ; but in preserving the lives of
their fellow creatures, and rendering them
every service in their power; in imitation of
Him " who went about doing good," and who
has graciously promised, that He will consider
as done to himself those acts of kindness which
we shew to those whom He condescends to call
hisbrethren, when we feed the hungry, clothe the
naked, aud relieve the sick and the distressed.

[ 72 ]

LETTER IX.

Aosta, September 22, 1814.
HPHE Monks of St. Bernard are thirty-two
¦*- in number, but only fourteen reside in
the Convent. These are, as indeed they ought
to be, the youngest and the healthiest. Their
business is to render assistance to all who pass
the mountain. All are received, lodged, and
fed, gratis, suitably to the rank of the travel
lers ; but those who can afford it put something,
whatever they please, into a box, placed for
that purpose. The monks extend their bene
ficence beyond the walls ofthe Convent; if an
unexpected change of weather, or a sudden
fall of snow, renders it probable that any un
fortunate travellers may be in distress, these
good Fathers go out with many lights, and
may be seen at a distance as friendly bea
cons to guide the benighted wanderer. They
do more; if a great avalanche happens, they
go to the place, even at the hazard of their
pwn lives, to see whether any travellers have

[ 73 1
been overwhelmed and buried in the snow. In
these, dangerous expeditions they are accom
panied by their faithful dogs, a remarkable
breed from Sardinia, somewhat resembling the
Newfoundland, but larger, and with the scent
as perfect as the best hound. If a human
body is buried in the snow, the dog is sure to
make it known; and the monks who go out
provided with every thing necessaiy, dig out
the body, convey it to the Convent, and if
possible, restore the suspended animation. If
life is quite extinct, the corpse is laid in ai lit
tle building near the Convent, where I saw a
great number dried by extreme cold, and
slowly changing to their parent earth. No
year passes without many lives being saved by
these hospitable Fathers, and scarce any without
some addition to the numbers in the chapel.
It is manifest, that without the assistance ofthe
Convent, no person could pass this way in the
winter, and but few would do it in the summer.
At present it is the great thoroughfare from
Piedmont to Switzerland and Germany.
Charity, liberality, and ceconomy, are, in my
opinion, generally found in the same residence;
and this is particularly the case at St. Bernard;
but the income of the Hospice is so moderate,
that no ceconomy would enable the Fathers to
gupport the institution without other assistance.

[ 74 ]
The contributions in the box which I men
tioned, do something, and I hope will do more;
for I trust that my own countrymen who are
now likely to go there in great numbers, will
act as I think they do on every occasion which
calls for generous benefactions. I need not
say more.
All these resources would, however, be in
adequate, if a collection were not made every
year in Switzerland, and the neighbouring parts
of Italy, by some of the Monks, who employ
part of the summer in that necessary occupa
tion. The utility of the institution is indeed
so strongly felt, that the collectors generally
return well rewarded for their labours. Ano
ther proof of the acknowledged merit of these
benevolent Fathers deserves, to be mentioned:
St. Bernard was the only religious institution
which was not suppressed during the French
Revolution. These last words lead me to speak
of the passage of the army of Bonaparte along
that path, and by that Convent, which I have
endeavoured to describe as accurately as I am
able. 1 speak with diffidence as to the number
of Bonaparte's army, for I know it is difficult
to ascertain it; but it was said, at the Convent,
to consist (including infantry and cavalry) of
between 60 and 70,000 men, with 48 canqon.
To convey these last was the great point, but

[ 7fi ]
none of them were more than 12-pounders.
WTith respect to heavy ordnance and heavy
baggage, Bonaparte depended on his army for
obtaining a supply in Italy, which indeed was
very soon effected. Great and formidable
difficulties were, however, to be overcome, in
passing the mountain. No wheel-carriage
ever did or could ascend it. All the peasants,
horses, and mules were put in requisition ; the
cannon were dismounted, put in hollow trees,
and dragged up the mountain by the united
strength of a sufficient number of soldiers; the
carriages were taken to pieces, and conveyed
on mules : every beast of burden, • horse, and
man, was obliged to carry as much as he was
able. The days were long (it was in May),
the weather was fine, and the march was per
formed with little or no loss. Bonaparte rode
on a mule, which in one place fell down with
him ; he afterwards sent fifty louis to the pea
sant who assisted on that occasion, saying that
he had saved him aud his mule from rolling
down the precipice. This man was my guide.
Bonaparte rested a short time at the Convent,*
took some refreshment, and went forward to
* I did .not think it necessary to enquire whether great con.
fusion was occasioned in the Convent by the march of Bonaparte's
army. I am persuaded that the question might be answered in the
yords of Chaos respecting a different army.
'• Such a numerous host
*l Pas'd not in silence through the frighted deep," &c.&r.

[ 76 j
Aosta. Every thing was conducted with the
greatest expedition, and Bonaparte appeared
with his army in the plains of Lombardy,
before it was well known that he had
undertaken to pass the Alps. The battle of
Marengo soon followed; and Italy, in conse
quence of that battle, fell once more into the
power of France. It is, however, well known,
that, the honour of that victory is principally
due to Dessaix. Bonaparte was himself ready
to acknowledge that the battle was almost lost
by the French, when that general, with a fresh
body of troops, attacked the weary Austrians,
gave new courage to the dispirited French, and
entirely turned the fortune of the day ; but the
victory was purchased at the expense of the
life of Dessaix; he was shot in the moment of
success. Bonaparte, as may well be supposed,
sincerely regretted his death, and resolved to
do every thing in his power to perpetuate his
memory. To render his funeral more remark
able by the singularity of the place of his in
terment, he ordered the body to be conveyed
to St. Bernard, and to be buried in the chapel
of the Convent. An elegant monument was
prepared at Paris to be placed over his grave;
but the greatest difficulty still remained to be
overcome, I mean the carrying the monument
to St. Bernard. The principal tablet weighed

[ 77 ]
a ton and a half, and on account of its size,
shape, and weight, it was found quite impos
sible to convey it up the mountain in any way
except on a wheel-carriage. A car of a peculiar
construction was made for this purpose. Pio
neers were sent to improve the road, to break
in pieces, or blow up with gunpowder, what
could not be removed; and finally to bring the
path to such a state as to render it possible for
the car to be drawn from Martigni to the
Convent. With great labour and expense this
object was obtained, and the monument was
brought in safety to St. Bernard, and placed
on the wall of the chapel, above the spot
where the remains of the deceased general had
been interred. The monument is very hand
some; Dessaix is seen expiring in the arms of
Victory; two or three of his attendants are near
him, one of whom is holding his horse. The
figures are inbasso relievo, on a fine white
marble; the inscription is short; it is a single
line above the monument, and is as follows:
" A Dessaix mort a la Batallee de Marengo."
If I were to indulge criticism, some faults
might be pointed out both in the design and
the execution, but upon the whole it must be
allowed to be a real ornament to the chapel^
and an honourable tribute to the memory ofthe
deceased general.

f 78 ]

LETTER X.

Martigni, Sept. 2L
T TAVING described so minutely the ascent
¦*¦ ¦*• from Martigni to St. Bernard, I think it
unnecessary to dwell as long on the descent to
Aosta on the Italian side of the mountain:
were I to do otherwise, my descriptions would
be full of repetitions. I shall therefore, con
tent myself with observing, that the road is
more steep, rugged, and dangerous, on the
Italian, than on the Swiss side of the mountain.
The picturesque scenery, and the views iri
general are finer on the south, than on the
north, side of the Alps. The transition from
the rugged precipices to the luxuriant rich
ness of an Italian valley is indeed wonderfully
striking. In the course of one day, the sub
lime, the picturesque, and the beautiful, are all
seen in the greatest perfection. The cold air,
and the never-melting snows which surrounded
me in the morning, gave me the idea of being
in the Frigid Zone, and in the middle of winter.

I 79 ]
As I went down the mountain, I found myself
surrounded, first withverdure and the flowers
of spring, and afterwards with ripe corn, and
all the productions of the Temperate Zone in
the middle of summer. In the evening, the
Indian corn, and the ripe fruits of Italy,
seemed to indicate that I was now in the
Torrid Zone, and in the autumnal quarter
of the year.
The city of Aosta was built by the Romans,
at the foot of St. Bernard. Its ruins are,
indeed, worthy of a journey to examine them.
I have no hesitation in saying, that they are
more deserving of notice than any remains of
antiquity in Italy on the north side of Rome.
A beautiful triumphal arch, to the honour of
Augustus, stands at a short distance before
you arrive at the city gate : it is in good pre
servation, and I think tt is inferior to nothing
of the kind, except the celebrated arch of
Trajan at Beneventum. Passing under this
arch, you come to the Pretorian gate, which is
by far the noblest and most perfect monument
of antiquity of this kind in the world. The old
citv walls extend on both sides of it to a con-
siderable distance. I believe about two-thirds
of the whole still remain in a tolerably well-
preserved condition. The ancient bridge con
tinues as it was, and is indeed a very curious

[ 80 ]
structure. Some remains of the amphitheatre
exist, and various fragments of buildings, which
altogether give you more the idea of being
in an ancient Roman city than I could possibly
have imagined, if I had not visited them.
The modern town is a poor, miserable place;
and I was sorry to see that the old buildings
are too often injured for the sake of the stones,
which are employed in erecting new ones. The
cathedral is handsome, and under it is a very
curious specimen of a church, built in the early
ages of Christianity, I mean within a short time
after the christian religion became the esta
blished religion ofthe Roman empire.
The Hospital deserves notice; it is extremely
well regulated under the inspection of the
Chevalier Lentz, a well-informed and truly
respectable gentleman. This may indeed serve
as an example of the neatness, convenience,
and I might almost say the elegance, of the
Italian hospitals; of which few persons who have
not seen them, can form a just idea.
Yesterday I ascended from Aosta to St. Ber
nard, and was received by tlte good fathers with
(if possible) still more kindness than on Monday.
The morning had been very hot, and the day
very fine; but in the afternoon, when I was
within half a mile of the Convent, snow began
tofall; and every thing was in a short time

I »1 ]
coveted with it. In the evening 1 had much
serious conversation with Mr. Darbellay, the
prior of the Convent, a very amiable and re
spectable man. He seemed to take great
pleasure in obtaining information respecting
England and its inhabitants; and I found him,
in return, extremely ready to answer my en
quiries with regard to St. Bernard. I was truly
sorry to learn from this conversation, that the
income of the Convent has of late years been
so much diminished, and the calls for its as
sistance so greatly multiplied, that it is not
without great difficulty, and with the most
rigid economy, that the expenditure can be
supported. Mr. Bourrit, in his Itineraire des
Glaciers, mentions the number of travellers
who are annually received at St. Bernard, as
amounting to between 7 and 8000. That
number is now so greatly increased, that the
prior informed me from his register, that
22,444 persons were entertained at the Convent
in the course of the year 1813.
1 cannot help recommending most strongly
to my countrymen an institution of such ex
tensive utility, hoping that those who have it
in their power to do more, will not content
themselves with giving a guinea for their
night's lodging. The trifle which I gave
was inclosed in a paper, on which I wrote
G

[ 82 J
a few lines expressive of my feelings in that-sub
lime spot.*
O Tu, qui maria ac terras, qui sldera cceli,
Primaque mansuri posuisti mania mundi ;
Te Duce nunc potui glaciales ire per Alpes,
Te Duce fumifera redii servatus ab JEtna;
Sit mini jamque precor tot tempestatibus acto,
In patria tandem requies foribusque paternis,
Sit demum semper mens sana in corpore sano,
Neve t&is'frustra prodiiftam, degere vitam.
This morning every thing near the Convent
was white with snow, but it soon began to melt,
and at eight o'clock my thermometer was
three degrees above frost. After breakfast I
took leave of the good fathers, and descended
to St Pierre in three hours. Here I quitted
the mule, and mounted my own mare which
had waited four days for my return. With
her assistance I came in five hours to this
place, where I again met with sunshine, and
summer. I arrived in safety a little before
sun-set, having between Monday morning and
Saturday evening twice crossed the Alps, em
ployed two days in examining the monuments
of antiquity at Aosta, and for the fourth time
in my life gratified my eye with the beauty
and richness of an Italian valley.
•If any person should be desirous of giving support to this
most useful Institution, I believe it might be done with the greatest
ease, and security, by paying the money to the Banking-house of
Meffrs. Herries, Farquha'r, and Co., St. James's-street;. who could
transmit it to their respectable corespondent at Lausanne.

