Читать книгу The Diary of a Girl in France in 1821 - Mary Browne - Страница 5

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April 25th, 1821.—We arrived at London about eleven o'clock: all the hotels we enquired at being full, we drove to the British Hotel, Jermyn Street. We passed through Cavendish Square, which was very pretty, but I was rather disappointed at not seeing London till I was in it. After we had rested, we walked through Burlington Arcade: it was quite cool and pleasant, although the weather was as hot as the middle of summer. There were rows of shops along each side, which had many pretty things in them, particularly artificial flowers; not far from this is the Egyptian Temple, which has sphinxes, etc., carved on it: we saw the Opera House, which is a very fine building. Regent's Street and Waterloo Place are built of white stone. Regent's Street (when finished) is to extend a long way; at the bottom of it is Carlton House, which is very much blackened by the smoke: there is a great contrast between it and St. James's Palace, the latter being built of red brick, and looks like a prison. In the evening we saw the lamps in Regent's Street, which was lighter than any other street I saw; one house was illuminated. We saw Waterloo Bridge.

April 26th.—We went to see the panorama of Naples: it was a beautiful view, there were a number of vessels in the bay; after one had looked long at them, one could fancy they were moving: in one of the boats there were some ladies sitting under a crimson canopy; in another some fruit; in one place there were some men fishing for mullet in a kind of round net, with fishes jumping through it; there was a man swimming with a basket in one hand, and several other figures; the ships were painted very gay colours, the water and the sky were as clear as crystal, and the whole so natural that one could hardly persuade oneself that it was not reality. The next panorama we saw was the battle of Waterloo: it was not near so pretty as Naples, it seemed all confusion; the farmhouse, however, was very natural, also some of the black horses. We next went to the panorama of Lausanne: the Lake of Geneva was very like Keswick Lake, but the lower end not so pretty; the mountains did not look very high. There were a great number of trees; some of them had on kind of covers, which looked like tombstones; the white railings and the shadows of the trees were remarkably natural; there were several figures, the prettiest was a little child learning to walk. We went to St. Paul's, and just walked through it. I thought it very fine, but spoiled by the blackness. I had no idea of the height till I observed some people in the gallery, who looked no bigger than flies; the pillars were very thick. In our way to St. Paul's we passed by Perry's glass-shop; in the window there was a curtain of glass drops, with two tassels; it had a very pretty effect, and when the sun shone it appeared all colours, but when we entered the shop it was quite beautiful, there were such numbers of large glass lamps hanging from the ceiling, and chandeliers, etc., in all parts. We saw the jugs belonging to a dessert-set for a Spanish nobleman, which was to cost twelve hundred pounds. Also a picture of a lamp which the King had had made there: it was gilt dragons with lotuses in their mouths; in these the lamps were placed so as to be quite hid. I should think it would be more curious than pretty. We passed by Green Park, and saw Lord William Gordon's house, which has a very nice garden. We drove through Hyde Park; the trees were very pretty, and the leaves far out; we passed very near the Serpentine. It was excessively hot weather.

April 27th.—We saw the Western Exchange, which is something like a large room full of shops; from that we went to Miss Linwood's Exhibition. The pictures were exactly like paintings; there was a railing before them, so that one could not see very near them; some of the prettiest were Jephtha's Daughter, a nymph turning into a fountain, a little girl and a kitten, some children on an ass, a girl and a bird, a woodman and a lobster; in a smaller room were several pictures of our Saviour, the finest was a head; there was no railing before them, and when one looked near and could see the stitches, they looked quite rough; we went along a passage and looked through a kind of grating in which there was a head of Buonaparte, in another a lion's den; but the most amusing thing was some children in a cottage; underneath a shelf lay a little black-and-white dog, which we were afraid to go near thinking it was alive; Catherine said she saw its eyes moving. The streets in London were a great deal prettier than I imagined, such numbers of shops, carriages, etc.—indeed the whole far exceeded my expectation. There were a great many carriages in Bond Street driving backwards and forwards.

