_Dec. 7, 1840._
I left by the British Queen, in bad health, on Tuesday, upon two days’
notice, as I had intended to go to Santa Cruz. The weather was cool
but pleasant, until Friday, which was stormy; it continued blowing a
gale until Sunday, which was very rough and boisterous. I was very
sea-sick, and was afraid of raising blood. We had a cold, disagreeable
passage, and were on the ocean three Sundays; we reached Southampton
on the twenty-first of December. The ship arrived at London on the
twenty-third. Our coal was exhausted, and we burned up all the spare
wood we could find to carry us to Southampton.
I was rejoiced to get ashore in a comfortable English hotel, with kind
and attentive servants. I left for London the following day, and was
struck with the style of the English farm-houses and cottages--stacks
of grain--thatched roofs--hedge fences--the straight furrows in
ploughing--draining of lands--the old style of brick buildings with pot
chimneys, and the dense smoke from the bituminous coal.
Our captain had promised us to land at Plymouth, if could not work
up to Cowes; the ship was out of trim, and short of water. A little
tug-boat came alongside for passengers and luggage; a heavy sea was on,
and it was difficult to get transferred. I took cold, and was fearful I
could not proceed south, but soon improved.
On approaching London, it appeared as if a cloud of smoke enveloped
it as from a great conflagration. I remained in London ten days,
visiting all the great works of art and public buildings; St. Paul’s
Church--four hundred steps to the cupola--occupying one square--forty
years in building, and said to have cost seventy million dollars, our
money--remarkable echo in dome, the closing of a door producing a
report like the discharge of cannon. The statues of Lord Nelson and
scores of others are contained therein. The tunnel under the Thames
is one thousand one hundred and forty feet through; thirty-eight feet
wide, for two carriage ways. Looked in at Drury Lane, Covent Garden,
and Haymarket Theatre. Visited St. James’s Park, Waterloo Barracks,
Regent’s Park, Houses of Lords and Commons, and Westminster Abbey.
Made an excursion to Windsor Castle, Virginia Water, and drove through
the extensive Park ground. Visited the West India Docks, with basins
of immense extent, and massive stone wharfs, solid as rocks. Returned
from Southwark by railway, three and one-half miles, upon arches over
the tops of houses. Visited the armory rooms in the old Tower, and saw
the crown jewels, of great value. The spot was pointed out where Lady
Jane Grey and Anne Boleyn were beheaded. Was in the cell where Walter
Raleigh was confined and wrote his history.
Newgate Prison and St. Giles’s were not neglected--the latter dirty
and filthy to a degree--low buildings, black as night--streets ten to
twelve feet wide--carts blocking up the way--no living animal inside
except pigs--shavings for fuel--men cutting up old wood in little
bundles to sell to the poor wretches. Decent-looking men hurried
rapidly through. I was almost afraid some wretch would sally out
upon me--signs in the windows “Shaving half-penny--hair-cutting one
penny”--“Travellers’ lodgings, and rooms for single persons”--rooms
like so many hog-sties--looked in at Goldsmiths’ Hall, and saw statues
of Gog and Magog. The sights of London would demand a volume itself for
description.
I left London for Dover by the mail coach, which is comfortable and
fast when railways are not spoken of. Rode alone to Gravesend, twenty
miles; it is much resorted to by the Londoners in summer. Passed
through Stroud, Rochester, and Chatham; the three towns almost join;
the latter has dockyards on the river Mersey. Passed Canterbury, and
many other towns, and came in sight of the chalk hills of Dover. At
every change the coachman presents himself, “I leave you here, sir,”
which means a fee. The servants in hotels, if not taxed in the bill,
array themselves in line at the door, “Remember the chambermaid, sir.”
“Boots, sir, if you please.” “I am the waiter, sir, if you will be
so kind.” The guineas vanish rapidly in England. A little iron mail
steamer carried us over the British Channel in three hours to Calais
in France. Sea so rough, we could not land for some hours. Passengers
very sick. When the tide rose we run in harbor. At next day’s low
tide I saw brigs, schooners, and steamers floundering in the mud all
aground; good substantial docks. Walled city; population, ten thousand
inside, seven or eight thousand outside; garrisoned by a regiment of
soldiery; luggage taken to custom-house, and examined closely. Visited
Notre Dame Church; no pews; chairs all around upon the paved floor,
with tops to lean upon; payment is exacted for use of them. The streets
are narrow; the women wear caps, few bonnets, and perform all the
menial service of men. Coming from America and England it strikes one’s
attention. Left with the diligence in the coupé or front part, with
glass windows, and a good look-out; pleasant ride to Boulogne. We were
overtaken by the phenomena of a violent storm, thunder and lightning,
hail and snow. We passed through Montreuil and Abbeville, prominent
towns. The roads were in bad order, and it took thirty-three hours for
the one hundred and sixty miles to Paris. To cross some of the hills we
were obliged to put on nine horses, and look like a caravan. As soon
as I got settled in the French capital I found constant occupation in
sight-seeing, all being new to me. The remains of Napoleon, brought
back from the island of St. Helena, by order of Louis Philippe, have
just been deposited with extraordinary pomp at the Hotel des Invalides.