C 83 ]
P. S. You must not be surprised at the
prior's being desirous to ask questions con
cerning England, or the monks being very
attentive to the answers. Our country has
acted so distinguished a part on the theatre of
Europe during the last twenty-three years, and
now stands in so conspicuous a point of view,
that every thing which regards it is become
an object of curiosity to all the inhabitants of
the continent. This is particularly the case
With persons, who, like the monks at St.
Bernard, have scarce ever seen or conversed
with an Englishman. They are all young men,
and cannot remember travellers who were
there before the war, and since its commence
ment hardly any of our countrymen have
crossed the mountain.

G 2

[ 84 ]

SIMPLON.*

XJOUS voici, prets a monter le Simplon : on
¦*¦ ' nepouvoit autrefois traverser cette mon-
tagne qu'a pied ou a mulet; quelques annees ont
suffi pour la rendre practicable aux voitures,
par une pente douce et un chemin plus uni
qu'on n'en trouve souvent aux environs des
grandes villes.
* It was my intention to have gone from Aosta tot Dome
d'Ossola, and to have returned to Switzerland by Simplon ; but
being deprived by an accident of a companion whose society would
have rendered any journey agreeable, I came back by St. Bernard;
not displeased to see that mountain, as all fine scenery deserves to
be viewed, both in going and returning. Ofthe road across Sim
plon (the most extraordinary perhaps that ever was made) I here
insert the best description that I could obtain in Switzerland. It
is an extract from a Tour to Milan, written by a very intelligent
young traveller of Geneva. I shall only premise, that in the year
i79», I crossed the mountain on a remarkably sure-footed poney,
which I had brought from Naples. The passage was then ex
tremely difficult, and in many places dangerous, and I was accused
ef rashness for attempting to perform on horseback, what few
persons would undertake unless on foot or on a mule. The new
road as I am well assured, is so wide, that three coaches may
drive abreast of each other; and the ascent and descent so gradual,
thatthehorses may trot the whole way from Glyfs to Domo d'Offola.

[ 85 ]
De Glyss a Domo d'Ossola, route que Ton
fait en quatorze ou quinze heures, on compte
vingt^deux ponts et sept galeries taill6es dans
le roc.
Le premier ouvrage remarquable est le beau
pont sur la Saltine, un des plus grands de
toute la route ; il n'a qu'une seule arche, faite
en bois, comme celle de tous les grands ponts:
c'est le meleze qu'on emploie pour ces con
structions; ce bois dure beaucoup plus que le
sapin : le pont sur la Saltine est le seul qui soit
couvert; on l'a construit ainsi, afin de garantir
de la pluie la charpente de l'arche.
Le passage du Simplon estsitue entre de hautes
montagnes. L'ancien chemin, trac6 dans le
fond de la vallee, etoit oblige* de suivre les ind-
galites du terrain, et descendoit pour remonter
ensuite: le nouveau, plac6 sur les montagnes
de la gauche, a une inclinaison fort douce; dans
plusieurs parties, elie n'est que de deux pouces
par toise, jamais plus de sept; quelquefois elie
garde le niveau : nous nous elevens doucement,
tant6t jouissant de la vue de la vallee, tan tot
cheminant a l'ombre d'epaisses forets; d'im-
menses sapins deracines s'appuient dans leur
chute sur les cimes de leurs voisins, et les cour-
bent vers la terre. La route est partout large de
vingt-quatre pieds. Du edtd de la montagne,
sont des canaux qui recoivent l'eau qui en sort;

t 86 J
dli edt£ du precipice, l'on a construit de joljes
barrieres de meleze; mais comme on a ete oblige"
de soutenir la route par une chaussde en plu
sieurs endroits; on a eleVe alors le mur au dessus
du chemih j usqu'a hauteur d'appui. Le terrain
n'etant pas encore assis, des avalanches de
terre et de pierres ont traverse la route dans,
diffetentes parties, et ont ren verse* ces petits
murs; on les a remplac^s par des bornes plates,
tail'lees en lames tranchantes, afin qu'elles puis-
sent couper l'avalanche sans etre emporties par
elie. On a eu soin de placer k de certains inter-
valles des perches hautes de dix pieds, pour
designer le chemin^ lorsque les neiges em-
pechent de le distinguer du precipice; quelque-
fois ces perches elles-mfimes en sont entice
ment couvertes. A la fin de l'hiver, la route
est expos6e ades degradations qui occasionnent
de grands frais; les terrains qui ne sont pas
soutenus par des arbres, et qui sont coupds sous
up. angle de plus de 45 degres, sont sujets a
s'ebouler; mais ces 6b0ulemens deviennent
moins considerables toutes les ann6es.
Pour conserver la legete inclihaison de la
route, on a et6 oblige de lui faire suivre de
longs contours; elie se flechit selon toutes les
sihuGsiteVde la montagne, et va chercher au
fond d'une valine le pont de Gdnter. Quelques
pas avant d'arrivef a ce pont, on traverse la

[ 8? ]
premiere galerie; c'est une des mojps gj-andes ;
elie est percee dans une partie de la montagne
form6e de morceaux de rochers unis ensembl^
par de la terre glaise ; cette terre, quand il a
plu, ,devient glissante ; les rochers s'en d£-
tachent, et rendent le passage dangereux. On
nous montra un bloc tomb6 le printems pre\
cedent, lorsque des ingenieurs etoient k peu de
distance; aussi est-on determine a, retrancher
cette galerie ; le pont de Ganter est situe pres
d'une gorge ou. deux torrens se reunissent,
dans un lieu expose* a. de frequentes avalanches;
le pont, construit avec beaucoup d'art, en est
a l'abri; il a 7 metres* de largeur; les cule*es
sont t61oign6es de 19 metres dans le bas, de 20
dans le haut; son architecture etegante fait un
joli effet pres des sapins qui l'entourent.
C'est ici, que 1'on a construit une roufe qui
doit r£sister a la fureur des orages et a la dur6e
du terns : elie semble se jouer des obstacles, et
detier la nature : eile passe d'une montagne a
une autre, s'enfonce sous les rochers, comble
les precipices, se replie sur elie-mfime dans des
detours]gracieux et arrondis, et conduit le voy.
ageur par une pente douce pres des Glaciers,
et au-dessus des nuages.
* The new French metre is nearly three feet three inchei ot
our measure.

J 88 ]
Nous nous arretames, pour faire rafraichir
nos chevaux, au chalet de Berenzaal, situe* a
peu de distance du pont de Ganter.
La galerie de Schalbet, que Ton traverse
apres celle de Ganter, est longue d'environ 100
pieds. Elie est remarquable par sa situation :
d'un c6te l'on apercoit la route que Ton vient
de parcourir, une petite partie de la vallee du
Rhdne et les Glaciers dela Suisse; a l'autre ex-
tremite de la galerie, on suit le chemin jusqu'au
sommet du Simplon, que domine le Rosboden et
la chaine metidionale des Alpes ; au-dessous de
Schalbet sont situees les deux maisons appelees
Tavernettes, ou les voyageurs qui suivoient
l'ancienne route s'arretoient pour se rafraichir.
La partie de la route sitiiee entre la galerie
de Schalbet et celle des Glaciers est dangereuse;
on y est expose a. des coups de vent d'une
violence extreme. La galerie des Glaciers est
souvent obstruee de neige ; il n'arrive gueres
cependant que le passage soit entierement
ferme, et la Diligence fait la route de Milan a
Geneve assez regulierement ; les voyageurs sont
conduits sur la montagne dans des tralneaux ;
on fait tracer le chemin par des chevaux, des
ouvriers viennent ensuite l'achever; vingt-
quatre hommes sont disposes pour cela de Brigg
au sommet de la montagne. Les gouvernemens
Franjois et Valaisan fournissent une somme a

I 89 ]
des entrepreneurs qui se chargent des frais de
deblaiement; mais du sommet a. Domo d'Ossola,
ces depenses sont faites par le royaume dTtalie.
La galerie des Glaciers est situee a peu de
distance du point le plus elev6 de la route ou
Ton doit construire I'hospice; c'est la que
l'ancien chemin se reunit au nouveau; nous
I'avions vu souvent au-dessous de nous: il
abr&ge de deux lieues, et on le fait suivre aux
mulets qui ne sont pas charges.
Le chemin par lequel nous allons penetrer
en Italie, est bien different de la route riante
qui nous a fait atteindre le sommet du Simplon:
une vue etendue, des demeures champetres, de
nombreux habitans venoient embellir ces tra-
vaux qui excitoient notre admiration. Aujour-
d'hui la sombre vallee de Gondo ne nous
presentera que des plages desertes, de tristes
rochers qui semblent refuser a la vegetation le
droit de voiler leur aridite. Mais si la nature a
ete avare de ces dons pour cette partie de la
montagne, en revanche l'art y atteint son plus
haut point de perfection; je rapporterai ici ce
que l'Annuaire du bureau des longitudes dit
sur cette route.
" Si, en comparant entr' eux les divers mo-
" numens de meme espece, on a egard a la
(t quantity de travail qu'ils ont exige, et a l'art
" avec lequel ils sont con9us et executes,

[ W J
" relativement a leur destination, on doit,
" parmi les grandes routes qui ont jarnais existe*
" mettre au premier rang celles du Mont
" Cenis et du Simplon.
"En partant de GIyss,du cote, de France,
" pour traverser le Simplon, on s'eleve de 1304
" metres, jusqu'au point culminant ou S. M*
" a ordonne la construction d'un hospice, en
" parcourant une longueur inclinee' de route
" de 22,500 metres, la longueur horizontale
"directe etant de 10,4.90 metres.
" Depuis le point culminant, on s'abaisse de
" 3707 metres, jusqu'au point inferieur, du
" cote de l'ltalie, a Domo d'Ossola, en par-
" courant une longueur inclinee de route de
" 4 1,400 metres, la longueur horizontale directs
" etant de 29, (,80 metres,
" Les travaux d'art en mursde soutenement,
"en ponts et en galeries souterraines, sont plus
" considerables sur cette route que sur celle du
"Mom>Cenis." La partie la plus elevee du Simplon est une
plaine triste et sauyage, domineeparde hautea
montagnes d'ou pendent plusieurs glaciers.
On arrive au village de Simplon deux heures
apres avoir quitte le sommet de la montagne:
ce village est sltufe dans le fond d'une vallee.
A peu de distance de Simplon, le chemin,
se repliant sur Jvii-meme, conduit a la galerie

[ 91 .1
d'Algaby, longue de 220 pieds; le torrent, que
les AUemands appellent Krumbach, et les
Francois Doveria, coule k droite.
D'immenses rochers qui s'elevent tristement
au-dessus de nos tetes, ne laissent de place qu'au
chemin et au torrent qui roule avec fracas au
fond de la vallee; les arbres et les cabanes ont
disparu, les travaux seuls de la route appren-
nent que les hommes ont penetre dans ce lieu.
Pr6s de la galerie on travaille a un Edifice,
destine k abriter les voyageurs surpris par
Forage, et k servir d'habitation aux ouvriers
qui d^blaient le chemin ; les voitures pourront
se loger dans la cour. II y aura trois edifices
semblables sur la route d'ltalie; les habitans de
celui d'Algaby seront condamnes k vivre plu
sieurs mois de l'annee sans voir le soleil, que
de hautes montagnes leur derobent. On est
6tonn6 de trouver dans cet endroit un b^ti-
ment si considerable; mais son architecture
triste est conforme aux sentiinens que fait
naitre la solitude de ces lieux.
A mesure que nous avancons, nous voy on s
les montagnes se rapprocher: la vallee est si
resserree qu'avaht les derniers travaux, un roc
detache des sommites etoit reste suspendu aii'-
dessus du chemjn, la route passe d'une des
rives a l'autre; ejle est entierement tailleedans
le rocher; le ci^l, en harmonie ayec le pays

