Part 5

_June 4th._--Our long-expected and much-dreaded hot weather has never arrived, but instead of it cold, wet weather. The French said it was an unusually bad season; they were quite _en colère_. It was this day quite a storm; from the quantity of rain which had fallen there was a little canal before the door; and as the dining-room was across the yard, we could hardly get to it in wet weather without getting our feet wet. I never felt anything so cold as it was in France. We used to sit shivering, wrapt up in shawls to try and keep ourselves warm. There were no grates; the fire was lighted on the hearth between two dogs, and we used to sit round it blowing the wood to try and make it burn: to make matters worse there were two holes, one on each side of the fireplace, apparently made to let the smoke into the room; these we were obliged to stuff with paper. It was as bad in bed, and though we had sent repeatedly, we could not get any quilts and only one cotton blanket to each bed. There were no carpets in the rooms; only bare stone floors, from which, besides being very cold, all the red came off on to our gowns. We were most of us sufficiently tired of France. I would have given anything in the world to get back to England, but we thought there was no chance of that for a long time. Every person was dismal: one got the rheumatism, another had a cold, another was ill, another had chilblains, and another was melancholy; and all said they would not grumble if they did not see other people grumble. I went from room to room, and could get no consolation. In spite of their spectacles and processions, there was a dulness in the streets and a want of life in the people: everything seemed to be creeping along and looking like oysters. The boys amused themselves with a swing; when the soldiers were exercising they used sometimes to look in at the garden gate to watch them. The servants were very dismal: they used often to say how much they had been mistaken in France, and what fine stories they would tell about it when they got back to Cumberland.

FRENCH SCHOOL

_June 11th._--This day Euphemia and I went for the first time to Madame Crosnier's. Catherine had gone for some time, and given us a very strange account of it; but notwithstanding all she had said, it was far worse than we had expected. There were twelve or fourteen English girls, three Miss Stephens whom we had formerly seen at Bath, where they did not look at all nice--they were here very well dressed and genteel-looking; Miss Fuller, a daughter of General Fuller, who had a French mamma, a complete little dandy; Miss Fitzgerald, who was a little plague; Miss Molyneux, a nice little girl who had been left there; Miss Julia Carpenter, and several others. The nicest were two Miss Wergs. The eldest was scarcely nine years old. They were sweet, pretty little girls, with good colours; they were a great contrast to the French girls beside them. Ellen Werg told me that they had come to France for their education, and that their papa liked it so much that they were never going home again; but that they and their mamma hated it. They used sometimes to cry when they heard the other girls talk of going home, and say, 'Oh, I wish I was going too!' We used often to see them at church; their papa was very crabbed-looking. They could not speak a word of French: they left school about the same time as I did without knowing a word more than when they came. Their mamma said it was such a ruinous school they should stay no longer. The French girls were the dirtiest, rudest set I ever saw. They wore very coarse dark cotton frocks or black petticoats, dirty blue or red aprons with pockets, spotted with ink, black worsted stockings, and listen shoes. Some of them had large bunches of keys hung by their sides, and others sashes and braces of broad scarlet galloon. One girl--Mademoiselle Rose--was so dirty, that even Madame Crosnier used to speak to her about it. She had on an old cotton frock bedaubed with ink, that did not meet by three or four inches; through the gap one saw a pair of dirty stays and an old striped worsted petticoat, and on the top of a frock there was a gauze frill hanging in rags. Her hair was matted with dirt. Some of the girls had pieces of green glass in their ears for earrings, black velvet round their head, and gilt combs with the teeth broken out stuck in their dirty, black, uncombed hair, which hung over their faces. Their skins were dirty