The Stranger in France | Page 4

John F. Carr
to their own country,
in consequence of a mild decree, which had been passed in their favour.
The scene was truly interesting, and the sentiment which it excited,
delightful to the heart.
A respectable curé, who dined in the same room with us at our inn, was
observed to eat very little; upon being pressed to enlarge his meal, this

amiable man said, with tears starting in his eyes, "Alas! I have no
appetite; a very short time will bring me amongst the scenes of my
nativity, my youth, and my happiness, from which a remorseless
revolution has parted me for these ten long years; I shall ask for those
who are dear to me, and find them for ever gone. Those who are left
will fill my mind with the most afflicting descriptions; no, no, I cannot
eat, my good sir."
About noon, they had deposited their baggage upon the quay, which
formed a pile of aged portmanteaus, and battered trunks. Parties
remained to protect them, previous to their embarkation. The sun was
intensely hot, they were seated under the shade of old umbrellas, which
looked as if they had been the companions of their banishment.
Their countenances appeared strongly marked with the pious character
of resignation, over which were to be seen a sweetness, and corrected
animation, which seemed to depict at once the soul's delight, of
returning to its native home, planted wherever it may be, and the regret
of leaving a nation, which, in the hour of flight and misery, had nobly
enrolled them in the list of her own children, and had covered them
with protection.
To the eternal honour of these unhappy, but excellent people, be it said,
that they have proved themselves worthy of being received in such a
sanctuary. Our country has enjoyed the benefit of their unblemished
morals, and their mild, polite, and unassuming manners, and wherever
destiny has placed them, they have industriously relieved the national
burden of their support by diffusing the knowledge of a language,
which good sense, and common interest, should long since have
considered as a valuable branch of education.
To those of my friends, who exercise the sacred functions of religion,
as established in this country, I need not offer an apology, for paying an
humble tribute of common justice to these good, and persecuted men;
who, from habit, pursue a mode of worship, a little differing in form,
but terminating in the same great and glorious centre. The enlightened
liberality of the british clergy will unite, in paying that homage to them,
which they, in my presence, have often with enthusiasm, and rapture,

offered up to the purity, and sanctity of their characters. Many of them
informed me, that they had received the most serviceable favours from
our clergy, administered with equal delicacy, and munificence.
Amongst these groups were some females, the wives and daughters of
toulonese merchants, who left their city when lord Hood abandoned
that port. The politeness and attention, which were paid to them by the
men, were truly pleasing. It was the good breeding of elegant habits,
retaining all their softness in the midst of adversity, sweetened with the
sympathy of mutual and similar sufferings.
They had finished their dinner, and were drinking their favourite
beverage of coffee. Poor wanderers! the water was scarcely turned
brown with the few grains which remained of what they had purchased
for their journey.
I addressed them, by telling them, that I had the happiness of being a
passenger with them, in the same vessel; they said they were fortunate
to have in their company one of that nation, which would be dear to
them as long as they lived. A genteel middle aged woman offered to
open a little parcel of fresh coffee, which they had purchased in the
town for the voyage, and begged to make some for me. By her manner,
she seemed to wish me to consider it, more as the humble offering of
gratitude, than of politeness, or perhaps both were blended in the offer.
In the afternoon, their baggage was searched by the revenue officers,
who, on this occasion, exercised a liberal gentleness, which gave but
little trouble, and no pain. They who brought nothing into a country but
the recollection of their miseries, were not very likely to carry much out
of it, but the remembrance of its generosity.
At seven o'clock in the evening we were all on board, and sailed with a
gentle breeze down the river: we carried with us a good stock of
vegetables, which we procured fresh, from the admirable market of
Southampton. Upon going down into the cabin, I was struck, and at
first shocked, with seeing a very aged man, stretched at his length upon
pillows and clothes, placed on the floor,
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