Journal in Paris (1827)
( To Clementina - his sister) You ask about my Journal. It has now swelled out to about thirty close-written sheets, containing a great deal of nonsense and a great deal of sense, a great deal of what may be trifling, and a great deal of what is important - in which everything is put down, good, bad, and indifferent, for my own amusement and instruction afterwards, but principally for yours at home.
This Journal Dr. Guthrie himself supposed to have been
lost, and more than once, in writing his Autobiography, expressed regret that
it no longer existed to refresh his memory. Hidden among a mass of valueless
papers in Brechin, it only came to light the other day. It was written without
the remotest thought of its ever being printed, and bears scarce any evidence
of correction; but it must have been composed, as our readers will see for
themselves, with studied care; and it is not unlikely that its production may
have been used by Mr. Guthrie as a means of practising composition and
improving his style. As one of the comparatively few productions of his early
manhood which we now possess, and as containing much, - not only interesting in
itself, but characteristic of its author, we give longer extracts from it than
we should in other circumstances have done
On Wednesday, 6th December,
1826, I planted my foot for the first time on the soil of France, and I could
not forget (who that loves the privileges that Great Britain enjoys, or reveres
the memory of the brave and good men who fell fighting in their defence, could
forget!) that the soil on which I now stood had witnessed, more than any other,
the triumphant force of British arms.
In a small town, on our way to Paris,
I met a priest who was, without exception, the most reverend-looking figure I
ever saw. He was feeble and bent with the weight of years, and, when he walked,
tottered slightly. He was attired all in white, excepting a black tippet on his
shoulders, over which fell and curled, from beneath his black skull-cap, in
rich profusion, locks of snowy whiteness. The old man had a noble brow, and
there was much benevolence expressed in the look which he lifted up his bowed
head to cast upon us as we passed. He was preceded by a boy, carrying a large,
richly-chased silver cross, elevated on a long pole; and, as it was the first
living exhibition of Roman Catholicism I had seen here, I looked on the scene
with no little interest.
* * * * *
Paris - 3O, Rue Cassette. 1826.
16th December.
I went on Sunday, through streets where almost every
shop was open, to another church, called St. Etienne. I had no sooner entered
its vestibule, than I heard a voice which made every arch and aisle of the
mighty building sound back its tones of sorrow and of earnest pleading. Passing
in, I found myself in the midst of a large assembly, who were listening with
the most profound attention to a monk, who, attired in his wide black robes,
with his cowl thrown back off his head, addressed the people from a pulpit
placed in front of one of the pillars. His gesticulation partook of extreme
violence ; at one time, he spread forth his hands to the multitudes, as if
appealing to them; at another, he lifted them up to heaven, as if appealing to
God; while the clenched fist and sparkling eye showed now and then that from
the throne of St. Peter still thundered forth the anathemas of the Church of
Rome.
In returning home I passed one of the oldest Roman Catholic ehurches
in Paris. I entered, and it was a scene of magnificent splendour It was
impossible not to admire it as a piece of show; but, as the worship of the true
God, it was impossible not to abhor it.
Its effects were strikingly and
appallingly illustrated on my return home. Almost close by the door of the
church sat a juggler; around whom an immense crowd was collected. The streets
were crowded with people amusing themselves; the shops were brilliantly lighted
up ; the doors of the theatre were already thrown open; the noise of business
and mirth was heard in every quarter; the servants when I returned were gaily
singing songs. All Paris was in arms against its God.
27th
December.
In walking through the streets I have been astonished by the
enormous size of the dogs in Paris. The largest dogs are a species of mastiff,
and, absolutely, many of them are almost the height of calves. They are much
used for drawing small vans, and I have seen many of them pulling a prodigious
weight. You see also dogs of the smallest size. I saw one in the Luxembourg one
day - and an old, cankered-looking wretch, too, it was at least one-half less
than the smallest I ever saw in Britain; a cominon sized rat would have drubbed
it in a jiffey! We used to speculate at Keithock upon my bringing home a dog;
and, had I been returning some weeks ego, I believe I should have bought one on
the Pont Neuf. There are vast numbers of them in cages on the Pont Neuf snd
those which struck my fancy were four little puppies that were suckled by a
cat. I used often to stand and observe them; the little rascals were sometimes
disposed to be troublesome to their more than natural mother, by sporting with
her tail and biting her ears. Puss bore this patiently when she was not
oppressed with sleep; but frequently, a proper blow on the aide of the head
with her paw made some of the little rascals whine- for daring to disturb her
slumbers. They seemed, however, to be very fond of each other; and, considering
the character of their wet-nurse, I should have liked one of them very
much.
1827. 1st January.
Yesterday I set off from Rue Cassette
for the Church of Ste. Genevieve, to witness the splendid caremonies of the day
of the saint. The church, splendid of itself, was this day magnificently
decorated. . . . Every sense was gratified by the exhibition. Banners from
whose golden tops I large white ostrich feathers floated, crosses of prodigious
value, dresses of amazing richness, the multitude of priests, the Archbishop
with his lofty bearing, the rich tapestry, the profusion of light, and the
noble building, afforded to the eye ten thousand gratifications. The silver
censers diffused their aromatic fragrance; while the music now rolled like
thunder, now fell upon the ear sweet and soft as an angel's song.
These
gratified the senses; but, alas! there was nothing to satisfy the longings of a
famished soul, or to save it from destruction. In place of bread, it was a
painted stone; in place of fish, it was a poisoned serpent. Cruel fathers, and
traitorous shepherds, and guilty deceivers that these priests are! Pity for the
people made me burn with indignation against them ; - and when I turned my eyes
from a woman who knelt upon the cold stone, heaved audible and heavy sighs,
shed tears in profusion from her eyes, that were mournfully fixed upon the
figure of our Saviour, and who finished her prayers and the telling of her
heads by kissing the marble that was wet with the tokens of her sorrow, - when
I looked from this deluded but interesting victim, to the proud Archbishop,
bearing himself as high, dispensing pardon as freely, and receiving bonours as
great as if he were a god, I almost felt that I could, like another Melville,
seize the trappings of Popery and curse them before his eyes; or, like more
than another Melville, hurl the mitre from his head and trample it beneath my
feet.
4th.January.
Close by my boarding-house is a large
building, with a beautiful garden attached to it, belonging to the Carmelite
nuns, and night and day are they ringing to prayers, to my great disturbance.
