Having crossed the Garonne by a ferry, I mounted my horse on the opposite bank, and had not proceeded more than a league beyond Carbonblanc, the first post between Bourdeaux and Paris, when I overtook three of our officers on foot. It was raining hard, and neither them nor myself had a change of clothes, for I had brought only a few shirts, a second waistcoat and pantaloons, in a small portmanteau behind my servant. The officers were still worse off than myself, as they had spent all their money at Bourdeaux, and had only their travelling French pay of fifty sols an étape (a day’s marching allowance) to support them on their journey to Verdun, a distance of about four hundred and forty miles, during which they were liable to all the disagreeable circumstances that usually assail foot travellers. They were however cheerful, and laughed at the prospect before them; such are the advantages of good health and spirits, which in every situation in life, are infinitely superior to riches. On inquiring into the strength of their purses, they produced a petit écu* [About half-a-crown] and some sols, which was to last them to Angouleme, a distance of about twenty leagues. In order to make their marching money last out, they proposed walking two or even three étapes in a day, and by this means doubling or trebling their daily receipt. Although my purse was very low, I spared them a part of its contents, which set them up, and we parted, our feuilles de route being in different directions. As mine directed me to pass through Perigueux, I turned off the great Paris road to the right, and soon reached the village of St. Ubes, where I made myself as comfortable for the night as the small auberge would permit. In the morning, finding my horse’s back so sore that it would have been cruel to ride him, I determined on passing the day at this village. After breakfast I walked to a caffé, the landlord of which, surrounded by a numerous audience, was reading the Moniteur, for which I learned that the whole village united to subscribe, on the express stipulation that the host should read it aloud. This was just the time when the Regency bill was passed in England, and which the French politicians expected would immediately produce a change of ministers and measures favourable to a negotiation for peace. The Moniteur of this day however informed them, that no change either of men or measures would take place, at which my host of the caffé seemed rejoiced, exclaiming, “Bravo! voilà un nation! voilà des gens qui ont du caractère!” As these exclamations surprised me, I asked the old gentleman, “why he wished so well to England?” “ Because,” replied he, “the English sont des braves gens. I have had many dealings with them, and always found them most correct and honourable; but,” continued he, “since this cursed silly decree of Berlin, all is misery in this country, and as was formerly said of the Non-Importation bill of the Americans, it may be justly called an act of political suicide.” I now told the old gentleman I was an English officer taken in Spain, on which he immediately produced some cakes and wine, made many bows, and requested with much earnestness to be informed of the real state of affairs in that country, for that he knew the papers never told a word of truth; “and indeed,” added he, “they are now become so notorious that their falsity is become a proverb, and il ment comme le gazette, is the common expression to denote a first rate liar.” He thanked me for the information I gave him concerning Spain, concluding with a “parbleu, quelle sottise de prétendre faire la guerre contre tout un peuple.” Having drank the health of this politician and his audience in excellent wine, I departed, receiving from them a hearty bon voyage. In returning to the auberge I met a party of musicians playing before an uncommonly fine ox, adorned with ribbons and garlands; on inquiring the meaning of which, I learned that this was one of the amusements of the Carnival which had now commenced, and that they were leading the ox thus adorned to the slaughter-house; a custom, which reminded me of the victims in the Pagan festivals: and indeed the Carnival has, in every respect, more of a Pagan than of a Christian festival, and may well be compared to the Roman Saturnalia. It commences the Sunday before Lent, and lasts till the eve of AshWednesday; during which period, all the lower kind of people of the town parade the streets in masquerade habits, and plague the quiet passenger with impunity. At night masked balls are given at the theatres, to which all persons are admitted for one or two francs, and here the worshippers of Venus may pay their devotions at her shrine without fear of detection; here the wife repays her infidel husband in his own coin; the widow consoles herself for the ungallant restrictions of the Code Napoleon, by which she cannot take a second, until ten months after the decease of her dear first husband, and the pale maiden here finds a never failing remedy against the strange propensities to feeding on brick and mortar.

