The Diary of a Girl in France in 1821 — Background and Themes

was very like Keswick Lake, but the lower end not so pretty; the mountains did not look very high. There were a great number of trees; some of them had on kind of covers, which looked like tombstones; the white railings and the shadows of the trees were remarkably natural; there were several figures, the prettiest was a little child learning to walk. We went to St. Paul's, and just walked through it. I thought it very fine, but spoiled by the blackness. I had no idea of the height till I observed some people in the gallery, who looked no bigger than flies; the pillars were very thick. In our way to St. Paul's we passed by Perry's glass-shop; in the window there was a curtain of glass drops, with two tassels; it had a very pretty effect, and when the sun shone it appeared all colours, but when we entered the shop it was quite beautiful, there were such numbers of large glass lamps hanging from the ceiling, and chandeliers, etc., in all parts. We saw the jugs belonging to a dessert-set for a Spanish nobleman, which was to cost twelve hundred pounds. Also a picture of a lamp which the King had had made there: it was gilt dragons with lotuses in their mouths; in these the lamps were placed so as to be quite hid. I should think it would be more curious than pretty. We passed by Green Park, and saw Lord William Gordon's house, which has a very nice garden. We drove through Hyde Park; the trees were very pretty, and the leaves far out; we passed very near the Serpentine. It was excessively hot weather.

_April 27th._--We saw the Western Exchange, which is something like a large room full of shops; from that we went to Miss Linwood's Exhibition. The pictures were exactly like paintings; there was a railing before them, so that one could not see very near them; some of the prettiest were Jephtha's Daughter, a nymph turning into a fountain, a little girl and a kitten, some children on an ass, a girl and a bird, a woodman and a lobster; in a smaller room were several pictures of our Saviour, the finest was a head; there was no railing before them, and when one looked near and could see the stitches, they looked quite rough; we went along a passage and looked through a kind of grating in which there was a head of Buonaparte, in another a lion's den; but the most amusing thing was some children in a cottage; underneath a shelf lay a little black-and-white dog, which we were afraid to go near thinking it was alive; Catherine said she saw its eyes moving. The streets in London were a great deal prettier than I imagined, such numbers of shops, carriages, etc.--indeed the whole far exceeded my expectation. There were a great many carriages in Bond Street driving backwards and forwards.

_April 28th._--We left London about half-past nine o'clock; we passed close by Westminster Abbey, which is prettier than St. Paul's; we had a beautiful view of London from Westminster Bridge, where I think it looks best, all the ships look so lively on the river, and London appears so large. Somerset House is one side of the Thames; we had another view after we were out of the city, where we saw London much better than when we were coming in; we saw the Monument and the Tower at a distance: it was delightful weather, the leaves were quite out; we saw a great number of butterflies, one kind of a bright yellow (that I had never seen before). The country looked very pretty, but the cottages were not so nice as those in Hertfordshire; we had several views of the Thames; we slept at Canterbury.

_April 29th._--We breakfasted at Dover.

