_May 17th._--There was this day a ball given at the palace in honour
of the Duke of Bordeaux's baptism. Mamma did not go, as Mrs. Murray,
the only person she knew there, could not go on account of the death
of a friend. They said the supper was to be very splendid. We went to
a _pâtissier_ to see some of the ornaments. There were very few, and
those were not very pretty: one of the best was the arms of France,
made of cake and ornamented with coloured paste. They told us that
there were no more ornaments for supper than what we saw; but there
must have been more, as we saw people carrying several out of the shop
into another room: what we saw were merely a few in the windows. In the
evening we walked towards the palace to see the illuminations. Beside
the gate and across the court were pieces of iron this shape
[Illustration: triangle above a short line],
to which the lamps were fastened. The carriages drove up between the
rows of lamps. Mamma and my sisters were not a little surprised to see
a _gondole_ (which is the same kind of thing as a stage-coach) drive
up to the entrance. The driver lifted out of it a very fat, gouty
lady, dressed in a black lace gown over a white satin slip; she had
a white satin turban on her head, short sleeves, and dirty-looking,
lead-coloured gloves. She had very thick legs, and there was something
very peculiar about her feet. She had worsted stockings on! This is
one of the instances out of many of the inconsistency of the French,
in dress as well as in other things. The poorest-looking people will
have gold chains and earrings, although in other respects remarkably
shabbily dressed. The lower class of people are much worse dressed than
the English.
_May 20th._--We all now began to feel very uncomfortable; everything
was so very different to the things in an English house. From the
drawing-room to the kitchen all was uncomfortable, and the habits of
the people were so dirty and untidy that our three English servants
begged that they might do the work themselves instead of having a
foreigner to assist them. Stephens our courier was gone, so that we
had often to go with Carruthers (our cook) to the market to speak
for her. When she went by herself she, however, contrived to make
herself understood; she went all round the market and searched about
till she got hold of the thing she wanted, then she touched it and
said, _Combeen_. She soon learnt a few words such as _pom-de-tary,
chu, mungy, francs, sows, kickshaws_, etc.; if she did not understand
what they said she answered _Inglytary nong comprehendy_. Robins (our
manservant) got on best; he stammered out a word of French and a word
of English, till by words and signs he contrived to get what he wanted.
One word they all knew, and that was _bukkah, bukkah_; they were so
determined not to be cheated that Carruthers went all the way back from
the Avenue de Sceaux to the market if she found they owed her one sou.
Notwithstanding all our care we frequently were cheated; they will try
every possible means:[16] sometimes when the market-people set down
what we had bought, they would write down a few more pence than they
had before charged, or contrive some other way for getting money. The
provisions at Versailles were fully dearer than in England. One of the
best shops in the market was Madame Segan's, although she, as well as
the rest, would cheat if she could. The butter was very bad in France.
Madame Segan's was the best, but as there was no salt in it, and they
only got it once a week, it did not keep good. The butcher's meat
(except the pork and veal) is not good: they have a curious custom of
blowing it up so as to look very large. The French bread being made of
leaven is very sour; we got English bread from a baker at Versailles.
Another good shop for eggs, etc., is The Black Hen.
* * * * *
Madame Vernier, the woman whom we took the house from, was a
_restaurateur_ next door, so we often got some dishes from her. Her
_chef de cuisine_ used sometimes also to come to our house to make
dishes. It was very curious to see his proceedings; the beginning of
all his dishes was the same, a large piece of batter and a little
flour; to this he often added some bouillon. He was one day going to
make a small dish off a large dish of cold roast beef. Instead of
cutting off a few slices, (before we saw what he was about) he cut
every bit of the beef to pieces, and then broke the bones and threw
them into the _pot an feu_, to the great discomposure of Carruthers.
The French can make a dish out of almost anything. One day he began to
tell us a long story about a place where he used to dip the children,
and to show us what he meant he took little Caroline in his arms and
pretended to bathe her. This cook was a true French figure; he used to
come in with his white nightcap and apron on, and a sharp pointed knife
hung by his side. After scraping up the charcoal with his fingers he
used to dip two of them into the pan, and putting them to his mouth he
used to say, 'Très bon, très bon.' He was, however, a civil enough old
man in his way.
* * * * *
Another curious figure was our water-woman. She was a remarkably ugly,
vulgar-looking old woman, and like all the old French women, an immense
size. She used to wear a brown petticoat, a tattered apron, and a
knitted woollen body. Notwithstanding her uncouth appearance, however,
she was by far the most polite old woman I saw in France. Though
upwards of seventy, she one day sang us some songs very well. When she
came she used to make a curtsy and enquire after us all in the civilest
manner possible. Indeed she was nearly the only person whose manner
was at all like what I expected. Although one hears so much of French
politeness, I do not think that the French are near so polite as the
English. The men make better bows, etc., but in other things there is a
kind of forwardness in the manners of the people that I cannot admire.
If you are walking in the street and a person happens to run against
you or hit you with his stick (which frequently happens), he never
thinks of saying anything except calling out 'eh!' laughing, and then
walking on.
[Illustration : WATER-WOMAN]