_July 9th._--We went in a carriage to see the village fête of
Louvécienne. Little Miss Foaker went with us. It was a fine evening.
Louvécienne, or Lucien, is above four miles from Versailles; it is
very pretty about the village. There were lamps hung across the trees,
and seats placed round on the ground where they danced. Three fiddlers
were stuck up in a kind of orchestra, and they played a very dull tune
extremely badly. I was very much disappointed in the dancing: it was
more like a funeral than a dance. The figure was a quadrille. They
walked it all till they came to the setting, which they danced in their
way, which was almost duller than the walking. All the time they were
dancing their faces were as grave as judges: they behaved as if it was
a lesson they wished to be done with; as soon as the dance was done
they laughed, pulled each other round, and ran off to buy a sweetmeat
at one of the booths; then they came back as grave as possible. One of
the nicest girls was dressed in a white gown, pink apron, green shoes,
and a gold chain; there was one very impudent, disagreeable, vulgar
woman, dressed in blue cotton. Some were in white, and some had on red
petticoats, high caps, gold chains, etc. There were booths, stalls,
whirligigs, roundabouts, etc., like an English fair. We saw an old man
and woman of sixty or seventy riding in a roundabout. At the other end,
near some trees, there was a party of ladies and gentlemen; they danced
much like the peasants, in some respects worse--one or two of them,
however, danced tolerably well. This party had rather better music, but
very dull. As we went away they were beginning to light the lamps. It
looked very pretty to see the people under the trees, but the dancing
nearly put one to sleep, and the music was like a funeral dirge. They
say that the French like dancing better than anything, and we heard it
very much admired. For my part, I think it is neither graceful, nor
pretty, nor merry.
[Illustration: VILLAGE FÊTE]