TRIANONS
May 19th.—This day was, for a rarity, very warm. We saw in the garden a swallow-tail butterfly and some small red moths, which were almost the only kinds I saw in France. I never saw anywhere so few butterflies: we thought it quite a treat to see a single white one. There was the same scarcity of birds; and, notwithstanding the quantity of wood in the gardens, we hardly heard one. In the middle of the day we walked to the Trianons. The Grand Trianon is situated at the extremity of one of the branches of the canal. We went to it from the palace garden along a hayfield, near which we sometimes saw the soldiers playing at ninepins. Near the Trianons were some tall lombardy poplars and some very pretty acacias. At the gate were a great many soldiers. An avenue leads up to the little Trianon, which, though it is called a palace, is not larger than a small private house. The Grand Trianon is very pretty, but looks small after the other great palace: it is adorned with eight green marble, and fourteen red marble pillars. We this day saw neither the inside nor the gardens, but merely passed by it. Lower down was a pond near which some sheep were feeding, which, with the wood of the forest, formed a pretty scene. We returned through part of the forest, and home through the gardens. As we were going along one of the walks we saw a great many people running, and on enquiring the reason we were told it was to see the Duchesse d'Angoulême: we saw her go into one of the walks which were closed, and afterwards pass through the Orangerie. She was on horseback; there were some ladies and gentlemen beside her, and other attendants behind. She was dressed in a dark habit; her eyes were red, as if she had been crying, and she was not good-looking. We saw her two or three times afterwards, when she came to visit a college for educating priests to send over the country, and which was very near our house. We often saw scores of students going a-walking in their long black gowns tucked up through the pocket-hole. They were in general very vulgar and ungentlemanly-looking. The people did not seem to pay them much respect, as the porter's wife and the nurse pointed, and then burst out a-laughing when they passed. There were above three hundred at the college.
BALL
May 17th.—There was this day a ball given at the palace in honour of the Duke of Bordeaux's baptism. Mamma did not go, as Mrs. Murray, the only person she knew there, could not go on account of the death of a friend. They said the supper was to be very splendid. We went to a pâtissier to see some of the ornaments. There were very few, and those were not very pretty: one of the best was the arms of France, made of cake and ornamented with coloured paste. They told us that there were no more ornaments for supper than what we saw; but there must have been more, as we saw people carrying several out of the shop into another room: what we saw were merely a few in the windows. In the evening we walked towards the palace to see the illuminations. Beside the gate and across the court were pieces of iron this shape
to which the lamps were fastened. The carriages drove up between the rows of lamps. Mamma and my sisters were not a little surprised to see a gondole (which is the same kind of thing as a stage-coach) drive up to the entrance. The driver lifted out of it a very fat, gouty lady, dressed in a black lace gown over a white satin slip; she had a white satin turban on her head, short sleeves, and dirty-looking, lead-coloured gloves. She had very thick legs, and there was something very peculiar about her feet. She had worsted stockings on! This is one of the instances out of many of the inconsistency of the French, in dress as well as in other things. The poorest-looking people will have gold chains and earrings, although in other respects remarkably shabbily dressed. The lower class of people are much worse dressed than the English.
May 20th.—We all now began to feel very uncomfortable; everything was so very different to the things in an English house. From the drawing-room to the kitchen all was uncomfortable, and the habits of the people were so dirty and untidy that our three English servants begged that they might do the work themselves instead of having a foreigner to assist them. Stephens our courier was gone, so that we had often to go with Carruthers (our cook) to the market to speak for her. When she went by herself she, however, contrived to make herself understood; she went all round the market and searched about till she got hold of the thing she wanted, then she touched it and said, Combeen. She soon learnt a few words such as pom-de-tary, chu, mungy, francs, sows, kickshaws, etc.; if she did not understand what they said she answered Inglytary nong comprehendy. Robins (our manservant) got on best; he stammered out a word of French and a word of English, till by words and signs he contrived to get what he wanted. One word they all knew, and that was bukkah, bukkah; they were so determined not to be cheated that Carruthers went all the way back from the Avenue de Sceaux to the market if she found they owed her one sou. Notwithstanding all our care we frequently were cheated; they will try every possible means:[16] sometimes when the market-people set down what we had bought, they would write down a few more pence than they had before charged, or contrive some other way for getting money. The provisions at Versailles were fully dearer than in England. One of the best shops in the market was Madame Segan's, although she, as well as the rest, would cheat if she could. The butter was very bad in France. Madame Segan's was the best, but as there was no salt in it, and they only got it once a week, it did not keep good. The butcher's meat (except the pork and veal) is not good: they have a curious custom of blowing it up so as to look very large. The French bread being made of leaven is very sour; we got English bread from a baker at Versailles. Another good shop for eggs, etc., is The Black Hen.
Madame Vernier, the woman whom we took the house from, was a restaurateur next door, so we often got some dishes from her. Her chef de cuisine used sometimes also to come to our house to make dishes. It was very curious to see his proceedings; the beginning of all his dishes was the same, a large piece of batter and a little flour; to this he often added some bouillon. He was one day going to make a small dish off a large dish of cold roast beef. Instead of cutting off a few slices, (before we saw what he was about) he cut every bit of the beef to pieces, and then broke the bones and threw them into the pot an feu, to the great discomposure of Carruthers. The French can make a dish out of almost anything. One day he began to tell us a long story about a place where he used to dip the children, and to show us what he meant he took little Caroline in his arms and pretended to bathe her. This cook was a true French figure; he used to come in with his white nightcap and apron on, and a sharp pointed knife hung by his side. After scraping up the charcoal with his fingers he used to dip two of them into the pan, and putting them to his mouth he used to say, 'Très bon, très bon.' He was, however, a civil enough old man in his way.