Retro Blast: The Peace of Amiens, or All Major Credit Cards Accepted

Tomorrow marks the 220^th anniversary of the end of the Peace of Amiens, that strange interlude in the nearly twenty-five years of war between England and France. So I thought it might be interesting to revisit this post from 2016 and see what it was all about...

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It’s 1802. Great Britain and France have been at war since 1793, when the brand new French republic went on the warpath as surrounding European kingdoms, hoping to nip this republic idea in the bud, sent troops to help restore the Bourbon monarchy. They failed despite various alliances and coalitions and, to everyone’s surprise, France started expanding its borders, thanks in no small part to a certain up-and-coming young Corsican artillery officer.

By 1801 that artillery officer, one Napoleon Bonaparte, is First Consul of the French Republic. British Prime Minister William Pitt,  a resolute foe of Napoleon, is forced out of office in February and a less hawkish PM takes his place. Austria, Russia, and the Kingdom of Naples had all sued for peace a few years before.  And both France and England agree that some peace might be nice for a change.

After much negotiating, wheeling, dealing, and making of secret clauses over the summer and into the fall of 1801 the two countries reach a preliminary agreement at the end of September. In November the Marquis Cornwallis (yes, the same one who surrendered at Yorktown) is sent to the French town of Amiens to negotiate the final terms with Napoleon’s brother Joseph and Talleyrand. Though it takes months and is unsatisfactory in many ways to the British (they in particular are unhappy over the ambiguous disposition of Malta) a final agreement is signed on March 25, 1802 and in October King George officially declares peace.

And Britain goes shopping. 

Before you snort, "yeah, right," think about it: for much of the 18^th century, France had been the center of European culture...and Paris had been its apotheosis. French fashions, French art, French food, French manners, all had been admired and imitated; an upper class young man’s education was not considered complete until he’d spent a year or so wandering the Continent—especially France. But for the last ten years, Britain and France had been at war, which meant no visiting most places on the continent.

Now the war was over thanks to the Peace of Amiens, and the English descended on France to satisfy their craving for all things French.They flocked to the Palais Royal for expensive souvenirs and to the modistes and milliners for Paris gowns. They ordered jewelry and sets of china, and went to the galleries to buy art. Artists arrived in droves, not only from England but from all over Europe to visit the Louvre and see not only the latest art but also the Roman and Egyptian sculpture brought back by Napoleon. They visited sidewalk cafes, strolled in the parcs (though Paris was, alas, looking rather shabby after the depredations of the Revolution and ten years of war.) Even scientists came, among them astronomer William Herschel to visit the Paris Observatoire. And politicians came, both for all of the above reasons and, if they could, to catch a glimpse of the First Consul. Napoleon very obligingly received several of them, most notably Charles James Fox (who took the occasion of this trip to France to formally present his heretofore secret wife, former courtesan Mrs. Armistead.) And expatriates took the opportunity to visit their homeland, from which they'd been cut off for so long.

Unfortunately, this amicable state of affairs did not last long. The tensions and discontents created in the Treaty of Amiens were its undoing, along with Napoleon's efforts in other arenas to exclude Britain as much as possible from European affairs. Britain again declared war in May 1803, rather to France's and everyone else's surprise--in fact, over a thousand British tourists ended up imprisoned in France until 1814, when Napoleon was sent to Elba. I hope the shopping had been worth it!

Grand Tour, Part 5: The Palace of Kings

We’ve been having so much fun in Paris. We spent an afternoon at the Museum of Natural History and Botanical Garden, which also includes a menagerie of animals in their natural habitats. So innovative! We shopped and walked until we had to soak our feet at night. Of course we took in a drama at the Theatre Francais. But there’s one thing more we must do in this area, something many an English lady and gentleman seem compelled to do: Visit Versailles.

The Palace of Versailles outside Paris started as a hunting lodge, but after it was acquired by King Louis XIII and enlarged by his son and grandson, it became one of the most elaborate and extensive palaces in Europe. At one time, it housed more than a thousand courtiers and their families. By the mid-1700s, it was filled with finest artwork, statuary, and furnishings. The surrounding acres of gardens had been tamed into rigid patterns that defied nature.

The Revolution changed all that. It served as museum, then hospital, and all the major pieces it had so proudly boasted were sold, sent to museums, or otherwise dispersed.

So now, we wander through ornate rooms where kings and queens have trod, our footsteps echoing in the emptiness. The ceilings hearken back to the days of greatness, while murals, too large to be moved, hint of the grandeur that once dominated here. One can only wonder what the tree called Le grand Bourbon, planted in the Orangery and said to be over 400 years old, would tell us if it could speak. Careful not to disturb the workers manufacturing arms in one part of the palace, we make our way back to our hired coaches, sobered.

But we cannot leave Paris on such a note! Off we go to the an evening at Académie Royale de Musique, an opera house where some of the magnificence of the Bourbons lives on in the elaborate sets and authentic costumes. And don’t forget, tonight we must have the servants pack our things, for tomorrow we head out of Paris, on our way to the Alps!