[ 92 ]
que nous parcourons, se couvre d'un voile
sombre; nous arrivons k la grande galerie,
duvrage le plus etonnant de tous ceux du
Simplon. Une enorme masse de rocher fermoit le
chemin; il a fallu la percer: la route s'enfonce
dans la montagne; cette superbe galerie,
longue de 200 metres, est taillee toute entiere
dans le granit; deux grandes ouvertures faites
pour laisser penetrer le jour suffisent k peine a
l'&clairer; le bruit des pas des chevaux et des
roues de la voiture retentit sous ces voutes
sonores : k l'extremite, un pont est jete sur un
torrent dont les eaux blanches se dessinent
sur l'obscure issue de la galerie.
L'art et la nature semblent avoir voulu ras-
sembler dans un meme lieu tout ce qui est
propre k frapper l'imagination : a cote du rocher
que Ton a perc6, la Doveria, qui couloit avec
fracas parmi des blocs enormes, se precipite en
bouillonnant dans un gouffre dont on ne peut
apercevoir le fond : pour jouir de la vue de cette
chute, il faut faire quelques pas dans l'ancien
chemin situe sur la rive opposfee.
La grande galerie est le resultat d'un travail
constant de dix-huit mois ; on a attaque les
rochers non-seulement du cote du Valais et de
celui d'ltalie, mais encore par les deux ouver
tures qui presentent chacune deux faces ; six

[ 93 ]
ouvriers attaches k chacune de ces faces ou-
vroient le roc a coups de pique, et faisoient
place k six autres, toutes les huit heures ; de
cette maniere I'ouvrage n'etoit interrompu ni
jour ni nuit.
Nous vimes sortir de la galerie M. Daleve,
chef du nouvel hospice; il alloit faire en Italie
la provision de vin et de grains de l'etablisse-
ment. Cet horame respectable a passe vingt-
neuf ans au grand Saint Bernard; il habite
I'hospice du Simplon depuis le commencement
des travaux; il nous donna quelques details
sur la route.
C'etoit un spectacle curieux, de traverser la
montagne quand elie etoit animee par une
foule d'ouvriers ; on les voyoit monter sur les
rochers les plus escarpes avec une agilit6 sur-
prenante, au moyen d'une echelle, qu'ils tiroient
apres eux quand ils etoient arrives au sommet,
et qu'ils appuyoient ensuite successivement sur
les autres rochers qu'ils vouloient gravir ; ils
descendoient de la meme maniere.
L,a galerie que l'on trouve apres Yeselle, est
la plus petite de toutes, et merite k peine ce
nom : l'aspect de la route continue k £ tre sau-
vage ; les frequentes chutes de Ia Doveria, et les
cascades formees par les torrens qui viennent
s'y rendre, etonnent le voyageur ; l'on voit
adossees aux rochers, ou creusees dans leur in-

[ 94 ]
terieur de petites huttes oii logeoient les ou-
vriers ; elles servent aujourd'hui d'abri k de
grands troupeaux de chevres et a leurs con-
ducteurs, seuls habitans de ces lieux. La beaute
des ouvrages est encore plus remarquable dans
cette partie de la route que partout ailleurs; les
chalvssees sont ordinairement faites de murs,
dont les pierres ne sont point liees par un
ciment, et qui laissent filtrer l'eau de la mon.
tagne. On rencontre plusieurs ponts; je me
contenterai d'en citer un, construit tout en
pierre avec une elegante simplicity, situe k.
1 entree d'une vallee, au fond de laquelle est le
village de Cherasqua.
A quelque distance d'Yeselle, les rochers, qui
jusque-l& s'elevoient a pic, s'ecartent a l'Est,
et forment un amphitheatre; au milieu des
prairies parsemees de ch&taigniers qui tapissent
ce vallon, l'on voit le village de Dovredo ; des
vignes qui croissent devant ehaque demeure
s'elevent jusque sur les toits, et font d'une
maison un massif de verdure; cetheureux coin
de terre produit un effet d'autant plus agreable
que bientot les rochers se rapprochent, et que
]a route redevient sauvage ; la Doveria mugit
denouveau. On passe devant un pont remar
quable par la convexite de sa voute, place pres
d'un autre pont detruit, dont les piliers re-
posoieut sur d'enormes blocs au milieu de la

t 95 ]
Jriviere, et dont les restes sont niaintenant
caches par les arbrisseaUx qui croissentalentour.
Nous etions las de cheminer dans cette
sombre vallee, qui d'abOrd nous avoit frapp6
parson aspect imposant, mais dont la monoto*
nie devenoit fatigante. Une galerie se presente
encore sur notre route; tout-&-coup les rochers
s'ecartent et laissent apercevoir la riante plaine
de Domo ; le magnifique pont de Crevola,
jete d'une montagne k Fautre, ferme la valine;
il est forme de deux arches en bois soutenues
par un pilier remarquable par sa beaute.etsa
solidite: c'est le dernier des travaux du Simplon.
Sur les bords de la riviere on voit un village
qui s'abaisse aux pieds du voyageur, et qui
disparoit presqu'en entier sous les vignes et les
plantes grimpantes qui le couvfent. Un petit
pont forme de planches vacillantes, sert encore
a relever la hauteur et la r6gularite de celui
sur lequel nous passons avec rapidite. On est
etonne d'avoir un meme nom k donner a une
construction des plus hardies qui ouvre le pas
sage des Alpes, et k un ouvrage fragile qui
reunit les habitans d'un petit village.
La situation du pont de Crevola nous offre
un contraste d'un autre genre : d'un cote nous
apercevons la sombre vallee dont nous sortons
et la riviere qui coule encaissee dans de hauts
rochers ; de Fautre nous decouvrons de vastes

[ 96 j
prairies ombragees de beaux chines qu'arrose
la Toccia; la plaine de Domo se couvre de
plantes nouvelles ; les collines et les montagnes
eloignees presentent sur leurs flancs des edifices
d'une architecture elegante. Voila. done enfin
l'ltalie, telle qu'on nous l'avoit depeinte!*
• Those travellers who wish to see the road which' is here de
scribed, should not delay visiting it. There is great reason to
believe that in a few years it will not be passable. That the expense
of keeping such a work in repair must be very great, will be
allowed by every one; but those only who are acquainted with
Alpine torrents, and the destructive forse of an avalanche, can
form a just idea of the sum ef money which may here be required.
The Canton, of Valais (now the sist of the Helvetic Body) de
clares itself unable to support so great an expense, and no other
state is likely to. contribute to it. Independent of natural causes
of decay, it is not impossible that France and Italy being no
longer under one Sovereign, the hand of man may be employed,
not to maintain, but to prevent the easy communication across the
Alps, which Bonaparte was so anxious to establish.

[ 97 r

LETTER XI.

Besancon, October 1, 1814.
HAVING bid adieu to my much valued
friends at Geneva, and having satisfied
vay curiosity respecting St. Bernard, my re
turn to the Bay of Swansea became my next
object. . I arrived at Lausanne on the evening
of the 25th ; I found the principal street
crowded with people, looking towards the
hotel du Lion d'Or. The Princess of Wales
was just arrived, and every one was eager to
see her at the window. Some persons of a
higher rank had that gratification the same
evening at a private ball, which happened ac
cidentally to be given by one of the ladies of
Lausanne, and which the Princess honoured
with her presence. The next morning her Royal
Highness passed La Couronne where I lodged
in a phaeton and four, attended by two coaches
and six, taking the road to Geneva.
H

[ 98 ]
At Lausanne, and at the Chateau de Weul-
lerans in its neighbourhood, I enjoyed the
heartfelt pleasure of seeing once more, after an
interval of thirty-five years, two persons, whdse
friendship had not been lessened by long
absence. I was also much gratified at finding
others, whom I remembered as children, now
grown up, and aciing such parts in life, as
render them the worthy representatives of the
respectable parents to whose kindness I had
been so much indebted when 1 was formerly
in Switzerland. On Thursday I quitted the
elegant and hospitable Chateau de Weullerans,
and 'Crossing the Jura between Orbe and Pon-
tarlier, arrived the following evening at this
place. My journey was pleasing, and the
scenery picturesque; but, as I said before of
another part ofthe Jura, I think it less so than
many other mountainous tracts, and it cer
tainly appeared tame after so lately visiting
the Alps.
Marshal Ney (Prince de Moskwa) arrived
here a few hours before me, and yesterday he
reviewed about 10,000 troops. Of their dis
position, or of the inhabitants of this town, I
can say but little, for I have seen little; but I have
strong: reason to believe that the observations
which I madeatFontainebleau might with equal
truth be applied to Besancon. Here, howevei",

¦[ 99 ]
1 have seen a character highly interesting; and
as I think that an account ofthe person to whom
1 allude, will give pleasure to many ofthe aitive
promoters of benevolence in your neighbour
hood, I believe you will not blame me for
entering more fully into her history.
Anne Bidget is a poor woman Avhose ex
traordinary exertions in works of charity have
procured her the name of La Sceur Marthe.
Her whole property consists of a pension of
133 francs (about six pounds) and a small
house with a garden, which she cultivates for
the benefit of the poor, with the assistance of
un active and zealous companion named Bea
trice. Not an inch of ground is wasted in
this precious little garden, and the whole
produce is devoted to charitable uses. She
has in her house a large boiler, in which is
made the soup with which, during many years,
she has constantly supplied those who were in
want of food. Of late her attention has been
particularly directed to prisoners of war, Be-
sanqon having been one ofthe principal depots
in France. She obtained permission to visit
all the wretched places where the unfortunate
men were confined. She took care that they
were supplied with clean straw : she washed
their linen, if they had any : she mended their
clothes, and she constantly brought them food.
H 2

[ ioo ].
She went through every part of the town to
solicit the assistance of the rich ; and she ap
plied to the butchers and gardeners, earnestly
requesting such scraps of meat and vegetables
as were not worth producing in the market.
With such materials she contrived to make
wholesome soup; and when any ofthe prisoners
were sick, she became their nurse. During
sixteen months she daily visited a Spanish
officer, whose dreadful sufferings found no
relief but from the kindness of this excellent
woman. The removal in winter of 600 Spanish
prisoners, who had been long confined at Be-
sancon, was areal sorrow to Seeur Marthe; and
when she had in vain endeavoured to prevent
it, her whole attention was devoted to procuring
-clothes, and every comfort which might enable
them to support the severity of the weather
during their journey. She again applied to the
inhabitants of the town; and was so successful,
:that shirts, coats, shoes, &c. &c. were pro
cured in sufficient quantity to supply all those
who were in absolute want of such assistance.
The prisoners were inconsolable, when they
heard that they were to be separated from their
benefactress; and having nothing to offer as a
mark of their affection and oratitude, but a
little silver crucifix which was the property of
one of the soldiers, they agreed to present it

[ 101 ]
to her, after engraving on it in Spanish, " To
" Martha our mother and benefactress." As
soon as one set of prisoners were removed,
others arrived, and for several years there were
seldom fewer than 500 or 600 at Besancon.
The greater part were Germans, some were
Russians, but all were' objects of this woman's
benevolence. In short, with very moderate
means, but with good-will, good judgment,
and indefatigable activity, she has for many
years past supplied the necessaries of life to
many hundreds of prisoners, who were perishing
with cold and hunger, a pound of bread being
all that was allowed them by the French
Government. Once, and I think she said but once, there
were a few Englishmen confined here; it was
only for a short time, but some of the poor fel
lows wove a large straw hat, such as in Franche
Compte is used in summer, which they orna
mented with a pretty blue ribbon, and pre
sented it to Sceur Marthe, a& a testimony of
their gratitude.
The appearance of this extraordinary woman
is very plain and simple; her dress is a brown
stuff gown with a blue apron. When asked by
some of her friends, why she would not bestow
a little more money on those articles, she

[ 102 ]
answered, " is itnot better to put my ribbons
" and laces into my boiler?"
This excellent woman has been often em
ployed in conveying petitions from the soldiers
and other persons to the commandant; and
one day he said to her, " Sister Martha, you
"tfill be sorry that your good friends the
"Spaniards are going!" "Yes, General ; but
" my good friends the English are coming,
" for all who are unfortunate are my friends."
P. S. 061. 2. I have got a print of Sceur
Marthe, which is a striking likeness. Her
countenance speaks the goodness of her heart,
and the happiness of a life devoted to the ser
vice of God, and of ourfellow creatures. The
last words of hei Speech to the General are- en -
o-raved as a motto. " Tons les malheureux sont
& " mes amis." I hope something is going to be
done for this benevolent being. She told me,
when I called to take leave of her this morn
ing, that Marshal Ney sent for her yesterday
evening: He said she had been mentioned to
him at the Tuilleries.

r. 103 ]

LETTER XIL

Brie Comte Robert, Oct. 11, 1814.
| EAVING Besanc,on, I travelled through
¦*— ' a tract of country which, in a space of
near two hundred miles, affords as little as
possible to gratify the eye, or employ the pen:
an open corn country without a hedge, or I
might almost say a tree; scarce a farm-house,
or a cottage, except in the villages ; and very
few gentlemen's seats by the road side. The
soil a deep clay, producing corn in sufficient
quantity, but nothing else that deserves notice.
At Chaumont far different objects engaged
my attention. I joined at that place the great
road from Paris to Basle. There I began to
see, and from thence till within a short dis
tance from Paris, I continued to view, a me
lancholy picture of desolation ; the common (I
fear I may say) the unavoidable consequence
of war.

