University of Virginia Library

2. THE
NORMAN DILIGENCE.

2. THE
NORMAN DILIGENCE.

It was early in the “leafy month of June,”
that I travelled through the beautiful province
of Normandy. As France was the first foreign
country I visited, every thing wore an air of
freshness and novelty, which pleased my eye,
and kept my fancy constantly busy. Life was
like a dream. It was a luxury to breathe again
the free air, after having been so long cooped
up at sea: and, like a long-imprisoned bird let
loose from its cage, my imagination revelled in
the freshness and sunshine of the morning
landscape.

On every side, valley and hill were covered
with a carpet of soft velvet green. The birds
were singing merrily in the trees, and the landscape
wore that look of gaiety so well described
in the quaint language of an old romance,
making the “sad, pensive, and aching heart to
rejoice, and to throw off mourning and sadness.”
Here and there a cluster of chesnut
trees shaded a thatch-roofed cottage, and little
patches of vineyard were scattered on the
slope of the hills, mingling their delicate green
with the deep hues of the early summer grain.
The whole landscape had a fresh, breezy look.
It was not hedged in from the highways, but
lay open to the eye of the traveller, and seemed
to welcome him with open arms. I felt less
a stranger in the land: and as my eye traced
the dusty road winding along through a rich
cultivated country, and skirted on either side
with blossomed fruit trees, and occasionally
caught glimpses of a little farm-house resting
in a green hollow, and lapped in the bosom of
plenty, I felt that I was in a prosperous, hospitable,
and happy land.

I had taken my seat on top of the Diligence,

in order to have a better view of the
country. It was one of those ponderous vehicles,
which totter slowly along the paved
roads of France, laboring beneath a mountain
of trunks and bales of all descriptions, and, like
the Trojan horse, bore a groaning multitude
within it. It was a curious and cumbersome
machine, resembling the bodies of three coaches
placed upon one carriage, with a cabriolet
on top for outside passengers. On the pannels
of each door were painted the fleurs-de-lis of
France, and upon the side of the coach emblazoned
in golden characters: “Exploitation
Générale des Messageries Royales des Diligences
pour le Havre, Rouen et Paris.”

It would be useless to describe the motley
groups, that filled the four quarters of this
little world. There was the dusty tradesman,
with green coat and cotton umbrella;
the sallow invalid, in skull-cap, and cloth
shoes; the priest in his cassock; the peasant
in his frock; and a whole family of squalling
children. My fellow travellers on top were a
gay subaltern, with fierce mustaches, and a
nut-brown village beauty of sweet sixteen.

The subaltern wore a military undress, and a
little blue cloth cap in the shape of a cow-bell,
trimmed smartly with silver lace, and
cocked on one side of his head. The brunette
was decked out with a staid white Norman
cap, nicely starched and plaited, and
nearly three feet high; a rosary and cross
about her neck; a linsey-woolsey gown, and
wooden shoes.

The personage who seemed to rule this little
world with absolute sway, was a short pursy
man, with a busy, self-satisfied air, and
the sonorous title of Monsieur le Conducteur.
As insignia of office, he wore a little round fur
cap, and fur-trimmed jacket; and carried in his
hand a small leathern port folio, containing his
way-bill. He sat with us on top of the Diligence,
and with comic gravity issued his mandates
to the postillion below, like some petty
monarch speaking from his throne. In every
dingy village we thundered through, he had a
thousand commissions to execute and to receive:
a package to throw out on this side,
and another to take in on that: a whisper for
the landlady at the inn: a love-letter and a

kiss for her daughter: and a wink, or a snap
of his fingers for the chamber-maid at the
window. Then there were so many questions
to be asked and answered, while changing
horses! Every body had a word to say. It
was Monsieur le Conducteur! here; Monsieur
le Conducteur! there. He was in complete
bustle; till at length crying en route! he ascended
the dizzy height and we lumbered away
in a cloud of dust.

But what most attracted my attention was
the grotesque appearance of the postillion and
the horses. He was a comical looking little
fellow, already past the heyday of life, with a
thin, sharp countenance, to which the smoke
of tobacco and the fumes of wine had given
the dusty look of wrinkled parchment. He
was equipped in a short jacket of purple velvet,
set off with a red collar, and adorned with silken
cord. Tight pantaloons of bright yellow
leather arrayed his pipe-stem legs, which were
swallowed up in a huge pair of wooden boots,
iron-fastened, and armed with long, rattling
spurs. His shirt-collar was of vast dimensions,
and between it and the broad brim of his

high, bell-crowned, varnished hat, projected
an eel-skin queue, with a little tuft of frizzled
hair, like a powder-puff at the end, bobbing
up and down with the motion of the rider, and
scattering a white cloud around him.

The horses, which drew the Diligence, were
harnessed to it with ropes and leather, and in
the most uncouth manner imaginable. They
were five in number:—black, white, and gray;
as various in size as in color. Their tails were
braided and tied up with wisps of straw; and
when the postillion mounted and cracked his
heavy whip, off they started, one pulling this
way, another that; one on the gallop, another
trotting and the rest dragging along at a
scrambling pace, between a trot and a walk.
No sooner did the vehicle get comfortably in
motion, than the postillion, throwing the reins
upon his horse's neck, and drawing a flint and
steel from one pocket, and a short-stemmed
pipe from another, leisurely struck fire, and began
to smoke. Ever and anon some part of
the rope harness would give way; Monsieur
le Conducteur from on high would thunder
forth an oath or two; a head would be popped

out at every window: half a dozen voices exclaim
at once, “what's the matter?” and the
postillion, apostrophizing the diable as usual,
thrust his long whip into the leg of his boot,
leisurely dismount, and drawing a handful of
packthread from his pocket, quietly set himself
to mend matters in the best way possible.

In this manner we toiled slowly along the
dusty highway. Occasionally the scene was
enlivened by a group of peasants, driving before
them a little ass, laden with vegetables for
a neighboring market. Then we would pass a
solitary shepherd, sitting by the road-side,
with a shaggy dog at his feet, guarding his
flock, and making his scanty meal on the contents
of his wallet; or perchance a little peasant
girl, in wooden shoes, leading a cow, by a
cord attached to her horns, to browse along
the side of the ditch. Then we would all
alight to ascend some formidable hill on foot,
and be escorted up by a clamorous troop of
sturdy mendicants,—annoyed by the ceaseless
importunity of worthless beggary, or moved
to pity by the palsied limbs of the aged, and
the sightless eyeballs of the blind.

Occasionally, too, the postillion drew up in
front of a dingy little cabaret, completely overshadowed
by wide-spreading trees. A lusty
grape-vine clambered up beside the door; and
a pine bough was thrust out from a hole in the
wall, by way of tavern bush. Upon the front
of the house was generally inscribed in large
black letters; “ICI ON DONNE A BOIRE ET A MANGER;
ON LOGE A PIED ET A CHEVAL;” a sign
which may be thus paraphrased; “Good Entertainment
for man and beast;” but which
was once translated by a foreigner, “Here they
give to eat and drink; they lodge on foot and
on horse-back!”

Thus one object of curiosity succeeded
another; hill, valley, stream and woodland
flitted by me like the shifting scenes of a magic
lantern, and one train of thought gave place
to another; till at length in the after part of
the day, we entered the broad and shady avenue
of fine old trees, which leads to the western
gate of Rouen, and a few moments afterwards,
were lost in the crowds and confusion
of its narrow streets.