Richard Lovell Edgeworth | Page 9

some valuable timber
and engines, which might, probably, be saved by immediate exertion.
The old boatman, whom I have mentioned before, was at the water-side;
I asked him to row me over to the island, that I might give orders how
to preserve what remained belonging to the company. My old friend,
the boatman, represented to me, with great kindness, the imminent
danger to which I should expose myself. "Sir," he added, "the best
swimmer in Lyons, unless he were one of the Rhone-men, could not
save himself if the boat overset, and you cannot swim at all."
'"Very true," I replied, "but the boat will not overset; and both my duty
and my honour require that I should run every hazard for those who
have put so much trust in me." My old boatman took me over safely,
and left me on the island; but in returning by himself, the poor fellow's
little boat was caught by a wave, and it skimmed to the bottom like a
slate or an oyster-shell that is thrown obliquely into the water. A
general exclamation was uttered from the shore; but, in a few minutes,
the boatman was seen sitting upon a row of piles in the middle of the
river, wringing his long hair with great composure.
'I have mentioned this boatman repeatedly as an old man, and such he
was to all appearance; his hair was grey, his face wrinkled, his back
bent, and all his limbs and features had the appearance of those of a
man of sixty, yet his real age was but twenty-seven years. He told me
that he was the oldest boatman on the Rhone; that his younger brothers
had been worn out before they were twenty-five years old.'
The French society at Lyons included many agreeable people; but
Edgeworth singles out from among them, as his special friend, the

Marquis de la Poype, who understood English, and was well acquainted
with English literature. He pressed Edgeworth to pay him a visit at his
Chateau in Dauphiny, and the latter adds: 'I promised to pass with him
some of the Christmas holidays. An English gentleman went with me.
We arrived in the evening at a very antique building, surrounded by a
moat, and with gardens laid out in the style which was common in
England in the beginning of the last century. These were enclosed by
high walls, intersected by canals, and cut into parterres by sandy walks.
We were ushered into a good drawing-room, the walls of which were
furnished with ancient tapestry. When dinner was served, we crossed a
large and lofty hall, that was hung round with armour, and with the
spoils of the chase; we passed into a moderate-sized eating-room, in
which there was no visible fireplace, but which was sufficiently heated
by invisible stoves. The want of the cheerful light of a fire cast a gloom
over our repast, and the howling of the wind did not contribute to
lessen this dismal effect. But the dinner was good, and the wine, which
was produced from the vineyard close to the house, was excellent.
Madame de la Poype, and two or three of her friends, who were on a
visit at her house, conversed agreeably, and all feeling of winter and
seclusion was forgotten.
'At night, when I was shown into my chamber, the footman asked if I
chose to have my bed warmed. I inquired whether it was well aired; he
assured me, with a tone of integrity, that I had nothing to fear, for "that
it had not been slept in for half a year." The French are not afraid of
damp beds, but they have a great dread of catching some infectious
disease from sleeping in any bed in which a stranger may have recently
lain.
'My bedchamber at this chateau was hung with tapestry, and as the
footman assured me of the safety of my bed, he drew aside a piece of
the tapestry, which discovered a small recess in the wall that held a
grabat, in which my servant was invited to repose. My servant was an
Englishman, whose indignation nothing but want of words to express it
could have concealed; he deplored my unhappy lot; as for himself, he
declared, with a look of horror, that nothing could induce him to go
into such a pigeon-hole. I went to visit the accommodations of my

companion, Mr. Rosenhagen. I found him in a spacious apartment hung
all round with tapestry, so that there was no appearance of any
windows. I was far from being indifferent to the comfort of a good dry
bed; but poor Mr. Rosenhagen, besides being delicate, was
hypochondriac. With one of the most rueful countenances I ever beheld,
he informed me that he must certainly die