While paying a visit to the stable, I heard an extraordinary noise, and on inquiry learnt that it was produced by skinning the ox, I had just before seen so finely ornamented. On looking into the place I found that they were literally beating the animal out of his skin; for while one woman was blowing with a great pair of bellows between the flesh and the hide, three others were threshing it with sticks, which loosens the skin and makes it come off more easily. When this operation was finished, the carcase was hung up and covered with artificial flowers, ribbons, &c.

In the morning, though it rained heavily, I resumed my journey, and passed through a continued vineyard to the river l’Isle, which falls into the Dordogne. I crossed the latter (which is here of considerable breadth) in a good boat: but before my arrival at the river I had stopped under a handsome gateway for shelter from a heavy shower. I had not been here long when a respectable looking old gentleman came out, and begged me to alight and put my horse in the stable till the shower was over; his countenance bespeaking benevolence, prevented a refusal, and I accompanied him into the house, through a spacious hall, over the chimney of which hung a large escutcheon with the arms of a nobleman. This hall led into a saloon, with large windows opening on vineyards that sloped down to the river; pointing to them, the old gentleman said with a sigh, “Ah Monsieur, voilà ce qui faisoient autrefois ma richesse; aujourd’hui ils me sont une perte.” He then observed that apparently I was an Englishman, and on my answering in the affirmative, he invited me to partake of his soup with his wife and daughter. This kind offer I at first declined on account of the darkness of the evening and the badness of the road; but he would not be refused. “You will get on the better for it,” said he, “and I will immediately order your horse a feed of corn, that both may proceed more cheerfully on the road.” The lady and her charming daughter now entered, and insisted so kindly on my partaking their repast, that I could not resist. We proceeded to the dining room, where the old gentleman placed me next his daughter, who was as blooming as Hebe, and attired in a very neat morning dress. Some superior wine was produced, and the unaffected manners of the whole family made me feel myself entirely at ease, so that I conversed on several topics that pleased the old gentleman. Another bottle succeeded, which as it was emptied raised his spirits and increased his civility. He swore that if a French Marshal had stopped at his door, he might have got wet to the skin before he would have invited him to enter his house; but that the favour an English officer of my distinction had conferred on him and his family he could never forget. He then spoke of the misery to which France was reduced by the ambition and mistaken policy of its ruler. “For what,” said he, “do we make war? for what end do we exhaust the population and the resources of the empire?” “Doubtless, Monsieur,” replied I, “you must have read Montesquieu’s Esprit des Loix, and you  may recollect the passage where he observes, that a country governed despotically only makes war to augment the power and increase the dominions of its ruler. The French nation I believe now began to see this truth, and instead of exulting, as formerly, at the victories of your armies, it reflects that these brilliant successes serve only to rivet its chains and perpetuate its distress; while they cover with misery and desolation the countries of which they have gained Napoleon the possession. How different is it, Sir, with the conquests of England, which not only enrich herself, but also the countries she subdues, by the reciprocal advantage of free markets for the manufactures of the one and the produce of the other. But, Sir,” I continued, “it has been the unvarying system of France, since the revolution, to undermine and level every antient government; while it has been the principle of England to support them as far as possible. Unfortunately for the cause of humanity, the imbecility of monarchs and the corruption of their courts, have assisted the views of France, in a greater degree than the energies and the disinterestedness of England have been able to counteract them. Such, Sir, are the causes of the calamities under which Europe is now groaning; and strange it is to observe, that Spain, (which is of all countries of Europe the least advanced in manufactures, commerce and civilization,) should be the first to see its own interest, and to resist the torrent. Hitherto the French arms have been generally successful, but the war in Spain is of a very different nature from those you have hitherto been engaged in. In Spain, you have to contend against a people in whom revenge is the ruling passion, and every act of despotism exercised by the French in that country, instead of tending to bend the people to your yoke, only augments their hatred and animates their exertions. Really, Sir, as a British subject, and still more, as a friend to humanity, I should not wish to see the French too rapidly driven out of Spain; for the continuation of the war for two or three years longer, must so exhaust the resources of France, both in men and money, as to oblige your Emperor to listen to reason; for, surely, he will not be so infatuated as to go on towards his destruction, when he finds that ‘God no longer gives him the power to accomplish what he wills.’ On these grounds, Sir,” I concluded, “as a patriotic Frenchman, you ought to rejoice at the defeats of your armies, for though by their victories Napoleon may increase his dominion, I believe his subjects have always found, that the only effect of such additions have been the increasing their burthens.”

