EVANGELICAL MAGAZINE

AND

MISSIONARY CHRONICLE.

FEBRUARY, 1861.

Reminiscences of Adolphe Monod, the Great French Preacher.*

BY THE REV. J. C. HARRISON.

I FIRST became acquainted with the late honoured and lamented Adolphe Monod at Montauban, in the autumn of 1839. Having been advised to winter in the south of France, I chose that town; partly because of the well-known salubrity of its climate, partly because several English Christian friends were already located there, but chiefly because I hoped, so far as enfeebled health would permit, to attend the Classes at the Protestant Faculté of Theology. I therefore set out from London in the month of October, took coach to Southampton, and crossed the Channel to Hâvre. Thence I went by steamboat up the Seine to Rouen, greatly enjoying the exquisite beauties of the river scenery, which, of their kind, cannot be surpassed; and from Rouen, by diligence, to Paris. Of Rouen and Paris, I need not stop to say a word. In these days of railways and cheap trips, they are as well known to crowds of Englishmen, as Manchester and London. But in 1839, railways had no existence in France, and therefore travellers had to be content with river-boats, or lumbering diligences; and as I had to avail myself of these to get from Paris to Montauban, a distance of some five or six hundred miles, it may be easily imagined that the journey

When I promised a few personal recollections of Adolphe Monod, I hoped to obtain facts and dates by means of which I might have drawn up a sketch—brief, indeed, but yet complete-of his whole life. On making my application, however, I found that, although no memoir has yet been published, one is at length in the course of preparation; and that hence it would be inconvenient to his friends to supply what I requested, and unbecoming in me to anticipate the authentic account of his life, by any minute detail of the facts of his history. At the same time, I was authorized to give my own reminiscences, as freely and fully as I chose. The more appropriate title for my series of articles would perhaps be, "Montauban, and its Great Preacher." The present paper, which contains little more than a description of Montauban and the journey thither, must be regarded as simply introductory.

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was dreary and tedious enough. My first object was to make my way to Bordeaux, and this I achieved in the coupé of a diligence; taking my seat at seven o'clock on Thursday morning, and reaching my destination at six o'clock on Saturday afternoon,-three days and two nights of incessant travelling, with only two scanty meals in the twenty-four hours, served at no stated times, in miserable road-side inns,—a single companion as far as Poictiers, and the rest of the way alone! Still, the country, the costumes and habits of the people, the modes of cultivation, the architecture and general characteristics of the several southern towns, the groups that gathered around us when we changed horses, their remarks, looks, dress, all were very amusing, and not a little instructive. The incidents of travel were such as could never happen in England. The harness of the horses no English coachman would have put up with-any English proprietor would have been ashamed of: old heavy collars fit only for wagon-horses, straps which looked as if they had never been oiled since they were first made, traces of rope, which snapped as often as they sustained a sudden jerk ; so that stoppages and adjustments and repairs were frequent. The teams-three leaders and two (sometimes three) wheelers-were more like cart than coach horses. On one occasion the relay was not forthcoming, and we had to take forward our tired team a second stage. To this the poor beasts had so decided an objection, that it sometimes became a question whether we should not come to a dead stop. But by dint of continual thrashing-the conductor with a short ridingwhip flogging the wheelers, and the coachman with his long whip the leaders-we at last accomplished this dreary, weary stage. So we drawled on, hour after hour, to the great trial of strength and patience; but as all things come to an end in time, I found myself, at length, at the Hôtel de Rouen in Bordeaux.

Bordeaux has a population of above 100,000, is of commanding appearance, and much cleaner than most French towns. It is situated on the Garonne, which is there considerably broader than the Thames at London Bridge. The quays are four miles in length, alongside of which vessels of the largest tonnage are moored. The bridge, the cathedral, the Hôtel de Ville, the hospital, several of the churches, and the remains of a Roman amphitheatre, are well worth seeing. The broad majestic river, the range of exquisitely wooded hills, the vineyards, the uplands and slopes, dotted with villas and churches,-all contribute to make the country most charming, and Bordeaux itself one of the most agreeable places of residence in France. On the Monday evening I started afresh on my journey, ascending the Gironde, by steamboat, to Agen. The steamer was small, and its engines not very powerful; and as the current of the river is extremely swift, we made but slow progress. The boat started at six o'clock in the evening, and arrived at Agen at seven o'clock the following evening. The weather was miserable,

the company inconveniently numerous; so that the voyage was anything but pleasant.

From Agen I proceeded to Montauban by diligence, which set off at ten o'clock in the evening, and got in at nine in the morning. My place was in the intérieur, and my companions were two soldiers' wives, and five of their very dirty children, with two wretched dogs; and what with the heat, the crowding, and the effluvium, I never spent such a night in my life. But it brought me to the end of my journey, and I soon forgot these disagreeables in the warm welcome which I received from Christian friends. Let no one, after this account of travelling adventures, say that the former days, ere railroads were introduced, were better than these.

Montauban is a large and clean town in the Department of the Tarn and Garonne, some forty miles from Toulouse. It is situated on an elevation, at the foot of which flows the Tarn, a navigable river, with quays and wharves on its banks. It has several establishments for the manufacture of coarse cloth, serge, flannel, silk stockings, &c., and maintains a considerable trade with the country around. "It was built in 1144, by Alphonso, Earl of Toulouse, near the ancient monastery of Mons Albanus. The inhabitants, having embraced the Reformed religion, fortified it; it was besieged by Louis XIII. in the year 1622, but without success; and it did not submit till 1629, when its fortifications were soon after destroyed by Cardinal Richelieu. In the reign of Louis XIV. it was depopulated by the dragonnades, and in 1815 it suffered much from a persecution raised against the Protestants by an infuriated and bigoted rabble."

The situation of Montauban is very beautiful. It is surrounded by a pleasant undulating country; and, from an elevated platform at the end of the promenade, it commands, under certain conditions, a magnificent view of the Pyrenees, which are 150 miles distant. When the weather is either cloudy or intensely dry, the mountains are invisible; but when, with a bright blue sky, the air has gathered the moisture which precedes rain, they gradually come out to view. At first they look like ethereal clouds that have assumed well-defined and ridgy forms; then they stand out distinctly in bold, clear outline, displaying their gigantic proportions, yet ever retaining, as the result of distance, a refined and celestial airiness, which reminds one of the Delectable Mountains, from which the pilgrims beheld the heavenly city.

When you begin to make your observations, you soon discover things which indicate that you are in a Southern city. As the summer advances, the fig-tree, the vine, the olive, flourish luxuriantly, and bear fruit abundantly. Many shrubs and flowers, which in our Northern latitudes are reared in conservatories, grow in the open garden. Lizards, unlike the noisome, sluggish things which at home we see in dark places, there bask in the sun, and when disturbed glide with inde