Arthur Young:   Travels in France (1792)

From J.H. Robinson, ed., Readings in European History  2 vols. (Boston: Ginn, 1906).

This excerpt is taken from a fuller one at http://history.hanover.edu/texts/young.html

Thanks are due to the Hanover Historical Texts Project for digitizing this material and making it available for educational purposes.



Robinson's Note: Of all the descriptions that we have of the general condition of the French people upon the eve of the
Revolution, the most important and interesting is Arthur Young's account of his travels in France during the years
1787, 1788, and 1789. Young was an honest and observant English gentleman farmer, whose aim was to ascertain "the
cultivation, wealth, resources, and national prosperity" of France, which were, as he foresaw, to be fundamentally
changed by the Revolution then under way. His book, first published in 1792, met with immediate success, and still
fascinates even the casual reader. In I787 Arthur Young visited Paris and Versailles, then traveled southward as far as
the Pyrenees. Of Versailles and the capital he says:

[Page 373] Again to Versailles. In viewing the king's apartment, which he had not left a quarter of an hour, with those slight
traits of disorder that showed he lived in it, it was amusing to see the blackguard figures that were walking uncontrolled about
the palace, and even in his bedchamber; men whose rags betrayed them to be in the last stage of poverty, and I was the only
person that stared and wondered how the devil they got there. It is impossible not to like this careless indifference and freedom
from suspicion. One loves the master of the house, who would not be hurt or offended [Page 374] at seeing his apartment thus
occupied if he returned suddenly, for if there was danger of this the intrusion would be prevented. This is certainly a feature of
that good temper which appears to me so visible everywhere in France. I desired to see the queen's apartments, but I could not.
“Is, her Majesty in it? No. Why then not see it as well as the king's?” Ma foi, Monsieur, c'est une autre chose.

Ramble through the gardens, and by the grand canal with absolute astonishment at the exaggerations of writers and travelers.
There is magnificence in the quarter of the orangery, but no beauty anywhere; there are some statues, good enough to wish them
under cover. The extent and breadth of the canal are nothing to the eye, and it is not in such good repair as a farmer's horse
pond. The menagerie is well enough, but nothing great.

This great city [Paris] appears to be in many respects the most ineligible and inconvenient for the residence of a person of small
fortune of any that I have seen, and vastly inferior to London. The streets are very narrow, and many of them crowded, nine
tenths dirty, and all without foot pavements. Walking, which in London is so pleasant and so clean that ladies do it every day, is
here a toil and a fatigue to a man, and an impossibility to a well-dressed woman. The coaches are numerous, and, what is much
worse, there are an infinity of one-horse cabriolets, which are driven by young men of fashion and their imitators, alike fools,
with such rapidity as to be real nuisances, and render the streets exceedingly dangerous, without an incessant caution. I saw a
poor child run over and probably killed, and have been myself many times blackened with the mud of the kennels. This beggarly
practice, of driving a one-horse booby hutch about the streets of a great capital, flows either from poverty or wretched and
despicable economy; nor is it possible to speak of it with too much severity. If young noblemen at London were to drive their
chaises in streets without footways, as their brethren do at Paris, they would speedily and justly get very well threshed or rolled
in the kennel. This circumstance renders Paris an [Page 375] ineligible residence for persons, particularly families that cannot
afford to keep a coach, - a convenience which is as dear as at London. The fiacres - hackney coaches - are much worse than
at that city; and chairs there are none, for they would be driven down in the streets. To this circumstance also it is owing that all
persons of small or moderate fortune are forced to dress in black, with black stockings.

After a stay of three months, Young finds himself in the southern confines of the kingdom.

[August 11] Take the road to Lourdes, where is a castle on a rock, garrisoned for the mere purpose of keeping state prisoners
sent hither by lettres de cachet. Seven or eight are known to be here at present; thirty have been here at a time; and many for
life, - torn by the relentless hand of jealous tyranny from the bosom of domestic comfort; from wives, children, friends, and
hurried for crimes unknown themselves - more probably for virtues - to languish in this detested abode of misery, and die of
despair. O liberty! O liberty! And yet this is the mildest government of any considerable country in Europe, our own excepted.
The dispensations of Providence seem to have permitted the human race to exist only as the prey of tyrants, as it has made
pigeons for the prey of hawks. . . .