To this discourse the family paid much attention, and the old lady often remarked, “c’est bien vrai.” Turning to the daughter I observed, that “she ought also to rejoice at the defeat of the French armies, for that was the only means of bringing about a peace on reasonable terms, and peace could alone ensure young ladies husbands, which were now so scarce that the amiable sex were really to be pitied.” I rose to depart, but the whole family with one voice insisted I should not quit them so soon, for that it was not every day they had the honour of entertaining an English officer; at the same time the old gentleman sprung up, and hurried off to the cellar for another bottle, which I agreed to see out provided the ladies would stay and partake of it; “volontiers, Monsieur,” replied the old lady, “for I admire the English;” –– “et pour moi," cried the young one, “je les adore!” –– “C’est un peu fort, Mademoiselle,” said I. “Non, en verité, Monsieur!” and this she said in so kind a manner that proved it to come directly from her heart. Indeed, had I been inclined to vanity on a certain point, I might have supposed that I was not indifferent to this young lady; particularly when she continued, “go where you will, Monsieur, this family can never forget you.” –– She seemed inclined to say more, but the return of the old gentleman interrupted her.

While emptying this bottle I related my adventures at Bourdeaux, and impressed both the ladies with an anxious desire to visit that city, and partake of its amusements. I now recollected that my servant would be quite at a loss to know what had become of me, for as I cannot bear a servant riding behind or near me, I always send him on before. The one I now had, not speaking a word of French, often committed blunders, and at one time I lost him for two days; but in the present case, as the road was direct, and he must be stopped by the ferry, I was not afraid of his going astray. Having taken an affectionate leave of this worthy family, I proceeded, and soon met my servant returning at full gallop, and in the utmost consternation. He informed me that he had waited some time at the ferry, but at last, conceiving some accident had happened to me, he was induced to return, and on reaching a river had observed a dead horse on the bank, which he fancied resembled mine, and thence concluded that I had been drowned in giving the horse to drink, and that some one had carried off the bridle and saddle. On this conviction he determined to return to Bourdeaux, and tell the news. At the same time that I wished him at the devil for his precipitation, I congratulated myself on not having delayed longer at the hospitable old gentleman’s, which alone prevented the report of my death being carried to Bourdeaux, from whence it would have been immediately forwarded to England.

Having crossed the Dordogne, I proceeded through a flat and fertile country to the village of St. Suzanne, where I determined to halt for the night at a little auberge, the people of which were very civil; but on inquiry into the state of the larder, I found it afforded nothing better than modest bacon and eggs, of which I partook with the family before the kitchen fire. The wine was so truly execrable, that I was obliged to ask for some spirits, and they produced a kind of brandy distilled from the husk of the grapes after being pressed. As, however, it is a fixed principle with me to take things as they come, I swallowed my humble repast cheerfully; and amused myself with the children, who crowded round me to admire my watch chain and seals. The eldest daughter, a fine girl, sung some pretty airs, and the father recounted his campaign in Italy under Massena, of whom he spoke with enthusiasm. I inquired of the old man if the Carnival was yet over, and he answered with rapture, “Dieu soit béni, we have yet three days to come!” Happy people, thought I, who laugh at all the cares and evils of this life, and, while they are not prohibited from dancing and singing, consider with indifference the tearing away of their sons by a conscription, and the impoverishing themselves by arbitrary taxes!

