The road from Bruges to Ghent
or Gand is perfectly straight, lined with trees and paved like a street.
The country is quite flat, and though there is nothing to bound the
horizon, the trees on each side of the road intercept the view.
We arrived at Ghent about six in the afternoon of the 4th and had some
difficulty in finding room, as the different hotels were filled with
officers of the allied army; but at length, after many ineffectual
applications at several, we obtained admission at the Hotel de Flandre,
where we took possession of a double-bedded room, the only one unoccupied.
Gand seems to be a very neat, clean and handsome city, with an air of
magnificence about it. The Grande Place is very striking, and the
promenades are aligned with trees. We inspected the exterior of several
public buildings and visited the interior of several churches. In the
cathedral we had the honour of seeing at High Mass his most Christian
Majesty, Monsieur and the Comte de Blacas, Vicomte de Chateaubriand and
others, composing the Court of notre Pere de Gand, as Louis XVIII is
humorously termed by the French, from his having fixed his head-quarters
here. A great many French officers who have followed his fortunes are also
here, but they seem principally to belong to the Gardes du Corps. A number
of military attended the service in the cathedral in order to witness the
devotions of the Bourbon family. Monsieur has all the appearance of a worn
out debauchee, and to see him with a missal in his hand and the strange
contrite face he assumes, is truly ridiculous. These princes, instigated no
doubt by the priests, make a great parade of their sanctity, for which
however those who are acquainted with their character will not give them
much credit. But religious cant is the order of the day intra et extra
Iliacos muros, abroad as well as in England. The King of France takes the
lead, having in view no doubt the advice of Buckingham to Richard III:
A pray'r book in your hand, my Lord, were well,
For on that ground I'll make an holy descant.
and M. de Chateaubriand will no doubt trumpet forth the devotion and
Christian humility of his master. Those, however, who are at all acquainted
with this prince's habits, and are not interested in palliating or
concealing them, insinuate that his devotions at the table are more sincere
than at the altar and that, like the Giant Margutte in the Morgante
Maggiore of Pulci, he places more faith and reliance on a cappone lesso
ossia arrosto than on the consecrated but less substantial wafer.[2]
After contemplating this edifying spectacle, we returned to our inn, and
the next morning after breakfast we set out on our journey to Bruxelles.
The road is exactly similar to that between Bruges and Gand, but the
country appears to be richer and more diversified, and many country houses
were observable on the road side.
