Aunt Jo's Scrap
Bag by Louisa M. Alcott
A Second Series
AUNT JO'S SCRAP-BAG.
LOUISA M. ALCOTT,
AUTHOR OF 'LITTLE WOMEN,' 'AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL,' 'LITTLE MEN,'
LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON &COMPANY LIMITED, St. Dunstan's
House, FETTER LANE, FLEET STREET, E.C.
All rights reserved.
LOW'S STANDARD SERIES OF BOOKS BY POPULAR WRITERS.
There is a sort of fate about writing books of travel which it is
impossible to escape. It is vain to declare that no inducement will
bribe one to do it, that there is nothing new to tell, and that nobody
wants to read the worn-out story: sooner or later the deed is done, and
not till the book is safely shelved does peace descend upon the victim
of this mysterious doom.
The only way in which this affliction may be lightened to a
long-suffering public is to make the work as cheerful and as short as
possible. With this hope the undersigned bore has abstained from giving
the dimensions of any church, the population of any city, or
description of famous places, as far as in her lay; but confined
herself to the personal haps and mishaps, adventures and experiences,
of her wanderers.
To explain the undue prominence given to Miss Lavinia, it should be
stated that she is an old and intimate friend of the compiler of this
frivolous work; and therefore her views on all subjects, though less
valuable, were easier to obtain than those of the younger and more
L. M. A. November 1872.
'On the first day of February we three will sail from Boston for
Messina, in the little fruit-ship Wasp. We shall probably be a month
going, unless we cross in a gale as I did, splitting sails every night,
and standing on our heads most of the way,' said Amanda, folding up her
maps with an air of calm decision.
'Hurrah! what fun!' cried Matilda, waving a half-finished
dressing-case over her head.
But Lavinia, with one sepulchral groan, fell flat upon her bed, and
lay there, dumb with the horrors of such a voyage.
'Just the thing for you, my poor old dear. Think of the balmy airs
of Sicily, the oranges, the flowers. Then a delicious month or two at
Sorrento, with no east winds, no slush, no spring cleaning. We shall be
as merry as grigs, and get as buxom as dairy-maids in a month,' said
the sprightly Amanda.
'You promised to go, and if you back out we are lost, for we must
have a duenna. You can lie round in Europe just as well as here, and I
have no doubt it will do you a world of good,' added Matilda.
'I shall keep my word; but you will bury me in the Atlantic, so make
up your minds to it. Do you suppose that I, a poor, used-up old
invalid, who can't look at a sail-boat without a qualm, can survive
thirty days of standing on my head, and thirty nights of
sail-splitting, as we go slamming and lurching across two or three
awful oceans?' demanded Lavinia, with the energy of despair.
Before anyone could reply, Amanda's little Mercury appeared with a
'The Wasp will not take passengers, and no other fruit-ship
sails this spring,' read Amanda.
'Oh dear!' sighed Matilda.
'Saved!' cried Lavinia.
'Be calm: we shall go, sooner or later, if I buy a ship and sail her
myself;' with which indomitable remark Amanda went forth to grapple
with and conquer untoward circumstances.
A month of plans, vicissitudes, and suspense followed, during which
Amanda strove manfully; Matilda suffered agonies of hope and fear; and
Lavinia remained a passive shuttlecock, waiting to be tossed wherever
Fate's battledore chose to send her.
'Exactly two weeks from to-day, we sail with a party of friends in
the French steamer Lafayette, from New York for Brest. Will you be
ready?' demanded Amanda, after a protracted wrestle with aforesaid
'But that is exactly what we didn't mean to do. It's expensive and
fashionable; France and not Italy, north and not south.'
'That's because I'm in the party. If you take a Jonah nothing will
go well. Leave me behind, and you will have a charming trip,' said
Lavinia, who had an oyster-like objection to being torn from her bed.
'No matter, we are going, live or die, sink or swim; and I shall
expect to meet you, all booted and spurred and fit for the fight, April
first,' said the unwavering Amanda.
'A most appropriate day for three lone women to start off on a
wild-goose chase after health and pleasure,' groaned Lavinia from among
'Very well, then; I leave you now, and shall expect to meet on the
'If I'm spared,' answered the sufferer.
'I'll bring her, never fear,' added the sanguine Mat, as she rattled
the trays out of an immense trunk.
How they ever did it no one knows; but in a week everything was
ready, and the sisters had nothing left to do but to sit and receive
the presents that showered upon them from all quarters. How kind
everyone was, to be sure! Six fine dressing-cases arrived, and were
hung upon the walls; four smelling-bottlesone for each nostril;
bed-socks, rigolettes, afghans, lunch-baskets, pocket-flasks,
guide-books, needle-cases, bouquets in stacks, and a great cake with
their names on top in red and blue letters three inches long.
Friendly fingers sewed for them; even the gentlemen of the
houseand there were eighthad a 'bee,' and hemmed handkerchiefs for
Mat, marked towels; and one noble being actually took off his coat and
packed the trunks in layers of mosaic-work wonderful to behold. A
supper celebrated the last evening; and even the doleful Lavinia,
touched by such kindness, emerged from her slough of despond and
electrified the ball by dancing a jig with great spirit and grace.
Devoted beings were up at dawn to share the early breakfast, lug
trunks, fly up and down with last messages, cheer heartily as the
carriage drove off, and then adjourn en masse to the station,
there to shake hands all round once more, and wave and wring
handkerchiefs as the train at last bore the jocund Mat and the resigned
Lavinia toward the trysting-place and Amanda.
All along the route more friends kept bursting into the cars as they
stopped at different places; more gifts, more hand-shakes and kisses,
more good wishes and kind prophecies, till at last in a chaos of
smiles, tears, smelling-bottles, luncheon, cloaks, books, and
foot-warmers, the travellers left the last friendly face behind and
steamed away to New York.
'How de-licious this is!' cried the untravelled Matilda, as they
stepped upon the deck of the 'Lafayette,' and she sniffed the shippy
fragrance that caused Lavinia to gasp and answer darkly,
'Wait till to-morrow.'
While Mat surveyed the steamer under the care of Devoted Being No.
10, who appeared to see them off, Lavinia arranged the stateroom,
stowing away all useless gear and laying forth dressing-gowns,
slippers, pocket-handkerchiefs, with an anguished smile. She had
crossed the ocean twice, and was a wiser, sadder woman for it. At eight
she turned in, and ten minutes later Amanda came aboard with a flock of
gay friends. But no temptations of the flesh could lure the wary
spinster from her den; for the night was rough and cold, and the
steamer a Babel of confusion.
'It's perfectly delightful! I wish you'd been there, Livy. We had
supper, and songs, and funny stories, and all sorts of larks. There are
quantities of nice people aboard, and we shall have a perfectly
splendid trip. I shall be up bright and early, put on my scarlet
stockings, my new boots, and pretty sea-suit, and go in for a jolly
day,' said the ardent Matilda, as she came skipping down at midnight
and fell asleep full of rosy visions of the joys of a
Life on the ocean wave.
'Deluded child!' sighed Lavinia, closing her dizzy eyes upon the
swaying garments on the wall, and feebly wishing she had hung herself
along with them.
In the gray dawn she was awakened by sounds of woe, and peering
forth beheld the festive Matilda with one red stocking on and one off,
her blonde locks wildly dishevelled, her face of a pale green, and her
hands clasping lemons, cologne, and salts, as she lay with her brow
upon the cool marble of the toilet-table.
'How do you like it, dear?' asked the unfeeling Lavinia.
'Oh, what is it? I feel as if I was dying. If somebody would only
stop the swing one minute. Is it sea-sickness? It's awful, but
it will do me good. Oh, yes! I hope so. I've tried everything, and feel
worse and worse. Hold me! save me! Oh, I wish I hadn't come!'
'Shipmates ahoy! how are you, my loves?' and Amanda appeared, rosy,
calm, and gay, with her pea-jacket on, skirts close reefed, hat well to
windward, and everything taut and ship-shape; for she was a fine
sailor, and never missed a meal.
Wails greeted her, and faint inquiries as to the state of things in
the upper world.
'Blowing a gale; rain, hail, and snow,very dirty weather; and we
are flying off the coast in fine style,' was the cheerful reply.
'Have we split any sails?' asked Lavinia, not daring to open her
'Dozens, I dare say. Shipping seas every five minutes. All the
passengers ill but me, and every prospect of a north-easter all the way
over,' continued the lively Amanda, lurching briskly about the passage
with her hands in her pockets.