Next morning, February 23d, after passing through a flat and swampy country, I reached a rather considerable town called Mussidan, where I put up at the post-house, which was also an auberge; and though it had no very promising appearance, the windows being broke, and the ascent to the bed-room by a ladder, I found the larder better supplied than at my last night’s sojourn, and in the morning was for the first time surprised by the reasonableness of the charge, for my supper, consisting of some roast beef, a fowl and bacon, and two bottles of wine, besides breakfast for myself and servant, came to only four francs ten sols; and including the horses the whole charge was but ten francs. While breakfast was preparing I inquired of a decent looking man if there was a coffee-house in the town? He answered there were several, and offered to conduct me to one of the best. We entered a large apartment, in which was a billiard table, and a great number of chess and trick-track boards. The former game is particularly a favourite among the French, and the public tables are seldom vacant, day or night. I expected to hear some of the persons call for coffee, but on inquiry I learnt that no such thing was to be procured here, for that this article, which was formerly as great a necessary to the middling class in France as tea is to the English, was now only within the reach of the wealthy. Sugar, also, of which the French are immoderately fond, they are obliged to forego; for though they have been amused with the idea of extracting this article from raisins, beet-root, &c. the produce is only yet to he found in the Moniteur, not a grain having appeared in the market. It is true, indeed, a sirup of grapes has been introduced into commerce, but those who have once made use of it will never be taken in a second time; for, independent of its possessing a very small proportion of the sweetening principle, which renders its use as dear as sugar, it contains a powerful acid, that acts most disagreeably on the bowels. The idea of ruining England, and rendering colonies unnecessary to France, by the perfecting of indigenous substitutes for colonial productions, is indeed ridiculed by all classes to a degree very uncommon in France, of making it the subject of caricatures; some of which have more humour than is to be found in the generality of those seen in the Paris print-shops. One represents George the Third and Napoleon at opposite sides of a table, with a cup of coffee before each; our king is dissolving the point of a great loaf of sugar into his, while Nap is grinning horribly in trying to squeeze a drop of sweetening from a large beet-root. A second caricature on the same subject, shews how deeply the French are interested in it; it represents the King of Rome sucking a beet-root, making wry faces, and exclaiming “voila un joli morceau de sucre que mon papa m’a donné!”

Feb. 24. This day’s route was through a clayey and swampy country, by very deep roads, on which I was obliged to walk twenty-five miles, my mare being unable to bear the saddle; at length I reached a single house, called La Marsolia, and which, there being no other auberge on the road, is much frequented. Here heavy rains and the consequent floods kept me three days, during which I saw numerous parties of Spanish prisoners and refractory conscripts pass; the latter were always tied together, often forty or fifty in a string, like negro slaves going to the market, and only escorted by two or three gend’armes à cheval. Though their guards are seldom more numerous, there is scarce an instance of their resisting them, or attempting to escape; which, however, is made a capital offence.

The gend’armerie, indeed, forms the most efficient military police in Europe, and is so well distributed, that not only the roads are safe, but the people are also kept in complete political subjection. The tame and submissive disposition of the French is the great cause of the perfection of this police; and in nothing can this disposition be more strongly shewn, than the conscripts being thus led like flocks of sheep to slaughter; for, if any of them desert, the chefs de complot (the leaders) are sure to be punished with death, and the others have only to expect the galleys. When several conscripts desert in company, and no chef de complot can be discovered, then the oldest is considered as such, and suffers death.

The Spanish prisoners that passed through the village were in a most miserable condition, and treated with the utmost brutality by their escort. Their shoes, which had been originally only a leather sandal, fastened to the foot with a thong, were worn out, and their feet dreadfully lacerated. In this condition, half starved and half dead with fatigue, they were goad ed on by the gend’armes, who had orders to shoot those who should lag behind, and vast numbers of them were actually thus murdered in cold blood!!! –– While France exists as a nation, the barbarous treatment of the Spanish prisoners must remain a stain on its character. Formerly the French soldier would have refused to be the instrument of the sanguinary orders of his superiors; but the revolution has entirely changed the French character, and more particularly that of the army. Before that event, the officers were chiefly nobles, who, however proud and licentious they might be, at least possessed the elegance of manners and liberality of sentiment which usually distinguish that order. At present, the great majority even of the superior officers are sprung from the dregs of the people, without education or principles; their manners are brutal, and their courage is ferocious. The revolution, in fact, swept away whatever was estimable, and left only the dregs of a corrupt society. It began by destroying a generous and brave nobility, and annihilating the clergy. Wealth then became the object of persecution, and, finally, the misoreants who composed the ephemeral governments, ignorant and wicked themselves, proscribed all talent and virtue.

