They are still infested with beggars, and with that most affecting sort of beggars who ply their melancholy trade in the night. Not only English women, but foreigners here contract this shocking custom. I was really made almost desperate by a withered French woman, of whom I could not get rid, even by the usual shilling:—“Encore un moment,” exclaimed she; “je ne demande rien, c’est seulement pour parler Français, pour avoir une conversation raisonnable, dont ces Anglais ne sont pas capables.”
In the present solitude one has at least as much time to oneself as one likes; one can work, and read the legion of newspapers at one’s leisure. The absurdities which daily appear in them on foreign affairs are almost incredible. To-day I found the following article: “The admiration of the Emperor Alexander for Napoleon was for a long time boundless. It is well known that at the theatre at Erfuth, when Talma uttered the words
‘L’amitié d’un grand homme est un bienfait des Dieux,’
Alexander leaned over to Napoleon and said, ‘Ces paroles ont été écrites pour moi.’—The following anecdote is probably less known. We can vouch for the truth of it. Alexander one day expressed to Duroc the intense desire he had to possess a pair of breeches of his great ally the Emperor Napoleon. Duroc sounded his master on this very extraordinary subject. Napoleon laughed heartily. ‘Oh,’ cried he, ‘donnez lui tout ce qu’il veut, pourvu qu’il me reste une paire pour changer.’ This is authentic. We are also assured that Alexander, who was very superstitious, never wore any other breeches than Napoleon’s in the field, during the campaigns of 1812-13.”
The day ended very pleasantly for me with the arrival of my friend L——, for whom I now leave you, and close this letter (which is far enough from being amusing or instructive in proportion to its dreadful length,) with the old assurance, which to you I know will want no charm of novelty, that, far or near, you are ever next to my heart.
Your faithful L——.
LETTER XVII.
London, Aug. 20th, 1827.
Dear and faithful friend,
CURIOSITY led me again to-day to the Tunnel. I went in the diving-bell down to the bed of the river, and spent half an hour there, looking at the process of stopping the breach with sand-bags and earth. Excepting a rather violent pain in my ears, I found it more comfortable in our metal box, the deeper we sank. It has two thick glass windows at the top: and near them two leathern pipes which admit fresh air. The bell has no floor,—only a narrow board on which to set your feet, and two strong benches on the sides. It is lighted by lanterns. The workmen had capital water-boots, which resist the wet four-and-twenty hours; and I was particularly delighted at writing the address of the maker in my pocket-book among the fishes, “auf des Stromes tiefunterstem Grunde.”