DISCOMFORTS OF THE CHANNEL--AN UNPLEASANT DISCOVERY--HORRORS OF
THE ROTONDE--A TRAVELLER’S TOILETTE--CHALONS SUR SOANE--LYONS--A
TRANSPLANTED ENGINEER--THE RHONE--ARLES--THE MEDITERRANEAN--MARSEILLES.
My friend and I embarked at Southampton about nightfall, in the
“Robert Burns,” but had scarcely been an hour under weigh, before the
breakage of a piston-key occurred, of which the necessary repair caused
considerable delay. A fresh breeze too springing up, introduced us to
all the horrors of a Channel trip, affording the ladies a good pretext
for imbibing sundry steaming glasses of brandy and water, which, as
I sat on deck, I remarked disappearing by twos and threes down the
“companion.” One good lady solemnly protested that nothing should ever
induce her to return to England by _water_. I fear it will be a long
while before she gets back again.
On landing at Havre, it occurred to me that I had entirely forgotten to
call at the Overland office for the despatches I was to carry out to
Alexandria. A pretty sample this of my talent for “business!” I was at
a loss whether to go forward or return to London for them, but finding
that I had at least safely retained Mr. Wateley’s letter, which would
serve as an introduction for me, I hurried my friend to the Diligence
office, and secured the coupè for Paris.
Here I made a halt of one night only, finding, on inquiry at the bureau
of Lafitte, Caillard, that my place was duly booked to Marseilles.
Every one knows the misery of a protracted journey in the “rotonde”
of a French diligence: the wearisome imprisonment of two nights and
days, rendered doubly agonizing by the horrors of a middle seat, where
the unfortunate traveller, lulled perchance by fatigue into temporary
forgetfulness, seeks a pillow on the shoulder of one neighbour, to be
gruntingly repulsed to that of another, equally inexorable. I need
not therefore describe the coach breakfast at Auxerre, nor how we all
fought for a pie-dish of cold water at Saulieu to lay the dust in
our eyes; nor how the conductor, in a blue blouse, would insist upon
squeezing himself in among us, to have a whiff at his pipe, because
three out of the four in the rotonde were comely French lasses, and the
only females in the vehicle.
We reached Chalons sur Soane at last, though only just in time for
the steamer, which was on the point of starting as we drove on to
the quay. My unfortunate portmanteau was in fact the last article
which found its way on board after me, as I made a desperate leap to
the paddle box, which I succeeded in reaching with difficulty. Paying
immediate court to the steward, I obtained just enough water to relieve
my face from its thick coating of white dust, and then sat down to
some mutton and olives, which served, when moistened by a bottle of
the _Viu du pays_, to restore my equanimity, though I did not feel
fairly comfortable until after a warm bath at the Hotel de Provence at
Lyons. Here I wrote a few letters, and read for the twentieth time my
introductory letter to the agent at Alexandria, which consisted at the
very most of five lines, and entered into no particulars of the service
for which I had been engaged, referring for such, to the despatches I
had so unaccountably left behind me.
The following morning dawned as brightly as the most fastidious
traveller could desire, and the waiter having called me full two hours
earlier than there was any occasion for, I had ample time to enjoy
my _matin_ of coffee before going down to the quay, where the Arles
steamer lay at her moorings. Here all was bustle and activity, and
every one seemed so busy, that I had explored nearly the whole of the
ship before any one took any notice of me, and was proceeding to make
a critical survey of the engine-room, when a surly voice inquired,
“Now then, wot are _you_ arter?” I had scarce time to reply, before I
was recognized by the querist, one of M.’s old men, promoted to the
drivership of a Rhone steamer. The conversation of this man, during the
time occupied in getting up the steam, afforded me no little amusement,
for he was full of the grievances of French habits and customs, and
declared he should never be quite _comfortable like_, until he had
taken a drink of beer “out of the pewter.”