If we formed our opinions hastily, we might suppose that the revolution, like the torrent which washes down the soil from the mountains to fertilize the vallies, had distributed the spoils of the rich among the poor, and that consequently the peasantry had derived inestimable advantages from the new order of things. A slight observation and inquiry will, however, convince us that their situation is very little, if at all, mended. The division of property which the revolution and the system of assignats produced, has, indeed, enabled every peasant to become a proprietor, and the estate which formerly scarce supplied the luxury of a single noble, or a few pampered clergy, is now divided amongst a thousand families. This acquisition of real property by the lower class, which in theory seems to add to the sum of human happiness and national prosperity, in practice has been found to produce the very contrary effects. Instead of improving agriculture, cultivation has gone considerably backwards, for the small proprietors are too miserably poor to meliorate their lands; they are often even obliged to borrow money at usurious interest, to defray the charges of common cultivation, and the crop is thus mortgaged before the seed is sawn. Commons were complained of before the revolution, as injurious to cultivation, and all the commons of France were divided among the peasantry, as nearly as possible, in equal portions of good and bad land. The evils of this hasty measure are now very severely felt, for the good patches of common, thus made property, are alone cultivated, while the bad are entirely useless, because divided among individuals, whereas when in common they served to pasture the cattle of the peasants.

But to return from this digression to the poor Spanish prisoners. I did what little was in my power to relieve them, by remonstrating with their guards, and by bargaining with the landlord to furnish them with a substantial soup of meat and vegetables, for which they were extremely grateful.

On the 28th the floods permitted me to quit La Marsolia, and I pursued my journey towards Perigueux, accompanied by any landlord. The country was low, and many parts overflowed, so, that I had often to ride in water up to my saddle skirts. About a league from the town my companion pointed out a well, celebrated through out France for a phenomenon which has occupied the attention of many naturalists, without its being yet satisfactorily accounted for. Its water rises every morning so precisely at nine o’clock, that watches and clocks are set by it; it overflows with great force, and covers the country for some extent until eleven o’clock, when it again begins to fall and though the ground is very flat, the water is all gone off in the course of an hour.

The reader will not perhaps be displeased at learning in what manner the conscription, which may without impropriety be stiled the palladium of French slavery, is effected. The first compulsory enrolment, termed a levy by requisition, took place in February 1793, and the army continued to be recruited in that manner till 1798, when the first conscription was decreed, by which every French subject, of whatever class, is, when he arrives at the age of nineteen, obliged to take his chance to become a soldier. When a conscription is decreed, notice is given to all those whose age is completed within the year, to assemble at the town house, or other public place of the chief town of the department, where they are examined by surgeons, in the presence of the officers of Government, and those who have any bodily defects are passed over, while the rest draw lots for the chance of becoming heroes. Those who fall (the French expression is tomber), if they cannot procure a substitute, are immediately marched off to a depot, where they are exercised, and from thence sent to join their regiments.

During the drawing of a conscription, the town hall is surrounded by the relations of the youths, and an ignorant spectator would rather suppose they were waiting the sentence of a criminal court, about to award life or death to their friends, than the decision of chance, whether they are to be citizens or soldiers. The only son of a widow above sixty years of age, whose subsistence depends on the cultivation of the ground by this son, is exempt from the conscription. If twins fall in the same conscription, one only is taken; and the youth who has a brother killed in battle, if he falls, is not obliged to march, unless a supplementary conscription is decreed for that year.

Since this was written, the waste of the French armies has been so enormous, that the conscription of the current year has not been able to replace it, and hence the conscriptions of the succeeding years were at first anticipated; but latterly, this method being found still inadequate, recourse has been had to the back years, and those who had drawn and escaped, have been obliged to draw over again. The price of a substitute, which at the beginning of the war did not exceed one hundred louis, in 1812 had risen to five hundred; and in 1813, a substitute was, to make use of a colloquial but strong expression, not to be had for love or money.