The Road
To It Is Agreeable And Romantic, Lying Through Pleasant
Cornfields, Skirted By Open Downs, Where There Is A Rabbit
Warren, And Great Plenty Of The Birds So Much Admired At
Tunbridge Under The Name Of Wheat-Ears.
By the bye, this is a
pleasant corruption of white-a-se, the translation of their
French name cul-blanc, taken from their colour for they are
actually white towards the tail.
Upon the top of a high rock, which overlooks the harbour, are the
remains of an old fortification, which is indiscriminately
called, Tour d'ordre, and Julius Caesar's fort. The original
tower was a light-house built by Claudius Caesar, denominated
Turris ardens, from the fire burned in it; and this the French
have corrupted into Tour d'ordre; but no vestiges of this Roman
work remain; what we now see, are the ruins of a castle built by
Charlemagne. I know of no other antiquity at Boulogne, except an
old vault in the Upper Town, now used as a magazine, which is
said to be part of an antient temple dedicated to Isis.
On the other side of the harbour, opposite to the Lower Town,
there is a house built, at a considerable expence, by a general
officer, who lost his life in the late war. Never was situation
more inconvenient, unpleasant, and unhealthy. It stands on the
edge of an ugly morass formed by the stagnant water left by the
tide in its retreat: the very walks of the garden are so moist,
that, in the driest weather, no person can make a tour of it,
without danger of the rheumatism. Besides, the house is
altogether inaccessible, except at low water, and even then the
carriage must cross the harbour, the wheels up to the axle-tree
in mud: nay, the tide rushes in so fast, that unless you seize
the time to a minute, you will be in danger of perishing. The
apartments of this house are elegantly fitted up, but very small;
and the garden, notwithstanding its unfavourable situation,
affords a great quantity of good fruit. The ooze, impregnated
with sea salt, produces, on this side of the harbour, an
incredible quantity of the finest samphire I ever saw. The French
call it passe-pierre; and I suspect its English name is a
corruption of sang-pierre. It is generally found on the faces of
bare rocks that overhang the sea, by the spray of which it is
nourished. As it grew upon a naked rock, without any appearance
of soil, it might be naturally enough called sang du pierre, or
sangpierre, blood of the rock; and hence the name samphire. On
the same side of the harbour there is another new house, neatly
built, belonging to a gentleman who has obtained a grant from the
king of some ground which was always overflowed at high water. He
has raised dykes at a considerable expence, to exclude the tide,
and if he can bring his project to bear, he will not only gain a
good estate for himself, but also improve the harbour, by
increasing the depth at high-water.
In the Lower Town of Boulogne there are several religious houses,
particularly a seminary, a convent of Cordeliers, and another of
Capuchins. This last, having fallen to decay, was some years ago
repaired, chiefly by the charity of British travellers, collected
by father Graeme, a native of North-Britain, who had been an
officer in the army of king James II. and is said to have turned
monk of this mendicant order, by way of voluntary penance, for
having killed his friend in a duel. Be that as it may, he was a
well-bred, sensible man, of a very exemplary life and
conversation; and his memory is much revered in this place. Being
superior of the convent, he caused the British arms to be put up
in the church, as a mark of gratitude for the benefactions
received from our nation. I often walk in the garden of the
convent, the walls of which are washed by the sea at high-water.
At the bottom of the garden is a little private grove, separated
from it by a high wall, with a door of communication; and hither
the Capuchins retire, when they are disposed for contemplation.
About two years ago, this place was said to be converted to a
very different use. There was among the monks one pere Charles, a
lusty friar, of whom the people tell strange stories. Some young
women of the town were seen mounting over the wall, by a ladder
of ropes, in the dusk of the evening; and there was an unusual
crop of bastards that season. In short, pere Charles and his
companions gave such scandal, that the whole fraternity was
changed; and now the nest is occupied by another flight of these
birds of passage. If one of our privateers had kidnapped a
Capuchin during the war, and exhibited him, in his habit, as a
shew in London, he would have proved a good prize to the captors;
for I know not a more uncouth and grotesque animal, than an old
Capuchin in the habit of his order. A friend of mine (a Swiss
officer) told me, that a peasant in his country used to weep
bitterly, whenever a certain Capuchin mounted the pulpit to hold
forth to the people. The good father took notice of this man, and
believed he was touched by the finger of the Lord. He exhorted
him to encourage these accessions of grace, and at the same time
to be of good comfort, as having received such marks of the
divine favour. The man still continued to weep, as before, every
time the monk preached; and at last the Capuchin insisted upon
knowing what it was, in his discourse or appearance, that made
such an impression upon his heart "Ah, father! (cried the
peasant) I never see you but I think of a venerable goat, which I
lost at Easter.
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