Farther on, you reach the gate, near which the gallant Ney was shot for
treachery, of which almost every man in France was guilty. He was brought out
from the Chamber of Peers, and, almost secretly, led to this spot. No monument
marks the place where the brave soldier fell, but there is not a Frenchman in
Paris but knows it well. He stood on one side of the road, with his back to the
wall of the Luxembourg garden, while the soldiers pointed from its other side
their murderous guns at his undaunted breast. The French, for long after, wrote
upon the wall at the dead of night epitaphs to his memory, and then deep curses
against the Bourbon family. These, every morning, were carefully erased; and
now, all that points out this spot, consecrated in every Frenchman's eyes, is a
long black line drawn upon the wall.
* * * * *
My teacher, old Count
Robiano, was here to-day, bowing and scraping as usual. He began by asking me
if I was to go to Mademoiselle Lafond's soire? I soon satisfied him upon that
subject; and began another with him, which he loved much less, - questioning
him regarding difficulties in the French language. And I did torment the old
rascal with amusing satisfaction! I abhor the old wretch on account of his
vicious character; and he abhors me on account of my questioning one. Of this
he has complained to one of my acquaintances, telling him that I was a terrible
fellow. He is, I suppose, near seventy; a little man, with the long, sharp,
half-Roman nose of a Frenchman; with grey hairs, feeble and bent body -
acquired partly by his dissipated habits, partly by old age, and partly by the
length of time he has practised the bowing and bending manners of a
Frenchman.
8th January
The other night we had tea in Heddle's
room. Heddle told an anecdote so creditable to the Duke of Kent that I resolved
to record it. There can be no doubt of its truth, as he is acquainted with the
person concerned, and also with his friends.
There lived in Orkney a
minister who had two sons; and to procure a church for one of them was the
utmost he could do. The other thought of entering the army; but then he had not
one friend in the world to procure him a commission. The case was desperate,
and it forced him to a desperate remedy. He brined the bold and original
resolution of addressing himself to the Duke of Kent. He penned a letter to the
Duke, which must, from the happy result of it, have no doubt been nobly
written. It was posted silently and secretly; and in a short time the postman
brought a letter to him written by the Duke's secretary, saying that he was
commanded by the Duke to desire him immediately to come up to him. - In doing
so he lest no time; and at last found himself in the room where the Duke's
secretary was sitting. He had sent in his card to the Duke; and, when commanded
to appear before him, he passed the secretary, who said to him, "If the Duke
ask you what regiment you would prefer, say that you would prefer his own."
The young Orcadian at last stood in the presence of Kent, who took him by the
hand and received him in that kind, frank, and protecting manner which he says
he will never forget. The Duke then asked him in what regiment he would like to
be. Like a canny Scotchman, he took care to profit by the hint of the
secretary; and in a few days received an appointment in the Duke's Own.
Peace, peace to the manes of Kent! an act like this of secret, private feeling,
and honourable generosity, does more honour to his memory, than though the
names of a thousand victorious fields were inscribed upon his tomb.
12th
January.
Morning and evening I work. Instead of sitting up late at
night, I now labour in the morning, as less injurious to health - so, at least,
people say. But I have another and a stronger reason, - it saves wood. I go to
bed about twelve; and by means of a fumarde (for which I paid ten sous,
and should only have paid eight), I light my candle, and read and write in my
bed, until I can do so by the daylight. I thus save two hours of fire; for I
determine not to sleep above six hours - in fact, I frequently have not above
five.
As to French, I find myself making considerable progress ; but in
understanding the professors, I am still far behind. Of many whole sentences I
can only form a very imperfect idea; while it is only now and then (and by such
attention as a company assembled after a funeral to hear the will read, give to
the lawyer when he unfolds its interesting details) that I can follow them.
I sometimes almost despair; and am like a shipwrecked sailor who is
buffeting the roaring waves, and would cease to struggle with the danger did he
look only at the distance he is still from the blessed shore, and did he not
turn his head to mark, with gladsome heart and brighter hopes, the progress
already made from the wreck of the fated vessel.
15th January.
The weather very changeable - slight frosts frequently in the morning, a fine
clear forenoon, and slight rain at night. I yesterday expected, and to my great
pleasure received, when at breakfast, a letter from Clementina. When I had
finished reading it I departed for the French Protestant Church, where I met
Everett.
After the precentor or clerk, who by-the-bye wears bands, had read
two chapters and sung as many psalms (a custom which, I think, was at one time
common in the Church of Scotland), the minister appeared. He was an old,
dark-complexioned, sour-lookng man, with a white powdered wig upon his head.
The worship was conducted in a way very similar to ours. I had heard him once
before, and I was sorry to find that I had no reason to change the opinion
which I then formed of him. His prayers were grievously dry, and, being so,
agreeably short. As to his sermon, it was quite in the style of Blair and the
Church of England orations, - an attack upon the riches and honours of the
world; while the old man, at the same time, took the best of all care in the
arrangement of his gown, to show to me and others that he was decorated with
the Cross of St. Louis. This little inconsistency I could, however, have passed
over if the sermon had been evangelical; but it was not. The way of redemption
was hardly noticed; the name of Jesus Christ he did not mention throughout his
discourse.
Still, a few traits of the piety and purity of the original
Church were to be seen; they stood like the ruins of once noble building - a
few melancholy pillars which had survived the general wreck, monuments of the
dead. I allude, among other things, to the admirable, and profitable, and
serious-like custom of reading and singing while the congregation collecting,
and to the preface which both precentor and minister employed before beginning
the different: parts of the work: "Give your devout and religious
attention," etc.
The French are fond of acting or spouting their
sermons, - shutting their eyes, turning them up to heaven, and - cutting such
capers with their hands, and throwing such tones into their voice as an actor
does on the stage. I have now heard two Protestant French ministers, but none
of them can, in point of touching fervour, and real unfeigned, enthusiasm,
compare with the cowled monk I heard in St. Etienne.
* ~* - * *- *
Everett is the only one among the young fellows here who seems to have any
religious principle; and he appears, from his conversation, to have read and
pondered seriously many religious books.I intend to cultivate his acquaintance,
for it is a great but a rare pleasure here to meet a person who wears even the
semblance of religious principle.
Most of the English leave all their
profession of religion and the great body of the French are avowed infidels,
believing in no God except some Being of their own fancy's creation, for whom,
at any rate, they have neither love nor fear . They feel no shame, but glory to
declare this; and who, asked what religion they profess, they will say "Oh,
we are Roman Catholics to appearance. If, however, we saw any necessity for
changing (which we do not, as it is all the same to us, we would become
Protestants."
They never live for tomorrow, and think that a day spent
without amusement is a day lost. Those of them who have been in London complain
that it is insufferably dull. Almost every evening, Madame -St. Marc and the
ladies, along with even the French fellows who profess to be students, spend
either at the-card table or theatre. They would soon measure the depth of the
Seine if doomed to the intolerable fate of spending the forenight [evening] in
quietly and tranquilly reading a book in thier own rooms.
