_Paris, December 10th, 1823._
MY DEAR MR. BULL,--Having often heard travelers lament not having put
down what they call _memorybillious_ of their journies, I was determined
while I was on my _tower_, to keep a _dairy_ (so called from containing
the cream of one's information), and record everything which recurred to
me--therefore I begin with my departure from London.
Resolving to take time by the _firelock_, we left Montague Place at 7
o'clock by Mr. Fulmer's pocket thermometer, and proceeded over
Westminister Bridge to _explode_ the European Continent. I never pass
Whitehall without dropping a tear to the memory of Charles the Second,
who was decimated, after the rebellion of 1745, opposite the Horse
Guards--his memorable speech to Archbishop Caxon rings in my ears
whenever I pass the spot. I reverted my head and affected to look to see
what o'clock it was by the dial, on the opposite side of the way. It is
quite impossible not to notice the improvements in this part of the
town, the beautiful view which one gets of Westminster Hall and its
curious roof, after which, as everybody knows, its builder was called
William Roofus.
Amongst the lighter specimens of modern architecture is Ashley's
_ampletheatre_, on your right, as you cross the bridge (which was built,
Mr. Fulmer informed me, by the Court of Arches and House of Peers). In
this ampletheatre there are Equestrian performances, so called because
they are exhibited _nightly_ during the season.
The toll at the Marsh Gate is _ris_ since we last came through--it was
here we were to have taken up Lavinia's friend, Mr. Smith, who has
promised to go with us to Dover--but we found his servant instead of
himself with a _billy_, to say he was sorry he could not come, because
his friend, Sir John Somebody, wished him to stay and go down to _Poll_
at Lincoln. I have no doubt that this _Poll_, whoever she may be, is a
very respectable young woman, but mentioning her by her Christian name
only in so abrupt a manner had a very unpleasant appearance at any rate.
Nothing remarkable occurred till we reached the _Obstacle_ in St.
George's Fields, where our attention was arrested by those great
Institutions--the school for the _Indignant_ Blind, and the
_Misanthropic_ Society for making shoes, both of which claim the
gratitude of the nation. At the bottom of the lane, leading to Peckham,
I saw that they had removed the _Dollygraph_ which used to stand upon
the declivity to the right of the road--the Dollygraphs are all to be
superseded by _Serampores_.
When we came to the Green Man at Blackheath, we had an opportunity of
noticing the errors of former travellers, for the heath is green and the
man is black. Mr. Fulmer endeavoured to account for this, by saying,
that Mr. Colman has discovered that Moors being black, and heaths being
a kind of moor, he looks upon the confusion of words as the cause of the
mistake. N. B.--Mr. Colman is the _itinerary_ surgeon, who constantly
resides at St. Pancras. As we went near Woolwich, we saw at a distance
the Artillery Officers on a common, a firing away in mortars like
anything. At Dartford they make gunpowder--here we changed horses. At
the inn we saw a most beautiful _Roderick Random_ in a pot covered with
flowers--it is the finest I ever saw, except those at Dropmore. When we
got to Rochester, we went to the Crown Inn and had a cold
_collection_--the charge was _absorbant_. I had often heard my poor dear
husband talk of the influence of the Crown, and the Bill of _Wrights_,
but I had no idea what it really meant, till we had to pay one.
As we passed near Chatham, I saw several _Pitts_, and Mr. Fulmer shewed
me a great many buildings--I believe he said they were _fortyfications_,
but I think there must have been fifty of them; he also showed me the
Lines at Chatham, which I saw quite distinctly, with the clothes drying
on them. Rochester was remarkable in King Charles's time, for being a
very witty and dissolute place, as I have read in books.
At Canterbury, we stopped ten minutes to visit all the remarkable
buildings and curiosities in it, and about its neighborhood; the church
is most beautiful. When Oliver Cromwell conquered William the Third, he
_perverted_ it into a stable--the stalls are now standing. The old
_Virgin_, who shewed us the church, wore buckskin _breaches and
powder_--he said it was an archypiscopal sea--but I saw no sea, nor do I
think it possible he could see it either, for it is at least seventeen
miles off. We saw Mr. Thomas a Beckett's tomb--my poor husband was
extremely intimate with the old gentleman, and one of his nephews, a
very nice young man, who lives near Golden Square, dined with us twice,
I think, in London. In Trinity Chapel is the monument of Eau de Cologne,
just as it is now exhibiting at the _Diarrhoea_ in the Regent's Park.