_April 29th._--We embarked at half-past nine on board the Trafalgar, Captain Melle; we waited for passengers for above half an hour; the ship was very full--there were twelve of ourselves, a foreigner, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkinson, six children, their uncle William, Miss Ash, a manservant and a maid, who were going to Smyrna; the next people I observed were three tall young women with hats and feathers; they had a mattrass put in a boat, which they lay on, there was an old woman with them; next came Mr. Johnson, his sister and daughter; an affected lady; Mrs. Moses and a little girl; a French lady and her daughter; two gentlemen with plaids; a curious old man and an old lady; besides servants and many other people whose names I do not know. There were fifty passengers. It was so foggy that we could hardly see Dover Cliffs. Before we sailed the old man came and sat down not far from us. He was very shabbily dressed, and looked a curious figure. A man came and asked him for some money for carrying down his luggage to the ship. 'Nononono, no no,' said the old man; 'I paid you for my breakfast.' 'But my master, and not I, got that money,' said the man. 'No no no no, 'said the old gentleman, tapping the deck with his cane, and his stomach with his hand. The man continued to remonstrate, saying that he paid those who did nothing, and did not give anything to those who were really useful; but it was all in vain. So he went away, and presently returned with another man, and they both tried to persuade the old man to give them something. 'Nono-nono-nono,'said he. 'I gave you so much' (mentioning what it was); 'nono-no.' 'But that was for your breakfast, sir, and not for carrying your trunks.' 'Nono-no no; keep it to yourself, keep it to yourself,' said he, nodding, and at last the two men were obliged to leave the ship without having accomplished their purpose. One of them muttered as he went along, 'I'm sure if I'd known this I would not have taken all this trouble; such work as I've had, hunting after that old man's gloves for this half-hour.' We could not tell who he was, nor did any person appear to know him, as they sometimes spoke English to him and sometimes French, he always returning the answer, 'No-no.' He continued to nod and talk to himself long after the men were gone, to our great amusement. I was very sorry to leave England, but I had not much time to think about it, as the ship began to move. As I had not been in a ship before, I was very much frightened, and when the ship leant to one side I felt as if we were all falling into the sea together. A great wave came over the ship, and wetted all the people at that side, who were obliged to run up higher. Mamma was so ill, she looked like death. She said you might have thrown her into the sea, or done anything with her. After a short time I was sick also; indeed there were hardly any of the passengers that were not, except Euphemia, William, and Caroline[1]. One of the plaid gentlemen was very civil, and took Caroline on his knee. When she was tired she crept by mamma, and fell asleep. She scarcely spoke a word, except once: when I asked her how she liked being in the ship, she lifted up her head, and said, 'Not at all.' The gentleman said he had come over for pleasure, and was going back again the next day. Oh (thought I), who can come for pleasure?--to be sick oneself, and see every person sick around one, to be surrounded by people who look dead or dying, to hear women groaning, and children crying, and to add to all, to be shivering with cold--who can come for pleasure! Mr. Wilkinson's two little boys cried, and were rather troublesome; the youngest had an immense long whip. His little baby had just recovered from the measles; he nursed it almost the whole time. The little girl with Mrs. Moses had, in addition to being sick, the cramp in her legs. The lady that was with her did not take any charge of her except calling out when the ship tacked, 'O child! come to this side, or else you will be drowned.' The first time somebody was sick, and called 'Steward,' our little Stewart started up and said, 'What, papa?'[2] William told us that he looked on one side; he saw a spout: he looked on the other side; he saw another spout: so there was nothing for him to look at but the sea. There were a number of seabirds and fishes. We got within sight of Calais in three hours. No boats came out for a long while, and it was generally agreed that the men had gone to the play; but the reason ...

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... to their mouths to make him understand, but he always returned the same answer, 'O nonononono, nononono,' so they were obliged to leave him. Only a few people went in the boats. We laid down on the deck, with our head on a basket and a coat over us. The deck was covered with people lying in a heap like pigs. It was so disagreeable, that when I heard that we could not get in till six or seven o'clock, I thought that I would almost sooner go in the next boat than stay where I was. Soon after, Euphemia told me that the next boat was come, but we did not go in that either. Soon after, almost everybody went down to the cabin, except Carruthers, the affected lady, and me. The old man again began to be troublesome: he wanted to get to a chair at the opposite side of the cabin, and all at once down he got on his hands and knees, and began to crawl over the ladies, who called out, 'O! O dear! he will crush us.' He then wanted to go to bed, and kept poking about: he came to Euphemia's bed, and said, 'I'll get in here. Why mayn't I get in here?' and he stood upon a chair, and peeped into the bed. One of the ladies called out, 'There's a child in that bed.' 'Nononono-no,' said he, and there he stood. Euphemia prepared herself to jump out of bed if he got in, but after looking a little while he went away. Every time she spoke to Catherine he held up two of his fingers, and said, 'That won't do, that won't do.' The affected lady had laid her head on our knees, and she was never still for a moment. She kept continually asking how long it would be before we got in; it was very foggy, and the sailors had lost sight of the fort, so this lady thought she would direct them. 'Oh!'said she, 'I wish I could look up; I've got such famous eyes,' and then she sat up. 'Oh yes, I can see it.' One of the sailors tried to persuade her that one might fancy anything in a fog, but she still wanted to direct them. 'I'm sure,' said she, 'I see the fort. It would be much better if you were to go into the harbour.' They at last said they thought we should not get in all night.[3] Whenever they moved the helm, the lady screamed out that it would crush her. I felt very stupid and sleepy, and in a short time I fell asleep. When they were going in to Calais we went into the cabin; they took me down half asleep, and when I awoke I could hardly tell where I was; it looked like a burial-ground; the floor was covered with people and basons, and it was almost dark; in a little while we heard that we were going into the harbour, to our great joy; I thought I would sooner stay all my life in France than cross the sea again. We reached Calais a little after eight; every person got up and groped about: a gentleman said it was like a resurrection. One of Mr. Wilkinson's little girls, about three or four years old, said, 'Papa, must my kisses and cakes go to the custom-house?' When Euphemia[4] was getting up she said, 'I think we all look like wild beasts in our dens'; one of the plaid gentlemen said, 'And you look like a laughing hyena!' Our brothers had been all the time in the hold with the luggage. One of the ladies said she would never cross the sea again, except to go home. I was rejoiced to leave the ship, having spent one of the longest and most disagreeable days I had ever felt. When we landed it was quite dark.