and yellow. The neatest of these young ladies was a Mademoiselle Sélina--who was conceited-looking, and Mademoiselle Joséphine. The girls' manners were as elegant as themselves--they called each other names, and used the most vulgar words. If in school-time any of them were speaking, and their teacher reproved them, they answered, 'Vous mentez, Mademoiselle, vous êtes menteuse, je ne parle pas.' Indeed, if they were doing a thing all the time they were spoken to, they did not scruple to say they were not. There were, beside Madame Crosnier, Mademoiselle Allemagne, the first teacher; Mademoiselle Croissé, the drawing mistress, who also taught in the schoolroom; and Annette, a kind of half teacher, who had been one of the _young ladies_. I certainly never saw an English kitchen-maid dressed in the way she was. A dirty cap without a border, a black petticoat, a coarse blue gown tucked up like a bed-gown, a very coarse kind of linen apron, and shoes down at the heels, completed her dress. She used to go about with a broom sweeping the rooms. The girls took it by turns to clean the schoolrooms once every week. They used to tuck up their frocks, sweep the dirt into the _cabinet noir_ (or closet into which the litters were swept), and then throw a pail of water on the floor and mop it up. Miss Stephens used to call it her _malheureuse semaine_. The first morning we went earlier than usual, school had not begun, and a number of dirty girls were sitting or rather lying on the floor about the passages, looking like a set of gypsies. We went upstairs to the _salle de dessin_. Mademoiselle Croissé taught drawing. She was tall and sallow, and was reckoned pretty. She had a pair of staring black eyes, and a great deal of long black hair, which she seemed to admire very much, and used to bring in pieces of butter in a curl-paper and grease it beside us. She had done two very pretty drawings, which she kept to show. We sat down to our drawing. Mademoiselle Croissé drew us an eye for a copy and left us; we might do it or not, just as we pleased, she never looked near us. Little Miss Fitzgerald had been learning drawing for a great many months, but she had only drawn two or three sheets full all the time. Nearly every day that I was there she did not even get out her paper, but sat playing, talking, or running out of the room. Mademoiselle Croissé used sometimes to stand at the window, and if she happened to see a cat, she had such a dislike to the sight of cats that she was obliged to send one of the girls from their drawing to drive these animals away. At other times she was out of the room, or employed with her own drawing, so that she had hardly time to tell us how our drawings looked when we had done them. Once when we had just settled to our drawings (Mademoiselle Croissé absent as usual), in came two of the maids--'Mademoiselle, il faut sortir, car je vais baller la chambre'; we were therefore obliged to decamp. The servants were the rudest set I ever saw. Catherine had a music mistress, Mademoiselle Pascal; but she begged to have her no longer. One of the pianos would hardly sound, and they had no additional keys. The mistress did not seem to understand music very well, and she used to like heavy playing. I do not think it is any credit in the French masters being cheap; at least, from the specimens we saw here they got their money very easily. Monsieur le Chevalier, the writing master, came once or twice a week; he used to sit down at one end of the table, and never move; he had a curious squeaking voice. I could never find out what he did except mending pens, and those were so bad that we were obliged to get Madame Crosnier to mend them afterwards;-she also gave us the copies: he never saw what I had written the whole time. Euphemia one day said to one of the English girls, 'Pray, is that man sitting there, mending pens, called a writing master?' As for the dancing, it was quite a farce. We heard a great deal about the _salle de danse_, so we imagined it to be quite a fine place; but what did this beautiful _salle_ turn out to be, but a passage leading to the schoolroom, in which we hung up our hats, etc. There was not a chair in the place. It was to my astonishment that they could dance at all in such a hole as it was. Monsieur Bréton taught here. The girls dressed in the same elegant dresses as they generally wore, and we used often to hear them laughing, crying, and romping. Of course we did not learn.

