Miss Wragge had the best Italian master—-Monsieur Pecci—in Europe (so they told us). He charged a napoleon for twelve lessons, whether she took them or not. He was a dark, disagreeable-looking man. He looked like one of the banditti.
We went to enquire about Monsieur Capan, the drawing master (none of us, however, went). He was finishing one very pretty picture; but he seemed to have a great objection to show us his drawings: he said it was quite unnecessary for us to see them. His pupils drew from busts, he said; they might draw all day if they liked it, but that he generally looked after them for an hour or so in the middle of the day.
We did not get any music master. The general run of French pianos are not good. Madame Verny offered to sell us a harpsichord for forty francs-certainly cheap enough; but as half the notes were like a pestle and mortar, and the other half would not sound at all, we thought it would be no acquisition.
FUNERAL
May 23rd.—As we expected French young ladies to be very elegant, mamma was most anxious that we should go as day scholars to a French school; she thought, besides, that it would be a change, as we were all sufficiently tired of Versailles. We therefore enquired of several people, and were told that the pension of Madame Crosnier de Varigny, Boulevard de la Reine, No. 55, was the best at Versailles: they said it was not indeed the largest, but the best and the most select. We thought that so near the capital there must be good schools; we therefore set out this day to go and speak about it. In our way, as we passed the Church of Notre Dame, we observed it was all hung with black; we walked in, and enquired of some people the cause. They answered, 'On va faire un enterrement; c'est une dame forte à son aise.' We walked round the church, which is plain and dirty. A number of priests, boys, and beggars went out to meet the corpse with candles in their hands. After waiting till we were almost tired, the funeral at last made its appearance. There first came in the beggars bearing lighted candles in their hands; then a priest carrying a crucifix; then a number of priests, and boys that attend the priests, in black and white; then two priests who held a sort of black pipe, a serpent through which they blew; after that came the coffin, covered with white silk and bordered with black velvet: it was placed on a bier elevated on a platform covered with black near the altar. A great many candles were lighted around it. A priest chanted the whole way up the church and during mass. Mass lasted half an hour. After it was finished they made a collection, after which the procession left the church in the same order as when it entered. The old beggars also went out, taking their candles along with them. There were forty of them, the most frightfully ugly creatures that can be imagined. Their skins were like brown leather; they had on old patched petticoats; they were blind and lame; one had a nose as big as her face, and the next no nose at all: they were altogether the most frightful set I ever beheld. There were not many people at the church, except some old women, a number of whom are generally standing about the churches. (Some of them take care of the chairs. Every person that takes one chair pays two liard, or on great fêtes two sous.) These old women were likewise very ugly. As the French women (except the ladies) do not wear bonnets, their faces get sunburnt, and the old women's skins look like leather. Some grow excessively fat. They wear a curious kind of cap, and generally a red gown and a dark-blue apron with pockets, and a kind of large chintz handkerchief. After leaving the church we proceeded to Madame Crosnier's. There were two or three queerly-dressed, vulgar-looking girls standing at the window. We were shown up into a bedroom. Madame Crosnier is a good-looking woman, genteel, and altogether the nicest-looking woman I saw in France: she had on a neat cotton gown (which is more worn in France than in England) and a pelerine. Mademoiselle Allemagne, her sous-maîtresse, was not near so nice-looking. The terms were for day-scholars, who did not get their meals there, 10 francs a month, drawing 10 francs, music 18 francs, harp 36, dancing 9, and Italian 10 francs. School hours were from nine to twelve, and from one to three. Thursday was a half-holiday. Madame Crosnier showed us some of the young ladies' work: it was principally little figures embroidered with coloured silks on white silk. Catherine went to this school the next day; Euphemia and I not till above a fortnight after.