[ 104 ]
In going from Chaumont to Bar-sur-AuLe,
to Brienne, to Arcis, Troyes, Nogent, Provins,
Nangis, and Guignes, I passed through the
heart of the country in which the war raged
with the greatest fury, and in which engage
ments with various success Were almost every
day taking place, . till the repulse at Arcis on
the 21st of March induced Bonaparte to go
to the eastward, in consequence of which the
Allies formed the bold resolution of marching
rapidly to Paris, and by one great effort bring
ing the long contest to a glorious termination.
Of the joy felt by the civilized world, for its
deliverance on that occasion from one of the
most severe scourges with" which it had ever
been afflicted, no man more Cordially partook
than myself* nor does any man with more
sincere gratitude look up in the first instance to
Providence, who decreed, and in the next place,
to the brave warriors who effected, that deli
verance. Yet war is in itself so great an evil,
that I could wish all who are desirous of en
gaging in it unnecessarily, (which was not the
case with England in the late contest,) should
view the country which I am now to describe.
In a tract extending about ISO or 130 miles
from east to west, one half of the houses in the
hamlets, villages, and toVns, (with the excep
tion of the city of Troyes, which almost mira-

[ 105 ]
culously escaped) are burnt to the ground,
and totally destroyed; they lie in dust and
ashes, only the ends ofthe houses and man)* of
the stacks of chimnies now remaining. These
last indeed have an extraordinary appearance,
giving to the traveller, when he first sees the
town at a distance, the idea of a grove of
towers or spires. The remainder of the houses
which have not been absolutely destroyed,
appear to have suffered greatly, the recently
repaired state of some, and the still unrepaired
and almost ruinous state of others, sufficiently
pointing out the same cause. In several
instances this was unavoidable ; the villages
having been set on fire by the shells and shot
discharged in the heat of the engagements
which took place within their walls. At Bar-
sur-Aube this was particularly the case; and
the marks of many hundreds of balls are now
visible on the walls of those houses which still
remain standing. Brienne appeared rather
worse; but the place of all others which bears
the strongest marks of desolation is Arcis-sur-
Aube. This little town, containing a population
of between 3 and 4000 souls, was, if I may be
allowed the expression, the very focus of the
war. Its position rendered it an object of
importance, in consequence of which it became
the scene of very severe actions, and it suffered

i 106 ]
proportionably. The -greater part was totally
burnt and destroyed. The church has been
struck in a thousand places, and the inn where
I lodged had been almost beat down; but the
greatest curiosity is a villa near the town,
which overlooks the river. Bonaparte passed
two nights in this house, on the 20th and 21st
of March, while the French were still in Arcis.
Being foiled in his attack on the Allies on
those days, he withdrew his troops to the other
side of the Aube, and on the 22d he kept up
a most destructive fire on the place. It was
then that the villa he had just left, and which
another Emperor soon afterwards occupied, was
so much damaged. I went into every room.
It was a striking object; fragments of broken
mirrors, and other pieces of furniture, lay scat
tered. The walls were pierced in all directions.
I saw four cannon-balls lying where chance
directed their fall. The good man who shewed
it to me, made me smile, by explaining to me
all Bonaparte's views and intentions. He
learnt them, indeed, from the first (not the
best) authority; the mouth of Bonaparte him
self! A likely man to give a true statement to
the steward of a nobleman, into whose house
he knew that the Allies would enter almost a9
soon as he quitted it!

[ 107 ]
From Arcis I went to Troyes, the suburbs of
which were burnt, but the city was fortunate
enough to escape ; though more than once
taken and re-taken. It contains, as Lord
Burghersh's letter in the Gazette informs us,
a population of 30,000 souls. It is very old
and very ugly, being built almost wholly of
wood. It would of course have -allowed the
flames to spread very rapidly, if they had once
been kindled within the walls; which happily
they were not, though the suburbs were burnt
both on the east and west sides of the town.
The approach of evening prevented my seeing
the ruins of the little town of Mery, which T
understand was completely consumed by fire.
I saw the village of Faverolles in that state the
next day. — -Nogent suffered greatly, but not
quite in the same manner. — Provins escaped
rather better, and its venerable castle was not
injured. — As I went forward to Nangis,
Guignes, and this place, the appearances of
destructive war became less and less manifest.
When the allies first advanced towards Paris in
February, they got no further than Guignes,
and of course the country to the westward of
that town was not exposed to the calamities
which had been felt to the eastward.' Many
sad tales of sorrow are indeed to be heard in
every part of these distriQs, but to repeat them

f 108 J
would be endless, and be useless. I must also
observe, that such stories are to be listened to
with great caution; many of them are false, and
many by interest, prejudice, and feelings wrought
to the highest pitch from .calamity, are grossly
exaggerated. In general, I learnt that the
retreat qf the Allies in Februaiy was more in
jurious to the inhabitants than their advance:
and this I believe is almost always the case,
and the reason is too obvious to require ex
planation. I am also satisfied, from what I
heard in various places, that the French army
did more harm to the country than either the
Austrians or Russians. I shall just mention
one other circumstance respecting the miseries
of war, which is of a different nature. I ob
served many large tracts of land lying in an
uncultivated state. I enquired into the cause
of this, and was informed that all the cattle
(both horses and cows) had been taken away;
that all their utensils and implements of agri
culture had been stolen, burnt, or destroyed;
arid that the farmers possessed no means of
ploughing or cultivating their land.
These melancholy appearances ofthe effects-
of war continued from Chaumont to Guignes,
about. 30 miles from Paris. After I passed
Guignes, I saw no more burnt villages, for the
allies retreated in February from the vicinity

[ 109 ]
of that place, and when they marched a second
time towards Paris in the following month,
they proceeded by a different route. Com-
plaints of plunder and exactions were indeed
made in many places, but as far as I could
judge, they did not amount to any thing ex
traordinary.

I no 1

LETTER XJ1L

Vincennes, Oct. 12, 1814.
I Said as much as was proper of the senti
ments and opinions of the inhabitants of
Besancon, in the letter which I wrote to you
from that town.
Proceeding to the country which had been
laid waste, and the towns and villages which
had been .half burnt, it will naturally be sup
posed (and jndeed I found it to be the case)
that every body wishes the continuance of
peace. It would, indeed, be difficult to find
words sufficiently strong to express the horror
with which these poor sufferers spoke of the
calamities of thelast winter. Whatever senti-.
ments may prevail elsewhere, I believe that in
this part of France there is scarce any man
who does not rejoice at seeing a pacific
monarch on the throne. Having given my
four-footed companion to my friend at Geneva,
for whose sake I undertook this journey, and
for whom I took the trouble of conveying the

C in J
mare from Glamorganshire, I had not in my
return quite so good opportunities of obtaining
information as I had in July, I stopped my
carriage, however, as often and as long asi
pleased, and I need not say (as I am speaking
of Frenchmen) that I found most people very
communicative. All complained that Bona
parte was too ambitious, and would never be
quiet; and all are glad to be quit of the con
scription, and hope to be relieved from Les
Droits Reunis. In other respects, a vast ma
jority speak of Bonaparte as being a great man,
who had carried into effect, or was employed
in effecting, a great many useful undertakings.
All, however, seemed perfe6tly convinced that
peace could never be enjoyed, while NaP°'eon
continued Emperor of France.
In most towns, and in many villages, I
looked at the churches. It is truly afflicting
to observe how large a number have been
destroyed in the wild frenzy of the French Re
volution. Many (particularly those which be
longed to convents) are little more than heaps
of ruins; many are become work shops of
artizans of the lowest class; and many are now
undergoing a thorough repair. Over the door-
of the church at Brienne, I could still dis
tinguish, in very large capital letters, much
defaced indeed, but still legible, the remarkable

[ 112 J
inscription, Le Peuple Francois reconnait VEtre
Supreme, et Vlmmortalite de VAme. I believe
I should not exceed the bounds of truth, if I
were to say that not only there is no Christian,
Mahometan, orGentoo, but scarce any savage,
who would not feel indignant at the ideas, the
principles, and the conduct, which at one time
prevailed in France, and at or after that period
occasioned inscriptions, like that which I have
mentioned, to be placed, by order of one of the
revolutionary governments, over -the doors of
the French churches. Many years have now
elapsed since the circumstances to which I
allude took place in France; but I am not of
opinion that such things had better be buried
in oblivion; I think, on tbe contrary, that it is
hiehlv useful to be reminded to what an extent
of horror the principles of Voltaire and the
French philo.sophists did actually lead that
nation, as soon as they .acquired the ascendancy
which they possessed in the year 17y3. It
mi°'ht then be truly said, that /' Esprit de Vol
taire etoit par tout, et dominoit par tout. At that
time the National Assembly declared, and or
dered it to be inscribed on the cemeteries, that
death was an eternal sleep. At that time a
deputation of the regents and pupils of the
national schools appeared at the bar of the
Assembly: the former in their address ot>

[ 113 ]
served, among other things, that they took care
to keep from the minds of their pupils all ideas
of religion: the boys in their address made
use of these words, " we hate the name of
"God." The President replied, that the
National Assembly was well pleased that the
youth of France was so properly educated.*
At this time France became a scene of blood
shed from one end of the kingdom to the. other;
scarce any town was exempt from the melan
choly spectacle of the guillotine; and the
principal cities, Paris, Lyons, Nantes, &c.
were stained with the blood of their most re
spectable inhabitants, massacred without even
the appearance of trial, or any form of justice.
Having learnt by fatal experience the dreadful
effects of the legal establishment of atheistical
principles, the rulers of the French Republic
invented a sort of intermediate degree between
the disbelief and the belief of a God, It was
then that, by orderof government, inscriptions
like that which I saw at Brienne, were placed
on the churches; and to deter men from com
mitting those crimes, which being concealed
cannot be punished in this world, they declared
that the soul was immortal. An annual fes
tival was ordered to be celebrated in honour of
* These expressions are translated literally from the original
ttfEcial documents.

[ 114 3
the Supreme Being, which was accordingly
done. The National Assembly, headed by its
president, attended with all solemnity and
parade in the Champ de Mars, where hymns,
&c. weresunginhonourof L'EtreSupreme, care
fully avoiding to mention the ever sacred name
Dieu. That name, indeed, was seldom heard
in France, unless when joined in execrations
with terms of the grossest obscenity, such as
have long been, and are now, used on every
occasion among the lower orders of the com
munity. The cathedral at Troyes is one of the finest
specimens of Gothic, or, as it is now more
properly termed, English architecture, that is to
be seen on the continent. Jt is, indeed, a just
observation,, that the noblest specimens of that
kind of architecture are such as have either
been built by the English (as Avas the case in
this instance), or built in countries near to,
or particularly connected with, England. As
you recede further in Europe from our country,
you find the churches that are Gothic are built
in a taste far less beautiful and correct. The
outside of this venerable church is indeed
sadly defaced, or I should rather say is hid, by
the miserable buildings which almost surround
it* but the inside has escaped much better than
has been the general lot of the churches in

[ 115 3
France. The old painted glass in the windows
is, I think, better preserved, and produces a
finer effect than any that I ever saw either in
or out of my own country. I went twice to this
noble cathedral, and viewed it the second time
with still more pleasure than the first. The last
time that I Avas in it was during a sermon on
Sunday morning. The congregation was A'ery
small, consisting chiefly of old people of
the poorest class ;and I really did not see one
person, man or woman, (except the priests who
compose the chapter,) Avhose appearance gave
me in any degree the idea of being of a su
perior rank.
At Arcis, the church bore strong marks of
the battle in its neighbourhood. Many cannon
balls had entered it, and many hundreds of
musket shot had struck the north side along
its Avhole extent.
At Nogent, workmen were busy in repairing
the church. The French troops had been
quartered in it; they had used as fuel every
thing in it that was Avood, and having made
their fires in the church, the appearance of the
Avails may easily be imagined.
The fine Gothic chapel in the chateau at this
place Avas by the revolutionists converted inttf
a military depot, and divided into three stories,
in which condition it still remains. Not fav
i 2

[ 116 ]
from it, in the south-east angle ofthe ditch of
the castle, is the spot where the Duke
d'Enghien was murdered. Only six hours
elapsed between the time of his being bronght
to Vincennes, and his being put to death.
Such at least is the account which I have
received from one who says that he was
present when this melancholy action took place.
My informer added, that the Duke met his
fate with fortitude, acting to the last moment
a part Avorthy of the great line of ancestors
from whence he was descended.

r 117 ]

LETTER XIV.