It was late when we got to Dover. We walked about while our dinner was
preparing, looking forward to our snug tete-a-tete of three. We went to
look at the sea--so called, perhaps, from the uninterrupted view one has
when upon it. It was very curious to see the locks to keep the water
here, and the _keys_ which are on each side of them, all ready, I
suppose, to open them if they are wanted. We were awake with the owl
next morning, and a walking away before eight, we went to see the
castle,--which was built, the man told us, by Seizer, so called, I
conclude, from seizing everything he could lay his hands upon. The man
said moreover that he had invaded Britain and conquered it, upon which I
told him, that if he repeated such a thing in my presence again, I
should write to the Government about him. We saw the inn where Alexander
the _Autograph_ of all the Russians lived when he was here--and as we
were going along, we met twenty or thirty dragons mounted on horses, and
the ensign who commanded them was a friend of Mr. Fulmer's--he looked at
Lavinia and seemed pleased with her _Tooting assembly_--he was quite a
"sine qua non" of a man, and wore tips on his lips, like Lady Hopkins'
poodle. I heard Mr. Fulmer say he was a son of _Marrs_; he spoke as if
everybody knew his father, so I suppose he must be the son of the poor
gentleman who was so barbarously murdered some years ago, near Ratcliff
Highway--if he is, he is uncommon genteel. At 12 o'clock we got into a
boat and rowed to the packet; it was a very fine and clear day for the
season, and Mr. Fulmer said he should not dislike pulling Lavinia about
all the morning--this, I believe, was a _naughty-call_ phrase--which I
did not rightly comprehend, because Mr. F. never offered to talk in that
way on shore to either of us. The packet is not a _parcel_, as I
imagined, in which we were to be made up for exportation, but a boat of
very considerable size; it is called a cutter--why I do not know, and
did not like to ask. It was very curious to see how it rolled
about--however I felt quite mal-a-propos--and instead of exciting any of
the soft sensibility of the other sex, a great unruly man, who held the
handle of the ship, bid me lay hold of a companion, and when I sought
his arm for protection, he introduced me to a ladder, down which I
_ascended_ into the cabin, one of the most curious places I ever
beheld--where ladies and gentlemen are put upon shelves like books in a
library, and where tall men are doubled up like bootjacks, before they
can be put away at all. A gentleman in a heavy cap without his coat laid
me perpendicular on a mattrass, with a basin by my side, and said that
was my birth. I thought it would have been my death, for I never was so
ill-disposed in all my life. I behaved extremely ill to a very amiable
middle-aged gentleman, who had the misfortune to be attending on his
wife, in a little bed under me. There was no _symphony_ to be found
among the tars (so called from their smell), for just before we went off
I heard them throw a painter overboard, and directly after they called
out to one another to hoist up the ensign. I was too ill to inquire what
the poor young gentleman had done; but after I came up stairs, I did not
see his body hanging anywhere, so I conclude they cut him down--I hope
it was not young Mr. Marr, a venturing after my Lavy. I was quite
shocked to find what democrats the sailors are--they seem to hate the
nobility--especially the law lords. The way I discovered this _apathy_
of theirs to the nobility, was this--the very moment we lost sight of
England and were close to France, they began, one and all, to swear
first at the Peer, and then at the Bar, in such gross terms as made my
very blood run cold. I was quite pleased to see Lavinia sitting with Mr.
Fulmer in the traveling carriage on the outside of the packet; but
Lavinia afforded great proofs of her good bringing up, by commanding her
feelings. It is curious what could have agitated the _billy ducks_ of
my stomach, because I took every precaution which is recommended in
different books to prevent ill-disposition. I had some mutton chops at
breakfast, some Scotch marmalade on bread and butter, two eggs, two cups
of coffee, and three of tea, besides toast, a little fried whiting, some
potted char, and a few shrimps, and after breakfast I took a glass of
warm white wine negus and a few oysters, which lasted me till we got
into the boat, where I began eating gingerbread nuts all the way to the
packet, and there was persuaded to take a glass of bottled porter to
keep everything snug and comfortable.
Adieu,
Yours truly,
DOROTHEA JULIA RAMSBOTTOM.
[*] This jeu d'esprit is attributed to Theodore Hook.