The Diary of a Girl in France in 1821. Mary Browne
we went for a long way between rows of trees, of which there was nothing left but the stumps; the branches are cut off nearly all the trees, which makes them look like broom-sticks. There were great numbers of beggars. At every village we passed we were followed by men, women and children; if we gave to a few they came in a double quantity up to the carriage-window; in one village we counted about twenty. Begging seemed to be quite a trade: in some places they brought baskets with cakes and flowers in them; if we would not buy the flowers they threw them into the carriage. In one place a little girl ran by the side of the carriage and said in English 'How do you do? Very well thank you. Give me a penny, papa. How do you do, my dear? I hope you're very well.' Papa asked them where they had learned to speak English; they answered that the English had lived there three years. In one of the villages where we stopped two little girls came and danced by our carriage; they danced in a slow, dull kind of way, and sung a tune something like our quadrilles. The people were in general fat, plain and clumsy; their eyes were half shut, they looked like the pictures one sees of Chinese. The women wore a woollen or cotton petticoat with a body of a different colour, an apron with shoulder-straps, and a coarse cotton handkerchief: some had high caps on their heads, but most of them wore a checked handkerchief done up like a toque, and long earrings; they had scarcely any hair to be seen, which was very unbecoming. Their waists were generally very short, and they looked quite a bundle; some of them wore sabots (wooden shoes). The children[9] were heavy, ugly figures; they were quite muffled up with clothes, and had very large stomachs, and their clothes were tied over their breasts. They had not the liveliness of children in England; they seemed so fat they could hardly walk,—like what in Scotland they call douce bairns; they had all caps or handkerchiefs on, even the babies. The men wore coloured woollen nightcaps; they were much better-looking than the women. All the people looked untidy and dirty. We passed through the Forest of Cressy, near which was fought the celebrated battle which bears its name. We reached Abbeville about one o'clock: we breakfasted at the Hôtel d'Angleterre, which is a very good inn, but was rather in confusion when we were there. At Flixcourt, where we stopped to change horses, we saw some people dancing on a green; they told us it was on account of a wedding. In several of the villages there were people standing at their doors eating bean-bread; in one stage we tasted it; it was rather sour, but not bad tasting. The people did not seem to make much use of their houses, as we often saw them out of doors. It was above six o'clock when we arrived at Amiens.[10] The entrance into the town is pretty. We went to the cathedral; it has a pretty light spire: there is a beautiful portal with figures carved all round. The inside is very prettily ornamented; the pulpit is supported by Faith, Hope and Charity; above it are three angels holding a curtain underneath which is the glory; all the figures are gilt. There are two pretty painted wheel-windows; the organ is silver, and looks rather poor. There are little chapels round the inside of the cathedral, and images with cases of artificial flowers before them. The pillars are so formed that when you strike them they sound as if they were hollow. I did not think it altogether near so grand as York Minster, but it is a very pretty thing. The concierge told us that he had seen ten thousand in the church. When you look up it looks too low, as if the top was cut off. There were several nuns[11] walking up and down the cathedral. We returned to dinner at the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs, where we slept; it is quite in the French style, with red stone floors, no grates, fine clocks, etc.