I was once
disposed, to think the French an honest people; but since they heve played some
of their swindling tricks upon myself, I have widely changed my opinion.... I
could relate e multitude of such cases, but it would be a useless waste of
paper to insert them; and so I shall conclude this subject by remarking, that I
neither like French weather nor French ways, French men nor French manners.
The interesting episode of Mr. Guthrie's acquaintance with a Jesuit
seminarist is alluded to in the Autobiography. He mentions him for the first
time in a letter to his sister Clementina;, dated 17th January, 1827, where he
says
But I hasten to introduce to your notice Monsieur Fevrier.He
is my principal companion, and generally spends the whole forenight in my room.
You are doubtless anxious to know what he is - well, I will tell you. My chief
companion is neither more nor less than a Jesuit! Tell John Mill that, and his
eyes will start out of his head; and Meggy Stewart will take another pinch of
the brown snuff, and say, she does not believe it! It is, however, true. He is
not exactly a priest, though he was educated amongst them, and tells me that he
has preached; and I assure you he does not disgrace the Jesuits. He is a very
clever, and, what is better, a very good man. If you knew Fevrier, Jesuit as he
is, you would esteem him highly, and see in him ten thousand points of
admiration. He is a lad of most rigid principle, and condemns loudly the vices
of the French - and that, everywhere, without fear. Roman Catholic as he is,
would to God that all Protestants were like him.
He has come from Lyons,
for the purpose of obtaining a situation as Latin teacher - a language which he
speaks with ease. He is very poor, I fear; and his wasted hands, and the
flushing of his pale countenance look as if he were fast sinking into
consumption. I feel sorry to think that Fevrier should be a Catholic, and have
repeatedly attempted, to bring him to a conversation upon the merits of his
Church; and almost as repeatedly he has eluded me. He seems to be quite
restless - when I direct the conversation in that channel; looks at me
sometimes when I am drawing to the point with a countenance in which suspicion
is strongly marked; his dark face expresses extreme anxiety, and I see fear
evidently lurking in the sidelong looks with which be casts his black eyes upon
me. I am thus obliged to act with extreme caution; otherwise, I doubt not,
Fevrier would at once dissolve acquaintanceship. The difficulty is, to get the
subject introduced apparently without intention.
Such an opportunity
occurred three days later; for we find Mr. Guthrie thus writing in the Journal,
which we now resume
1827. 2lst January. Lastnight, about
half-past nine, Fevrier entered my room and took his usual seat close by the
stove, with a foot on each side of it and his body inclining above, while his
hands were placed upon its top. He began to tell me of some conversation which
had been carried on in the lodge, which somehow or other led me to remark that
Thuophilus did not seem to hold confession in much respect. This led me to ask
how often it was necessary to make confession; until the conversation at last
gave me an opportunity of denying the necessity or propriety of Roman Catholic
confession, which was answered on Fevrier's part by a scowl of horror, an
expression of surprise at my ignorance, and a load and violent asseveration of
its pre-eminent necessity. I told him calmly that his asseveration (any more
than the asseverations of his priests) was not suffioient, and that he must
prove it. He then began some rigmarole story about Mother Church, to which I
replied that I did not give a fig for the opinions of Mother Church, nor of any
body of fallible men and that my only authority was "that book " (giving
a slap on the boards of the French Bible which I taken up from the table).
Holding out the Bible to him, "Prove, said I, "the doctrine from the
words of Divine Revelation, and I will believe it." I maintained that I was
as well able as the priests to declare, that, if he believed in Christ, his
sins would be forgiven; and that the priests, in this respect, were on a level
with myself - fallible, as he could not deny that they were, and sinners, as he
could not deny that they were. I dared him to prove that they were, in any one
respect, more warranted to make such a declaration than myself.
At this,
Pevrier's passion (which had been awakened shortly - after the commencement,
and increased as the discussion progressed, became perfectly ungovernable.
Every limb of his body shook with rage; he foamed at the mouth, and, with eyes
full of fury, be clenched his fiat, and, extending his arm, thrust it almost
into my face, while he forced out from his choking throat and set teeth
something about me (by comparing myself with the priests) having committed an
act of high and impious presumption.
It was now half-past twelve, and the
whole house was buried in sleep; while I sat alone in a room, the object of a
Roman Catholic's and a Jesuit's fury, who glared upon me as if he could have
thrust a dagger in my heart. The idea of danger rushed upon my mind; for, more
than once, Fevrier looked as if ready to deal out to me something harder than
his arguments. But, secure in the consciousness of my own personal strength, I
knew I could easily master him; and, wrapped in my cloak, I lay back in my
chair, coolly watching his motions, and calmly eyeing him during this violent
burst of rage.
When he seemed to have exhausted himself, and sat frowning
like a demon upon me, I, with a calmness and self-possession which astonished
myself, sat up erect on my seat, and, taking the Bible in my hand, held it up,
while I fixed my eye steadily upon him, said, "Behold, Monsieur, the only
authority which I acknowledge, the only authority which, independent of the
whole Roman Catholic Church, you ought to acknowledge. That book claims a
divine origin; and I defy all the priests on earth to prove that, to use its
own language, it is not all profitable for doctrine, for reproof; for
correction, for instruction in righteousness. "
He, in a few minutes,
again renewed the combat, by quoting a Latin passage, and calling upon me to
reply to it. I said I should willingly do so when he showed me the impression
in the sacred writings; and, putting the Bible in his hands," Show me it,
said I, "Monsieur." He sat at least a quarter of an hour silently
looking for it, during which I sat looking him in the face; and observing his
strongly-marked chagrin upon not finding it, I at last said to him, "You
need look no longer, it is not there; and though it were, depend upon it you
give a false meaning to it, because we never read of a single case where the
Apostles took upon them to say that they forgave sins. And besides,"
said I, "Monsieur, I dare you to show me one single, one solitary
passage from this - " (striking the one side of the Bible) "of tho word
of God, to that" (giving the other side a sounding blow), "where
confession to priests, penance, or anything of the kind, is inculcated, or in
the slightest degree acknowledged;" and putting the Bible in his hands
again, I said, "One passage, Monsieur, one solitary passage, I defy you to
produce." In a short time he gave a loud and scornful laugh of triumph, and
I wondered what upon earth the fellow could have stumbled upon. With an air of
as much joy and pride as if he had just returned to this earth, and brought
with him from heaven a charter constituting the Pope and his councils the true
representatives of God upon earth, he pointed to a chapter in Matthew, and read
aloud a verse where Christ promises to give to his disciples the power of
casting out devils. I could not resist asking, with a stare in which irony and
astonishment were blended, "What of that? It is true; but what has that do
with the matter?" . . - Having the Bible in his hand, he began again to
fumble in it for his priest-born quotation; and after another quarter, with as
little success as formerly, I told him again that it was not there, and that he
must seek for it somewhere else; and that, moreover, as it was now well on - to
two in the morning, he must defer his search to another opportunity.