Paris, Oct. 19, 1814.
T Arrived once more in this city on the 12th,
•*- and I intend leaving it to-morrow. The
three months -which have passed do not seem
to have made much alteration in Paris. I
went to the Opera on Friday. The dancing
and the music appeared to me to have the same
merits and the same defects Avhich they had
Avhen I formerly returned from Italy, but the
coup d'asil of the Theatre was sadly changed.
The house indeed was crowded, but I scarcely
saw one box filled with any persons whose dress
and appearance gave me the idea of people of
fashion. This was not the case on the folloAving
Sunday at the Chapel of our Ambassador; for
it, was not only full, but it was filled with persons
of such a description as seemed to indicate that
the English, even of the highest rank, do not
forget their duty, Avhen they depart from their
native country.

[ 118 J
I spoke sufficiently of Paris when I visited it
in July ; but it now contains two persons, very
difterent indeed, but both of them, in my
opinion, far more interesting than any Avho were
at that time Avithin its walls. In the year 1779>
I saw the Duchess of Angouleme, a lovely in
fant, not a year old, surrounded with all the
magnificence of the Court of Versailles, every
person Avho had been presented to the King
and Queen going to vieAV their little offspring.
Many, even at that early period, could foresee
that France was ripe for very .great changes;
but who, except the Almighty, could have
foretold that the infant, whom Ave then saAv in
her state cradle, would, at the early age of ten
years, begin,' and during a period of twenty-five
years continue, to endure a series of misfor
tunes, to which I believe it Avould be difficult
in the page of history to find a parallel? Her
father, and mother, and aunt, torn from her
arms to be most barbarously murdered; her
brother perishing almost as miserably; herself,
long a captive, and still longer an exile, sharing
with all those of her family who had escaped
from the guillotine, the miseries of persecution,
and driven from one part of the continent to
another, till they found a tranquil asylum in
our blessed island. I shall only add, that, as
far as I can learn, her conduct has always been

[ 119 .]
irreproachable. Her countenance, person, and
deportment, are extremely interesting; She
has, indeed, a resemblance of her mother; but
the face of Maria Antoinette is softened into
an expression of gentleness and melancholy
calculated to make every feeling mind desirous
of affording her comfort and assistance.
The first time that I saw her Avas at an in
teresting moment ; it was a solemn mass per
formed in the Chapel Royal, for the repose of
the soul of her mother. The chapel Avas hung
Avith black, and the feAv persons who Avere ad
mitted were in mourning. The music was
solemn, and the ceremony in the highest
degree affecting. The King was in his balcony,
Avith the Duke of Angoulem'e on his right hand,
and the Duke of Berri on his left. The
Duchess was below, with the lady who attended
her. Real sensibility, entirely void of affec
tation, was expressed in every part of her
behaviour. The character of this Princess was
in great measure formed by that bright example
of christian virtue, hei1) late aunt Madame
Elizabeth; of Avhose conduct through life, both
in a palace and in a prison, it Avould be dif
ficult to convey an idea equal to her merit.
I shall bring you some letters of her writing
which I have obtained here. They are un
doubted originals, and speak her sentiments

[ 120 1
and principles in such terms as require no
further panegyric*
I said that there were now two persons in
Paris, far more interesting than any Avhom I
saw in July. I have mentioned the Duchess of
Angouleme as one of them. I believe it is
scarcely necessary that I should name the
other. You will naturally conclude that I
mean a Hero, Avho has raised the fame of the
British arms to a higher pinnacle of glory than
any of our most successful warriors since the
death ofthe Black Prince and Henry V. To
see him is sufficient to make every eye pos
sessed of discernment feel desirous of asking,
Who is he? and I should entertain but a poor
opinion of the understanding of the man who
could converse five minutes Avith Wellington,
without being convinced that he had been with
a person Avhose mind had been cast by nature
in one of her most extraordinary moulds. I
could not but recollect, when I was speaking to
him, the words which Avere muttered' by a
common soldier, when his commander passed
by him for the first time after he returned from
Cadiz to the army — " Bless thy eyes, I had
rather see thee come back, than see ten thou
sand men come to help us.
* These letters are inserted in the Appendix.

[ 121 ]
P. S. I was indebted to our good friend Mr.
Sejan, for my admission to the chapel. I as
sure you that the seeing that excellent man
Avell and happy, and surrounded by a family of
nephews and nieces, Avho look up to him as to
a parent, and who are themselves distinguished
for talents, and every thing that is amiable, has
been one of the greatest pleasures that I haAre
enjoyed in Paris.

[' 122 J

LETTER XV.

Pontoise, Oct. 21, 1814.
; Deferred my departure from Paris one day
A longer than I intended, to examine, more
attentively than I had hitherto done, Le Musee
des Petits Augustins; a collection Avhich is an'
object of curiosity to every traveller, but pecu
liarly interesting to those Avho have made the
French history a subject of attention.
In the wild frenzy of the Revolution, the
Goths of the eighteenth century, more savage
than any of their predecessors, destroyed Avith
out mercy whatever they could find, which
bore any relation either to the royal family,.
or to the most distinguished characters of
their own or of former ages. The tombs of the
dead were violated, as well as the mansions of
the living; and the works of the greatest artists
Avere iu many instances reduced to dust,
for no other reason than because they per
petuated the memory of persons, Avhose names,
notAvithstanding the destruction of their monu-

C 123 ]
ments, will still survive in the page of history.
But every thing Avas not lost. Some memo
rials of former times escaped notice; many,
though mutilated, were not entirely destroyed,
and some were secreted from the fury of the
people. At length the time arrived when
these violent proceedings were viewed with
regret; and great pains were taken to collect,
and exhibit to the most advantage, whatever
had escaped. La Maison des Petits Augustins
was selected for this purpose; and 567 articles,
many of Avhich are objects of real curiosity,
may now be seen in that building, and in the
adjoining garden. The arrangement is well ima
gined, both as preserving an historical series,
and conveying a just idea of the state of sculp
ture in different ages. One apartment is ap
propriated to the most ancient times; one to
the thirteenth, and one to each century suc
ceeding the thirteenth. In the garden are
placed such monuments as, on account of their
size, could not easily be preserved in the build
ing. The whole collection is worthy of atten
tion; but I shall notice only one object, the
tomb of Abelard and Eloisa, Avhich is here seen
in a very appropriate situation; and will be
viewed with curiosity, as long as any taste for
poetical composition, or any knowledge of the
English language, shall be in existence.

[ 124 ]
The last things Avhich I looked at in Paris,
Avere the models in the Cafe de Foi. Simplon
is one of them; and it really is executed in such
a manner, that I almost fancy I have travelled
along the new road to Italy. The surface of
this model embraces more than thirty-three
square feet, and the relievo is executed in
such a manner that you see every bridge, every
gallery, every turning both of the old road and
the neAv, in short, every part of the mountain
and the adjoining glaciers ; so that in a few
minutes you may form a more just idea of
this astonishing work of Bonaparte, than could
possibly be obtained from the longest and
most accurate description.
In the same room is a model, fifteen feet by
thirteen, of the Lake of Geneva, and the sur
rounding country. There is a third relievo of
St. Gothard; and a fourth and fifth (you will
smile Avhen I mention them), the one is Vol
taire's house and garden, the other his bed
chamber. I had here an opportunity of verify
ing the description of it Avhich 1 sent you from
Geneva, for eA'en the most minute articles of
furniture are represented with the greatest
exactness. I know not what reception my letter
on this subject may have experienced at
SAvansea; but I think I knoAV pretty well Avhat
would be its fate, if it were read in the Palais

[ 125 ]
Royal. The sight of his real bedchamber, and
the consideration of his death, made my re
flections serious, but I own that the idea of
making a model of it gave a different turn to
my thoughts. I recollected, with a certain
degree of satisfaction, that Voltaire was not
invincible; that my admirable friend Mrs.
Montagu had not only shewn, in her elegant
Essay on Shakespeare, that Voltaire often
criticised our incomparable poet Avhen he really
mistook his meaning; but had aftenvards -de-
feated him with his OAvn Aveapons, brilliancy
of wit and repartee, in that very academy in
which he was not accustomed to encounter a
rival. The anecdote is too Avell knoAvn to need
being repeated; and I shall only add that all
the academicians Avho were present, (and the
academy Avas crowded,) were struck with the
justice of the observation, and were obliged
to acknowledge that an English lady had, in
one sentence, completely revenged the affront
which the French poet had just offered to our
immortal Bard. Les rieurs pour cette fois au
moins n'etoienl pas du cote de Voltaire. Many
Avere pleased at seeing a man who had so often
and so severely turned others into ridicule,
now defeated on his own ground; and in the
next twenty-four hours the impromptu was
repeated in all the literary coteries of the
French metropolis.

[ 126 J

LETTER XVI.

Dieppe, Oct. 24, 1814.
I Believe this letter will contain nothing more
than a few desultory observations, but per
haps you will think it the best of my letters, as
it will be the last.
Not chusing to return by the same road
Avhich I had travelled in July, I came from
Paris by Pontoise and Rouen, to this place,
from whence I shall embark for Brighton, as
soon as the tide will permit me.
Normandy is one of the finest provinces of
France, fertile, well cultivated, and populous.
The views are fine and much diversified, and
the whole formed a striking contrast with the
part of Champagne through Avhich I had lately
travelled. Rouen is a town to Avhich great
part of Avhat I said of Troyes might be
applied, for it is old and ugly; but it is
much larger than Troyes, and it stands in
a beautiful situation. The Seine is here very

[ 127 ]
different from the river Avhich runs through
Paris; it is noAV become a fine stream, Avith
many beautiful little islands in it, and with
fine pasture in the adjoining meadoAvs. The
cathedral is a venerable pile, Avhich, like that
of Troyes, Avas built by our ancestors, but being
of a more ancient date, it is not in so pleasing
a style of architecture. There is another
church, Avhich is not so large, but I think is
more beautiful. These two noble edifices have
escaped the horrors ofthe French Revolution
Avith less injury than most other churches. I
went to the cathedral during the sermon; it
Avas better filled than that at Troyes, but it Avas
chiefly (I might say almost Avholly) with per
sons of the lowest class, and the proportion of
Avomen to men Avas very remarkable, certainly
more than ten, I should think nearly as twenty,
to one. In the afternoon I looked at different
parts ofthe town, 'and av^is surprised at finding
myself involved in a croAvd of horses and men,
in short, in the middle of a great annual horse
fair; of Avhich I certainly cannot say as I did
respecting the cathedral, that there Avas any
want of attendance on the part of the male
population. Here, as at Paris, and I belieAre
in all the towns in France, the greater part of
the shops are open, and a great deal of business
is carried on, during the Sundays. Some regu-