Matilda dropped her lemons and her bottles to wring her hands, and
Lavinia softly murmured
'Lord, what fools we mortals be,
That we ever go to sea!'
'Breakfast, ladies?' cried the pretty French stewardess, prancing in
with tea-cups, bowls of gruel, and piles of toast balanced in some
miraculous manner all over her arms.
'Oh, take it away! I shall never eat again,' moaned Matilda,
clinging frantically to the marble, as the water-pitcher went down the
middle with a hair-brush, and all the boots and shoes had a grand
promenade round the room.
'Don't speak to me; don't look at me; don't even think of me
for three days at least. Go and enjoy yourself, and leave us to our
doom;' with which tragical remark Lavinia drew her curtains, and was
seen no more.
Great heavens, what a week that was! Rain, wind, fog; creak, pitch,
toss; noise, smells, cold. Broken sleep by day, woe in every variety by
night; food and drink a delusion and a snare; society an affliction;
life a burden; death a far-off blessing not to be had at any price.
Slowly, slowly the victims emerge from the lower depths of gloom,
feebly smile, faintly joke, pick fearfully but wistfully at
once-rejected dishes; talk about getting up, but don't do it; read a
little, look at their sallow countenances in hand-glasses, and
speculate upon the good effects of travel upon the constitution. Then
they suddenly become daring, gay, and social; rise, adorn themselves,
pervade the cabins, sniff the odours of engine and kitchen without
qualms, play games, go to table; and, just as the voyage is over, begin
to enjoy it.
Alas for poor Lavinia! no such resurrection was possible for her.
Long after Mat had bravely donned the scarlet hose, cocked up her
beaver and gone forth to festive scenes, her shipmate remained below in
chrysalis state, fed by faithful Marie, visited by the ever-cheerful
Amanda, and enlivened by notes and messages from fellow-sufferers in
Mr. and Mrs. Harry Walmars, jun., called, and had private
theatricals in the passage. Dried-ginger parties were held about the
invalid's berth, poems were composed, and conundrums circulated. A
little newspaper was concocted, replete with wit and spirit, by these
secluded ladies, and called the 'Sherald,' to distinguish it from the
'Herald,' got up by sundry gentlemen whose shining hours were devoted
to flirtation, cards, and wine.
'Perfect gentlemen, I assure you, my dear; for, drunk or sober, they
wear yellow kids from morning till night, smoke the best cigars, and
dance divinely,' as Mrs. Twaddle said, sitting erect in the saloon,
shrouded in fur and velvet, with five diamond-rings well displayed, as
she recounted the diseases she had enjoyed, and did the honours of a
remarkable work-basket, containing eight different sorts of scissors.
'We shall be in to-morrow, so you'd better be digging up the
treasures you have buried, you old magpie,' said Mat, appearing to the
pensive Livy on the eleventh day.
'The sun is out; come on deck, and help us get up the last edition
of our paper. How will this do? QueryIf steamers are named the
Asia, the Russia, and the Scotia, why not call one the Nausea?'
added Amanda, popping her head into the den. Lavinia threw a pillow at
her, but the undaunted joker continued
'Also this: FinancialThis being a feminine paper, gold is no
longer at Pa, but at Ma.'
'Good! Add this: Argument in favour of the Superiority of WomenThe
sluggard was not told to go to his uncle.'
'Thank you,' and Amanda departed to twine with her forty-third bosom
friend, while Lavinia disinterred, from holes and corners of her berth,
money, nuts, and raisins; books, biscuits, and literary efforts much
the worse for deluges of soap and daubs of butter.
The cry of 'Land!' on the morrow caused passengers unseen before to
appear like worms after a shower; all heroically did up their back
hair, put on their best suits, and walked forth with the delusive hope
that no one would know how ill they had been.
A French Marquis, with a sickly little son, whose diet of fried
potatoes and sour wine accounted for his having the temper of a young
fiend, appeared, and were made much of by dear, title-loving Americans.
A Spanish opera-singer, stout, saffron-coloured, and imperious,
likewise emerged from obscurity, with a meek little husband, who waited
on her like a servant, and a big bald parrot, who swore like a trooper.
Several nuns languished in corners of the saloon, surveying the
vanities of life with interest, and telling their beads devoutly when
they saw anyone looking at them.
A mysterious lady in green velvet with many diamonds, and a shabby,
speechless companion, sailed about the ship, regardless of the rumours
told of herdeserted husbands, stolen jewellery, lovers waiting on the
other side, and many equally pleasant little tales.
The gentlemen with orange gloves and copper-coloured noses got
themselves up in the most superb style, though few were going to land
at Brest, and took tender farewells of such ladies as did, each
professing desolation and despair at the termination of a twelve days'
'I am not fond of dirt, but I could kneel down and kiss this mud, so
grateful am I to feel solid ground under my feet, after leading the
life of a fly for so long,' said Lavinia with emotion, as the three
trudged up the wharf at Brest into a sort of barn which served for a
'Now let each sit upon her luggage and clamour till some one comes
and examines it, else it will get whisked away heaven only knows
where,' ordered Amanda, who was the leader in right of her knowledge of
Each perched accordingly on her one big trunk, and tried to
'clamour.' But nothing came of it save loss of time and temper, for no
one paid the slightest heed to them; and it was maddening to see trunk
after trunk passed and sent off, followed by its rejoicing owner.
Especially hard to bear was the sight of the green-velvet sinner, who,
with a smile or two, won the sternest official to pass her five trunks
without turning a key, and sailed away with a scornful glance at the
virtuous Three planted on their property and feebly beckoning for help.
'I shall bear this no longer. Mat, sit there and guard the small
things, while you and I, Livy, charge boldly among these imbeciles and
drag them to their duty;' and Amanda marched away to clutch a cockaded
victim by the shoulder with an awe-inspiring countenance.
Lavinia picked out a feeble, gray officer, and dogged him like an
Indian, smiling affably, and pointing to her luggage with a persistent
mildness that nearly drove the poor man mad.
No matter where he went, or what he did; no matter how thick the
crowd about him, or how loud the din; still, like a relentless ghost,
that mild old lady was ever at his side, mutely pointing and affably
smiling. Of course he gave in, lifted one tray, saw much flannel,
nearly blew his venerable nose off sniffing at one suspicious bottle,
and slamming down the lid, scrawled a mysterious cross, bowed and fled.
Proudly returning to Amanda, the victorious one found her friend in
a high state of indignation; for no officer there would touch her trunk
because some American Express had put little leaden stamps here and
there for some unknown purpose. Not even in her best French could the
irate lady make the thick-headed men understand that it was not a high
crime against the nation to undo a strap till some superior officer
arrived to take the responsibility of so rash a step.
If they had comprehended the dire threats, the personal remarks, and
unmitigated scorn of those three fair travellers, the blue-coated
imbeciles would have been reduced to submission. Fortunately the great
man came in time to save them from utter rout; for the ladies were just
trying to decide whether to go and leave the luggage to its fate, or to
haul it forth and depart vi et armis, when a stout old party
came, saw, said, 'It is nothing; pass the trunk; a thousand pardons,
Madame,' and peace was restored.
Instantly the porters, who till then had stood back, eyeing the
innocent, black ark, as if it was an infernal machine liable to explode
at a touch, threw themselves upon it, bore it forth, and heaving it
atop of an omnibus, returned to demand vast sums for having waited so
Then was Amanda sublime; then did her comrades for the first time
learn the magnitude of her powers, and realise the treasure they
possessed. Stowing Matilda and the smaller traps in the bus, and saying
to Lavinia, 'Stand by me,' this dauntless maid faced one dozen
blue-bloused, black-bearded, vociferous, demonstrative Frenchmen; and,
calmly offering the proper sum, refused to add one sou more.
Vainly the drivers perjured themselves in behalf of the porters;
vainly the guard looked on, with imposing uniforms, and impertinent
observations; vainly Mat cried imploringly, 'Pay anything, and let us
get off before there is a mob'still the indomitable Amanda held forth
the honest franc; and, when no one would take it, laid it on the post,
and entering the omnibus, drove calmly away.
'What should we do without you?' sighed Lavinia, with fervent
'Be cheated right and left, and never know it, dear,' responded
Amanda, preparing for another fight with the omnibus-driver.
And she had it; for, unwarned by the fate of the porters, this
short-sighted man insisted on carrying the ladies to a dirty little
hotel to dine, though expressly ordered to go at once to the station.
Nothing would induce them to alight, though the landlord came out in
person and begged them to do so; and, after a protracted struggle and a
drive all over the town, they finally reached the depôt.
Here another demand for double fare was promptly quenched by an
appeal to the chef de station, who, finding that Mademoiselle
was wide awake, crushed the driver and saw justice done.
Exhausted but triumphant, the three at length found themselves
rolling slowly towards Morlaix through a green and blooming country, so
unlike the New England they had left behind, that they rejoiced like
butterflies in the sunshine.
After a late dinner, at which their appetites were pretty
effectually taken away by seeing dishes of snails passed round and
eaten like nuts, with large pins to pick out the squirming meat; a
night's rest somewhat disturbed by the incessant clatter of sabots
in the market-place, and a breakfast rendered merry by being served by
a garçon whom Dickens would have immortalised, our travellers
went on to Caulnes-Dinan.
Here began their adventures, properly speaking. They were obliged to
drive fourteen miles to Dinan in a ram-shackle carriage drawn by three
fierce little horses, with their tails done up in braided chignons, and
driven by a humpback. This elegant equipage was likewise occupied by a
sleepy old priest, who smoked his pipe without stopping the whole way;
also by a large, loquacious, beery man, who talked incessantly,
informing the company that he was a friend of Victor Hugo, a child of
nature aged sixty, and obliged to drink much ale because it went to his
head and gave him commercial ideas.
If it had given him no others it would have done well; but, after
each draught, and he took many, this child of nature became so friendly
that even the free and easy Americans were abashed. Matilda quailed
before the languishing glances he gave her, and tied her head up like a
bundle in a thick veil. The scandalised Lavinia, informing him that she
did not understand French, assumed the demeanour of a griffin, and
glared stonily into space, when she was not dislocating her neck trying
to see if the top-heavy luggage had not tumbled off behind.
Poor Amanda was thus left a prey to the beery one; for, having at
first courteously responded to his paternal remarks and expressed an
interest in the state of France, she could not drop the conversation
all at once, even when the friend of Victor Hugo became so disagreeable
that it is to be hoped the poet has not many such. He recited poems, he
sung songs, he made tender confidences, and finished by pressing the
hand of Mademoiselle to his lips. On being told that such
demonstrations were not permitted to strangers in America, he beat his
breast and cried out, 'My God, so beautiful and so cold! You do not
comprehend that I am but a child. Pardon, and smile again I conjure
But Mademoiselle would not smile; and, folding her hands in her
cloak, appeared to slumber. Whereat the gray-headed infant groaned
pathetically, cast his eyes heavenward, and drank more ale, muttering
to himself, and shaking his head as if his emotions could not be
These proceedings caused Lavinia to keep her eye on him, being
prepared for any outbreak, from a bullet all round to proposals to both
her charges at once.
With this smouldering bomb-shell inside, and the firm conviction
that one if not all the trunks were lying in the dust some miles
behind, it may be inferred that duenna Livy did not enjoy that
break-neck drive, lurching and bumping up hill and down, with nothing
between them and destruction apparently but the little humpback, who
In this style they rattled up to the Porte de Brest, feeling that
they had reached Dinan 'only by the grace of God,' as the beery man
expressed it, when he bowed and vanished, still oppressed with the
gloomy discovery that American women did not appreciate him.
While Amanda made inquiries at an office, and Matilda had raptures
over the massive archway crowned with yellow flowers, Lavinia was
edified by a new example of woman's right to labour.
Close by was a clean, rosy old woman, whose unusual occupation
attracted our spinster's attention. Whisking off the wheels of a
diligence, the old lady greased them one by one, and put them on
again with the skill and speed of a regular blacksmith, and then began
to pile many parcels into a char apparently waiting for them.
She was a brisk, cheery old soul, with the colour of a winter-apple
in her face, plenty of fire in her quick black eyes, and a mouthful of
fine teeth, though she must have been sixty. She was dressed in the
costume of the place: a linen cap with several sharp gables to it, a
gay kerchief over her shoulders, a blue woollen gown short enough to
display a pair of sturdy feet and legs in neat shoes with bunches of
ribbons on the instep and black hose. A gray apron, with pockets and a
bib, finished her off; making a very sensible as well as picturesque
She was still hard at it when a big boy appeared, and began to heave
the trunks into another char; but gave out at the second, which
was large. Instantly the brisk old woman put him aside, hoisted in the
big boxes without help, and, catching up the shafts of the heavily
laden cart, trotted away with it at a pace which caused the Americans
(who prided themselves on their muscle) to stare after her in blank
When next seen she was toiling up a steep street, still ahead of the
lazy boy, who slowly followed with the lighter load. It did not suit
Lavinia's ideas of the fitness of things to have an old woman trundle
three heavy trunks while she herself carried nothing but a parasol, and
she would certainly have lent a hand if the vigorous creature had not
gone at such a pace that it was impossible to overtake her till she
backed her cart up before a door in most scientific style, and with a
bow, a smile, and a courteous wave of the hand, informed them that
'here the ladies would behold the excellent Madame C.'
They did behold and also receive a most cordial welcome from the
good lady, who not only embraced them with effusion, but turned her
house upside down for their accommodation, merely because they came
recommended to her hospitality by a former lodger who had won her kind
While she purred over them, the luggage was being bumped upstairs,
the old woman shouldering trunk after trunk, and trudging up two steep
flights in the most marvellous way. But best of all was her surprise
and gratitude on receiving a larger fee than usual, for the ladies were
much interested in this dear old Hercules in a cap of seven gables.
When she had blessed them all round, and trotted briskly away with
her carts, Madame C. informed the new-comers that the worthy soul was a
widow with many children, whom she brought up excellently, supporting
them by acting as porter at the hotel. Her strength was wonderful, and
she was very proud of itfinding no work too hard, yet always neat,
cheery, and active; asking no help, and literally earning her daily
bread by the sweat of her brow. The ladies often saw her afterward,
always trotting and tugging, smiling and content, as if some unseen
hands kept well greased the wheels of her own diligence, which carried
such a heavy load and never broke down.
Miss Lavinia being interested in Woman's Rights and Wrongs, was much
impressed by the new revelations of the capabilities of her sex, and
soon ceased to be surprised at any demonstration of feminine strength,
skill, and independence, for everywhere the women took the lead.
They not only kept house, reared children, and knit every imaginable
garment the human frame can wear, but kept the shops and the markets,
tilled the gardens, cleaned the streets, and bought and sold cattle,
leaving the men free to enjoy the only pursuits they seemed inclined to
followbreaking horses, mending roads, and getting drunk.
The markets seemed entirely in the hands of the women, and lively
scenes they presented to unaccustomed eyes, especially the pig-market,
held every week, in the square before Madame C.'s house. At dawn the
squealing began, and was kept up till sunset. The carts came in from
all the neighbouring hamlets, with tubs full of infant pigs, over which
the women watched with maternal care till they were safely deposited
among the rows of tubs that stood along the walk facing Anne of
Bretaigne's grey old tower, and the pleasant promenade which was once
the fosse about the city walls.
Here Madame would seat herself and knit briskly till a purchaser
applied, when she would drop her work, dive among the pink innocents,
and hold one up by its unhappy leg, undisturbed by its doleful cries,
while she settled its price with a blue-gowned, white-capped neighbour
as sharp-witted and shrill-tongued as herself. If the bargain was
struck, they slapped their hands together in a peculiar way, and the
new owner clapped her purchase into a meal-bag, slung it over her
shoulder, and departed with her squirming, squealing treasure as calmly
as a Boston lady with a satchel full of ribbons and gloves.
More mature pigs came to market on their own legs, and very long,
feeble legs they were, for a more unsightly beast than a Breton pig was
never seen out of a toy Noah's ark. Tall, thin, high-backed, and
sharp-nosed, these porcine victims tottered to their doom, with dismal
wailings, and not a vestige of spirit till the trials and excitement of
the day goaded them to rebellion, when their antics furnished fun for
the public. Miss Livy observed that the women could manage the pigs
when men failed entirely. The latter hustled, lugged, or lashed,
unmercifully and unsuccessfully; the former, with that fine tact which
helps them to lead nobler animals than pigs, would soothe, sympathise,
coax, and gently beguile the poor beasts, or devise ways of mitigating
their bewilderment and woe, which did honour to the sex, and
triumphantly illustrated the power of moral suasion.
One amiable lady, who had purchased two small pigs and a coop full
of fowls, attempted to carry them all on one donkey. But the piggies
rebelled lustily in the bags, the ducks remonstrated against their
unquiet neighbours, and the donkey indignantly refused to stir a step
till the unseemly uproar was calmed. But the Bretonne was equal to the
occasion; for, after a pause of meditation, she solved the problem by
tying the bags round the necks of the pigs, so that they could enjoy
the prospect. This appeased them at once, and produced a general lull;
for when the pigs stopped squealing, the ducks stopped quacking, the
donkey ceased his bray, and the party moved on in dignified silence,
with the youthful pigs, one black, one white, serenely regarding life
from their bags.
Another time, a woman leading a newly-bought cow came through the
square, where the noise alarmed the beast so much that she became
unruly, and pranced in a most dangerous manner. Miss Livy hung out of
the window, breathless with interest, and ready to fly with brandy and
bandages at a minute's notice, for it seemed inevitable that the woman
would be tossed up among the lindens before the cow was conquered. The
few men who were lounging about stood with their hands in their
pockets, watching the struggle without offering to help, till the cow
scooped the lady up on her horns, ready for a toss. Livy shrieked, but
Madame just held on, kicking so vigorously that the cow was glad to set
her down, when, instead of fainting, she coolly informed the men, who,
seeing her danger, had approached, that she 'could arrange her cow for
herself, and did not want any help,' which she proved by tying a big
blue handkerchief over the animal's eyes, producing instant docility,
and then she was led away by her flushed but triumphant mistress, who
calmly settled her cap, and took a pinch of snuff to refresh herself,
after a scuffle which would have annihilated most women.
When Madame C.'s wood was put in, the new-comers were interested in
watching the job, for it was done in a truly Bretonesque manner. It
arrived in several odd carts, each drawn by four great horses, with two
men to each team; and as the carts were clumsy, the horses wild, and
the men stupid, the square presented a lively spectacle. At one time
there were three carts, twelve horses, and six men, all in a snarl,
while a dozen women stood at their doors and gave advice. One was
washing a lettuce, another dressing her baby, a third twirling her
distaff, and a fourth with her little bowl of soup, which she ate in
public while gesticulating so frantically that her sabots
clattered on the stones.
The horses had a free fight, and the men swore and shouted in vain,
till the lady with the baby suddenly went to the rescue. Planting the
naked cherub on the door-step, this energetic matron charged in among
the rampant animals, and by some magic touch untangled the teams,
quieted the most fractious, a big grey brute, prancing like a mad
elephant; then returned to her baby, who was placidly eating dirt, and
with a polite 'Voilà, messieurs!' she whipped little Jean into
his shirt, while the men sat down to smoke.
It took two deliberate men nearly a week to split the gnarled logs,
and one brisk woman carried them into the cellar and piled them neatly.
The men stopped about once an hour to smoke, drink cider, or rest. The
woman worked steadily from morning till night, only pausing at noon for
a bit of bread and the soup good Coste sent out to her. The men got two
francs a day, the woman half a franc; and as nothing was taken out of
it for wine or tobacco, her ten cents probably went further than their
This same capable lady used to come to market with a baby on one
arm, a basket of fruit on the other, leading a pig, driving a donkey,
and surrounded by sheep, while her head bore a pannier of vegetables,
and her hands spun busily with a distaff. How she ever got on with
these trifling incumbrances was a mystery; but there she was, busy,
placid, and smiling, in the midst of the crowd, and at night went home
with her shopping well content.
The washerwomen were among the happiest of these happy souls, and
nowhere were seen prettier pictures than they made, clustered round the
fountains or tanks by the way, scrubbing, slapping, singing, and
gossiping, as they washed or spread their linen on the green hedges and
daisied grass in the bright spring weather. One envied the cheery faces
under the queer caps, the stout arms that scrubbed all day, and were
not too tired to carry home some chubby Jean or little Marie when night
came; and, most of all, the contented hearts in the broad bosoms under
the white kerchiefs, for no complaint did one hear from these
hard-working, happy women. The same brave spirit seems to possess them
now as that which carried them heroically to their fate in the
Revolution, when hundreds of mothers and children were shot at Nantes
and died without a murmur.
But of all the friends the strangers made among them they liked old
Mère Oudon besta shrivelled leaf of a woman, who at ninety-two still
supported her old husband of ninety-eight. He was nearly helpless, and
lay in bed most of the time, smoking, while she peeled willows at a sou
a day, trudged up and down with herbs, cresses, or any little thing she
could find to sell. Very proud was she of her 'master,' his great age,
his senses still quite perfect, and most of all his strength, for now
and then the old tyrant left his bed to beat her, which token of
conjugal regard she seemed to enjoy as a relic of early days, and a
proof that he would long be spared to her.
She kept him exquisitely neat, and if anyone gave her a plate of
food, a little snuff, or any small comfort for her patient old age, she
took it straight to the 'master,' and found a double happiness in
giving and seeing him enjoy it.
She had but one eye, her amiable husband having put out the other
once on a time as she was leading him home tipsy from market. The kind
soul bore no malice, and always made light of it when forced to tell
how the affliction befell her.
'My Yvon was so gay in his young days, truly, yes, a fine man, and
now most beautiful to see in his clean bed, with the new pipe that
Mademoiselle sent him. Come, then, and behold him, my superb master,
who at ninety-eight has still this strength so wonderful.'
The ladies never cared to see him more than once, but often met the
truly beautiful old wife as she toiled to and fro, finding her faithful
love more wonderful than his strength, and feeling sure that when she
lies at last on her 'clean bed,' some good angel will repay these
ninety-two hard years with the youth and beauty, happiness and rest,
which nothing can destroy.
Not only did the women manage the affairs of this world, but had
more influence than men with the good powers of heaven. A long drought
parched France that year, and even fertile Brittany suffered. More than
once processions of women, led by priests, poured through the gates to
go to the Croix du Saint Esprit and pray for rain.
'Why don't the men go also?' Miss Livy asked.
'Ah! they pray to the Virgin, and she listens best to women,' was
She certainly seemed to do so, for gracious showers soon fell, and
the little gardens bloomed freshly where the mothers' hard hands had
planted cabbages, onions, and potatoes to feed the children through the
Nor were these the only tasks the women did. The good ladies had a
hospital, and a neater, cheerier place was never seen; few invalids,
but many old people sitting in the sunny gardens, or at work in the
clean rooms. La Garaye is in ruins now, but the memory of its gentle
lady still lives, and is preserved in this benevolent institution for
the sick, the old, and poor.
A school for girls was kept by the good nuns, and the streets at
certain hours were full of little damsels, with round caps on their
braided hair, queer long gowns of blue, white aprons and handkerchiefs,
who went clattering by in their wooden shoes, bobbing little curtsies
to their friends, and readily answering any questions inquisitive
strangers asked them. They learned to read, write, sew, and say the
catechism. Also to sing; for, often as the ladies passed the little
chapel of Our Lady, a chorus of sweet young voices came to us, making
the flowery garden behind the church of St. Sauveur a favourite
In endeavouring to account for the freedom of the women here, it was
decided that it was owing to Anne of Brittany, the 'gentle and generous
Duchesse,' to whom her husband Louis XII. allowed the uncontrolled
government of the duchy. Relics of the 'fière Bretonne,' as
Louis called her, are still treasured everywhere, and it was pleasant
to know not only that she was an accomplished woman, writing tender
letters in Latin verse to her husband, but also a wise and just
Princess to her people, 'showing herself by spirit and independence to
be the most worthy of all her race to wear the ducal crown.' So three
cheers for good Duchesse Anne, and long life to the hardy, happy women
While Miss Lavinia was making these observations and moralizing upon
them, the younger ladies were enjoying discoveries and experiences more
to their tastes.
They had not been in the house half a day before Madame C. informed
them that 'Mademoiselle, the so charming miss whom they beheld at
dinner, was to be married very soon; and they should have the rapture
of witnessing a wedding the most beautiful.'
They welcomed the prospect with pleasure, for Dinan is not a whirl
of gaiety at the best of times: and that spring the drought, rumours of
war, and fears of small-pox, cast a shadow upon the sunny little town.
So they surveyed Mademoiselle Pelagie with interest, and longed to
behold the happy man who was to be blessed with the hand of this
little, yellow-faced girl, with red eyes, dirty hands, and a frizzled
crop, so like a wig they never could make up their minds that it was
Madame, the mamma, a buxom, comely widow, who breakfasted in black
moire, with a diadem of glossy braids on her sleek head, and many jet
ornaments rattling and glistening about her person, informed them, with
voluble affability, of the whole affair.
'My brother, M. le Président, had arranged the marriage. Pelagie was
twenty, and beautiful, as you behold. It was time to establish her.
Mon Dieu! yes; though my heart is lacerated to lose my angel, I
consent. I conduct her to a ball, that she may be seen by the young man
whose parents desire that he should espouse my infant. He beholds her.
He says: Great heavens, I adore her! My father, I consent. He is
presented to me; we converse. She regards him with the angelic modesty
of a young girl, but speaks not. I approve, the parents meet, it is
arranged, and Jules is betrothed to my Pelagie. They have not met
since; but next week he comes for the marriage, and he will be
permitted to address her in my presence. Ah, yes! your customs are not
as ours, and to us seem of a deplorable freedom. Pardon that I say it.'
On inquiring how Pelagie regarded her future lord, they found that
she thought very little about him, but was absorbed in her trousseau, which she proudly displayed. To those accustomed to see and hear of
American outfits, with their lavish profusion and extravagant elegance,
poor little Pelagie's modest stores were not at all imposing. Half a
dozen pretty dresses from Paris; several amazing hats, all rosebuds,
lace, and blue ribbon; a good deal of embroidery; and a few prophetic
caps,completed the outfit.
One treasure, however, she was never tired of displaying,a gift
from Jules,a camels'-hair shawl, in a black walnut case, on which was
carved the Clomadoc arms. A set of pearls were also from the
bridegroom; but the shawl was her pride, for married women alone could
wear such, and she seemed to think this right of more importance than
any the wedding-ring could confer upon her.
To the young ladies, both of whom had known many of the romantic
experiences which befall comely American girls, the idea of marrying a
man whom they had only seen twice seemed horrible; and to have but one
week of courtship, and that in Mamma's presence, was simply an insult
and a wrong which they would not bear to think of.
But Pelagie seemed quite content, and brooded over her finery like a
true Frenchwoman, showing very little interest in her Jules, and only
anxious for the time to come when she could wear her shawl and be
addressed as Madame.
While waiting for the grand event, the girls amused themselves with
Gaston, the brother of the bride-elect. He was a languid, good-looking
youth of three-and-twenty, who assumed blasé airs and
attitudinized for their benefit. Sometimes he was lost in fits of
Byronic gloom, when he frowned over his coffee, sighed gustily, and
clutched his brow, regardless of the curls, usually in ambrosial order.
The damsels, instead of being impressed by this display of inward
agony, only laughed at him, and soon rallied him out of his heroics.
Then he would try another plan, and become all devotion, presenting
green tulips, ancient coins, early fruit, or sketches of his own, so
very small that the design was quite obscure. If these delicate
attentions failed to touch the stony hearts of the blonde Americans, he
would air his entire wardrobe, appearing before them one day in full
Breton costume of white cloth, embroidered in gay silks, buckled shoes,
and hat adorned with streaming ribbons and flowers. Quite Arcadian was
Gaston in this attire; and very effective on the croquet ground, where
sundry English families disported themselves on certain afternoons.
Another time he would get himself up like a Parisian dandy bound for a
ride in the Bois de Boulogne; and, mounting with much difficulty a
rampant horse, he would caracole about the Place St. Louis, to the
great delight of the natives.
But this proved a failure; for one of the fair but cruel strangers
donned hat and habit, and entirely eclipsed his glories by galloping
about the country like an Amazon. The only time Gaston played escort
she was nearly the death of him, for he seldom did more than amble a
mile or two, and a hard trot of some six or eight miles reduced our
Adonis to such a state of exhaustion that he fell into his mother's
arms on dismounting, and was borne away to bed with much lamentation.
After that he contented himself with coming to show himself in full
dress whenever he went to a party; and, as that was nearly every other
evening, they soon got accustomed to hearing a tap at their door, and
beholding the comely youth in all the bravery of glossy broadcloth, a
lavish shirt-bosom, miraculous tie, primrose gloves, varnished shoes,
and curls and moustache anointed and perfumed in the most exquisite
style. He would bow and say 'Bon soir,' then stand to be
admired, with the artless satisfaction of a child; after which he would
smile complacently, wave his crush hat, and depart with a flourish.
Dear, dandified, vain Gaston! His great desire was to go to Paris,
and when the war came he had his wish; but found sterner work to do
than to dress and dance and languish at the feet of ladies. I hope it
made a man of him, and fancy it did; for the French fight well and
suffer bravely for the country they love in their melodramatic fashion.
As the day approached for the advent of the bridegroom, great
excitement prevailed in the quiet household. Madame C. and her
handmaid, dear old Marie, cackled and bustled like a pair of important
hens. Madame F., the widow, lived at the milliner's, so to speak, and
had several dress rehearsals for her own satisfaction. Gaston mounted
guard over his sister, lest some enamoured man should rend her from
them ere her Jules could secure the prize. And Pelagie placidly ate and
slept, kept her hair in crimping-pins from morning till night, wore out
her old clothes, and whiled away the time munching bonbons and
displaying her shawl.
'Mercy on us! I should feel like a lamb being fattened for the
sacrifice if I were in her place,' cried one of the freeborn American
citizenesses, with an air of unmitigated scorn for French ways of
conducting this interesting ceremony.
'I should feel like a galley-slave,' said the other. 'For she can't
go anywhere without Gaston or Mamma at her elbow. Only yesterday she
went into a shop alone, while Gaston waited at the door. And when she
told it at home as a great exploit all the ladies shrieked with horror
at the idea, and Mamma said, wringing her hands: Mon Dieu! but
they will think thou art a married woman, for it is inconceivable that
any girl should do so bold a thing. And Pelagie wept, and implored
them not to tell Jules, lest he should discard her.'
Here the Americans all groaned over the pathetic absurdity of the
whole affair, and wondered with unrighteous glee what the decorous
ladies below would say to some of their pranks at home. But, fearing
that M. le Président might feel it his duty to eject them from the town
as dangerous persons, they shrouded their past sins in the most
discreet silence, and assumed their primmest demeanour in public.
'He has come! Look quick, girls!' cried Lavinia, as a carriage
stopped at the door, and a rushing sound, as of many agitated skirts,
was heard in the hall. Three heads peeped from the window of the blue
parlour, and three pairs of curious eyes were rewarded by a sight of
the bridegroom, as he alighted.
Such a little man! Such a fierce moustache! Such a dignified strut!
And such an imposing uniform as he wore! For Jules Gustave Adolphe
Marie Clomadoc was a colonel in some regiment stationed at Boulogne.
Out he skipped; in he marched; and, peeping over the banisters, they
saw him salute Madame F. with a stately kiss on the hand, then escort
her up to her salon, bowing loftily, and twisting his tawny
moustache with an air that gave him the effect of being six feet in
height, and broad in proportion.
How he greeted his fiancée they knew not, but the murmur of
voices came from the room in steady flow for hours, and Gaston flew in
and out with an air of immense importance.
At dinner the strangers were proudly presented to M. le Colonel, and
received affable bows from the little man, who flattered himself that
he could talk English, and insisted on speaking an unknown tongue,
evidently wondering at their stupidity in not understanding their own
He escorted Madame down, sat between her and Pelagie, but talked
only to her; while the girl sat silent and ate her dinner with an
appetite which no emotion could diminish. It was very funny to see the
small warrior do his wooing of the daughter through the mother; and the
buxom widow played her part so well that an unenlightened observer
would have said she was the bride-elect. She smiled, she sighed,
she discoursed, she coquetted, and now and then plucked out her
handkerchief and wept at the thought of losing the angel, who was
placidly gnawing bones and wiping up the gravy on her plate with bits
Jules responded with spirit, talked, jested, quoted poetry, paid
compliments right and left, and now and then passed the salt, filled a
glass, or offered a napkin to his fiancée with a French shrug
and a tender glance.
After dinner Madame F. begged him to recite one of his poems; for it
appeared this all-accomplished man was beloved of the muse, and twanged
the lyre as well as wielded the sword. With much persuasion and many
modest apologies, Jules at length consented, took his place upon the
rug, thrust one hand into his bosom, turned up his eyes, and, in a
tremendous voice, declaimed a pensive poem of some twenty stanzas,
called 'Adieu to my past.'
The poet's friends listened with rapt countenances and frequent
bursts of emotion or applause; but the Americans suffered agonies, for
the whole thing was so absurdly melodramatic that it was with great
difficulty they kept themselves from explosions of laughter. When the
little man dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper, in bidding adieu to
the lost loves of his youth, tender-hearted old C. sobbed in her
napkin; while Livy only saved herself from hysterics by drinking a
glass of water, and Pelagie ate sugar, with her round eyes fixed on her
lover's face, without the slightest expression whatever.
When the poet mourned his blighted hopes, and asked wildly of all
the elements if he should live or die, Gaston cast reproachful glances
at the alien charmer who had nipped his passion in the bud; and when
Jules gave a sudden start, slapped his brow, and declared that he would
live for his country, old Marie choked in her coffee, while Madame F.
clapped her fat hands, and cried: 'It is sublime!'
The poem closed there, and the providential appearance of their
donkeys gave the ladies an excuse for retiring to their room, where
they laughed till they could laugh no more.
Each meal was as good as a play, and every glimpse they had of the
little pair gave fresh food for mirth. Everything was so formal and
polite, so utterly unlike the free-and-easy customs of their native
land, that they were kept in alternate states of indignation and
amusement the whole time. Jules never was alone with his Pelagie for an
instant; such a breach of etiquette would have shocked the entire town.
In the walks and drives which the family took together, Madame was
always at the Colonel's side; while Gaston escorted his sister, looking
as if he was fast reaching a state of mind when he would give her away
without a pang. Many guests came and went, much kissing and bowing,
prancing and rustling, went on, up and down stairs. Stately old
gentlemen called, papers were signed, fortunes discussed, and gifts
displayed. Pelagie went much to mass; also to the barber's and the
bath. Agitated milliners flew in and out. A great load of trunks
arrived from Nantes, where Madame formerly lived; and the day before
the wedding a whole carriage full of Clomadocs appeared, and Babel
seemed to have come again.
A great supper was given that evening, and the Three were banished
to their own rooms; where, however, they fared sumptuously, for Madame
C. and good old Marie ate with them, having no place left them but the
kitchen. Madame C. was much hurt that she had not been asked to the
wedding. It seemed the least Madame F. could do after taking possession
of the house, and turning its rightful owner out of every room but the
attic. Madame C. was a gentlewoman; and though a meek old soul, this
rudeness hurt her very much. She said nothing; but Marie fumed and
scolded fiercely, and proposed that the neglected ones should all go
away on the wedding-day, and make a fête for themselves
somewhere. So they decided to drive to Dinare, enjoy the fine views of
the sea and St. Malo, dine, and return at dusk, leaving the house free
for the wedding festivities.
The day was fine, and the ladies were graciously invited to behold
the bride before she left for church. She looked as much like a
fashion-plate as it was possible for a living girl to look; and they
dutifully kissed her on both cheeks, paid their compliments and
retired, thanking their stars that they were not in her place.
Mamma was gorgeous to behold, in royal purple and black lace. Gaston
was so glossy and beruffled and begemmed, that they gazed with awe upon
the French Adonis. But the bridegroom was a sight for gods and men. In
full regimentals with a big sword, so many orders that there was hardly
room for them on his little breast, and a cocked hat, with a forest of
feathers, in which he extinguished himself at intervals. How his tiny
boots shone, his tawny moustache bristled with importance, and his
golden epaulets glittered as he shrugged and pranced! His honoured papa
and mamma were both tall, portly people, beside whom the manikin looked
like a child. Livy quite longed to see Madame Clomadoc take little
Jules on her knee, and amuse him with bonbons when he got
impatient at the delay of the carriage.
The Three peeped out of windows, and over the banisters, and got
fine glimpses of the splendours below. Flocks of elegant ladies went
sailing up the narrow stairs. Gentlemen with orders, dandies wonderful
to behold, and a few children (to play with the bridegroom, as Livy
wickedly said), adorned the hall and salon. Every one talked at
the top of his or her voice. Shrieks of rapture, groans of despair,
greeted a fine toilette or a torn glove. Peals of laughter from the
gentlemen, and shrill cries from the infants, echoed through the once
peaceful halls. As Françoise said 'It was truly divine.'
At eleven, every one trooped into the carriages again. How they ever
got so many full-dressed people into one carriage is a mystery to this
day. But in they piled, regardless of trains, corpulency, or height;
and coach after coach lumbered away to the church.
The bride's carriage could not be got very near the door. So she
tripped out to it, leaning on her uncle's arm, while the devoted Gaston
bore her train. Mamma sailed after in a purple cloud; and when two
young damsels, in arsenic green, were packed in, away they went,
leaving the bridegroom to follow.
Then came the catastrophe! Stout papa and mamma were safely in; a
friend of Jules, some six feet high, shut himself up like a jack-knife;
and with a farewell wave of the cocked hat, the small bridegroom
skipped in after them. The coachman cracked his whip, intending to dash
under the arched gateway in fine style. But alas! the harness was old,
the big horses clumsy, and the road half paved. The traces gave way,
the beasts reared, the big coach lurched, and dismal wails arose. Out
burst the fierce little hero of the day, and the tall friend followed
Great was the excitement as the natives gathered about the carriage
with offers of help, murmurs of sympathy, and unseemly mirth on the
part of the boys. Jules did the swearing; and never were heard such big
oaths as fell from the lips of this irate little man. It really seemed
as if he would explode with wrath. He dashed the impressive cocked hat
upon the stones, laid his hand upon his sword, tore his hair, and
clutched his moustache in paroxysms of despair.
His bride was gone, waiting in agitated suspense for him. No other
coach could be had, as the resources of the town had been exhausted.
The harness was in a desperate state, the men at their wit's end how to
mend it, and time flying fast. Maire and priest were waiting,
the whole effect of the wedding was being ruined by this delay, and
'ten thousand devils' seemed to possess the awkward coachman.
During the flurry, Papa Clomadoc appeared to slumber tranquilly in
the recesses of the carriage. Mamma endeavoured to soothe her boy with
cries of 'Tranquillize yourself, my cherished son. It is nothing.'
'Come, then, and reassure papa.' 'Inhale the odour of my vinaigrette.
It will compose your lacerated nerves, my angel.'
But the angel wouldn't come, and continued to dance and swear, and
slap his hat about until the damages were repaired, when he flung
himself, exhausted, into the carriage, and was borne away to his bride.
'A lively prospect for poor Pelagie.' 'What a little fiend he is!'
'Spinsters for ever!'
With these remarks, the ladies ordered their own equipage, an infant
omnibus, much in vogue in Dinan, where retired army officers, English
or Scotch, drive about with their little families of eighteen or
twenty. One Colonel Newcome, a grave-looking man, used to come to
church in a bus of this sort, with nine daughters and four sons, like a
patriarch. The strangers thought it was a boarding-school, till he
presented the entire flock, with paternal pride, as 'my treasures.'
Madame C., in a large Leghorn bonnet, trembling with yellow bows,
led the way with an air of lofty indifference as to what became of her
house that day. Marie bore a big basket, full of cold fowls, salad, and
wines; she also was in a new spring hat of purple, which made her rosy
old face look like a china aster. Lavinia reposed upon the other seat;
and the infants insisted on sharing the driver's seat, up aloft, that
they might enjoy the prospect, which freak caused Flabeau's boy to beam
and blush till his youthful countenance was a deep scarlet.
They had a pleasant day; for good old Madame soon recovered her
temper, and beguiled the time with lively tales of her mother's trials
during the Revolution.
Marie concocted spiced drinks, salad that was a thing to dream of,
not to tell, and produced such edible treasures that her big basket
The frisky damsels explored ruins, ran races on the hard beach,
sniffed the salt breezes, and astonished the natives by swarming up and
down 'precipices,' as they called the rocks.
That was a fatal day for Flabeau's boy (they never knew his name);
for, as if the wedding had flown to his head, he lost his youthful
heart to one of the lively damsels who invaded his perch. Such tender
glances as his China-blue eyes cast upon her; such grins of joy as he
gave when she spoke to him; such feats of agility as he performed,
leaping down to gather flowers, or hurling himself over thorny hedges,
to point out a dolmen or a menhir (they never could
remember which was which). Alas, alas! for Flabeau's boy! Deeply was he
wounded that day by the unconscious charmer, who would as soon have
thought of inspiring love in the bosom of the broken-nosed saint by the
wayside as in the heart that beat under the blue blouse.
I regret to say that 'the infants,' as Madame C. always called Miss
Livy's charges, behaved themselves with less decorum than could have
been wished. But the proud consciousness that they never could
be disposed of as Pelagie had been had such an exhilarating effect upon
them that they frisked like the lambs in the field.
One drove the bus in a retired spot and astonished the stout horses
by the way in which she bowled them along the fine, hard road. The
other sang college songs, to the intense delight of the old ladies, who
admired the 'chants Amériques so gay,' and to the horror of
their duenna, who knew what they meant. A shower came up, and they
would remain outside; so the boy put up a leathern hood, and they
sat inside in such a merry mood that the silent youth suddenly caught
the infection, and burst forth into a Breton melody, which he continued
to drone till they got home.
The house was a blaze of light when they arrived, and Françoise, the
maid, came flying out to report sundry breakages and mishaps. How the
salad had precipitated itself downstairs, dish and all. How Monsieur
Gaston was so gay, so inconceivably gay, that he could hardly stand,
and insisted on kissing her clandestinely. That Mademoiselle Pelagie
had wept much because her veil was torn; and Madame F. had made a fresh
toilette, ravishing to behold. Would the dear ladies survey the party,
still at table? Regard them from the little window in the garden, and
see if it is not truly a spectacle the most superb!
They did regard them, and saw the bride at the head of the table,
eating steadily through the dessert; the bridegroom reciting poems with
tremendous effect; Gaston almost invisible behind a barricade of
bottles; and Madame F., in violet velvet, diamonds, plumes, and lace,
more sleek and buxom than ever. The ladies all talked at once, and the
gentlemen drank healths every five minutes. A very French and festive
scene it was; for the room was small, and twenty mortals were stowed
therein. One fat lady sat in the fireplace, Papa Clomadoc leaned his
heavy head upon the sideboard, and the plump shoulders of Madame F.
were half out of the front window. 'But it was genteel. Oh! I assure
you, yes,' as Françoise said.
How long they kept it up the weary trio did not wait to see, but
retired to their beds, and slumbered peacefully, waking only when
Gaston was borne up to his room, chanting the 'Marseillaise' at the top
of his voice.
Next day M. and Madame Clomadoc, Jr., made calls, and Pelagie had
the joy of wearing her shawl. For three days she astonished the natives
by promenading with her lord in a fresh toilette each day. On the
fourth they all piled into a big carriage, and went away to make a
round of visits, before the young people settled down at Boulogne.
The Americans never thought to hear any more of Pelagie; but, as
dear old Madame C. wrote to them several times after they left, the
little story may be finished here, though the sequel did not actually
come till a year later.
Many were the sage predictions of the Three as to the success of
this marriageAmanda approving of that style of thing, Matilda
objecting fiercely to the entire affair, and Lavinia firmly believing
in the good old doctrine of love as your only firm basis for so solemn
Wagers were laid that the fiery little Colonel would shoot some one
in a jealous fit, or that Pelagie would elope, or both charcoal
themselves to death, as the best way out of the predicament. But none
of them guessed how tragically it would really end.
Late in the following spring came a letter from Madame C., telling
them that Jules had gone to the war, and been shot in his first battle;
that Pelagie was with her mother again, comforting herself for her loss
with a still smaller Jules, who never saw his father, and, it is to be
hoped, did not resemble him. So little Pelagie's brief romance ended;
and one would fancy that the experiences of that year would make her
quite content to remain under mamma's wing, with no lord and master but
the little son, to whom she was a very tender mother.
Pleasant days those were in quaint old Dinan; for spring's soft
magic glorified earth and sky, and a delicious sense of rest and
freedom gave a charm to that quiet life. Legends of romance and
chivalry hung about the ruins of castle and château, as green
and golden as the ivy and bright wall-flowers that tapestried the
crumbling walls, and waved like banners from the turret tops. Lovely
walks into woods, starred with pale primroses, and fragrant with wild
hyacinths; down green lanes, leading to quaint cottages, or over wide
meadows full of pink-tipped daisies and dear familiar buttercups, the
same all the world over.
Sometimes they took gay donkey-drives to visit a solemn dolmen in a
gloomy pine-wood, with mistletoe hanging from the trees, and the ghosts
of ancient Druids haunting the spot. The cavalcade on such occasions
was an imposing spectacle. Matilda being fond of horses likewise
affected donkeys (or thought she did, till she tried to drive one), and
usually went first in a small vehicle like a chair on wheels, drawn by
an animal who looked about the size of a mouse, when the stately Mat in
full array, yellow parasol, long whip, camp-stool, and sketch-book, sat
bolt upright on her perch, driving in the most approved manner.
The small beast, after much whipping, would break into a trot, and
go pattering over the hard, white road, with his long ears wagging, and
his tiny hoofs raising a great dust for the benefit of the other
turnout just behind.
In a double chair sat Lavinia, bundled up as usual, and the amiable
Amanda, both flushed with constant pokings and thrashings of their
steed. A venerable ass, so like an old whity-brown hair trunk as to his
body, and Nick Bottom's mask as to his head, that he was a constant
source of mirth to the ladies. Mild and venerable as he looked,
however, he was a most incorrigible beast, and it took two immortal
souls, and four arms, to get the ancient donkey along.
Vain all the appeals to his conscience, pity, or pride: nothing but
a sharp poke among his ribs, a steady shower of blows on his fuzzy old
back, and frequent 'yanks' of the reins produced any effect. It was
impossible to turn out for anything, and the ladies resigned themselves
to the ignominy of sitting still, in the middle of the road, and
letting other carriages drive over or round them.
On rare occasions the beast would bolt into the ditch as a vehicle
drew near; but usually he paused abruptly, put his head down, and
apparently went to sleep.
Matilda got on better, because little Bernard Du Guesclin, as she
named her mouse, was so very small, that she could take him up, and
turn him round bodily, when other means failed, or pull him half into
the chair if danger threatened in front. He was a sprightly little
fellow, and had not yet lost all the ardour of youth, or developed the
fiendish obstinacy of his kind; so he frequently ran little racesnow
and then pranced, and was not quite dead to the emotion of gratitude in
return for bits of bread.
Truly, yes; the fair Mat with her five feet seven inches, and little
Bernard, whose longest ear, when most erect, did not reach much above
her waist, were a sweet pair of friends, and caused her mates great
'I must have some one to play with, for I can't improve my mind
all the time as 'Mandy does, or cuddle and doze like Livy. I've had
experience with young donkeys of all sorts, and I give you my word
little Bernie is much better fun than some I've known with shorter ears
and fewer legs.'
Thus Matilda, regardless of the jeers of her friends, when they
proposed having the small beast into the salon to beguile the
tedium of a rainy day.
As the summer came on, picnics were introduced, and gay parties
would pile into and on to Flabeau's small omnibus, and drive off to
Hunandaye, Coétquën, La Bellière, Guingamp, or some other
unpronounceable but most charming spot, for a day of sunshine and
The hospitable English came out strong on these occasions, with
''ampers of 'am-sandwiches, bottled porter and so on, don't you know?'
all in fine style. Even the stout doctor donned his knickerbockers and
grey hose, unfurled his Japanese umbrella, and, with a pretty niece on
either arm, disported himself like a boy.
But pleasantest of all were the daily strolls through the little
town and its environs, getting glimpses of Breton manners and customs.
The houses were usually composed of one room, where, near the open
fire, and fixed against the wall, stands the bedstead or lit clos, of old oak, shut in by carved sliding panels, often bearing an
inscription or some sacred symbol. The mattresses and feather-beds are
so piled up, that there is hardly room to creep in. Before it is the
big chest containing the family wardrobe, answering the double purpose
of a seat and a step by which to ascend the lofty bed. Cupboards on
each side often have wide shelves, where the children sleep. Settles
and a long table complete the furniture; the latter often has little
wells hollowed out in the top to hold the soup instead of plates. Over
the table, suspended by pulleys, are two indispensable articles in a
Breton house,a large round basket to cover the bread, and a wooden
frame to hold the spoons. Festoons of sausages, hams, candles, onions,
horse-shoes, harness, and tools, all hang from the ceiling. The floor
is of beaten earth. One narrow window lets in the light. There are no
out-houses, and pigs and poultry mingle freely with the family.
