France in eighteen hundred and two

The late Duke of Orléans owned Rincy, and took great pains to arrange his park and garden in the English taste. Since his death it has fallen into decay, but the Parisians frequent it on Sunday, much as our Londoners regale themselves at Richmond or at Greenwich Parks.

We departed at an early hour, accompanied by Mrs. Cosway. Rincy is thirteen miles from the capital and situated on the Strasburg road. On our journey we met two open carts filled with criminals, principally robbers, who were under their way to the metropolis under an escort of gens d’armes. The first cart contained two captains of those predatory bands of thieves who infest the Departments near the Rhine, and of whose exploits such terrible accounts have been given. One of them seemed to be placed in an unusually conspicuous position, so that he might be easily recognised. He was extraordinarily tall, and under an immense round hat exhibited features almost equalling in ferocity those of the painter David.

It seemed incomprehensible that the Government should go to the expense and inconvenience of transporting these wretches 200 miles from the theatre of their crimes, in order to take their trials before the criminal tribunal in Paris, where all witnesses for and against could only be produced at a very great public cost. When I returned to Paris I attempted to probe this matter to the bottom, when the only rational answer I obtained was that the citizens of Paris were fond of seeing the execution of great criminals! I suggested that this taste for blood might be as easily gratified if the culprits were transferred after their conviction to the Parisian guillotine, having been first tried in the Department where their crimes were committed. I was told, however, the effect would not be the same.

I resume my narrative. We had hitherto been favoured with fine weather, but just as we arrived at the gates of the château a heavy shower of rain began to fall—the coachman desired the woman to open the gates, which she bluntly refused to do unless we produced a permit from the present proprietor. Upon which I held out “un petit écu,” and received this reply from the female citizen: “C’est impossible, monsieur, ce n’est pas une affaire du gouvernement!” A more open and honest avowal of the venality of the present government of France was impossible.

But a further parley and exhibition of our papers of identity effected what bribery could not accomplish, and we were suffered eventually to pass.

Just at the entrance of the park is a traiteur’s (or restaurant), where, it being Sunday, many of the bourgeois of Paris were regaling themselves. The grounds themselves resemble an Englishman’s park. It has, of course, suffered from the effects of the Revolution, but enough remains to indicate that it was once a most voluptuous spot. The château unhappily is demolished, and the massive pillars lie broken and dispersed upon the ground. The lodge is repairing for the actual proprietor, a wealthy Parisian merchant and the present keeper of Madame Tallien, the wife of the Conventional butcher of Bordeaux.

Opposite to this edifice stand the stables, in a tolerably good state of preservation. The gravel walks are in good order, the fountains, aqueducts and basins in a complete state, and the copses and woods have not been cut down. The magnificent dairy is untouched, and at the top of the hill which overlooks the park, the Sunday excursionists amuse themselves by wandering in a labyrinth and surveying the “jets d’eau” which are continually playing.

In ascending the hill we found a pretty cottage, at the door of which stood a man whose physiognomy announced his English extraction. He also perceived we were English and invited us in our own language to rest in his house. His name is Hudson, he was gamekeeper to the late Duke of Orleans for fourteen years, and had accompanied him from England on the occasion of that Prince’s visit when Duc de Chartres to our country. He had a son of about ten years of age, who spoke English and French with equal facility. The extreme neatness of the little cottage showed it was not inhabited by a Frenchman—everything was arranged in English fashion. A fine ham was on the table and several flitches of bacon decorated the ceiling. During Robespierre’s reign Hudson was imprisoned, and was to have been executed, but the death of that monster happily intervening, he was liberated.

Hudson made many affectionate and respectful inquiries after the young Princes of the House of Orleans, and was very particular in his questions respecting the Count of Beaujolais, whom he had taught to ride, and for whom he seemed to entertain a great affection. He did not appear the least disposed to quit France, nor to leave the situation he now holds under another master. He consoles himself with the idea “that things are coming round again as they were before the Revolution, and he hoped he should do as well at Rincy under the new proprietor as he did under the late Duke.” He is one of those beings who are satisfied with any master so long as he is well provided for.

I inquired for the celebrated breed of merino sheep, and was told the whole flock had been removed to Rambouillet. We then retired to the traiteur’s, where we were provided with an excellent dinner; and after eating it, while the horses were harnessing, entered into conversation with an old man who had formerly received a pension from the late Duke, and who now, with so many others, was quite destitute.

Most bitterly did he deplore the Revolution and curse its abettors. We were surprised to find nearly all the people at Rincy speak of the late Duke in terms of deep regret. On our return to Paris we were serenaded in every village, and twice alighted to watch the diversions of the peasants. At one place they were dancing by moonlight on a green, and at another in a large room lighted for the purpose. They were neatly dressed in their Sunday clothes, and seemed to enjoy their sports. We did not pass a single village where there was not a rural ball; and on the left of the high road a great number of rooms were lighted in which suppers were preparing for the dancers. These rooms were interspersed among the trees and gave a pleasing and lively appearance.

Such innocent diversions reminded us of the old days of France, when the country people were remarkable for their innocent gaiety and good-natured mirth; as the sweet poet sings: