_May 21st._--By this time we were sufficiently settled to have some
masters. The dancing master who had been recommended to us was Monsieur
le Breton. I believe he taught dancing very well in the French style
and took a good deal of pains, but he was not a very agreeable master.
The French dancing is completely different from the English; they think
it beautiful to dance on the flat of the foot and to bend every step,
which makes the dancing look very heavy: they do not like jumping,
although their steps are full of little hops. Their tunes too are very
dull. The French in general do not admire the English dancing; we
were told, however, of one English lady who had danced at the balls,
quite after the English fashion, and whose dancing had been very much
admired. The constant cry of Monsieur Breton was _pliez, pliez_, and
indeed part of the time we danced on a stone floor so that we could
dance heavy enough to please him. He had expressions like the rest
of the French, such as dancing, or working, 'like an angel,' etc. He
called the little ones Williaume, Henault, and Coquette. Our dancing
master had one very disagreeable, though common French trick; he used
to spit so about the floor that it was quite unpleasant to dance. He
taught six of us three times a week for six francs a lesson. He had the
smallest kit I ever saw. He stayed two hours each time. Madame Breton
was a dressmaker. We tried her, but she was by no means a good one. She
had three children, one of whom was an idiot; and as three children in
France are reckoned a large family, she used always to be complaining.
The best dressmaker was Mademoiselle Bouillet, Rue Charcelere. She made
our things very well; but towards the last, when she found we were
going away, she hurried over the work without taking the least pains,
charging very dear for some things, and quite spoiling others. She used
constantly to be promising us to send our things, and as often breaking
her promise. She one day told us very coolly that we might believe
_her_ promises, as she never told lies; that her little girl was in the
habit of lying, but that it was not the case with herself. Another day
she told us it was not her _nature_ to tell lies, but her profession.
The French people do not seem to think it wrong to cheat or lie, or
the least disgraceful to be told they do. Sometimes when we thought
anything we were buying dear, and told the shopkeeper that we had
bought the same thing cheaper in another shop, she answered, 'O madame,
vous ne pouvez pas; c'est impossible.'
* * * * *
Monsieur Violet was our French master. He was a good-humoured little
man, and spoke English very well. He generally wore a green coat and
light drab slippers; his hair looked as if it had not been combed out
for a month: altogether he very much resembled an ape. He came for an
hour every day, and charged two francs a lesson.
* * * * *
Miss Wragge had the best Italian master---Monsieur Pecci--in Europe (so
they told us). He charged a napoleon for twelve lessons, whether she
took them or not. He was a dark, disagreeable-looking man. He looked
like one of the banditti.
* * * * *
We went to enquire about Monsieur Capan, the drawing master (none of
us, however, went). He was finishing one very pretty picture; but he
seemed to have a great objection to show us his drawings: he said
it was quite unnecessary for us to see them. His pupils drew from
busts, he said; they might draw all day if they liked it, but that he
generally looked after them for an hour or so in the middle of the day.
* * * * *
We did not get any music master. The general run of French pianos are
not good. Madame Verny offered to sell us a harpsichord for forty
francs-certainly cheap enough; but as half the notes were like a pestle
and mortar, and the other half would not sound at all, we thought it
would be no acquisition.