Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

scarcely command, was the illness of his sister. He is seventysix, she is eighty years of age; they have passed their lives together, going through many trying scenes in both revolutions. I deeply sympathised with him, when he said so hopelessly, "At her age, think, Mademoiselle, how little I dare to expect her recovery!" Poor man! what a tie to rend asunder, before he is called away from his simple labours and duties; in such cases, I almost think the woman bears better to be the lonely one than the man. As the holidays are beginning, this interesting old man took his leave of me, with an affectionate shake of the hand, begging of me, wherever I might be, sometimes to think of le pauvre petit curé de

Almost all are leaving the house during the holidays, except Mrs. H., and I shall in a day or two be with the N.s; an English governess in the house has already taken her departure for Geneva, quite alone. What a long journey! I should have pitied her, but she destroyed all my pity by her affectation. She had youth and liveliness, and some accomplishments, and facility in French conversation, in her favour, and nothing but a plain face and this affectation against her; and yet I could not reconcile myself to her, she so out-heroded Herod in imitating French animation. But, poor thing, she made me make some painful reflections on the state of that society in which so many young females, well brought up, and intending well, are cast on the world, to struggle for themselves" to hang loose on society," as Johnson expresses it-grasping at anything for support in their dependent and despised condition-despised on account of its very dependence. How the heart and soul, and all good feelings, suffer; how they are hardened and selfized, by the continual struggle which they must make within, against their natural inclinations without, against the pride of others, always seeking to humiliate them!

The weather is delightful, and we all anticipate much enjoyment in our sail down the Seine; but you shall hear, as usual, all that occurs; so, good bye! now.

EXCURSION TO HAVRE.

LETTER XV.

Havre, September 12, 183-. We did not travel all the way here by the Seine, my dear mother; from Paris to Rouen was a land-journey, and a very agreeable one. We left Paris early in the morning, stopped at various towns in our way, of which I do not now remember the names, and arrived at Rouen for a late dinner. The aspect of the country through which we passed was very interesting, and the harvest seems to have been abundant. We had much difficulty in getting accommodated at Rouen, the hotels were so full; but they made us temporary beds, on which we slept, but for a very short time, as we had determined to go on the following day, and the steam-boat sailed at the very unreasonable hour of two in the morning. Uprose we, then, at two, settled our bill for discomfort at Rouen, and embarked for Havre. We regretted much at first our determination to go on, when we saw what the brume, or fog, of the river was at that hour, and felt its effects on our frames ;—it seemed as if its chilling damp penetrated to the marrow of our bones. I could not bear the cabin to which my friends had retired, and so I placed myself on the stairs, under shelter, and yet able to inhale the air; but the hour was so early that once or twice, even as I stood there, I almost dropped asleep when I turned my eyes or my attention from the scenery on either bank of the river. It is an interesting and picturesque sail from Rouen to Havre; and better lighted it could not have been than when we saw it. First, the broad, bright moon, smiling at her image in the unruffled Seine-then the morning twilight, the sun not rising in

splendour, but "kerchiefed in a comely cloud"-then, his noon-day effulgence, which dissipated both fog and cloud; and then-to descend from the skies-I began to feel uncomfortable, just as we arrived at Havre. My first impressions of this sea-port were not agreeable, but it improves on acquaintance, however paltry its shipping must appear in comparison with that to which I have been accustomed.