I am not prepared to describe the sights of Paris in detail on this
occasion. My health had suffered from cold, and I found it necessary
to push off south. My passport being prepared at the Prefecture de
Police, and all the necessary visés of ministers from the different
countries which I may visit, obtained, I took the lumbering diligence
en route for Marseilles, a distance of some five hundred miles. We
reached Chalon on the Saône, where I had hoped to get a steamer, but
the freshet prevented our passing the bridges. Proceeded to Lyons, the
great manufacturing city of France, and rejoiced to get in quarters
with a good fire and comfortable bed. The ravages of the flood and
inundation of the country were distressing to behold. Left Lyons, in a
little steamer, for Avignon upon the Rhone, not much wider than a canal
boat, but very long in proportion, say one hundred and fifty feet. It
was cold and blustering, blowing a hard gale. We descended rapidly. The
steamer had no wheel, but four men at the rudder; it was hard to keep
her straight. Passed the bridges and stone arches over the river with
lightning speed, the inundation and current being tremendous. Struck an
arch, and came near being dashed to pieces; all hands frightened; the
engineer said that he had been on the river for years, but never had
seen such a blow. Dust flew so, we could scarcely see the shore; clouds
of it covered rigging and deck. Passed Vienne, Valence, Tournon, and
arrived at St. Esprit. Great doubt expressed if we could pass through
the arches of the stone bridge, but it was done safely and splendidly.
There being no sleeping accommodation, we went ashore to get the best
lodgings we could. We found an old castle of a hotel; arched entrance,
stone steps worn by time, and replaced in part with wood; heavy,
massive doors and windows; large chimney and fire-places; grape-vines
and green wood for fuel; violent wind, and cold. In the morning looked
around the ancient town, around the fort, and crossed the narrow stone
bridge, with solid, heavy abutments, the work of the monks in the
middle ages. The steamer started at two P.M., much to our
relief, for our wants were better supplied in her than ashore. The
gale was over, and we arrived at Avignon, and thence proceeded to Aix
and Marseilles, where I was obliged to rest myself for a few days.
A funeral service next door attracted my attention. First came the
Catholic clergy, in full robes; next sisters of charity and little
girls; then charity boys; the bearers, all sturdy, clod-hoofed fellows,
covered with coarse cloth, and sacks over their heads, with holes only
for the eyes; candles and torches burning in their hands.
Passing through the south of France, I was struck with the immense
resources of the country in the vine. Millions of acres are cultivated
with it as the products of the cereals are in our own country. The
refuse and dried branches are sold for fuel and lighting fires. The
beauty of the Rhone, with its old towers and castles, high peaks and
mountain scenery, amphitheatred walls, and hanging gardens, covered
with the vine, is remarkable. The limestone country approaching
Marseilles produces the olive and fig in great abundance. The houses in
southern France generally have tile or porcelain floors, and are very
cold at this season. At Marseilles, I saw the column of Napoleon; it
is at the head of the promenade, with a fine view of the harbor.
A great variety of character and costume is found in this seaport,
and all the different dialects are spoken; Arabs, Italians, Greeks,
Germans, and Swiss abound; and it is quite amusing, to stroll upon the
quays.
I looked about the city, and saw all there was of interest. I stopped
at the Hotel d’Orient, recently opened, and was glad to get where
comfort was to be found. The floors are all of hexagonal tile,
glazed or polished, and slippery; the stairs of the same, except the
projecting part of wood. Good table-d’hôte; a dozen dishes of meat and
vegetables come on in succession, all hot. The cuisine in the south of
France will not compare with that of Paris. Dessert of native fruits,
prunes, olives, pears, apples, raisins, figs. Visited the theatre;
large house, but poorly supported; no style in fitting up; the outside
presents a fine front, but miserable inside. Opera-glasses in general
use. On entering, you see women with stands for coats, hats, sticks,
etc., and a table filled with opera-glasses for hire, all of which
gives a small emolument to these honest people. The civility and
politeness of the French are proverbial: a glove or a handkerchief
left on your seat is sure to be respected, and your right of place
maintained. In comedy the French excel. With two American gentlemen,
with whom I crossed the Atlantic, and whom I now met here, I dined at
the house of our Consul, Mr. Fitch, who entertained us handsomely.
The steamer Maria Antoinette takes me to Genoa.
1841.