FRENCH SCHOOL

_June 11th._--After we had finished drawing, we went downstairs into the schoolroom. It was a long room; in it there were two tables, which seemed originally to have been white, but they were now almost black with ink-stains and dirt; at the top of one of the tables sat Madame Crosnier, and at the other Mademoiselle Allemagne. We none of us did anything but write and copy one another's writings; Madame Crosnier sat reading the newspapers, every now and then looking up and saying 'travaillez,' or 'paix.' The girls stained all their frocks and aprons with ink; if the rulers were inky they wiped them on their aprons, and if there were not inkstands enough, they had a very short expedient; they made an inkstand of the table, by pouring some ink on it into which they dipped their pens. The paper of the room was torn off, so that in many places one could see the canvas that covered the walls. Round the room were hung several maps, which looked as if they had been nibbled away by mice. The girls jumped over the stools, spirted ink at one another, tossed about the books, and danced upon the tables;[19] it did not seem to be in the teachers' power to make them be quiet, though they sometimes gave them verses to write; but the most common punishment was either making them kneel down (which the girls seemed to think good fun), or else sending for the _bonnet de nuit_, which they put on and laughed. Soon after we had come down, one of the girls brought in Madame Crosnier's breakfast. She used to have such a variety; one day fish, another asparagus and oil, another dressed eggs, another pease, another minced beef, etc., along with this she had bread, and wine and water; and afterwards she had a cup of coffee and some more bread, so that she did very well. Soon after Madame Crosnier had finished her breakfast, they had prayers; the girls knelt down, while one of them gabbled over a prayer as quick as she could; the only words we could distinguish were, 'C'est ma faute, c'est ma faute, c'est ma grande faute, par St. Jean, et St. Paul, et St. Pierre' (then all the French girls crossed themselves). Madame Crosnier and Mademoiselle Allemagne very seldom knelt down; they used to be employed mending pens or correcting exercises. After prayers were finished, the girls got up and wrote as before. Madame Crosnier's two children used to come running in, or squealing at the door most of school-time. The youngest was quite an infant, a miserable-looking little thing, wrapt up in a woollen cloth, daubed with dirt: the servants used to sit in the kitchen with it on their knees, and stuff its mouth full of curd. The other child was liked by some of the girls, but I thought it a most disagreeable little brat: it had on a dirty, ragged, little brown pinafore, and its face looked as if it was never washed. At twelve o'clock Madame Crosnier rang a bell, and then all the girls left off school, and went into the luncheon-room. The day-scholars brought their own luncheon, mostly bread and cherries, and capillaire or sorbet to drink; two little French girls brought a bottle of wine, or wine and water, which they drank _between_ them. Those that did not bring their luncheon got the sour French bread and curds, or apples. Mademoiselle Allemagne or Mademoiselle Croissé helped the luncheon. The girls used to eat one, and sometimes two, half slices off the flat loaves a foot in breadth, cut very thick, and sour curd as thick as the bread; the girls used to take dirty knives out of their pockets and spread the curd on the bread. The English girls told us that they got for breakfast, broth or radishes, or apples and bread; for dinner, _bouilli_ or roast mutton, and instead of pudding, vegetables dressed with butter; and for supper nearly the same as at luncheon. After luncheon they used to go into the garden (which was more like a wilderness) and skip or run, or sit and talk, or else they used to amuse themselves in the house, in making little baskets, fishes, crosses, birds, etc., of beads; which was very agreeable work.[20] At one o'clock the bell rang again, and we employed ourselves much the same as in the morning, till two o'clock, when school was over. Annette taught in a different room, principally the little ones. We once looked in: all the little girls were sitting dawdling and scribbling round the table up to their elbows in ink; Annette was walking round rapping the table with a short ruler and saying 'travaillez, travaillez.' The youngest of her scholars, who was only five years old, used to walk up and down the passages most of schooltime, and if any of the English girls spoke to her she used to say, 'Moitié Anglaise, moitié Anglaise.' She could, however, speak nothing but French. Notwithstanding the number of English, not one of the French girls could speak a word of English except Mademoiselle Selina, who used to say 'Good nih, good morning.'[21]

We were altogether very much astonished at this _genteel_ and select school; if I had not seen it, I could not have thought it possible for the girls to be specimens of French young ladies. I only attended a month, and though, at first, it was a change, I was not sorry to leave such a dirty, disagreeable place. Catherine and Euphemia were ill, and therefore stayed a much shorter time. Madame Crosnier's fête was some months after. I was told that on her fête she gave a ball and supper, to which she invited (besides her own friends) all the young ladies and their parents. One English girl said if she might she would have no wish to come, for she knew they would get nothing but scraps to eat and sugar and water to drink.[22] Before the fête it is the custom to give Madame Crosnier a present. One year they gave her a gown, another year a carpet, and this year it was to be a clock. Each of the girls subscribed ten francs or 8s. 4d., and some of the little ones six francs. They also gave a drawing or some present of their own. At Christmas they each gave a pound of tea or sugar, or a pair of gloves or some other thing.

Before the girls took their _première communion_ (which they take as soon as they are ten years old) Madame Crosnier instructed them a great deal on their catechism, etc.; they did not come down or speak to any of the other girls for a week before.

Near the stables there were several girls who used to beg from every person they met; two were quite rude. As we went we used to see people sitting out of doors getting their breakfasts or dinners. They seemed to have very curious messes: bread and fruit, broth, and porringers of preserves into which they dipt their bread, for dinner. On one bench we generally used to see a number of millers[23] sitting getting their breakfast, with a very long roll and a knife in their hands, and a bottle of _vin ordinaire_ beside them.

RUDE BOY

_June 14th._--We had been with Carruthers to the market, and after she had bought her things, as there were more than she could carry, she got a boy (of whom there were plenty ready) to carry some of her goods home for her. When we reached home she paid him the common price, but to our surprise he refused to take it unless he could get a great deal more; she then offered him some meat and bread besides the money, but this he also refused unless he might carry away the plate; and to try and frighten Carruthers he said he would go and bring the commissaire. After remaining for a quarter of an hour the porter's wife came in, and after scolding him for some time she at last obliged him to take the money (which she said was more than was usually given) and the meat and go away, which he did, abusing Carruthers all the way. This was one of the boys who used to point at us on our way to school.