SŒUR DE LA CHARITÉ
May 3rd.—In the morning when we asked for soap they said they had none in the house; we at last sent out to buy a piece, and they brought us in a bit of coarse brown soap. The soap that the French wash their things with smells of aniseed and gives their beds a disagreeable smell. The inn was by far the worst we met with; and the servants were very careless. We set out with very fine weather for the first time, and as the day advanced two or three butterflies made their appearance. Our postillion seemed very gay, as he sung most of the time; presently some of the ropes broke about the horses' heads, and while he was employed in mending, with the help of another bit of rope and an old knife, the postillion at the other carriage had also dismounted, and was amusing himself by plaiting up his horses' tails. The harness often broke and the horses kicked, but the men did not seem to mind it; if we asked what was the matter, they always answered, 'Soyez tranquille, soyez tranquille.' The French horses are little, clumsy-looking beasts. At Hebecourt we met a kind of covered cart full of children and nurses going to the Hospital des Enfans Trouvés at Paris; there was a soldier to guard it, who sat on his horse like a woman and slapped his horse's face. There seems to be a great want of living creatures in the fields; we never met any except here and there a drove of pigs with very long legs, or a walnut-coloured old woman leading (by a string) a thin, miserable-looking cow. We once met a flock of sheep which followed a man like dogs. Breteuil is a mean, dirty town; we had a very bad breakfast in the Hôtel de ——.[12] The country about Breteuil is very dreary and unpleasant. We saw several vineyards which were not near so pretty as I expected: they were little, diminutive-looking things, not so high as raspberry bushes. Near the villages we saw a number of people washing in the lavoirs or ponds made purposely. There were, as usual, plenty of beggars; some of whom came and begged for bread and wine. One of our postillions had a dog with him; he threw off his gloves, the dog always picking them up and bringing them to him. Soon after we had passed the village of Wavigny we were overtaken by a violent storm of rain, hail, thunder and lightning, and as the storm increased we were glad to take shelter in the post-house at St. Just. Here we had a good deal of conversation with a servant girl; she told us that they kept all the cattle in stables, and never out of doors. Seeing some pigs that looked finer than usual in the farmyard, she said that they had got them from a school where they brought up pigs. She had a child in her arms which she offered to us all to kiss. When we asked what it eat, she said soup and sweetmeats; she afterwards brought it in some sugar and milk. The child had on a cotton cap trimmed with black net: when she took it off to show us its hair, we told her how much better it looked without it; she said 'yes, but that in France they were afraid of their children catching cold if they went without caps': which accounts for one's never seeing the children's neck, arms, or hair. The people seemed to have been at dinner; there was a large plate of cabbage, some curd, and apples on the table. Before we went away mamma gave the girl a franc; she seemed hardly to know whether to accept it or not, turned it about, and at last put it into her pocket without saying a word. We were amused at one of our servants saying 'It's well we're off the common now it rains' (owing to the want of hedgerows and trees, the country did look more like a common than anything else). When we set out the storm had abated, but the water was running over the road in streams. A little further on the hail was collected into large heaps, some of them nearly three feet long, and above half a foot thick: these were lying on the sides of the road, and over the fields for a quarter of a mile. We picked up some small pieces: they were hail and mud stuck together; the hailstones were bigger than large peas. A few miles from St. Just we had a very fine view of Clermont; the town and castle are situated on a hill, nearly surrounded by wood. It was about here that a little dog which I fed with bread followed us for near half a mile. The country was very pretty as we approached Chantilly: the wood of Hallate borders the road on the left, in which we saw some wood pigeons; nearer the town is a meadow, and canals are on each side of the road. In entering Chantilly one of the horses got its leg over the traces, and horse and man fell down beside the carriage; they, however, got up without any accident. We drove to the Hôtel de Bourbon, an excellent inn. The mistress is a nice, civil little woman; the master, who is also cook, was twenty years in England. The rooms were very nicely furnished; in the parlour was a jug full of lilies of the valley, which gave the room a very sweet smell. While dinner was preparing we walked out towards the palace stables. We passed by several neat houses, with gardens and trellis-work covered with vines before the door. The trellis-work was arched: I should think when it is covered with bunches of grapes it must be very pretty. The stables consist of one enormous building, six hundred feet in length and forty in height; above the entrance are some very fine figures and horses. There was formerly a figure, which the Allies melted into cannon balls when they were quartered there. The palace was destroyed by a mob from Paris early in the Revolution; a smaller château connected with it was spared, which is now the habitation of the Prince of Condé. Several people asked if we wanted to see the inside of the stables, but we had not sufficient time. It was a very fine evening, the country