April 28th.—We left London about half-past nine o'clock; we passed close by Westminster Abbey, which is prettier than St. Paul's; we had a beautiful view of London from Westminster Bridge, where I think it looks best, all the ships look so lively on the river, and London appears so large. Somerset House is one side of the Thames; we had another view after we were out of the city, where we saw London much better than when we were coming in; we saw the Monument and the Tower at a distance: it was delightful weather, the leaves were quite out; we saw a great number of butterflies, one kind of a bright yellow (that I had never seen before). The country looked very pretty, but the cottages were not so nice as those in Hertfordshire; we had several views of the Thames; we slept at Canterbury.

April 29th.—We breakfasted at Dover.

April 29th.—We embarked at half-past nine on board the Trafalgar, Captain Melle; we waited for passengers for above half an hour; the ship was very full—there were twelve of ourselves, a foreigner, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkinson, six children, their uncle William, Miss Ash, a manservant and a maid, who were going to Smyrna; the next people I observed were three tall young women with hats and feathers; they had a mattrass put in a boat, which they lay on, there was an old woman with them; next came Mr. Johnson, his sister and daughter; an affected lady; Mrs. Moses and a little girl; a French lady and her daughter; two gentlemen with plaids; a curious old man and an old lady; besides servants and many other people whose names I do not know. There were fifty passengers. It was so foggy that we could hardly see Dover Cliffs. Before we sailed the old man came and sat down not far from us. He was very shabbily dressed, and looked a curious figure. A man came and asked him for some money for carrying down his luggage to the ship. 'Nononono, no no,' said the old man; 'I paid you for my breakfast.' 'But my master, and not I, got that money,' said the man. 'No no no no, 'said the old gentleman, tapping the deck with his cane, and his stomach with his hand. The man continued to remonstrate, saying that he paid those who did nothing, and did not give anything to those who were really useful; but it was all in vain. So he went away, and presently returned with another man, and they both tried to persuade the old man to give them something. 'Nono-nono-nono,'said he. 'I gave you so much' (mentioning what it was); 'nono-no.' 'But that was for your breakfast, sir, and not for carrying your trunks.' 'Nono-no no; keep it to yourself, keep it to yourself,' said he, nodding, and at last the two men were obliged to leave the ship without having accomplished their purpose. One of them muttered as he went along, 'I'm sure if I'd known this I would not have taken all this trouble; such work as I've had, hunting after that old man's gloves for this half-hour.' We could not tell who he was, nor did any person appear to know him, as they sometimes spoke English to him and sometimes French, he always returning the answer, 'No-no.' He continued to nod and talk to himself long after the men were gone, to our great amusement. I was very sorry to leave England, but I had not much time to think about it, as the ship began to move. As I had not been in a ship before, I was very much frightened, and when the ship leant to one side I felt as if we were all falling into the sea together. A great wave came over the ship, and wetted all the people at that side, who were obliged to run up higher. Mamma was so ill, she looked like death. She said you might have thrown her into the sea, or done anything with her. After a short time I was sick also; indeed there were hardly any of the passengers that were not, except Euphemia, William, and Caroline[1]. One of the plaid gentlemen was very civil, and took Caroline on his knee. When she was tired she crept by mamma, and fell asleep. She scarcely spoke a word, except once: when I asked her how she liked being in the ship, she lifted up her head, and said, 'Not at all.' The gentleman said he had come over for pleasure, and was going back again the next day. Oh (thought I), who can come for pleasure?—to be sick oneself, and see every person sick around one, to be surrounded by people who look dead or dying, to hear women groaning, and children crying, and to add to all, to be shivering with cold—who can come for pleasure! Mr. Wilkinson's two little boys cried, and were rather troublesome; the youngest had an immense long whip. His little baby had just recovered from the measles; he nursed it almost the whole time. The little girl with Mrs. Moses had, in addition to being sick, the cramp in her legs. The lady that was with her did not take any charge of her except calling out when the ship tacked, 'O child! come to this side, or else you will be drowned.' The first time somebody was sick, and called 'Steward,' our little Stewart started up and said, 'What, papa?'[2] William told us that he looked on one side; he saw a spout: he looked on the other side; he saw another spout: so there was nothing for him to look at but the sea. There were a number of seabirds and fishes. We got within sight of Calais in three hours. No boats came out for a long while, and it was generally agreed that the men had gone to the play; but the reason ...

