I rather enjoy writing letters but it often takes me a while to get round to the task. It seems that it runs in the family judging by this one written by my great-great-great grandfather.
Dear Father,
I would have written before now, if it were not on account of the late troubles in France which obliged us to move from place to place. We were at Nancy when the news of Buonaparte’s entering Paris arrived. I saw the canille tear down the crown and the fleur-de-lis: about two or three days before, I had the mortification to see la garde imperial, commonly called the Chasseurs march openly to join Buonaparte, and before they got out of the gate that leads to Toule, they took down the white cockade and put up the tricolour; and even in the town one of the guard meeting a peasant in the Rue d’Esplinade said to him “Crie vive l’Empereur si tu ne cries pas je te tuerai”.
This will give you an idea that the last revolution is nothing but military. Indeed Mr Fitz and I perceived long before there was any idea of Buonaparte’s return, that he had the Military and only the Military for him.
From Nancy we went to Bale en Suisse, where there is nothing remarkable but a very picturesque country: and that Mr Fitz was taken for a spy. So we were obliged to leave Bale on account of not having English passports and go to Zurich where we met Mr Canning the minister, who upon seeing our French passports was quite thunderstruck and did not know well what to do; but upon our mentioning that we were Irish he said that made the matter a great deal worse so that he was very glad to hand us over to Mr Rose who is minister at Munich, from whom too we have received every kind of attention that it is possible for a minister to show to his country men who have no letter of introduction.
Munich is a very handsome town, there are two theatres, but we do not go often to the Play as we do not yet know Germain, but we have a master; so that you may very well conceive that it is dull enough particularly as we do not know any body. La cuisine is particularly bad, one of the great luxuries is a Ram ten years old, so that poor Mr Fitz is fairly dying of hunger.
Mr Fitz and I think that if you could get us leave to wear a uniform it would be very useful.
The environs of Zurich, the Chute of Shaffehaussen, and the Lake of Constance, shall be described in a letter to my Mother and Mary as soon as I have seen the famous gallery of pictures. Give my love to my Mother and Mary and remember me to all my friends, Believe me your affectionate Son, George Bryan.
This was posted in Munich on 20th June 1815, addressed to Captain Bryan, No 11 Henrietta Street, Dublin, Irelande and was forwarded to Jenkinstown, Kilkenny. His mother is Marie Louisa, Comtesse de Rutant, and Mary is his sister.
His father may have felt déjà vu reading his son’s letter, as he had seen the massacre of the Swiss Guards at the Tuileries Palace in 1792 and was subsequently imprisoned at Nancy.