After we had landed we went to the custom-house. It looked like a public-house, there were some queer-looking men and women with long earrings;[5] here we saw the affected lady--she pulled about her petticoats and said they should feel that she had got nothing about her. From this we went to Rignolle's Hotel; it was very nicely furnished: there were very pretty clocks on the chimney-piece. We went to bed directly after tea; the rooms had a very particular, disagreeable smell.

_April 30th_.[6]--We took a walk on the pier: it was excessively cold and windy; we saw the place where Louis the Eighteenth first put his foot on his return from England--there is a little piece of brass, of the shape of a foot, put into the stone: there is also a pillar on which is marked the time that this event took place. There was not much difference between the dress of the people at Calais and that of the English. The custom-house officers had examined our things; they took away nine cambric muslin petticoats, which were slightly run up, and a worked gown of mamma's, which they afterwards gave her back, thinking that she might have worked it. They took away two yards of cambric muslin from Miss Wragge;[7] they likewise examined a shawl and a cotton gown of the servant's many times over: the gown had been washed several times. The servants dined at a table d'hôte; there was a dinner which they thought very fine, a dessert, wines, brandy and coffee. Rignolle's is a very good hotel; most of the servants speak English; it is in the Rue Eustâche de St. Pierre.

_May 1st._--Being sufficiently recruited we recommenced our journey; our horses were tied with ropes, they looked quite wild; there were three in each carriage. Calais is surrounded with fortifications. It was very cold, disagreeable weather. Papa has a great aversion to east winds, and dislikes Tallantire on that account, so we expected that in France we should find a delightful climate; but alas! no sooner had we arrived there, than we found both east and north winds. About Calais was the ugliest country without exception I ever beheld; there was scarcely a tree to be seen, no hedgerows, no pretty cottages, everything looked dirty and miserable; there was a great deal of sand, and the country looked exactly like a desert: I thought that if this was a specimen of France, it was certainly a most charming place! We passed through La Chaussée, a scattered village which skirts the road for more than a mile; after ascending a hill we had a view of the sea, but the weather was so thick that we could not see Dover Cliffs. Our horses began to kick and seemed very restive, but on the driver's dismounting and calling to them in a curious voice they were soon quiet; after we had passed Wimille about a mile there was a succession of hills as far as Boulogne: on one of them we had a view of the town and the tower, which was commenced by Buonaparte to commemorate his intended victories over England. We entered the town by an avenue of trees; we met a procession in the Rue Grande in honour of the Duke of Bordeaux's baptism, which was that day to take place; it was a general fête throughout France. We stopt till the procession had passed. The principal things I remarked were the pioneers with their long beards and leather aprons, with hatchets over their shoulders. We went to the Hôtel Angleterre, Rue de l'Eau; it is kept by an Englishman of the name of Parker. We breakfasted on bouillon. Euphemia had been very unwell all day: she had no appetite; so we and Miss Wragge went out to buy some oranges for her; we asked several people, and enquired at a number of shops, but all in vain, and we began to despair: we, however, succeeded in getting some of an Englishman--he was the only person in the town who sold them; he told us that he got them from England and was obliged to pay a high duty; we only took four, as the smallest were four sous apiece. After leaving Boulogne the country was a little prettier; it had not that desert appearance that there was at the sea-coast. Before we reached Saumur we saw a woman riding like a man, wrong side before, on a horse, and a cow tied to the horse's tail; in some places we saw women ploughing. About Saumur it was rather pretty; there were rows of apple-trees on each side of the road, but on many of them there was scarcely a leaf; not any of the trees were so far out as they were in England. The country looks barren, as there are no hedges. The villages in France are also very ugly--there are no gardens before the houses, and instead of the lovely cottages we saw in Hertfordshire we here saw only dirty, untidy-looking houses; it was curious to see the astonishment of the servants, who imagined that they were to travel through bowers of grapes and groves of oranges. I was most disappointed at the weather, as I expected a delightful climate in France. After we had passed Saumur we entered the forest of Longvilliers; we saw some large lilac periwinkles in the hedge.[8] We reached Montreuil in the evening; there is a very steep ascent to the town; it is supposed to be nearly impregnable. We went to Varennes, Hotel de la Cour de France; it was a tolerably clean and civil inn. They told us there was to be a grand illumination on account of the fête; they begged to put some lights in our windows, and stuck two or three candles in. The servants went out to see the balls and illuminations: they said that there were very few lights, and that they saw some ladies going to the ball, but that, as for the dance on the green, it was so dark they could hardly see, but the people appeared to be in their working dresses; that there was one fiddler; that first one person got up and ran across the green, and then another; but it was nothing like dancing. At this hotel we first saw the curious French beds; they consist of a pole in the wall with the end gilt, over this is thrown a curtain; sometimes instead of the pole there is an octagon; the beds are very uncomfortable, and the curtains slip over one's face. The basons are like pie-dishes.