I 128 ]
rations in this respect have indeed been at
tempted to be enforced, since the restoration of
the King ; but so great a ferment was excited
in Paris, that the government has been obliged
to proceed with great caution. My impatience
to see once more my dear native country pre
vented me from giving sufficient time to this
part of my journey, to allow me to hazard any
opinion with respect to the public mind in
Normandy. 1 hope it is better than in some
other provinces; and I hope that the general
agitation may gradually subside, and this in
fatuated nation become sensible, that the
greatest blessing that can befal them will be
to live under a lawful, a pacific, and a Avell-
regulated government. Adieu, till we meet.
P. S. East- Bourn, Oa. 25, 1814. After a
stormy but quick passage, unable to make
Brighton, but safely landed at this place.
If a man feeble in his limbs, not possessed of
firm health, et jam senescens, performs a journey
of above 1600 miles, twice crossing the sea,
and twice the Alps, and, after four months,
returns to his native country without having
met with any accident, or having experienced
the smallest misfortune, he certainly ought to
feel grateful to the Almighty for the pro
tection Avhich has been vouchsafed him. I

[ 129 ]
trust that my breast is not insensible to such
feelings; but I can with great truth assert,
that the foregoing consideration, important as
it is, does not hold the first place in my mind
at the present moment.
Returning from France to England, and
once more setting my foot in my native
country, I feel a debt of gratitude to Him \vho
ordained my existence in this island, which
rises still higher than preservation from accident
or sickness. I compare my situation as an
Englishman Avith that of the inhabitants of
other countries of the globe in general, and of
France in particular. If I had been born in
that land Avhich I yesterday quitted, I might
have received such an education as would have
rendered me insensible to the truths of Christ
ianity, and to the duties which its doctrines
inculcate. Not enjoying the advantages Avhich
Ave derive from our well-constituted govern
ment, I might, like the greater part of the
neighbouring nation, have fluctuated in opinion
from despotism to anarchy. I might then
ha\*e been taught, as the youth of the French
Republic were taught, that death was an eternal
sleep; and deriving from that doctrine the
natural conclusion, that if I could conceal my
crimes from a worldly magistrate, I should
never be called to account by an All-seeing
K

[ 130 ]
Judge, I might have been tempted to partake
in that vicious system Avhich has been, 1 will
not say universal, but more general in France,
than can possibly be conce'wed by those who
have not visited that unhappy country. I
contemplate Avith pleasure the reverse of the
picture. I Avas born in a country, in whose
churches the doctrines of Christianity are taught,
as I A'erily believe, in a manner more conform
able to the Gospel than in any other land.
Without enthusiasm or superstition, equally
removed from the Papacy of Rome, and the
Calvinism of Geneva, the mild spirit of Christ
ianity, asitistaught by our Established Church,
is calculated not only to render us better, but
to render us happier even in this Avorld, and
certainly to giA^e us the hope of eternal happi
ness hereafter. I sum up the Avhole with saying,
that, in my opinion, the great advantage to be
deriA'ed by Englishmen from a view of foreign
countries in general, and of France in particu
lar, is to increasetheir attachment to their native
land; to make them duly sensible of Avhat they
owe to Him who placed their existence in this
happy island; and of course sensible of the de
cree to which it is incumbent on them to act a
part worthy ofthe station Avhich his merciful
Providence has assigned them.

APPENDIX;

CONTAINING
SEVEN ORIGINAL LETTERS
OF THE LATE
MADAME ELIZABETH DE FRANCE;
AND
A PRAYER,
COMPOSED BY THAT PRINCESS
DURING HER IMPRISONMENT IN THE TEMPLE: -,
With a Short Introduction.

VATTENE IN PACE ALMA BEATA ET BELLA !
VATTENE IN PACE A LA SDPERNA SEDE,
E LASCIA AL MONDO ESEMPJO DI TUA FEDEJ

C 133 3

APPENDIX.

Introduction to the Letters.
T^ LIZABETH, the youngest sister of Louis
¦*^-J XVI. was remarkable, during her whole
life, for the exercise of every amiable quality,
and every christian virtue. To court intrigue
she was a stranger. In the Royal Family she
•was always desirous to conciliate, and do good.
The greater part of her time was spent at the
villa of Montreuil, which the King had given
her. At this place her society Avas very select,
and her friends AArell chosen. Her establish
ment was conducted in the most unexception
able manner; and her benevolence and charity
Avere so extensive, that she often denied her
self many innocent gratifications which persons
of her rank usually enjoy. Her income was
not large, but she employed it in such a man
ner as to render it a blessing to the surrounding
poor. It was at this early period of life that
she formed a friendship with Madame de Cau-
san and her daughters, the persons to whom

[ 134 ]
the greater part of the folloAring letters are
addressed. Of the delicacy of thatattachment,
and ofthe mind of Elizabeth, the first of these
letters will give an idea:* but her friendship
AAas not confined to Ai'ords. She anticipated
for five years a pension Avhich she had from the
King, to give it as a marriage portion to the
daughter of her friend, who, after this act of
kindness, Avas married to M. de Baigecour.
I remember to have seen Madame Elizabeth,
at Versailles, in 1788. Her countenance Avas
pleasing, and expressive of benevolence.
The folloAving year, Avhen the Revolution Avas
advancing, and the situation of the King and
Queen became critical, she seldom left Ver
sailles. She accompanied them Avhen the
populace took them by force to Paris, and she
never quitted them during their residence in
the Tuileries. When the daily increasing
dangers which threatened everv branch ofthe
Royal Family, induced the King's aunts to leave
France, Elizabeth Avas strongly persuaded to
accompany them; she might at that time have
done it, and have secured her personal safety;
but she resolved never to abandon her brother
in his distress. She conceived this to be her
duty; and what she thought it Avas her duty
to do, nothing could induce her to give up,
* Vide page 14;.

[ 135 J
This is elegantly expressed in a letter ad
dressed to the Abbe Avho accompanied her
aunts in their journey to Rome.* Of her sen
timents and her feelings during the year 1791,
the four letters Avritten in that year to her friend
Madame Raigecour will give a just idea.
Those letters require no comment.
I shall only add a feAv circumstances, not
neAv indeed, but of such a nature as ought
never to be forgotten; because they point out
the severity of the trials to Avhich this excellent
Princess was exposed during the latter part of
her life, and the unshaken fortitude and resig
nation with Avhich they Avere sustained.
On the 20th of June 1792, when the popu
lace forced their Avay into the palace of the
Tuileries, and sought for the Queen Avith an
intention to murder her, Madame Elizabeth
Avas mistaken for her by some Avho began to
insult her. One of her attendants Avas on the
point of undeceiving them, but the Princess
prevented him by saying, N~e les delrompez pas.
She knew that the Queen was at that moment
endeavouring to escape, and Avould imme
diately be pursued, if the mob Avere informed of
their error; and she chose to encounter every
personal danger, in order to preserve the life of
Marie Antoinette. The consequence Avas that
*See page 144.

[ 136 ]
the Queen had time to escape ; and the mob,
after loading Elizabeth with insults, Avere pro
ceeding to afts of violence, but the mistake
Avas discovered before they came to extremities,
and they quitted the Princess, and Avent in
search of the Queen, when she was no longer
within their reach. Of another severe trial a
short time afterwards, a full account is given
in one of her own letters dated July 3, ] 792.
It is much to be regretted that Ave have nothing
of her writing subsequent to the 10th August.
From that time the Royal Family, consisting
of the King and Queen, his sister and his tAvo
children, Avere confined in the Temple, and
possessed no means of corresponding with any "
person whatever. That their sufferings were
great will easily be imagined, but the degree to
which they were carried, is I believe but faintly
conceived by any one, except the sole survivor
of the five prisoners. Clery, indeed, gave an
account of Avhat particularly concerned the
King. I shall mention only a few anecdotes
respecting Elizabeth, from Avhich some judg
ment may be formed of the inventive spirit of
cruelty which was exercised in the Temple, to
increase the sufferings, both of mind and body,
of this unoffending woman. Shef requested to
have maigre diet on maigre days. She was
t The attendance of her own Physician was refused.

[ 137 1
answered that equality Avas established amongst
days as in every thing else. In consequence
of this refusal she contented herself on those
days Avith bread and coffee. The water ofthe
river Seine possesses a quality which renders it
unwholesome to many persons, particularly to
those Avho are not accustomed to drink it.
Elizabeth found her health affected by it, and
requested to be indulged with Avater of a dif
ferent kind; this Avas positively refused. Let
not these things be called trifles. When it
,Avas possible that such things could be done,
there is no Avant .of charity in giving credit to
the many other instances of Avanton cruelty,
.which seemed to have no object but to
add pain to imprisonment, and insult to de
gradation. It may perhaps be said, and pos
sibly with 'truth, that with respect to Elizabeth,
the Jacobins, though not yet worked up to the
point of a public execution, Avere nevertheless
desirous of her death. And why Avere they
so? Because they did not Avish that a person
should remain alive, who could tell what no
one but herself could completely unfold, —
the faithful history of the sufferings of the
Royal Family. Whatever truth there may be
in this idea, certain it is that no hardships
or privations, no sufferings at the present
moment, nor apprehensions for the future,

[ 13S ]
could overcome the pious resignation and for-
titude of this amiable Princess.
After the King's death she Avas the sole com
fort ofthe Queen. Their sentiments and habits
of life had indeed been very different, but
Elizabeth iioav thought of nothing but support
ing her in her affliction. She Avas the nurse of
the children Avhen they were 111; and she as
sisted in making their beds, and performing
menial offices, when they Avere deprived of all
other attendants. The young Prince Avas re
moved on the 3d of July 1793, and placed in
the hands of Simon, under Avhose torturing
management he aftenvards expired. The
Queen Avas taken to the Conciergerie* on the
second day of the folloAving month. The suf
ferings of the two prisoners now remaining in
the Temple Avent on continually increasing,
but the soul of Elizabeth Avas superior to all
trials. To one, indeed, more distressing perhaps
than all others, she and her niece Avere sepa
rately exposed on the 8th of October 1793.
Those persons Avho recollect the horrible accu
sation which Avas brought by Hebert against
the Queen respecting her son, may conjecture '
what the interrogatories were, which Avere put
to his sister and his aunt on this occasion ; and
they Avill not be surprised at my saying no more
on the subject. ,'

[ 139 j
Elizabeth and her niece remained together
till the following spring. During this period the
chief, I believe I might say the sole, occupa
tion of this angelic woman Avas to comfort and
support the young Princess, to strengthen her
mind, and to direct her thoughts to the only
source of real and permanent consolation. Of
her own frame and temper of mind in this
melancholy situation, the prayer Avhich she
then composed, and Avhich folloAvs her letters,
Avill be the best indication.* At length the
9th of May, 1794, arrived. Elizabeth was just
gone to bed, when she heard the. prison doors
unbarred. She hastily threw on her clothes,
and some municipal officers entered the room.
One of them called to her Avith a brutal ^'oice,
"Citizen, come down directly; they Avant you!"
" Is my niece to remain here?" (The Princess
Avas ahvays her first object.) "That is no
" business of yours, they will think of her."
Elizabeth embraced the unfortunate Therese,
and to lessen her terror, said to her, " Be com-
" posed; I shall come back again." The man
replied,Avith asarcastic sneer, "No, you Avillnot
" comeback any more : take your nightcap."
She obeyed, raised the young Princess who had
sunk in her arms, entreated her to submit to
the Avill of God, and then departed, never to
* Vide page 159.