Shortly after this we bade each other bonsoir; and I went to my bed,
hoping that the discussion might, through God's blessing, prove of some benefit
to him, well pleased that I had maintained throughout such command of my
feelings (never having, for four or five hours close debate, lost temper but
once, and that only for a moment), and grateful to Dr. Chalmers for
having aided me effectually in finding apt quotations by his book of
references.
22nd Jenuary. -
Yesterday mowing I was engaged with
my coffee in the salle a manger, when Fevrier entered. He bowed rather
coldly to me, and the cloud was on his brow. I was pleased to see that he felt
chagrined at the result of last night's discussion; and in proof that his
belief in the infallibility of the Roman Catholic dogmas was rather shaken, he
had no sooner entered than he told Madame of the debate (she, by the bye, cares
no more for the differences between Roman Catholic and Protestant, than she
does about those which doubtless subsist amongst the inhabitants of the moon),
and, apparently not confirmed in the belief of his own opinions, asked her if
she thought he was right.
I then set off for Mark Wilks service, which is
held in a part of the Oratoire. The preacher was a Mr. Hodge, an
American professor, who had come to Europe for the purpose of studying the
Oriental languages. He intended to do so in Germany, but was at present
studying French in Paris, as a medium of communication with the Germans. He was
a young-like, intelligent, fair, good-looking, thin, and rather little man; and
gave us a capital sermon from the 19th verse of the fifth chapter of 1 John.
The singing was very beautiful. The English sounded most sweetly and pleasantly
to my ear. It brought vividly before my mind's eye memories of my native land;
while the smallness of the numbers, the upper room in which we were met, the
irreligious and idolatrous country in which we were maintaining the pious
worship of God, reminded me of the infant state of the Christian Church.
On returning to Rue Cassette, and entering the porter's lodge, I was well
pleased to see Fevrier sitting with a New Testament in his hand, searching for
his mighty passage; it showed that he doubted. After dinner, I went for my
candle, when Fevrier came in; we had no opportunity of speaking since the
debate. I asked him some question. He came up, took me affectionately by the
hand, and clapping me on the shoulder, called me "bon enfant " (an
expression of kindness among the French). I asked him to come up at night,
which he did. He never spoke of Saturday night's discussion, neither did I,
intending to wait a day or two for precaution's sake. He is off to-day to visit
his friend, the head of the La Charite nuns; and I am expecting that he will
come with her explanation of the difficulty. WELL, LET THEM ALL COME ON!
24th January.
Some days ago we had the "Jour des Rois " -
the day of the kings. Who these kings were I could not possibly divine; until
told by Fevrier (with astonishment on his part at my ignorance, and amazement
on mine at his credulity) that these kings were the Magi, who came from the
East to worship our God. "Kings " I could not help saying, "kings,
Monsieur! Who made them kings? I am pretty sure that, in the only book which
gives us any account of them, we hear nothing of their Royal Majesties."
Monsieur Fevrier had nothing to say; and so the subject dropped. I do believe
that if the Council of Trent had declared that the Apostle Peter was Khan of
Tartary or Bey of Algiers, the people would have swallowed the camel-sized, the
mountainous falsehood without a single strain. It would have slid down their
throats as smoothly as an oyster!
But I forgot to mention the custom
prevalent through all France, which alone induced me to notice this day of
Roman Catholic kings. At dinner, in the middle of the table, there was placed a
large cake or gateau, as they call it. Inside this is placed a nut or
kernel. The cake is cut into as many pieces as there are people at table. Every
person must take a piece; and he in whose piece the nut is found is constituted
king of the company. He must choose from the ladies a queen, and present the
company with a repast. I was informed of all this before the cake was sent
round ;and I resolved to be out of the scrape, and accordingly arranged with
Heddle that, if the stone fell to the share of either of us, we would swallow
it! Heddle and I having calmed our anxieties with this magnanimous resolution,
we began to speculate upon the fun we would enjoy if it fell to the lot of
Boots and, strange to say (to our loud laughter and unbounded joy), it did! I
could hardly regain my gravity, and, as the laughter grew louder, Boots
appeared, from his looks, to be in a perfect perplexity whether to laugh to get
angry, or to become abashed. He at last decided for the second, and childishly
angry he became, and his nose, ay, to its very point, grew furiously red - like
some strange and portentous meteor in the heavens, that bodes ill to man.
Fierce grew his face, and bright was the fire of his dark rolling ee, when I
said that had I had the happiness to have been elected king, I would have done
what I would advise him now to do - to choose no other than Mademoiselle Hiver
herself, - ay, none else than the lantern-jawed, gaunt, and bony (not bonny)
Mademoiselle Hiver - aged, I suppose, about fifty! Boots would not choose:
though we got him at last convinced that he must give a supper, and he growled
like a bear over the anticipated loss of his forty francs.
31st
January.
I have seen and conversed with a number of old soldiers, and,
in fact, every man almost in France seems to have been a soldier; and it is
really laughable to a person who knows anything about the history of the last
twenty years, to hear them still ranting about their invincible prowess, and
their glorious immortality. One would believe, from their conversation, that
the King of France was sole emperor of the earth, not even excepting the
dominions of the late Pomare of Otaheite; and that the honour of France,
instead of having been torn to tatters by the Lion of Britain, ay, on every
soil, had waved triumphant over us, the "proud islanders," as we are
called.
A friend of Adolphe St. Marc's and I had a regular set-to for at
least an hour and a half upon these subjects. I stood stoutly up for my country
against them both; though I did not go so far as Richie Moniplies, in thinking
that a lie, though bad enough in other cases, redounded much to one's credit
when told in praise of one's native land. Still, I do not wonder much that
Richie, blessed with no very acute moral sensibilities, should have held and
acted upon: this maxim. I never felt more national pride, or more mental
gratification, than when I have stood amongst a band of Frenchmen, and, in
rep]y to their weak attacks upon my country, bade them look to our character, -
to our riches, to the extent of our dominions, to our navy riding triumphant on
the waves of every sea, to our ensigns planted in every quarter of the globe,
to the history of the last twenty-six years, filled with a series of our own
past successful battles, terminated on the land by Waterloo, and on the sea by
Trafalgar.
