496 Visit to France in 1821. 
that the moment of departure from 
“my own, my native land,” was ar- 
rived, the enthusiasm with which I 
had sometimes anticipated an excur- 
sion to the Continent entirely fled: 
three years is long, indeed, to be di- 
vided from those one loves. The den- 
sity of the atmosphere oppressed me 
beyond expression ; and the indistinct 
appearance of men and things made 
all around me seem a vision,—myself 
alone an animated being, conscious of 
sorrow and anxiety. We sailed in 
great confusion, with three carriages, 
and one hundred and fifty passengers 
on-board ; the wind was favourable, 
and soon friends, kindred, and coun- 
try, faded from mysight. 
I was fortunate enough to escape 
personal search: at the custom-house 
of Calais, and hastened to Meurice’s 
Hotel. The sensation of such imme- 
diate transition from one set of cus- 
toms to another, from one language to 
another, and to be transported in the 
space of four hours to a place so com- 
pletely different in every thing, gene- 
rally aflects people in a ludicrous 
manner, — they Jaugh incessantly. 
Chairs and sofas, covered with green 
velvet, in an inn of third-rate quality; 
classical subjects painted in large pan- 
nels on the walls; immense looking- 
glasses fixed in the sides of the rooms, 
asif a thing par conséquence,—a sine 
gua non! ostlers and chambermaids 
chattering the language one had stu- 
died as an elegant accomplishment: 
nay, the very barking of dogs and 
crowing of cocks seem in a’ different 
tone to that of the animals one has 
just parted with. 
The French diligence is a vehicle 
you thoroughly know from repeated 
descriptions; but never shall I forget 
the roar of laughter that burst forth: 
at the first sight of a postillion. Figure 
to yourself a man clothed in a dirty 
sky-blue jacket, trimmed with tarnish- 
ed old silver lace, a pair of filthy long 
nankeens, all shoved up from the legs, 
which last were lost in immense jack- 
boots,—such boots as would have de- 
lighted our old favourites, Sancho or 
Hudibras; for in each they might 
safely have stowed provision for a 
month’s journey. Then the thick knot 
of hair, clotted into a tail, which, by 
its pendulous motion, had thoroughly 
larded the dress with grease and pow- 
der; upon the head thus ornamented, 
imagine a little jemmy-looking hat, 
stuck on one side, with a green ri- 
{Jan. 1, 
band round it, and a full blown rose 
placed in front,—the powdered hair, 
well frizzed, standing out five or six 
inches from under it on each side. 
Such was the attire of the being who 
drove our lumbering conveyance from 
Calais. 3 
At Saumur we were highly amused 
by the crowds of ragged wretches that 
_thronged round us; boys and girls, 
dancing for a sou,—‘ singing men 
and singing women:” some of the 
youngest hung upon the sides of the 
diligence for a considerable distance, 
chattering so fast, it was scarcely pos- 
sible to distinguish»one word from 
another. A handsome looking girl 
observed me to appear rather sombre, _ 
and asked meif I had the “mal au 
cour?” * Oui, en verité, mua belle, j’en 
ai,” was my reply.—‘‘ Ah, mon Dieu, 
quel malheur!’ exclaimed she, and in- 
stantly began to sing, to amuse me she 
said; then danced on the road with 
her companions, and repeatedly called 
out, ‘‘How d’ye do, my dear,—very 
pretty girl,’ appearing perfectly un- 
conscious of the meaning of her 
words: then she hung once more ‘to 
the coach, and flattered with all the 
art of a complete adept. I wanted to 
know how they all came to speak 
English so well, and then she told me 
there had been a great many English 
Soldiers there, and that they had left 
‘“bien des enfans,”” One would have 
called such a girl in England an im- 
pudent creature; but there was an 
innocence and naiveté in her manner 
that checked observation of her words, 
and we all agreed in thinking her very 
elegant in her actions. 
At Abbeville we entered an apart- 
ment whose appearance stamped it 
French: the door was clumsy and 
heavy, like that of a stable; yet on the 
chimney-piece stood a cast of the 
lovely ‘Venere Calipygia;” she was 
my first acquaintance, and, though but 
“an unfeeling block,” seemed to cheer 
and revive me. 
Arrived in Paris, l was overpowered 
with fatigue, and a return of illness ; 
and for several weeks only crept out 
of doors to wear away time. I was 
unfortunately recommended to a part 
of the town by no means calculated to 
impress me with a favourable opinion, 
—Tle quartier du Luxembourg : this was 
for the sake of tranquillity, The regu- 
larity of the Luxembourg gardens dis- 
gusted me, and appeared in my eyes 
no better than an English nursery- 
ground: 