[ 110 J
secher again. At the foot of the staircase her
pockets Avere searched, in which nothing Avas
found. During that time she Avas obliged to
submit to some insults; and when the search
was finished, she was taken away in a hackney
coach with the officer of the revolutionary
tribunal. Tbe following day Avas marked by
her condemnation and execution. I say her
condemnation, for iu fact there A^'as no trial.
She had committed no offence, and there Avas
nothing of which they could accuse her. She
Avas asked Avho she was, she replied that she
Avas the King's aunt. This answer Avas crime
de leze nation, for the name of king Avas no
longer to be mentioned in France, and Elizabeth
was immediately sentenced to the guillotine.
She was taken to the place of execution in a
cart with several persons of different sex, age,
and condition. During the melancholy pro
cession, the Princess endeavoured to comfort
and support her felloAv sufferers, both by her
precepts and example. Being arrived at the
scaffold on which the guillotine was placed,
she found other persons assembled Avho were to
undergo the same punishment. The number
altogether amounted to twenty-five. It might
now have been supposed, that even French
cruelty Avould have suggested no further ad
dition to the pains of death, but this Avas not

E i4i -1
the case. A circumstance occurred, to which
I do not recollect to have heard or read of any
parallel. I have said that twenty-five prisoners,
including the Princess, were to be executed.
The populace exclaimed, " Let the female
" Bourbon {Lafemme Bourbon) be the last."
This was accordingly ordered. Elizabeth was
compelled to stand near the guillotine, and to
see twenty-four persons beheaded ; but the
prolonging her trials, Avas giving additional
triumph to her virtue. Neither the savage
cries ofthe Parisians, of Avhom many thousands
were crowded in the Place de Louis XV. nor
the sight of the guillotine streaming with the
blood of her fellow sufferers, and shortly to be
stained with her own, could in any degree
overcome the pious resignation ofthe Princess,
or inspire her christian spirit with any portion
of those terrors which agitated the death-bed
of Voltaire. She remained calm and unmoved
in her place, till the last of the twenty-four
prisoners was beheaded. She then stepped
forward, and meekly submitting to be bound,
-was placed on the guillotine, Avith still unshaken
reliance on her Saviour, who Avas himself made
perfect through sufferings, and left us an ex
ample thdt we should follow his steps*
* The letter dated January 7, 1791, vide page 145, will perhaps,
be read with greater iaterest, after the account of this tragical event

C 142 ]
Lettres Originaires de Madame Elizabeth
de France.

LETTRE I*
A Madame Marie de Causan.
- 8 Decembre,. 1785.
JE suis emue et affligee au dernier point,
mon cccur, de l'etat de vptre mere: l'arret
de S*** me fait fremir. J'ecrirai k Mm de
La**** pour que Ton trouve des_pr6textes pour
faire rester votre "soeur a Fontainebleau. lis
seront d'autant plus aises, que, quoiqu'elle soit
bien, de long-temps elie ne sera en etat d'etre
transporter Si vous ne craignez pas d'atten-
drir votre mere, dites lui combien je part age
ses douleurs, que je voudrois les prendre toutes,
* The following letters, with many others written by the same '
hand, have been lately printed at Pans, by M. Ferrand, in a work
entitled Eloge Historique de Madame Elizabeth de France. The
publication contains a great deal of interesting information re
specting this Princess; and as it is considered as a work of un
questionable authority, several of the preceding anecdotes ha«e
been taken from it.

[ 143 J
que je suis bien afnigee de ne pouvoir lui
rendre les soins que la tendre amitie que j'ai
pour elie me dicteroit. II m'en eoute bien
depuis trois semaines d'etre princesse: c'est
souvent une terrible charge ; mais jamais elie
ne m'est plus desagreable que lorsqu'elle em-
peche le cceur d'agir.
Vous aA'ez sous A'os yeux, mon coeur, le tri-
omphe de la- religion. Je ne doute pas que
vous ne prouviez dans l'occasion, qu'elle seule
peiit nous faire supporter le malheur, et, s'il
est possible, le rendre leger. Je vois que vous
aurez la grace d'une resignation parfaite a la
volonte* de Dieu. II ne faut qu'un veritable
desir pour l'obtenir; et vous sentez'trop combien
elie Arous est necessaire pour ne pas la desirer
vivement. Esperez tout de ce p«re qui vous
aime si tendrement; il vous soutiendra, par-
tagera votre peine, etla rendra moins pesante.
Pardon, mon coeur, de ce petit mot de sermon.
quoiqu'il soit mediocre, dans la position ou vous
etes, on est toujours bien aise d'en tendre un
peu parler de Dieu; c'est ce qui m'a encouragee
a cette insolence.
Madame de Chois .... n'aura votre lettre
que demain, parceque cesvAroitures sont d'une
inexactitude insupportable, et qu'elle n'est
arrive que tr£s tard; le courrier etoit parti.
Adieu, mon coeur; j'espere que vous avez un peu

[ 144 ]
d'amitie pour moi: cela me fait bien plaisir,
vous aimant beaucoup. Je vous embfasse de
tout mon coeur.

LETTRE II.
A. M. L'Abbe ****. 15 Mai, 1792.
IL y a bien lomj-temps que je ne vous ai
ecrit, Monsieur; ce n'est pas faute d'en avoir
envie: mais je mene une vie si coupee, qu'il ne
m'est pas possible d'ecrire comme je le voudrois.
Je ne puis vous dire assez combien j'ai ete
touchee de votre lettre. Le desir que vous me
temoignez de me \o\x reunie a celles qui ont
tant de bontes pour moi, m'a fait un grand
plaisir; mais il est des positions ou l'on ne peut
pas disposer de soi, et c'est-lk la mienne : la
ligne que je dois suivre m'est tracee si claire-
ment par la Providence, qu'il faut bien que j'y
reste; tout ce que je desire, c'est que vous vou-
liez bien prier pour moi, pour obtenir de la
bonte de Dieu que je sois ce qu'il desire. S'il
me reserve encore dans ma vie des moments de
calme, ah! je sens que j'en jouirai bien. Aulieu
de me soumettre aux epreuves qu'il m'envoie,

L 14> ]
j'envie ceux qui, calmesinterieurement et tran-
quilles a l'exterieur, peuvent k tous les installs
ramener leurs ames vers Dieu, lui parler, et
sur-tout l'eeouter: pour moi, qui suis destinee a
toute autre chose, cet etat me paroit un vrai
paradis. Je vois avec peine approcher les chaleurs;
c'est un mauvais temps pour vous: je desire
beaucoup quelles soient moins fortes que
l'annee passee, Adieu, Monsieur: croyez que
vos lettres me font un vrai plaisir, et que je
serai charmee le jour ou je pourrai vous revoir.
En attendant, priez Dieu pour nous.

LETTRE III.
A Madame de Raigecour.
7 Janvier, 1791.
DES gens plus diligens que moi vous auront
surement mand6 ce qui s'est passe k l'assemblee
Mardi; enfin, mon coeur, la religion s'est rendue
maitresse de la peur. Dieu a parle au coeur des
eveques et des cures. Ils ont senti tout ce que
leur caract^re leur inspiroit de devoirs, et ils ont

.[ 146 ]
declare qu'ils ne prfiteroient pas le serment.
Pour le moins vingt du c6te gauche se sont
retractes; on n'a pas voulu les ecouter: mais
Dieu les voyoit, et leur aura pardorine une
erreur causee par toutes les voies de seduction,
dont il est possible de se servir. Un cur6 du
.cote gauche a mis beaucoup de fermete pour ne
lepas preterm On dit que cette journ6e desap-
pointe bien des gens : tant pis pour eux ; ils
n'ont que ce qu'ils meritent: mais ce qu'il y a
de triste, c'est qu'ils s'en vengeront. Dieu seul
sait comment. Qu'il ne nous abandonne pas
tout-a-fait; voila k quoi nous devons borner
nos voeux. Je n'ai point de gout pour le mar-
tyre; mais je sens que je serois tres aise d'avoir
la certitude de le souffrir, plutot que d'aban-
donner le moindre article de ma foi. J'espere
que, sij'ysuis destinee, Dieu m'en donnera la
force. II est si bon! c'est un Pere si occupe
du veritable bonheur de ses enfans, que nous
devons avoir toute confiance en lui. Remer-
§ions-le done bien : soyons fideles k notre foi ;
ranimons-la; ne perdons jamais de Ante ce que
nous lui devons ; et, sur tout le reste, abandon-
nbns-nous avec une confiance vraiment filiale.
J'ai eu cesjours-ci une peine bien reelle que
tu partageras sans doute. Cette pauvre Mme de
Cimery, qui, comme tu sais, avoit mal au sein
depuis cinq semaines, etoit presque alitee.

[ 147 J
Dans la nuit du Dimanche au Lundi, son ame,
apres avoir recti le matin les sacrements, a
ete prendre sa place dans le del ; car j'espere
bien qu'elle est heureuse, et qu'elle a recn la
recompense d'une vie entiere de vertii et de
malheur. Je la regrette vivement : elie etoit
d'une grande ressource pour moi; et jamais je
ne la pourrai Templacer, non pas pour les
qualities que je puis desirer dans une premiere
femme, mais dans celles qui convenoieht k mon
coeur, a mon esprit, et a mes sentimens. Je la
regrette comme mon amie ; mais je la crois
heureuse, et cette idee me console.

LETT RE IV.

A LA MEME.

28 Mars, 1 79 J.
JE ne viens que d'etre avertie du depart de
M. P . . . . ainsi tu n'auras qu'un mot de moi.
Je te dirai que j'ai la mort dans l'ame de penser
que peut-etre, d'ici a quinze jours, la religion
sera bannie de France. Voih\ l'usurpateur de
:Paris installs d'hier: nous voila livres k la per
secution ; et lorsqu'on regarde autour de soi,
L 2

[ 148 ].
qu'yvoitonr Rien de consolant; toujours des
regrets, toujours de bons mouvemens : mais
viola tout. Enfin Dieu est tout puissant; Dieu
peut d'un moment a l'autre changer nos larmes
en cris d'alegresse. Ah! s'il vouloit faire un
miracle en notre fayeur, et retablirla religion !
Mais le meritons-nous? Nous nous desolons,
mais nous n'avons pas recours k Dieu, comme
un enfant se jette dans les bras de §on pere.
Nous cherchons encore de la consolation dans
nos semblables: helas! I'experience devroitbien
nous faire voir qu'il n'y en a point a esperer.
Cependant, mon cosur, ne nous laissons point
abattre; servons Dieu avec plus de ferveur que
jamais ; prouvons lui qu il est des cceurs qui ne
sont point ingrats : qui plus que nous doit
l'aimer et le montrer hautement ?
L'affaire de la religion a part, nous sommes
toujours dans la meme position. On va, je
crois, decreter que le Roi ne sera inviolable
que ta°t qu'il sera dans le royaume, et qu'il
residera dans l'endroit ou sera l'assemblee; elie
a et6 indigne l'autre jour sur cela.
Je suis toujours fort contente de ma nou
velle connoissance; elie veut connoitre a fond
ce que l'on pense, etce n'est point une con
noissance seehe; elie aide beaucoup ase corriger
. . . . Je t'avoue que je ne suis pas fachee
d' avoir ete forcee de changer. Dieu en cela,

[ 149 ]
comme en tout, m'a prevenue de graces : mais
quel compte n aurai je pas k rendre ?
Adieu, ma petite : je t'embrasse, je t'aime, je
te souhaite une heureuse couche; je te demande
en grace de te bien menager, de ne rien
exagerer pour ton enfant : c'est un depot et
une consolation que le ciel t'envoie. Fais moi
donner exactement de tes nouvelles. Je t'em-
brasse encore de tout mon coeur.

LETTRE V.
A LA MEME. 23 Juillet, 17.91.
SI je n'avois pas eu de tes nouvelles par
Bombelles, je serois inquiete de toi : il y a long-
temps que je n'ai eu de tes lettres. As-tu recu
la derniere que je t'ai ecrite ? Elie n'est pas
fraiche; car je n'ai pas eu le temps depuis de te
dire un petit mot. J'ai k present, hors du
royaume, tant de gens qui m'interessent, que
cela fait horreur a penser, et m'emporte beau
coup de temps.
Je suis encore un peu etourdie de la secousse
violente que nous avons eprouvee; il faudroit
pouvoir passer quelques jours bien tranquille,
eloigne du mouvement de Paris, pourremettre
ses sens; mais Dieu ne le permeltant pas,

C 150 ]
jespere qu'il y suppleera. Ah! mon coeur,
heureux I'homme qui, tenant toujours son ame
entre ses mains, ne voit que Dieu et l'eternite,
et n'a d'autre but que cle faire servir les maux
de ce monde a la gloire de Dieu, et d'en tirer
parti pour jouir en paix de la recompense
eternelle! Queje suis loin de cela! Cependant
n'allez pas croire que mon ame se livre a une
douleur violente. Non ; j'ai meme conserve de
la gaiete. Hier encore, j'ai beaucoup ri en me
rappelant des anecdotes ridicules de notre voy-
age;f mais je suis encore dans I'effervescence.
VoUs, qui etes bien aussi vive que moi, vous
devez sentir ma position. Cependant jespere
que je ne serai pas encore long-temps comme
cela. Demande-le a Dieu pour moi, je t'en
conjure. Adieu ; je te quitte, car j'ai encore
bien des lettres a ecrire pour me mettre au
courapt. LETTRE VI.
A LA MEME.
28 Septembre, 1719-
JE te remercie, ma chere R . . . , de ce
quetu m'as envoye, Cela fait toujours un peu
de plaisir ; mais je t'avoue que je suis dansmes
momens d'increduiit6.
t The unfortunate journey to Varennes.