Adele has left this house from an unfortunate quarrel with
Madame St. Marc, who is a heartless sinner, and was horribly harsh to her.
Adele came in the other morning and said, "Ah! Monsieur Thomas, I have come
to bid you adieu. I am only sorry to leave you, and Monsieur Heddle and
Monsieur Fevrier. I do esteem you very highly. My countrymen are bad, very bad,
using bad words and committing bad actions; but your conversation has always
been good, and your conduct has been always well principled; though a stranger
and a foreigner, you have been always very kind to me. When you return to your
native land, you will sometimes remember Addle." And with the tears
streaming from her eyes, she went out of the room, - and before she shut the
door, again looked in and said, "Adieu, Monsieur Thomas, adieu." I have
not felt so sorry this long, long time. It is no common pleasure to find one
virtuous person with whom one can converse. We think little of virtue and
principle in Britain, but here, where it is rarely to be found, one accounts it
a brighter gem.
2nd February.
Paris is the best place in the
world for pursuing any science, saving those of morality and religion. As to
everything else, Paris possesses prodigious advantages. You have lectures on
every subject, and that gratis - excepting in a few cases, when you have to pay
a trifle of "Inscription," or "matriculation", which I think you
have to do at the Ecole de Medecine. It amounts to about twenty
shillings, or something of that kind.
While there are lectures on every
subject, these are delivered by the first men. Their mode of election in Paris
is admirable. The professors meet in a hall open to the public; and instead of
examining the different candidates for a chair, they, the candidates, examine
each other, and in Latin too, I think. The candidates will consequently take
care, if they are blessed with the shadow of common sense, that such a thing as
formal and superficial examinations shall be unknown in France (unless when the
sounds of our Northern doings happen to come 80 far south), and the law of the
land takes care that there shall be no such thing as closet or back-stairs
transactions. Hereditary chairs are, consequently, unknown, unless the son can
prove by the trial of a public examination, carried on by the merciless heads
and hearts of his opponents, that he inherits his father's pre-eminent
abilities. Such an animal as ? would astonish the French; and my friend
Geoffroi St. Hilaire would, I suspect, find some difficulty in assigning him
his proper place amongst human monsters!
* * * * *
9th
February.
Hotel de l'Etoile du Nord. Quai St. Michel.
On Wednesday
evening I dined for the last time in 80, Rue Cassette. Heddle and I rather
mournfully shared our last bottle of wine; for, though I cared not a fig for
the people, yet I had formed something like an attachment to the walls of my
little room, to the humble stove which had so often warmed me with its heat,
and once nearly killed me with its carbonic acid; and to the plain little oaken
table, beside which I had passed many a happy, many a melancholy, and many a
studious hour. There was also the sad idea of parting with Heddle, who was very
kind to me when I arrived, a total stranger, in Paris; to whom Scotland was as
dear to him as it was to me and with whom I had often indulged in sweet
reminiscences of the virtue and the valour, the honesty and uprightness of my
native land. And to Boots, also, I had to bid farewell, who had,afforded us
such a fund of amusement, and who, with his many boyish faults, was yet a
downright and good-hearted fellow...
I bade farewell to a house to which
Bonaparte, at one time, had daily gone, and where many of the scenes of the
Revolution were planned; to a street celebrated last autumn for the
assassinations which were perpetrated within its bounds; and to the bell of the
Carmelite convent whkh had so often, and so early, rung me to my books and
studies, as it had the nuns, my next neighbours (whom, however, I had never the
pleasure of seeing), to their penances and prayers.
I am now in the Hotel
de l'Etoile du Nord, which is neither more nor less than a large lodging-house.
In this one there are about thirty rooms, almost all full. Everett, a
Frenchman, and I breakfast with the people of the house. The Frenchman is a
very intelligent fellow, who, like all the Frenchmen I have seen, has read
Walter Scott's novels in French, and has, moreover, read many English books in
the English language. He writes for the periodicals, and is, according to
Everett, an atheist; so that I expect before leaving Paris to have some tough
battles with him. There is in the house a grandmother (to begin, like an
Irishman, at the beginning); a father, who is an industrious old boy, that by
his own economy and labour has built the hotel; a mother, who, like the father,
is a very pleasant sort of person; then there comes a family of daughters,
without one son, none of whom have any great claims, whatever their pretensions
may be, to beauty. From what I have seen of them, and from Everett's report,
they are very pleasant, modest, polite, well-behaved girls, who are, in fact,
less Frenchified than any I of the inhabitants of Paris I have yet seen. The
salle, where we breakfast, is on the ground floor, and there I sit and converse
ordinarily an hour every morning. At night again, before lighting my fire, I
spend another hour there. The girls are sewing; the mother, her oldest daughter
(who is married), and old granny, are seated round the stove; papa, with his
cap on his head, is pacing about the room; while, in one corner, two or three
Italians are pouring forth the smooth and oily streams of eir native tongue; in
another, two or three Frenchmen are debating upon the probability of a
Revolution, and I am generally among these politicians; in another, a club of
Englishmen are slurring over the rr's; while, above these motley sounds, rises
the strong and musical voice of a Welshman, who had studied in Edinburgh, and
who is making the room ring to the tune and words of "Will ye go, lassie, go
to the braes o Balquidder "
11th February. -
This morning,
about eleven, I left my lodgings for the Champs Elysees to hear Way, an English
preacher, of whom Boots had spoken in high terms, - though, if I had been to
judge from the effects it had upon Boots, I would have been led to form but a
poor opinion of his talents; for Boots acknowledged that, after the worship was
concluded, he treated himself with a sight of the bear and dog-baiting at the
Place des Combats. . Having procured a seat with difficulty, I sat down beside
my old friend Boots, who recognised me with a smile and a nod, and had hardly
got myself arranged when I was struck with the preacher's loud defiance to all
atheists, infidels, Socinians, and scoffers at the Gospel, to prove the
contrary of what he maintained. I thought I had fallen on my feet now, and so
set myself for profound attention, which was immediately fixed by the preacher
declaring, - .in the tones of a man who is maintaining the truth, - the object
be had always had in view in what he had preached, wrought, and written. Then,
striking on the Bible which lay before him (for he had no paper), "I find
these doctrines there;" and then, beating his breast, "I have felt them
in my own heart!" Having, in proof of some position or another, referred to
the case of Philip and the eunuch, he said, "Ay, it would be well that we
followed the example of this eunuch - that, when travelling from one city to
another, we employed ourselves in reading the Scriptures."
