III
MODE OF TRAVELLING IN FRANCE
There are three modes of travelling in France: by diligence; by post chaise; in your own carriage. The diligence is the cheapest, but it is a method of conveyance quite out of the question for those who travel for recreation, or in search of information.
The traveller is exposed to the inconveniences attendant on a journey of two hundred miles in a vast unwieldy machine, less comfortable than an English waggon, which travels all night, and makes no stoppages except to change horses. Those who wish to make a trip to Paris and its environs will do best to take their own carriage from England.
It will be found, even including the expense of the packet, that this is a cheaper plan than to hire a carriage at Calais. But as it was my intention to extend my tour beyond Paris, to penetrate through La Vendée as far as Bordeaux, it became necessary I should provide myself with a strong carriage, capable of passing over horrible and neglected country roads. I therefore resolved upon procuring a carriage at Calais.
This was a Post-chaise or Cabriolet, which runs on two wheels and is very light and convenient, having, besides plenty of room for two persons and their luggage, a number of pockets for almost every kind of article, and on each side a pillow for the ease of the traveller while sleeping. It opens in front, and is so constructed as to give complete shelter in bad weather.
When the carriage is secured it is important to be provided with a sufficient sum of money to carry you to your journey’s end. A letter of credit is more advantageous than English bank-notes or guineas.
The former are not of that value they were at the commencement of the Republic; and the exportation of guineas being unlawful, no honest Englishman should carry them out of his country. A guinea is not worth five sous more now in France than in England.
A device has lately been discovered and employed in France for raising money to repair the high roads. It consists in the erection of Barrières, at which every carriage must pay a toll. These Barrières are stationed at irregular distances, at some I have paid eighteen, at others only three sous. In former times a Cabriolet might run the thirty-four posts between Calais and Paris (each post containing two leagues, six miles) for two hundred and thirteen livres, ten sous, exclusive of the hire of the carriage. But now the number of Barrières and the exactions of the postillions considerably augment the expenditure. Although the postillions legally can only demand fifteen sous per post, it is customary never to give them less than thirty and frequently fifty to sixty sous.
I am sorry to say that several of our dashing British sparks have corrupted postillions on the road by their improvident donations.
Hence during the whole of my route between Calais and Paris, I never found one of the fellows satisfied with thirty sous for a single post, and I was always teased out of more. This is trifling to men who can afford to throw away many thousand pounds during a six weeks’ visit to Paris, but to a plain animal like myself, it is a matter of serious consequence. This remark I have often had occasion to make in Switzerland, when that delightful but now wretched country was the favourite resort of our gentry. They were so prodigal of their money, that I have often heard the Swiss declare “Les Anglais sont de braves gens, mais ils sont fous.” Nor is there any rational motive for such extravagance. Such persons are often accused of being emissaries of Mr. Pitt, despatched to France to illustrate the wealth of Great Britain and to prove we understand the art of becoming rich in the midst of war and alarms.
The French, for the greater part, laugh at all such folly, and say that the English are doing their best to refund the products of that commerce which Mr. Pitt had completely wrested from them.
French people are keen and artful, and though they receive such squanderers with bows and smiles, they secretly despise their folly. These truths I write reluctantly, because whatever is disreputable to our nation’s character wounds me to the quick.
I make these observations from no desire to deprive the poor postillions of any advantage they may derive from the folly of travelling Englishmen, but because this system has extended to the inns on the road and to the hotels and shops in Paris and is severely felt by persons of inferior fortune and sober disposition.
It is an established principle in France that in travelling you pay for as many horses as there are people, not excepting servants.
But this regulation is not always rigidly adhered to The postmasters in general seldom put on more than three horses, even for four persons. They are civil and obliging men, and I have often found their conversation interesting and instructive.
The service of posting is well managed, and for good order, regularity, and promptness, excels any other part of Europe.
This must by no means be ascribed to the effects of the Revolution, for it was projected and executed under the ancient régime, and since the establishment of the Republic the best part of the establishment, i.e., the excellent roads, have been utterly neglected, and in many cases almost destroyed, notwithstanding the enormous charges at the Barrières, for the ostensible purpose of keeping them in good order.
The traveller has nothing whatever to apprehend from highway robbers or footpads, and this I attribute to the number of Gens d’armes, extremely well mounted, who are continually riding along the roads to ensure the safety of travellers.