Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 158: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Pickwick Abroad. 117 “In that case, then, we had better depart, and get some at the hotel,” said Mr. Pickwick. ‘ But who is that clumsy-built, vulgar- looking person, to whom Lord Pompus is bowing so obsequiously ?” “Marshal Soult,” replied Mr. Scuttle, laconically; ‘‘ one of the bravest and most celebrated living warriors. None of Napoleon's erals were very famous for any extraordinary degree of refinement in their manners; but they made better soldiers, though, on that account. Did you ever hear the anecdote relative to Marshal Mac- donald—a French chief—and the Duke of W**##*#### 2” “No, I have not,” returned Mr. Pickwick; ‘ but I should like to hear it amazingly, if it would not be giving you too much trouble.” “Oh! not at all,” said the absent gentleman, whose garrulity was unwearied. ‘‘ Indeed, I am not at all astonished that you have rot heard it; for the circumstance was tolerably well hushed up at the time, and is only now current amongst a few individuals. But it will just wile away the quarter of an hour’s ride home. Let us withdraw, and [ will indulge your curiosity in the hackney-coach.” Mr. Pickwick and his companions put themselves under the convoy of Mr. Scuttle, and re from the Ambassador’s hotel with due order and sobriety. In the space of a minute they all five crowded themselves into a fiacre ; and as the vehicle rolled onwards to Meu- rice’s Hotel, Mr. Scuttle narrated the following singular anecdote :— ‘When the Army of Occupation was here in 18—, the principal officers of the French forces determined to exemplify their good feel- ing towards the English to the utmost of their power; and it was unanimously resolved, that a grand entertainment should be given, in the Salle Saint Jean, at the Hotel-de- Ville, to the Duke of W*##*#*#### and his chief supporters. A day was accordingly fixed—the invita- tions were issued and accepted with delight—and magnificent were the preparations for the banquet. It was supposed that not less than half a million of francs, or about twenty thousand pounds of English sterling money, was expended, in order that the English should be welcomed by the appearance of every splendour, luxury, and comfort that gold could purchase. At Jength the appointed day arrived; and at six o’clock in the evening, the Marshals of France—those warriors who had formerly carried their conquests all over Europe—were as- sembled in the Salle Saint Jean, to await the arrival of their guests. The elegant uniforms of the Marshals, the gorgeous dresses of the multitudes of ladies who had been invited to add lustre to the scene by their presence, the brilliant display of plate, &e., on the banquet- ting-table, and the varied liveries of the numerous lacqueys and attendants, formed a scene at once imposing and cheerful. The English officers arrived in good time, and were welcomed with all the cordiality their late enemies could lavish upon them. And in the hearts of those French heroes, there were no jealous—no sinister—no hypocritical sentiments: they had been conquered by the overwhelm- ing superiority of numbers marshalled against them by the Allies, and by the treachery of some of their comrades: they therefore bowed to the force of circumstances, and grasped, with friendly warmth, the out-stretched hands of their t foes. Thus all was gaiety, mirth, and good feeling: but the Duke of W******#** had not yet made his appearance. The cards of invitation had been issued for six GOMICDOOo (a) (c@