I was so
well pleased with this touch, that I took out my box for a snuff, and made such
a horrid noise (the people paying such profound attention) that I had three or
four real British faces instantly fixed in wonderment on me. I, however, no
ways abashed, took my pinch, quite delighted with my situation; and in a little
time heard him declare that the end of all things was near at hand; that at
present, as in the time I of righteous Noah, the world was lying in wickedness,
and particularly the cities of continental Europe; that, as the antediluvian
inhabitants asked where were the waters that were to float the mighty bark
which was built on the dry and solid earth, so the scoffers and practical
infidels of our day now ask, "Where is the promise of His coming?" Then,
raising himself up, and, prophet-like, stretching out his arm, he declared, "
He shall come like a thief in the night. The very waters which once rolled
their mighty tide over this earth shall be decomposed, and shall thea roll over
you, scoffers and worldly men and unbelievers, their flood of devouring
fire!"
Way's sermon was most decidedly orthodox, and ably conceived
and executed. He is rather eccentric in his manner of expressing himself, and
too much given to fanciful speculations upon the prophecies of the Apocalypse,
He seems to be infected with the same disease as Edward Irving - a mania
of prophecy- interpreting, from which I cannot see the probability of any good
results. In spite of these minor faults, Lewis Way occupies, with great glory
to God and great honour to himself, this most important ground. To send such
men as - here, is worse than an error. We must have such men as Chalmers, or
Thomson, or Gordon - men not only sound in principle, but giants in
intellect; none of your milk-and-water, commonplace, old-wife, drivelling
fellows, who were fitted by nature to weave no web but an Osnaburg, to figure
on no board but a tailor's; but men who, animated with divine enthusiasm, can
grapple, by their talents, with the champions of infidelity, and rouse, by
their stirring eloquence, the latent passions of the soul.
16th
February.
I entered one day the large and old church of St. Eustache;
and there I saw for the first time the relics which the pretres pretend
to hold, and the ignorant multitude do regard with much superstitious
reverence. Had they been anywhere but where they were, I might have regarded
them with hallowed reverence, - as having formed a part and portion of the men
who shed the light of religion on earth, and have for ages, with the crown of
martyrdom on their heads, shone on high as the stars in the firmament of
heaven. But I knew that no dependence could he placed on these Roman Catholic
legends; and that, moreover, these relics (though they had been collected from
the ashes of the martyr at the foot of the stake) were now rendered by the
priests subservient only to maintain the human mind in a . state of brutal
ignorance, and thus to counteract the very object for which Eustache and his
companions had gone joyfully to the death. And I knew that the martyrs, were
they to rest for a moment on this earth, in passing on some message of heaven
from one bright world to another, would be the first to cast their relics in
the fire, and disperse the dust on the wings of the winds of heaven.
* * *
*
The cat-like manner in which they bury the poor here, beats anything I
ever saw; One day, when walking in the Boulevard, I followed the
strange-looking hearse in which they are carried, not to their grave, but
trench. It has a black-painted top, with black boards along the sides hardly
high enough to keep the coffin in. On the dickey sits an old, wasted skeleton
of a little figure, with a prodigious cocked hat upon his head, while his
clothes, which had in ages past been black, have been bleached by the united
efforts of many a sun and many a shower, into the less mourning colour of dirty
grey. He, with the body and the hearse, are drawn by two miserable black nags,
- the one probably blind in one eye, a defect, however, balanced, on the part
of the other, by its being lamed in one leg. I followed this machine,
immediately behind five or six women and two men who seemed to be mourners.
We at last arrived at the churchyard, about the middle of which the vehicle
stopped, and two men coming up, out with the coffin upon their shoulders.
Setting off at a round trot, they almost distanced me, who was looking for a
moment at the spirit the old charioteer and his horses had plucked up; for no
sooner had he got free of his load, than crack went the whip, and off went the
horses through the churchyard in a style that bore some resemblance to a
gallop.
I got to to the people with the coffin, just as they had arrived at
the place where it was to be laid. This place was no other than a long trench
or ditch of sufficient breadth to permit two coffins to lie across it. No
sooner was the coffin laid in its place, than a new and affecting and more
human-like scene presented itself. On the earth thrown out of the trench, on
which I and the women stood, they all fell at once on their knees, and with
eyes from some of which the big tears rolled, now directed down upon the poor
and lowly coffin, now to the bright blue sky overhead, they remained for three
or four minutes in prayer - offered in especial, doubtless, for the soul of the
deceased. One by one they rose; and after one of them in particular had taken a
long, last, sad, lingering look down into the trench, they slowly departed in a
body.
19th February.
The other Thursday, after many previous
attempts to find Monsieur Jean-Baptiste Say, the great political-economist, I
at last succeeded in seeing him. My letter of introduction was from Joseph
Hume. . . . I went cheerily along, with the expectation of finding Monsieur Say
in his study; and, as I knew he could speak English, jawing to him with ease in
my native tongue. It will not be easy, then, to conceive my disappointment and
my unmeasured amazement when the servant girl, opening the door, ushered me
into a room, where Monsieur Say, Madame, and the two demoiselles were at
breakfast. During the time I occupied in making a most polite bow to the
company, - who had half-started from their chairs at my towering appearance,
an(1 were gazing upon me in mute astonishment, - said I to myself; "This is
a real ugly job: I have got into a pretty scrape." I had never attempted to
murder the language of His Most Christian Majesty's dominions but in the easy
presence of students, the vulgar presence of servants, and the ugly presence of
Madame St. Marc. "But what now, Tom, art thou to do" thought I (as I sat
down in the chair to which Monsieur Say pointed), "before these showy,
polished, fine-looking demoiselles. To sit mute I must not, to speak good
French I cannot. I am between the horns of a dilemma,, and upon the one or the
other I must gore myself " While I sat, now surveying the lining of my hat,
now giving it a rotatory motion upon my leg (as if employed in the process of
hat-dressing), now regarding Monsieur Say reading the letter, now stealing a
glance at the demoiselles whom my eye sometimes caught stealing a glance at me
- and ruminating, amid the solemn silence, upon my most awkward situation, a
ray of hope shot across the darkness. Thought I, "I'll make Monsieur Say
speak English by doing so to him; and as to Madame, why, she may count her
fingers; while, as to the young ladies, they and I will express our mutual
friendship and admiration by the language of signs!"
So, seizing the
moment when Monsieur had finished his perusal, I out with a good English
sentence, in the shape of an apology for not delivering my letter sooner. The
conversation had proceeded a little; and, though I saw Monsieur Say labouring
under considerable difficulty in expressing himself, I had no pity for him, and
had just begun to congratulate myself on my circumstances, when I was at once,
and without any warning, obliged to shift for myself the best way I could, by
Madame putting down her cup of tea, and, in French, asking me if I knew much of
the language!