TRIP TO PARIS

_June 15th._--I this day went to Paris with mamma and papa: papa had been staying there for a few days. We had a very pleasant ride, and reached the Hôtel du Mont Blanc, Rue de la Paix, where papa had been before. This street is one of the best in Paris; there are footpaths at the sides, and the boulevards run along the bottom. We walked along the boulevards under the rows of trees; at one side there are the Chinese baths, the outsides of which are curiously ornamented with artificial rocks and figures holding umbrellas, etc. There seemed to be a great many people idling about. There was a man with a canary in a kind of moss bower; the bird was so tame as to sit still without attempting to fly away. There was another man with a tame hedgehog, which he held up in his hand to the people; it seemed to be playing tricks. We went through the Passage des Panoramas, where we bought a bunch of clear beads for five sous, a sou dearer than at Versailles. We afterwards went to the Palais Royal, where they asked eight sous a bunch: the shops in the Palais Royal are very dear and disagreeable. There were some curious things at the windows.

FLOWER MARKET--TIVOLI, ETC.

_June 16th._--A very fine day. After breakfast we went in a coach to the flower-market. We walked down it: the women had on large straw hats. There were rows of flower-pots down each side, the prettiest collection I ever saw. There were roses, carnations, myrtles, beautiful campanulas, geraniums, Madagascar periwinkles, etc.: there were also strawberries, currant, apple and orange trees, all in pots. The apple-trees were a a very small kind, the branches of which were covered with fruit; there were likewise little oranges on the orange-trees. From this we drove to the Church of St. Sulpice. There is a picture over the altar on which the light falls from the top. There was a wedding going on in it when we entered. They were a curious-looking pair that were married. I was not near enough to see plainly what the priest was doing, but when the ceremony was over he passed close by us muttering to himself all the way; he was dressed very finely, but he was the most horrid-looking old man I ever saw; he reminded us of the Inquisition and everything horrible.

Near the church is the Fontaine de St. Sulpice; it is a very plain little fountain. From this we went to Notre Dame, where we saw the end of a christening. After that we went to the Fontaine des Innocents; it is a large, high fountain, with several lions' heads, which were not playing when we saw it. From this we drove to Tivoli. In going to it we passed through the narrowest streets I was ever in. I do not think two carriages could possibly have passed. They were very dirty and close, and had such disagreeable smells; I was not sorry to get through them. We got out at Tivoli, and walked under a kind of trellis-work up to the house where you pay. Tivoli is not near so nice, or so large as Sydney Gardens at Bath. There are several winding walks bordered with Austrian roses, box, etc. There are a great number of swings and roundabouts of ships, swans, and horses. We saw a man playing at a kind of game; to a long wooden box was fastened a string with a wooden bird at the end of it; he threw it so as to fire a pistol, and then Cupid came out of the top. At one part of the garden there is a steep hill; at the top is a temple, and near the bottom a sort of grotto; at the top are kinds of carriages, and whoever wants to ride down gets into one; they slide in grooves down the hill and under the grotto. I should think it would be a frightful thing. After we had walked over the garden we went into a café and got some cakes and wine. We then left Tivoli and walked up to Montmartre; it is very steep up to it, but when one gets to the top near some windmills one has a view of the whole of Paris and the country round it, quite like a panorama. On our way home we stopped at several shops to buy a cap; but they asked us very dear, and had nothing particularly nice. At some shops there is written 'English spoken here,' and on one 'English _spiked_ here.' It requires a great deal of bargaining to get things for a right price. At some shops there is written 'prix fixe.' The people in the shops are remarkably plain, and plainly dressed.

SUNDAY

_June 17th._--No sooner were we out of bed than there came several men before our windows, and played tunes. One man came into the street with a fiddle, which he played on, made grimaces, and jumped about as if he were crazy. He was a most extraordinary-looking creature; he was dressed like a merry-andrew, with a white wig and a queue on his head; if one had seen him in England one would have thought he was mad. While he was capering about, another man came into the street with a puppet-show; he put a table on the ground, and made first some men and women, and then a carriage, go round it[24] In the middle of the day we walked in the gardens of the Tuileries, which were excessively crowded, and through the square of the Louvre. It is the most beautiful thing of the kind I ever saw; I think it is a much more magnificent palace than that of Versailles. It is beautifully carved round every window and door, and excessively white and clean-looking. I altogether admired this palace, and the Colonne de la Place Vendôme, the most of any of the buildings in Paris. In the evening I walked with papa on the boulevards as far as the Fontaine de Bondy, which was not playing. It was dark when we came back, and the boulevards were crowded with people. The cafés were lighted up, and were full of people sitting taking refreshments. There were stalls like a fair, puppet-shows, and conjurers. I never saw anything so unlike Sunday.[25]

LUXEMBOURG-MAN AND STILTS, ETC.