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... to their mouths to make him understand, but he always returned the same answer, 'O nonononono, nononono,' so they were obliged to leave him. Only a few people went in the boats. We laid down on the deck, with our head on a basket and a coat over us. The deck was covered with people lying in a heap like pigs. It was so disagreeable, that when I heard that we could not get in till six or seven o'clock, I thought that I would almost sooner go in the next boat than stay where I was. Soon after, Euphemia told me that the next boat was come, but we did not go in that either. Soon after, almost everybody went down to the cabin, except Carruthers, the affected lady, and me. The old man again began to be troublesome: he wanted to get to a chair at the opposite side of the cabin, and all at once down he got on his hands and knees, and began to crawl over the ladies, who called out, 'O! O dear! he will crush us.' He then wanted to go to bed, and kept poking about: he came to Euphemia's bed, and said, 'I'll get in here. Why mayn't I get in here?' and he stood upon a chair, and peeped into the bed. One of the ladies called out, 'There's a child in that bed.' 'Nononono-no,' said he, and there he stood. Euphemia prepared herself to jump out of bed if he got in, but after looking a little while he went away. Every time she spoke to Catherine he held up two of his fingers, and said, 'That won't do, that won't do.' The affected lady had laid her head on our knees, and she was never still for a moment. She kept continually asking how long it would be before we got in; it was very foggy, and the sailors had lost sight of the fort, so this lady thought she would direct them. 'Oh!'said she, 'I wish I could look up; I've got such famous eyes,' and then she sat up. 'Oh yes, I can see it.' One of the sailors tried to persuade her that one might fancy anything in a fog, but she still wanted to direct them. 'I'm sure,' said she, 'I see the fort. It would be much better if you were to go into the harbour.' They at last said they thought we should not get in all night.[3] Whenever they moved the helm, the lady screamed out that it would crush her. I felt very stupid and sleepy, and in a short time I fell asleep. When they were going in to Calais we went into the cabin; they took me down half asleep, and when I awoke I could hardly tell where I was; it looked like a burial-ground; the floor was covered with people and basons, and it was almost dark; in a little while we heard that we were going into the harbour, to our great joy; I thought I would sooner stay all my life in France than cross the sea again. We reached Calais a little after eight; every person got up and groped about: a gentleman said it was like a resurrection. One of Mr. Wilkinson's little girls, about three or four years old, said, 'Papa, must my kisses and cakes go to the custom-house?' When Euphemia[4] was getting up she said, 'I think we all look like wild beasts in our dens'; one of the plaid gentlemen said, 'And you look like a laughing hyena!' Our brothers had been all the time in the hold with the luggage. One of the ladies said she would never cross the sea again, except to go home. I was rejoiced to leave the ship, having spent one of the longest and most disagreeable days I had ever felt. When we landed it was quite dark.

After we had landed we went to the custom-house. It looked like a public-house, there were some queer-looking men and women with long earrings;[5] here we saw the affected lady—she pulled about her petticoats and said they should feel that she had got nothing about her. From this we went to Rignolle's Hotel; it was very nicely furnished: there were very pretty clocks on the chimney-piece. We went to bed directly after tea; the rooms had a very particular, disagreeable smell.

April 30th.[6]—We took a walk on the pier: it was excessively cold and windy; we saw the place where Louis the Eighteenth first put his foot on his return from England—there is a little piece of brass, of the shape of a foot, put into the stone: there is also a pillar on which is marked the time that this event took place. There was not much difference between the dress of the people at Calais and that of the English. The custom-house officers had examined our things; they took away nine cambric muslin petticoats, which were slightly run up, and a worked gown of mamma's, which they afterwards gave her back, thinking that she might have worked it. They took away two yards of cambric muslin from Miss Wragge;[7] they likewise examined a shawl and a cotton gown of the servant's many times over: the gown had been washed several times. The servants dined at a table d'hôte; there was a dinner which they thought very fine, a dessert, wines, brandy and coffee. Rignolle's is a very good hotel; most of the servants speak English; it is in the Rue Eustâche de St. Pierre.

TREE WITH COVERINGS LIKE TOMBSTONES (p. 3).

THE MOST AMUSING THING IN MISS LINWOOD'S EXHIBITION (p. 5).

A 'PIONEER' WITH LONG BEARD AND LEATHER APRON (p. 18).

MISS WRAGGE BEING SPRINKLED WITH HOLY WATER (p. 78).