The cunning of Ulysses could not have helped him here; and
so, resigning myself to my fate, I answered her in French. This produced
another question on her part, and necessarily another answer on mine. Monsieur
Say then joined the conversation, and Mademoiselle Say (for the other did not
speak any) then used her pretty pipe; and, somehow or another, cheered and
encouraged by her smiles, I succeeded in conversing with the fine-looking
demoiselle with a comparative facility at which I myself was immeasurably
astonished. Monsieur then went out of the room to write a letter of
introduction for me to the Librarian of the "Institute," that I might be
permitted to " assist" at its sittings, - not going there merely as a
stranger, but to mix with its members. This, Brutin tells me, is a great and
honourable advantage.
I was holding forth in an unabashed, amazingly good,
but still blundering style, when Monsieur returned; and after being asked to
attend the soirees (at which tea is given, and which are held every Wednesday
night), I made my politest bows and withdrew; thanking Monsieur for his
kindness, pleased with Madame, delighted with the demoiselle, and marvellously
astonished at myself!
21st Febrnary.
Having been accustomed to
give in Edinburgh so much to the beggars, I resolved, when I came here, to
resist, though much against my heart, every application of the kind; and have
never broken my resolve, except in three cases. The first sou I threw in the
cup of a blind man, which a dog, holding it in its teeth,, presented to me. The
dog stood holding the cup so patiently, and looked up to me with such meek
entreaty in his honest face, that my hand dived into my pocket, and the sou
rattled in the cup before I was aware that I had transgteesed my law.
The
third son was fairly charmed out of my pocket by the necromantic smiles of a
Savoyard girl. The little elf might be about nine years of age. After I had
passed, with a heart of stone, two or three of her mates who had arranged
themselves along the street, it came to her turn to assail me. Instead of
beginning the attack, as ours at home do, by a doleful groan and piteous face,
she, as the boys and girls do here, said with a smile, which my weakness proved
to be far more witching. "Ah, Monsieur, bon Monsieur, donnez- moi quelque
chose " As I am irresistibly disposed to smile in return (the dangerous
effects of which this case taught me), I now always make my heels my friend,
and get out of the way of temptation as fast as possible. However, then, I
unfortunately happened to smile in return. Seeing this, and judging that I was
not altogether adamantine, she redoubled her battery; and smiling and laughing,
she ran backwards before me along the street, until I at last gave in, giving
her the son, and laughing at my own folly
* * * * *
26th
February.
Heard to-day another proof of the absolute and tyrannical
character of the French Government. Improbable as it may appear to a freemen of
Great Britain, not ~nore than twenty men, except when there are females also,
dare to meet together to sit down to dinner!
At present the Bourbons may
well tremble on the throne, unless they introduce a speedy and a radical change
into their system of government. The people are as anxious for a revolution as
the priests are opposed to it, and by their present measures paving the way for
it. This bold attempt against the liberty of the subject, in the ministerial,
or rather the priestly attacks upon the liberty of the press, has alienated
almost every man from the present reigning family; and knowing, as the people
do, that the priesthood is at the bottom of all these conspiracies against
their privileges, they hate them from the heart; and do not hesitate to say
(though they have no religion themselves, but in the knowledge that a religion
will always subsist), "Ah, Britain is happy in having a Protestant religion;
we wish we had the same."
Fevrier abhors the Bourbon Government, and
dwells sweetly and sadly upon the memory, as they call him, of Napoleon the
Great. I was walking with him to-day in the Luxembourg Gardens, and began, in
too plain French, and in too loud a voice, such a hearty invective against the
wretched Bourbons, that I forgot altogether where I was, until Fevrier,
pointing to the soldiers who stood almost close by us, whispered in my ear
something about " espions!" (spies.) I took the hint, and we immediately
shifted ground.
25th March.
A very melancholy circumstance
lately occurred, which threw a gloom for some days over my acquaintance. Hay
was not a personal acquaintance of mine; but I have frequently heard Heddle,
Armstrong and Taylor (almost his only friends here) speak of him. He had a
considerable property in Scotland; and, being of a peculiar disposition, had
wandered almost alone for years upon the Continent, attended only by a Swiss
servant.
Heddle, Armstrong, and Taylor called upon him on Sunday night;
they found him in bed, complaining of his throat and a slight general illness.
Though they counted it as nothing, still, as they knew that he was very
careless of himself, two of them resolved to go and see him on Monday. Taylor
and Armstrong called accordingly, were ushered into his room, and there lay
poor Hay, - whom they had seen in almost perfect health the night before, and
whom they expected to find completely recovered - stretched upon his bed
speechless and motionless, and fast sinking into dissolution. The unexpected
and appalling spectacle rivetted them for a moment on the threshold of the
door, when Armstrong exclaimed, " Good God, Hay is gone!" and rushed
forward to the bed where he lay. Hay turned his eyes upon them, and his look
spoke more than a thousand tongues. Ho made an attempt to address them; but his
lips refused their office, while the big tears chased each other down his
pallid and sunken cheek, until the pillow below his head was soaked. Amid the
ruins of his body his soul still evidently retained it throne, and when every
other avenue of communication with this world was shut up, it threw an
expression into his weeping eyes, which would have melted a heart of stone. He
was evidently loth to leave this world; and I fear, from what I had heard of
him, he had too much reason to be so. His situation was truly pitiable; and
what was more so, it was past relief; his riches could not relieve it, the
remembrance of the past could not, the friends who stood by him were ill-fitted
to do so; and even though they had, he was out of hearing in the valley of
death. Nature rapidly retreated; and on Monday night, by six o clock, Death was
left alone with his prey.
Heddle, much affected, told me all this ; and he
and Armstrong came to me the night before the funeral to beg of me to attend
it. - Heddle, Armstrong, and I set off in a carriage, on the day of the
funeral, to Hay's house.
There were no bustling servants, no gaping crowd,
no weeping relatives; the stillness of death was in the house; none were there,
but Taylor and the Swiss; and there was no living creature broke the silence of
the dead man's dwelling, but a pretty little dog, of which Hay was very fond,
and which, all unconscious of its loss, came amid its gambols to lick my hand
and seek some attention.
When the English clergyman came, we entered the
salle a manger, from which there was a door opened into the room where
Hay lay. The light of day was almost excluded from the chamber; a dim and
solitary lamp burned upon the chimneypiece, and its sepulchral light was
reflected back from the gold border of the white satin mortcloth that covered
the coffin, upon which was placed a crown and wreath of artificial flowers of
the same colour. After two or three more of Hay's acquaintances and countrymen
had entered, there was one - who had come with a letter of introduction to him
two days before, and had found to his astonishment that he was dead - who asked
Taylor if the "tomb" was screwed down. He was told it was.