[ 151 J
Je rec,ois en meme temps une lettre de toi,
oft tu me mandes que tu me plains: tu as bien
raison. Quant k ceux qui me blament, je
trouve qu'ils ont tort. Tu diras que j'ai bien
de l'orgueil; mais, en verite, c'est que ce n'etoit
pas le cas de faire autrement que je n'ai fait, et
qu'il y auroit eu des inconveniens reels, peut-
fetrc meme pour Ceux qui me blament, k etre
autrement. La plus grande preuve que je
puisse t'en donner, c'est que je me suis deja
trimballee a deux spectacles, et que je le ferai
encore k un troisieme. Ce n'est, certes, ni
mon gout ni mes principes qui m'y amenent.
ce n'est done que mon devoir. Mais il est des
choses sur lesquelles rien ne pourra jamais me
faire ployer; et c'est la seule distinction que
je puisse et veuille me permettre dans ce mo
ment: mais, sur cela, Dieu me fera, j'espere,
la grace de lui etre d'une fidelite a toute
epreuve. Au reste, il me traite encore en
enfant gate ; car je n'ai rien qui me force a
marquer sur cela. M. G . . . meme m'epargne
la peine de ne pas le voir; car, Dieu merci, il
ne se presente pas.
Je t'avoue que j'ai ete quelques jours un peu
triste; mais je me suis remontee, et maintenant
je suis dans mon assiette ordinaire. J'ai monte
a cheval ce matin pour la premiere fpis; il
faisoit une poussiere horrible. J'etois derriere

[ 152 ]
ma soeur : on n'y voyoit vraiment presque pas.
Adieu ; je t'embrasse de tout moncceur.

LETTRE VII.
A LA MEME.
3 Juillet, 1792.
DEPUIS trois jours on comptoit sur un
grand mouvement dans Paris ; mais on croyoit
avoir pris les precautions necessaires pour parer
a tous les dangers. Mercredi matin, la cour
et le jardin etoient pleins de troupes. A midi,
on apprend que le faubourg Saint-Antoine
etoit eu marche; il portoit une petition k l'as
semblee, et n'annoncjoit pas le projet de tra
verser les Tuileries. Quinze cents hommes
defilerent dans l'assemblee; peu de gardes
iiationaux, quelques invalides, le reste etoit des
sans-culottes et des femmes. Trois officiers
municipaux vinrent demander, au Ro'i de per-
mettre que la troupe defilat dans le jardin,
disant que l'assemblee etoitgeneepaiTaffluence,
et les. passages si encombres, que les portes
pourroient etre forcees. Le Roi leur dit de
s'entendre avec le commandant pour les faire
defiler le long de la terrasse des Feuillans, et
sortir par la porte du Manege. Peu de temps

[ 153 ]
apres, les autres portesdu jardin furentouvertes
maigre* les ordres donnes. Bientot le jardin fut
rempli. n Les piqnes commencerent a defiler en
ord re sous la terrasse de devant le chateau, ou
il y avoit trois rangs de gardes hationaux; ils
sortoient par laporte du Pont Royal, et avoient
Fair de passer sur le Carrousel, pour regagner
le faubourg Saint- Antoine. A trois heures,
ils firent mine de vouloir enfoncer la porte de
la grande cour. Deux officiers municipaux
l'ouvrirent. La garde nationale, qui n'avoit
pas pu parvenir k obtenir des ordres depuis le
matin, eut la douleur de les voir traverser la
«eour sans pouvoir leur barrer le chemin. Le
departement aA'oit donn6ordre de repousser la
force par la force; mais la municipalite n'en a
pas tenu compte. Nous etions, dans ce moment,
a la fenetre du Roi. Le peu de personnes qui
etoient chez son valet de chambre, vinrent
nous rejoindre. On ferine les portes; un mo
ment apres nous entendons cogner : c'etoient
Acloque et quelques grenadiers et volontaires
qu'il amenoit; il demande au Roi de se montrer
seul. Le Roi passa dans sa premiere anti-
chambre; la. M. d'Hervilly vint le joindre avec
encore trois ou quatre grenadiers qu'il avoit
engages k venir avec lui. Au moment ou le
Roi passoit dans son antichambre, des gens
attaches k la Reine la firent rentier de force

[ 151 }
chez son fils. Plus heureuse qu'elle * je ne
trouvai personne qui m'arrachat d'aupr&3 du
Roi. A peine la Reine etoit-elle partie, que la
porte fut enfoncee par les piques. Le Roi, dans
cet instant, monta sur des coffres qui sont dans
les fenetres; le Marshal de Mailly, MM. d'Her-
villy, Acloque et une douzaine de grenadiers
l'entourerent. Je restai aupres du panneau,
environn£e des ministres, de Mi de M . . . et
de quelques gardes nationaux. Les piques
entrerent dans . la chambre comme la foudre ;
ils cherchoient le Roi, et surtout un qui tenoit
les plus mauvais propos. Un grenadier rangea
son arme, en disant, Malheureux! c'est ton Roi.
Le reste dps piques r6pondit machinalemenj; a
cecri; la chambre fut pleine en moins de
temps que je n'en parle, tous demandant la
sanction et le renvoi des ministres. Pendant
quatre hemes, le meme cri fut repete\ Des
membres de l'assemblee vinrent peu de temps
apres. MM. Vergniaux et Isnard parlerent
bien au peuple, pour lui dire qu'il avoit tort de
demander ainsi au Roi sa sanction, et 1 'en
gage-rent a se retirer; mais ce fut comme s'ils
ne parloient pas, Ils etoient bien long-temps
avant que de pouvoir se faire entendre ; et a
peine avoient-ils prononce* un mot, que les cris
recommenc.oient. Enfin Petion et des membres
* Mot charmantl

C 155 *]
de la municipalit6 arriverent: le premier ha-
rangua le peuple, et, apres avoir lou.e la dignite
et Vordre avec lequel il avoitmarch6, il l'engagea
k se retirer dans le mime calme, afin que l'on
ne put lui reprocher de s'etre livre a aucun
exces dans une fete civique. .. Enfin le peuple
commence a defiler. J'oubliois de vous dire*
que, peu de temps; apres que le peuple fut entr£,
des grenadiers s'etoieut fait jour, et l'avoient
eloigne du Roi* Pour moi, j'etois montee sur
la fenetre du cote de la chambre du Roi. Un
grand nombre de gens attaches au Roi s'etoient
presentes chez lui le matin; il leur fit donner
ordre de se retirer, craignant la journ6edu dix-
huit Avril.\ Je voudrois m'etendre la-dessus^
mais, ne le pouvant, jeme promets simplement
d'y revenir. Mais revenons a la Reine, que j'ai
laisse en trainer maigre. elie 'chez mon neveu;
on avoit emporte si vite ce dernier dans le fond
de l'appartement, qu'elle ne le vit plus en
entrant chez lui. Vous pouvez imaginer l'etat
de desespoir ou elie fut. M. Hue, huissier, et
M. de V . . . , officier, etoient avec lui; enfin
on le lui ramena. ' Elie fit tout au monde pOur
rentrer chez le Roi; mais MM. de Ch . . . et
d'H . . . , ainsi que nos dames qui etoient la,
Ten empeoherent. Un moment apres, on en-
t Jrsqu'au dernier moment, ce malheureux prince a toujours
/eloigne ceux qui pouvoient le servir et le defendre,

i 156 ]
tendit enfoncer les portes: il y en avoit que le
peuple ne put trouver; et trompe* par un des
-gens de mon neveu, qui lui dit que la Reine
etoit a l'assemblee, il se dispersa dans 1'apparte-
ment. Pendant ce temps-la, les grenadiers
entrereut dans la chambre du conseil: on la
mit, etles enfans, derriere la table du conseil;
les grenadiers et d'autres personnes bien at
taches l'entourerent, et le peuple defila devant
elie. Une femme lui mit un bonnet rouge sur
Ia tete, ainsi qu'a mon neveu. Le Roi l'avoit
eu presque du premier moment. Santerre, qui
conduisoit le defile, vint la haranguer, et lui
dit qu'on la trompoit en lui disant que ie peuple
ne l'aimoit pas; qu'elle etoit aim6e: il l'assura
qu'elle n'avoit rien k craindre. On ne craint
jamais rien, iepondit-elle, lorsque l'on est avec
de braves gens. En meme temps, elie tendit la
main aux grenadiers qui etoient aupres d'elle,
qui .se jeterent tous dessus. Cela fut fort
touchant. Les deputes qui etoient venus, etoient venus
de bonne volonte. Une vraie deputation arriva,
et engagea le Roi a rentrer chez lui. Comme
on me le dit, et que je ne voulois pas me trouver
rester dans la foule, je sortis environ une heure
avant-lui; je rejoignis la Reine, et vous jugez
avec quel plaisir je l'embrassai : j'avoispourtant
ignore les risques qu'elle avoit courus. Lc Rot

[ 157 ]
rentre dans sa chambre, rien ne fut plus tou-
chant que le moment ou la Reine et ses enfans
se jeterent a son cou. Des deputes qui etoient
la, fondoient en larmes : les deputations se
releverent de demi-heure en demi-heure,
jusqu'a ce que le calme fut rdtabli totalement.
On leur montra les violences qui avoient ete
commises. Ils furent tres bien dans l'appar-
tement du Roi, lequel fut parfait pour eux. A
dix heures,- le chateau etoit vide, et chacun se
retira chez soi.
Le lendemain, la garde nationale, apres
avoir montre* la plus grande douleur d'avoir eu
les mains li6es, et d'avoir eu devant les yeux
tout ce qui s'etoit passe, obtint de Petion l'ordre
.de tirer. A sept heures, on dit que les
faubourgs marchoient: la garde se mit sous les
amies avec le plus grand zele. Des deputes
de l'assemblee vinrent de bonne volonte de-
mander au Roi s'il eroyoit qu'il y eut du danger,
pour qu'elle se transportat chez lui. J Le
Roi les remercia. Vous verrez leur dialogue
dans les journaux, ainsi que celui de Petion,
qui vint dire au Roi que ce n'6toit que peu de
monde, qui vouloit planter un mai.
Comme je savois que R . . . t'avoit donne de
mes' nouvelles, et que je n'ai pas trouve un
% Six semaines apres, ce fut tout le contraire.

C 158 ]
instant pour t'ecrire, je ne trie suis pas trop
tourmentee; aujourd'hui meme, je n'ai qu'un
moment. Nous sommes jusqu'a ce moment
tranquilles : Farrivee de M. de la Fayette fait
un peu de mouvement dans les esprits. Adieu;
je me porte bien, je t'embrasse, et suis bien aise
que tu ne te sois pas trouv^e dans cette bagarre.

[ lo9 ]

PRAYER
COMPOSED BY MADAME ELIZABETH, DURING IlEtt
IMPRISONMENT IN THE TEMPLE.
The following Prayer was composed by Madame Elizabeth,
during that part of her imprisonment in tha Temple, when, after
the death ofthe King and Queen, and the removal of the yourg
Prince, she remained the only friend and companion of the
Duchess of Angouleme.
To say any thing of the merit ofthe composition, or the piety cf
the composer, would surely be superfluous.
QUE m'arrivera-t-il aujourd'hui ! 6 mon Dieu!
Je n'en sais rien; tout ce queje sais, c'est qu'il
ne m'arrivera rien que vous n'ayez prevu, regie,
vou'lu, et ordoniie de toute eternite : cela me
suffit. J 'adore vos desseins eternels et im-
penetrables ; je m'y soumets de tout mon coeur,
pour Famour de vous; je veux tout, j'accepte
tout, je vous fais un sacrifice de tout, et j.'unis
ce sacrifice a celui de mon divin Sauveur. Je
vous demande, en son nom et par ses meriteaj
infinis, la patience dans mes peines, et la par-
faite soumission qui vous est due pour tout ce
que vous voulez ou permettez.

FINIS.

ftinttd by Richard Cruttwefl,
St. Jaaws's-ftreet, Bath.

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