Grand Tour, Part 4: The Art of Paris

We’re here in Paris! We are staying in a sumptuous hotel close to the opera-house, which I am told has the greatest splendor of set decorations of any theatre in Europe. Streets seem a bit more narrow than we’re used to and a lot dirtier. But the architecture is even more sweeping, a grand scale envisioned by Napoleon. Many of his plans remain unfinished, such as the Arc de l’Etoile and the Fountain of the Elephant. But our dear Mrs. Starke calls the Louvre, which houses the Musee Royal, one of the most perfect specimens of modern architecture. Many of its treasures were plundered in the wars, but plenty remain for us to appreciate!

Let’s go there first this morning. It is open Tuesday through Sunday, and foreigners like us are allowed entrance free from 10am to 4pm so long as we show our passports. We wander through the marble-tiled ground floor, where from the vestibule through the various rooms we find statues from Rome and other parts of Italy crowded side by side. As you know, in her guidebook Mrs. Starke puts exclamation points beside the most meritorious things to view. It seems that covers everything in the Louvre! One item with three exclamation points is a the statue of Silenus with the infant Bacchus (much like this one), which was discovered in the 16th century in the gardens of Sallust.

Thoroughly sated, we climb the stairs for Gallery of Apollo to see the paintings. The Gallery has nine parts, the first three devoted to French masters, the second three to German, Flemish, and Dutch artists; and the last three to Italian artists. Here again, paintings are crammed cheek to jowl, stacked frame to gilded frame from the high ceiling down nearly to the floor. Mrs. Starke recommends the Dropsical Woman by Geritt Dou in the Dutch section and Antiope Asleep by Antonio Allegri da Correggio in the Italian section (both two exclamation points!) as well as several works by Raphael. Also upstairs is the Exhibition Rooms of Living Artists, with more gorgeous works.

I think we could all spend all day here, but there are so many more things to see! One of the areas Mrs. Starke advises us to appreciate is the Boulevards, a set of drives and walks that encircles Paris, bordered by trees and gardens and filled with shops. Then, there is the tempting Bibliotheque du Roi, a library with more than 800,000 printed volumes, 80,000 manuscripts, and 5,500 volumes of prints. And that’s just one of several libraries open to the public in Paris. Oh, be still my beating heart!

Please look around and enjoy yourselves! Before we leave France, we must visit Versailles! In the meantime, do come back next week, when Nineteenteen celebrates Valentine’s day and the launch of the first book in the Everard Legacy miniseries: The Rogue’s Reform!

Grand Tour, Part 3: On to Paris!

Ah, when last we discussed our adventures on the Grand Tour, we had embarked on a ship crossing the Channel and were heading for Calais. The voyage was uneventful, except for the one member of our company who was hideously seasick, poor dear!

Luckily, the tide was high when we reached Calais, so we were able to sail right up to the quay. That was a blessing. At low water, smaller boats must be rowed out to the ships, and it’s always tricky getting a lady in full skirts over the side of the sailing ship and safely aboard the boats. Then too, once the smaller boats reach the shallows, there’s the question of getting from them to the shore. I’ve heard tales where men had to carry the ladies. And we are not talking gentlemen or gently!

We, on the other hand, can merely cross the gangplank onto the dock. However, the French do not seem content to allow us to do so alone. Dozens of men come aboard wishing to help us disembark, carrying our trunks and even our parasols! They are a rough bunch, but they seem civil enough and conduct us right up to the Monsieur le Commissaire, who will escort us to the customs-house. There we exchange our passports for French ones, and if we do not produce them quickly enough there is a great deal of hand-waving and exclamations in rapid French.

Everyone collected? Excellent! We had planned to spend the night in Calais, so off to our hotel, one that caters to visiting Englishmen and women, the Meurice. Our trunks will be examined at the customs-house and released, once we have paid a host of fees, including money for the captain, sailors, the commissioner, and the gentlemen who carried everything from the ship for us. My, but traveling can get expensive!

After a good night’s sleep on the sheets we brought ourselves, we hire a post-chaise for the ride to Paris. We could have taken the Diligence. It has an office very near the Meurice. But the large, lumbering coaches that carry people all over France are so much more uncomfortable than the English stagecoaches that we took pity on our still green friend and hired a carriage instead.

Mrs. Starke, from the written guide we’ve brought with us, advises us to take the road from Calais through Beauvais to Paris, as it is smoother, less hilly, and shorter. The road winds through fields of grain, and trees line the avenue as if you were going somewhere much finer than the local villages. We pass a mound, which our guides tell us once housed the camp of Julius Caesar. Roman medals and other artifacts have been found in the area.

And there’s a lovely convent, with its white walls. So French! No, wait. Is that smoke coming from the chimney? So many chimneys? It seems France has seen fit to transform many of its convents into factories, a fact that seems more sad than progressive as we head on.

And there, on the horizon, Montmartre! We’re almost to Paris!