"Because," said he, with a broad Scotch accent, "it is a custom with
us, you know, to take a last look of the deceased before the corpse is
lifted." I was highly pleased with this specimen of nationality. His
request was immediately granted. We entered the room, the mortcloth was
removed, which displayed a coarse, unpainted, uncovered coffin. There was a
lock upon it, which Taylor opened; the screws were taken out by the servant,
and the whole top taken off. The body was only wrapped up in a long winding-
sheet; this was tied at the head and feet, so that the face could not be seen
until the knot was undone. The countenance was at last exposed; it was mild,
like an infant's asleep; and, unless in the case of a fine-looking woman's,
which I saw in the dissecting-room, I never saw features less marred by death.
We looked for a few minutes on the shrouded body, and still and placid face of
our countryman. If there was no tear shed, there was no word spoken. Absorbed
in his own thoughts, each seemed to forget that he had any other there but the
dead man before him. Taylor at last stepped forward, and tied again the knot
that was never to be untied. The master of the ceremonies, dressed in a black
cloak, with a cocked hat and mourning sword, now eame in to say that all was
ready
In about two hours we reached Pere La Chaise. At the gate we
came out of the mourning carriages, and, headed by the English clergyman, and
like him, uncovered, we wended our way amid the tall and mournful cypresses,
the tombs of marble where lie the mighty dead of France, the crosses and
Virgins beneath whose protection the devotees repose, and the flowers and
groves of laurel, up the mount at whose base Paris lay stretched out in the
bright, unclouded sun. At the moment appointed in the service, the body was let
down by the sextons, and, far from the place where his forefathers sleep, the
earth of a strange land closed over our poor countryman.
29th
March.
Moore and I set off for Monsieur Jean-Alexandre Buchon, the
editor of the Constitutionnel, - the first journal in point of talent in
France.
We found Buchon sitting with a moustached Frenchman in his study.
He was attired in a jacket, and a pair of worsted pantaloons that answered for
stockings too. . (Mem. - To have, if possible, a pair of them.) He is a
most acute and intellectual-looking fellow, with immense vivacity in his
manner, and more of vigour than is usual among the French; such twisting of the
body, such shrugging of the shoulders, such turning up of the eyebrows, such
constant use of the hands, the staid inhabitants of Britain can form no idea
of, far less practise. The principal subject of conversation was politics.
Buchon appeared to me well entitled to that very first-rate estimation
universally awarded to him. Many of his views, however, appeared without
foundation; and I could observe in him, as in many others, a petty jealousy of
the British nation, and a secret desire to detract from Mr. Canning's well -
merited fame
31st March.
Went the other day to call upon
Monsieur Coquerel, the editor of the Protestant Review, a very pleasant young
man, and intelligent also. He speaks English almost as well as he does French.
We spoke of Presbyterianism, when he told me that the Protestants on the
Continent were all with us in that respect - more even than their forms would
indicate. I had just introduced the subject of the Apocrypha, when our
conversation was interrupted by a gentlemen coming in, who was introduced to me
as a Protestant clergyman near Paris, and to whom I was introduced as one
"du Kirk," - the distinguishing title under which the Church of Scotland
is recognised here.
He then asked me some questions about Chalmers,
and told me that he was the only minister whose works were celebrated upon the
Continent. I mentioned Robert Hall, but he had never heard of him.
Next
day I went with the only remaining letter of Bowring's writing, more anxious to
find the person to whom this was directed, than in tbe other cases. This arose
from what Moore told me. Said he, "Have you any more letters?"
"Yes," I replied; "I have one to a Monsieur Marc-Antoine
Jnllien." "The villain," be replied; "I won't go near him; but go
you, by all means." At this I was a little astonished, and asked for an
explanation, when he told me a part of Jullien's history that makes me most
anxious to see this human monster. I have called twice, but always failed;
however, I yet hope to find him. He was no other than the secretary of
Robespierre during the bloody times of the Revolution; travelled in this
capacity about France, with a portable guillotine, and, in the execution of his
most honourable and merciful office, is said to have been the means of chopping
off the heads of at least twenty thousand individuals. I am determined to see
and speak to this vampire.
I have spent many an hour in Notre Dame at these
Conferences, with no small entertainment; and then repaired to the Chapel of
the Virgin, to hear the last mass sung for the night. But I oftener withdrew to
some dark, retired arch of the vast and magnificent pile, and enjoyed the
solemn and sublime feelings which the scene before me was calculated to excite.
The few candles that yet burned at some shrines offered barely to show long
vistas of lofty pillars, amid which you could dimly descry a kneeling devotee,
or the dark. figure of a cowled monk moving with slow and silent steps amongst
them. The light from the eternal lamp shone faintly upon the golden crucifix
and crosses and candlesticks that adorned the altar. The moonbeam was
struggling through the lofty and richly-painted windows, to fall on the sad
scene of our Saviour's or some martyr's death, represented by a master's hand;
while the effect of all this was heightened, even to a feeling of awe, by the
music that came softly swelling and rolling amid the mighty arches from the
hidden shrine where the mass was sung. Sometimes the whole body of worshippers
sang, and then the sound, though softened and blended by distance, was still
strong and powerful. In a moment all was still as death, save the sounds that
still faintly vibrated amid the lofty arches. Amid the oppressive and solemn
silence the voices of the attendant boys rose shrill and clear, and during
every pause they made, the choristers of heaven seemed answering to their song
in the clear echo that prolonged the notes.
16th April
Quitted
Paris for Brussels on Tuesday the 10th. Fevrier was in great distress about my
leaving. On Monday afternoon found him waiting at the Hotel de l'Etoile in
great tribulation; the Count, poor body, had also called repeatedly. Went with
Fevrier to buy a present; he took a very cheap one, with which I was not
pleased. He went off, more sorry to leave me than I ever saw any, not a
relation. Set off next day for the Mont Royal with Heddle, Everett, and Geddes;
embraced all the dames and demoiselles in the house, agreeably to French
fashion. There was such a lot, I had a difficulty in finding if I had not
missed any - a deadly offence. Wandered about for an hour. We all shook hands
with real and mutual sorrow - mounted the banquette; turned about as I entered
Montmartre to take a last view of them; took off my hat, and waved a signal of
friendship; they were engaged in answering when the coach turned to hide me
from them, and, as I thought at the time, it might be for ever.