as a public promenade it is certainly handsomely built, for it is a high piece of ground of great extent, walled up with stone, with stone balustrades all round; cultivated gardens within, swans swimming in a nice piece of water, a temple at the end, and one of the most extensive views you can see anywhere, commanding the peaks which terminate the Pyrenees on the Eastern extremity, of which Mont Canigou forms the chief; the vrai Mediterranean to the south sparkling sometimes most beautifully. The sunsets are splendid, and they are the daily admiration of a nice old gentleman, whose acquaintance we have formed here, and who has had a letter of mutual introduction in his pocket for more than a twelvemonth for us from a friend of ours in England, but we have never fallen in with each other until now, he having fixed finally on Montpellier as a residence for his health's sake instead of Pau. He is the Honourable W. Wickham, who was at one time Lord of the Treasury, and must have been a delightful person, and is one who has, of course, a great knowledge of men and manners.[1] We see him almost every day, for he is very kind and attentive, and seldom lets one day pass without a visit, either in the morning or evening."
The postage of this letter of my mother to England was 2s. 4d., and the time taken by one travelling between Montpellier and Exeter was a week.
We made as well some French acquaintances, and, one evening, gave a small dinner-party to them. After dinner, in the drawing-room there was music, and my mother incautiously played the "Marseillaise." Thereupon one old gentleman, a baron, started up and tottered out of the room. Thinking that he was unwell, my father hastily followed him, when he found him without, greatly agitated.
"Monsieur," said he, "I cannot bear to hear that tune. I have heard it played so often, as the tumbrels have gone past my father's house, bearing the victims of the Terror to the guillotine, and never sure that it might not be played before my dear parents
- ↑ He was then living on his pension, and was hoping to recover his health at Montpellier, a vain hope, and he died soon after in 1840. He was born in 1761, and was employed by Lord Grenville, then Foreign Secretary, in secret diplomatic service, 1793–4. He was sent as envoy to the Swiss Cantons in 1798, and further to the Russian and Austrian armies in 1799–1802. He became Privy Councillor in 1802, and Chief Secretary for Ireland 1802–4.