On emerging from the hot and greasy engine-room into upper air, I found
the deck completely covered with huge bales of merchandize, going
to Beaucaire, where there is a very large annual fair. We had too a
considerable number of passengers, and it was long past the right
hour for starting, when we cast off, and floated quickly into the
middle of the _Rhone_, which is extremely rapid, and carried us down
at the rate of twelve or fourteen knots an hour. We touched at many
large towns in our passage down the river, and the manœuvering of our
captain to effect a stoppage in the right place was somewhat curious.
His order (in English) to “ease her” would be given about a furlong
above the particular point to be made, and our vessel’s head brought
round towards the current, as she drifted downwards. Then followed the
order “go on ahead;” and thus with about half steam on, and apparently
retracing our course, we generally managed to hit the place to a nicety.
The banks of the Rhone, though generally but little wooded, are, in
some places, highly picturesque. Here and there, an old castle in
ruins, perched on a high and naked rock, forms a pretty feature in the
passing landscape, though we shot so quickly by, that we had barely
time to remark anything. As we neared the Pont du St. Esprit, the
river became more rapid, and when I caught sight of the bridge, with
its twenty or more arches, and compared their apparent width with that
of our good ship, I confess to having shared rather largely in the
general feeling of uneasiness, and selected a loose table to lay hold
of in the event of a smash. We shot through, however, almost before
we were aware of it, clearing the sides by a foot or two only. The
dexterity with which the Rhone pilots manage these large vessels in
so swift a stream is really remarkable. At Avignon we put on shore
many of our passengers, who preferred proceeding by “diligence” to
Marseilles, and at Beaucaire we were detained an hour in discharging
our bulky merchandize, so that it was dark ere we made a final halt at
Arles, a town of considerable antiquity, on the left bank of the river.
There was a great scrimmage for beds on the part of some few of the
English on board; for our countrymen, when on their travels, are very
prone to betray a feeling of selfishness, which astonishes, and often
disgusts, our neighbours on the other side the Channel. I stuck to my
trunks, which I am never satisfied to leave to the tender mercies of a
porter, and on arriving at the wretched inn, I found but one bed-room
unoccupied, and this I was glad enough to appropriate, although my
mattress of Indian corn was so filled with sundry unpleasant nocturnal
disturbers, that I had no great reason to be elated at my good fortune.
I had no time to view the antiquities of the ancient city of Arles,
so was fain to satisfy myself with a sufficiently lucid description
of them, to be found in Murray’s hand-book. We had a delightful steam
to Marseilles, though the change from the sweetness of the sea-breeze
and blue water, to the stinks and exhalations of its closed harbour,
was any thing but refreshing. From its very narrow outlet, the
port of Marseilles is perhaps as bad in this respect as any in the
Mediterranean. The custom-house was soon passed, for, contrary to my
expectation, I had nothing to pay. How they manage to keep a watch over
the whole of this large harbour, I can scarcely imagine; land where
you will, at any of its numberless steps, or jump quietly ashore from
between the hulks of two big ships, and you are equally sure to be
popped upon by some sleepless custom-house official.
I took up my quarters at the “Hotel Paradis,” agreeably to a
recommendation I had received before leaving London, and a more
comfortable inn I was seldom at, though at many a more expensive one.
On going down to the quay appropriated to the Levant steamers, I
discovered that a berth had been secured for me as far as Alexandria,
on board the “Minos,” and that she was not to sail for two days. These
I employed in seeing what I could of the town and its environs, though
there is but little to interest the passing stranger. I think the
greater part of my time was spent in rattling about in “cabriolets,”
for the heat was so oppressive that to walk with any comfort was
impossible. On a hill above the town, there are some pleasant gardens,
laid out by Napoleon, which command a beautiful sea-view. Here of
an evening, one may meet the worthy Marsiglians, with their wives
and daughters, who enjoy their coffee and small beer, away from the
dust and heat of the city. I had the temerity to venture into the
theatre, but before the end of the first act, was glad to make a
precipitate retreat in favour of a neighbouring “cafè,” where, sipping
raspberry-water, I was treated to a concert on the gratis principle,
which I found nearly as good as “Les Diamans de la Couronne,” much
cooler, and less expensive.