_My dear Jane:_
We were agreeably surprised the day before yesterday, while at dinner,
by the arrival of the Danvilles, the American family with whom we were
so charmed at Bath last summer. Leonora is as likely as ever, and
delighted at the idea of spending the fall and winter here; she
expects too, to be joined by her cousin Marcello, of whom we have
heard her speak with such affection and admiration. She has been so
good as to let me read her journal, and I have obtained her permission
to transcribe a part of it for your perusal. It concerns the journey
from Calais to Paris, and as I have given you a sketch of that from
Havre here, this will enable you to compare the two routes. I dare say
you will like, also, to read her observations about the Thames and our
steam boats. She writes thus:
"Soon after leaving London, the Thames quite astonished me. I had no
idea it was so considerable a river. For many miles it is broad and
winding, and each shore presents fine scenery. We had a good view of
several noted towns, and remarked the superb hospital at Greenwich and
the royal dock yard at Woolwich, where ships of war are made. At
Gravesend we passed two vessels transporting convicts to Botany Bay,
and I regretted to observe that the women were more numerous than the
men.
"The motion of the English steam boats is still more disagreeable than
that of ours, but their machinery is less noisy. Coal being used for
fuel instead of wood, the passengers soon look dingy in face and
dress: therefore one should not travel in them handsomely clad, as
clothes are quickly ruined by the smoke and dust. There is no
particular hour for breakfast; each person calls for it when it suits
his pleasure, and has a table to himself. Dinner is served at five
o'clock.
"We reached Calais about eight P.M. At the custom house the officers
were not strict in their examination of our baggage; this surprised
us, for we had understood that they were always very rigid in
performing this troublesome duty. Perhaps our being Americans was the
cause of their moderation in disturbing our trunks and boxes,--for the
French like _us_ almost as much as they detest the _English_. On
landing, we were highly diverted at the scene on the Quay. The instant
we left the boat we were beset with men and boys on every side,
recommending different hotels,--and frequently cards of address were
absolutely forced into our hands. When one overheard another advising
any of us to go to a particular house, he would cry out, 'never do you
mind that fellow, ma'am, (or sir) he tells a lie; he always tells
lies!' Or, 'no such thing, sir; that house is full, sir; you can't get
in, and he _knows_ it!' Or, 'that hotel is not a good one,
sir,--indeed it is not; try mine, sir; mine's a palace to it!' and
fifty other such droll speeches, at which (tormented as we were) we
could not help laughing. Sometimes they would even seize us by the arm
and entreat us to accompany them to their hotel, if only to see how
comfortable it was. These _besiegers_ (we have since been told)
receive a trifle from every innkeeper to whom they carry a guest, and
it is their anxiety to obtain this fee, that renders them so annoying
to travellers.
"Ere leaving Calais we had sufficient leisure to walk about the town
and visit the church, the town hall on the 'place d'armes,' and the
column on the pier commemorating the landing of Louis 18th, on the
24th of April, 1814. It is a plain stone pillar, surmounted by a ball
and a fleur de lis. In front of it is a representation in bronze of
the print of the king's foot (or rather his shoe) upon the spot he
first stepped on from the vessel. We found the country between Calais
and Paris uninteresting, and generally barren. Once or twice we had a
fine view of the sea. The French villages appeared horribly dirty
after the exquisite neatness of those in England. The highways
presented a bustling and entertaining scene; for men and women, boys
and girls, gaily dressed, continually passed us, carrying baskets of
fruit, riding on donkeys, or driving along pigs, sheep, cows, or
geese. The venders of fruit would frequently jump up behind our
carriage, and thrust in at the window, peaches, pears and grapes,
beseeching us to buy them, and assuring us we had never tasted better
in all our lives. Whenever we stopped at an inn, or ascended a hill,
we were surrounded by dozens of paupers, begging for a sous. Sometimes
they looked so miserable, it was impossible to refuse; at others, we
were fain to bestow it in order to get rid of them. Little urchins
would also solicit a penny, and scamper after us a considerable
distance, often springing up behind and sticking their heads into the
coach. Upon the whole I am contented with our journey hither, for if
it was not picturesque it was highly amusing.
"The principal towns we have passed through, are Boulogne, Abbeville,
and Beauvais. The first is said to have been founded by Julius Caesar;
and Le Sage, the author of Gil Blas, died there in 1747; the house in
which he expired, is yet shewn as a curiosity. Within a mile of
Boulogne is a corinthian column, which Bonaparte began to erect as a
memento of his victories over the English; he left it unfinished, and
Louis 18th had it completed for his own honor and glory."
Thus far, dear sister, I have copied from Leonora's diary; now for
something of my own. Last night we were at Mr. de Neuville's grand
levee; he has one every week, and being exceedingly popular, his rooms
are generally crowded. We saw there, many distinguished characters;
among them, Monsieur de Chateaubriand, whose travels have afforded us
so much entertainment and instruction, and General Saldanha, the brave
Portuguese. He has a commanding figure and face, and wears a pair of
tremendous mustachios, which are so frightful and so fashionable!
To-day we devoted a portion of our time to the Expiatory Chapel, a
beautiful building, constructed in honor of Louis 16th and Marie
Antoinette; it covers the spot where their remains were first
interred; for since the restoration of the Bourbons, these have been
conveyed to the royal vault at St. Denis. The entrance and interior of
the chapel are very handsome; the light is admitted from the cupola,
beneath which are fifteen niches, destined to hold statues of the
chief victims of the revolution. There is a neat altar, and the will
of Louis and that of his sister, (the Princess Elizabeth) are engraved
in golden letters, on two white marble tablets. A subterranean
apartment contains another altar, and in front of this a black marble
slab bearing an inscription, still designates the original grave of
the royal and unfortunate pair. In the court of the chapel many of
their faithful Swiss guards are interred. The testament of Louis,
wherein he expresses good will towards his enemies and forgiveness of
his unloyal and cruel subjects, is very touching. A peasant girl was
reading it when we entered, and her cheeks were bedewed with tears.
I regret to inform you that Mamma has had a return of her consumptive
cough, and is compelled to drink asses' milk. She is plentifully
supplied with it every morning, by an old man who drives a flock of
female asses about the streets, and milks them before the door of each
customer. The tingling of a little bell, which he carries, gives
notice of his arrival whenever be stops. Farewell: kind greetings to
those around you,--and above all, to yourself. From