The impression which the aspect of nature made on me in my short journey, after having been so long in a great city, had something elevating in it; or, at least, it brought back the elevating recollections of the days when my thoughts and dreams were of the sublimity of nature, and of the happiness of life—thoughts and dreams which made me a better and a happier being, and the remembrance of them must be ever dear, unless virtue and liberty cease to be dear to me. Indeed, already, as I see more of the world, I have lost much of my trust in the happiness of life, and I seem to turn more gladly to the charms of nature. Yes; but it is to nature teeming with associations of man's past life—of his noblest struggles. In this respect I am happy; for where knowledge fails to bring such associations, imagination never does; and I can people every region with hosts in whom the longextinguished light of life burns again. The steppes of Tartary, the deserts of Arabia, the prairies of America, would be stirred for me; they would, in their silence, re-echo the tread and the voices of armies accomplishing high destinies, yet whose crowds have perished unnamed by fame, who spoke but of their leader. Or I should hear the passing of tribes of wild herdsmen and hunters, drawing near with undefined longings to the abodes of more civilised men, whom yet, in their vigorous enjoyments, they despised. And, after all, is it not thus with the unknown millions who have perished, we should repeople earth when we turn back on the past, and not with the few hundreds of whom renown talks? Is it not from the great mass of life in the past, as in the present, from the people, who form the broad foundation of

society, that we must select the examples of suffering, of fortitude, and of virtue, the most worthy of our sympathy and of our admiration?

You expected me to feel here as if justly sympathising with a wronged people. No, my mind took a different turn at the fêtes. The French have as liberal institutions as it may be good for them to have at present; but, when I recall the gigantic energies which they at one time put forth in the cause of freedom, I feel disappointed that they are not yet more worthy of it. It is true, that when one reflects on the process of degradation through which they had gone before the revolution, until they had become intolerable to themselves, one cannot but feel that a long time will be necessary to make them fit for better things. Yet, it is difficult not to be impatient about the education of nations, which is always so slow; under the Christian dispensation, however, we have the happy certainty, that its completion will arrive― a certainty which was always wanting to the lovers of the human race before, and it should, indeed, give us patience. Yet, on this very subject of religion (a fixedness and security in which seems absolutely necessary to all progress in good government), is found a barrier against advancement towards what is just and liberal. In England, the ardour of different sects begetting so much animosity among them, is hostile to improvement; in France, indifference as to all religious opinions is no less hostile. While in the one country, every fanatic can attract serious crowds; in the other, every charlatan may draw laughing ones.

We had proof of this in Paris lately. A certain abbé invented a new kind of religious worship, in which the French language was to be used instead of the Latin, for the celebration of the mass, and confession and fasting were to be dispensed with. He had a large room, in a fashionable part of the town; it was neatly arranged with rows of chairs, placed in front of a very plain altar, and there, every Sunday, for some time he performed service. Protestants and Catholics,

to whom I have spoken, have equally concurred in ridiculing this new French church; but, in fact, it was for some time very well attended by the curious-certainly not by the religious. I went once, as one of the former, and I heard Monsieur the abbé abuse the Roman Catholic priests most terribly. I had heard that the music was particularly good in his chapel, and that that had attracted many persons to it. Alas! I was like one who had come at the end of a feast. There was no more music; his funds were too low; he was forced to abandon that part of his entertainment, and so, no doubt, his church has fallen.

September 13.

Mrs. N. met, to-day, a Parisian acquaintance, whom she was surprised to see, as she had imagined nothing could have tempted her from the capital even for a week. Now, you shall guess on what affair she had come. Well, what is your first guess your second-your third ?—none right; she had come to fetch a wife for a Monsieur J., who has long been her intimate friend. He has lately obtained a situation, and is placed in a position in which he thinks a wife necessary to do the honours of his house. He said to this lady, Madame C., as she told the tale to Mrs. N., “I abandon myself entirely to your taste and judgment in the affair; get a young lady for me." Monsieur C. had a cousin here wasting her sweetness on the desert air, since her return home from a Parisian boarding-school. Madame had an opportunity of obliging both her husband and friend at the same time, by making her the wife of Monsieur J. The matter was settled at once, and the young cousin sets out to-morrow for Paris, to be seen on her arrival by her future husband, and to be married in ten days afterwards. Mrs. N. had seen too many of these marriages made up after a few interviews to be much surprised at this, but to amuse me, she questioned Madame C. a little. "Suppose Monsieur J. should not see your fair cousin with your favourable eyes; suppose he should reject her on inspection?" said she. "Oh, impossible; he

« AnteriorContinuar »