LETTER NINTH.
Arrival of friends—Voyage from London to Calais—Route from Calais to Paris—Levee at the Minister's of the Marine—Expiatory Chapel.
PARIS, ——.
My dear Jane:
We were agreeably surprised the day before yesterday, while at dinner, by the arrival of the Danvilles, the American family with whom we were so charmed at Bath last summer. Leonora is as likely as ever, and delighted at the idea of spending the fall and winter here; she expects too, to be joined by her cousin Marcello, of whom we have heard her speak with such affection and admiration. She has been so good as to let me read her journal, and I have obtained her permission to transcribe a part of it for your perusal. It concerns the journey from Calais to Paris, and as I have given you a sketch of that from Havre here, this will enable you to compare the two routes. I dare say you will like, also, to read her observations about the Thames and our steam boats. She writes thus:
"Soon after leaving London, the Thames quite astonished me. I had no idea it was so considerable a river. For many miles it is broad and winding, and each shore presents fine scenery. We had a good view of several noted towns, and remarked the superb hospital at Greenwich and the royal dock yard at Woolwich, where ships of war are made. At Gravesend we passed two vessels transporting convicts to Botany Bay, and I regretted to observe that the women were more numerous than the men.
"The motion of the English steam boats is still more disagreeable than that of ours, but their machinery is less noisy. Coal being used for fuel instead of wood, the passengers soon look dingy in face and dress: therefore one should not travel in them handsomely clad, as clothes are quickly ruined by the smoke and dust. There is no particular hour for breakfast; each person calls for it when it suits his pleasure, and has a table to himself. Dinner is served at five o'clock.
"We reached Calais about eight P.M. At the custom house the officers were not strict in their examination of our baggage; this surprised us, for we had understood that they were always very rigid in performing this troublesome duty. Perhaps our being Americans was the cause of their moderation in disturbing our trunks and boxes,—for the French like us almost as much as they detest the English. On landing, we were highly diverted at the scene on the Quay. The instant we left the boat we were beset with men and boys on every side, recommending different hotels,—and frequently cards of address were absolutely forced into our hands. When one overheard another advising any of us to go to a particular house, he would cry out, 'never do you mind that fellow, ma'am, (or sir) he tells a lie; he always tells lies!' Or, 'no such thing, sir; that house is full, sir; you can't get in, and he knows it!' Or, 'that hotel is not a good one, sir,—indeed it is not; try mine, sir; mine's a palace to it!' and fifty other such droll speeches, at which (tormented as we were) we could not help laughing. Sometimes they would even seize us by the arm and entreat us to accompany them to their hotel, if only to see how comfortable it was. These besiegers (we have since been told) receive a trifle from every innkeeper to whom they carry a guest, and it is their anxiety to obtain this fee, that renders them so annoying to travellers.
"Ere leaving Calais we had sufficient leisure to walk about the town and visit the church, the town hall on the 'place d'armes,' and the column on the pier commemorating the landing of Louis 18th, on the 24th of April, 1814. It is a plain stone pillar, surmounted by a ball and a fleur de lis. In front of it is a representation in bronze of the print of the king's foot (or rather his shoe) upon the spot he first stepped on from the vessel. We found the country between Calais and Paris uninteresting, and generally barren. Once or twice we had a fine view of the sea. The French villages appeared horribly dirty after the exquisite neatness of those in England. The highways presented a bustling and entertaining scene; for men and women, boys and girls, gaily dressed, continually passed us, carrying baskets of fruit, riding on donkeys, or driving along pigs, sheep, cows, or geese. The venders of fruit would frequently jump up behind our carriage, and thrust in at the window, peaches, pears and grapes, beseeching us to buy them, and assuring us we had never tasted better in all our lives. Whenever we stopped at an inn, or ascended a hill, we were surrounded by dozens of paupers, begging for a sous. Sometimes they looked so miserable, it was impossible to refuse; at others, we were fain to bestow it in order to get rid of them. Little urchins would also solicit a penny, and scamper after us a considerable distance, often springing up behind and sticking their heads into the coach. Upon the whole I am contented with our journey hither, for if it was not picturesque it was highly amusing.
"The principal towns we have passed through, are Boulogne, Abbeville, and Beauvais. The first is said to have been founded by Julius Caesar; and Le Sage, the author of Gil Blas, died there in 1747; the house in which he expired, is yet shewn as a curiosity. Within a mile of Boulogne is a corinthian column, which Bonaparte began to erect as a memento of his victories over the English; he left it unfinished, and Louis 18th had it completed for his own honor and glory."