The gardens are well kept, and produce quantities of fruit and
vegetables. The chief food of the poorer class is bread or porridge of
buckwheat, with cabbage soup, made by pouring hot water over cabbage
leaves and adding a bit of butter.
They are a home-loving people, and pine like the Swiss, if forced to
leave their native land. They are brave soldiers and good sailors.
'Their vices,' as a Breton writer says, 'are avarice, contempt for
women, and drunkenness; their virtues, love of home and country,
resignation to the will of God, loyalty to each other, and
hospitality.' Their motto is, 'En tout chemin loyauté.'
They are very superstitious, and some of their customs are curious.
At New Year pieces of bread and butter are thrown into the fountains,
and from the way in which they swim the future is foretold. If the
buttered side turns under, it forebodes death; if two pieces adhere
together, it is a sign of sickness; and if a piece floats properly, it
is an assurance of long life and prosperity.
Girls throw pins into the fountain of Saloun to tell, by their
manner of sinking, when they will be married. If the pin goes down
head-foremost, there is little hope; but, if the point goes first, it
is a sure sign of being married that year.
Their veneration for healing-springs is very great, and, though at
times forbidden by the Church, is still felt. Pounded snails, worn in a
bag on the neck, is believed to be a cure for fever; and a certain holy
bell rung over the head, a cure for head-ache. 'If we believe in that
last remedy, what a ceaseless tingling that bell would keep up in
America!' said Lavinia, when these facts were mentioned to her.
In some towns they have, in the cemetery, a bone-house or reliquary.
It is the custom, after a certain time, to dig up the bones of the
dead, and preserve the skulls in little square boxes like bird-houses,
with a heart-shaped opening, to show the relic within. The names and
dates of the deceased are inscribed outside.
Saint Ives or Yves is a favourite saint, and images of him are in
all churches and over many doors. He was one of the remarkable
characters of the thirteenth century. He studied law in Paris, and
devoted his talents to defending the poor; hence, he was called 'the
poor man's advocate:' and so great is the confidence placed in his
justice, that, even now, when a debtor falsely denies his debt, a
peasant will pay twenty sous for a mass to St. Ives, sure that
the Saint will cause the faithless creditor to die within the year or
His truthfulness was such that he was called 'St. Yves de vérité.'
He was the special patron of lawyers, but he does not seem to be their
The early monks taught the people to work, and their motto was 'The
Cross and the plough, labour and prayer.' They introduced apples, now
the principal fruit of Brittany. Much cider is made and drank; and in
old times they got their wine from France in exchange for wax and
honey, as they were famous bee-keepers. Great fields of buck-wheat
still afford food for the 'yellow-breeched philosophers,' and in many
cottage gardens a row of queerly shaped hives stand in sunny nooks.
These monks were the model farmers of those days, and their abbeys
were fine farms. One had twenty piggeries, of three hundred pigs each,
in its forests. The monks also reared sheep and horses, and bred fish
in their ponds.
Many were also brewers, weavers, carpenters, and so on. Evidently
they lived up to their motto and laboured quite as much as they prayed,
and doubtless were saved by works as well as by faith.
The little Place Du Guesclin, with a stumpy statue of the famous
knight in the middle and chestnut trees all around, was a favourite
resting-place of the ladiesespecially when the weekly fair was held
and booths of all sorts were raised at one end. Here Amanda bought a
remarkable jack-knife, which would cut nothing but her fingers: Matilda
speculated in curious kinds of cake; one sort being made into gigantic
jumbles so light that they did excellently for grace-hoops; another
sort being used by these vandals as catch-alls, so deep and tough were
they. Lavinia examined the various fabrics, and got bits of linen as
samples, also queer earthen pots and pans impossible to carry away.
The church of St. Sauveur, a dim and ancient little place with Du
Guesclin's heart buried by the side of his wife, was another haunt. The
castle, now a prison, contained the arm-chair in which Duchess Anne
sat, and the dungeons where were crammed two thousand English prisoners
of war in the last century. The view from the platform of the keep was
magnificent, extending to Mont Dol and the distant sea.
The sunny promenade on the fosse, that goes half round the
town, was very charming, with the old grey walls on one side, and, on
the other, the green valley with its luxuriant gardens, and leafy
lanes, winding up to the ruined château, or the undulating hills
with picturesque windmills whirling on the heights.
On the other side of the town, from the high gardens of the church,
one looked down into the deeper valley of the Rance, with the airy
viaduct striding from hill to hill, and the old part of the town
nestling at its base.
Soft and summery, fertile and reposeful, was the scene; and the busy
peasants at their work added to the charm. Pretty English children with
Breton nurses, each in the costume of her native town, played under the
lindens all abloom with odorous flowers and alive with bees. Workmen
came to these green places to eat the black bread and drink the thin
wine that was all their dinner. Invalids strolled here after their
baths at the little house in the rose-garden below. Pretty girls walked
there in the twilight with long-haired lovers in knee breeches and
round hats. Nuns in their grey gowns went to and fro from hospital and
the insane asylum or charity school; and the beautiful old priest
sometimes went feebly by, smiling paternally on his flock, who rose and
uncovered reverently as he passed.
Flowers were everywhere,in the gardens of the rich, at the windows
of the poor. The stalls in the market were gay with plumy lilacs,
splendid tulips, roses of every shade, and hyacinths heavy with odour.
All along the borders of the river waved the blossoming grass; every
green bank about the mills at Lehon was yellow with dandelions, and the
sunny heads of little children welcoming the flower of the poor. Even
the neglected churchyard of the ruined abbey, where the tombs of the
stately Beaumanoirs still stand, was bright with cheerful daisies and
The willows in the valley were covered with fragrant tassels, and
the old women and children sat all day on door-stones and by the
wayside stripping the long, white wands for basket-making. Flax fields
were blooming in the meadows, and acres of buckwheat, with its rosy
stems and snowy blossoms, whitened the uplands with a fair prophecy of
bread for all.
So, garlanded about with early flowers and painted in spring's
softest, freshest colours, Brittany remains for ever a pleasant picture
in the memory of those who have been welcomed to its hospitable homes,
and found friends among its brave and loyal people.
'Girls, I have had a scintillation in the night: listen and
approve!' said Amanda, coming into the room where her comrades sat upon
the floor, in the first stages of despair, at the impossibility of
getting the accumulated rubbish of three months' travel into a couple
of immense trunks.
'Blessed girl! you always bring a ray of light just at the darkest
moment,' returned Lavinia, with a sigh of relief, while Matilda looked
over a barricade of sketch-books bristling with paint-brushes, and
'If you could suggest how I am to work this miracle, you will
be a public benefactor.'
'Behold the amendment I propose,' began Amanda, perching herself on
one of the arks. 'We have decided to travel slowly and comfortably
through France to Switzerland, stopping where we like, and staying as
long as we please at any place we fancy, being as free as air, and
having all the world before us where to choose, as it were.'
'The route you have laid out is a charming one, and I don't see how
you can improve it,' said Lavinia, who, though she was supposed to be
the matron, guide, and protector of the younger girls, was in reality
nothing but a dummy, used for Mrs. Grundy's sake, and let the girls do
just as they pleased, only claiming the right to groan and moan as much
as she liked when neuralgia, her familiar demon, claimed her for its
'One improvement remains to be made. Are these trunks a burden, a
vexation of spirit, a curse?' demanded Amanda, tapping one with her
carefully cherished finger-tips.
'They are! they are!' groaned the others, regarding the monsters
'Then let us get rid of them, and set out with no luggage but a few
necessaries in a shawl-strap.'
'We will! we will!' returned the chorus.
'Shall we burn up our rubbish, or give it away?' asked Lavinia, who
liked energetic measures, and was ready to cast her garments to the
four winds of heaven, to save herself from the agonies of packing.
'I shall never give up my pictures, nor my boots!' cried
Matilda, gathering her idols to her breast in a promiscuous heap.
'Be calm and listen,' returned the scintillator. 'Pack away all but
the merest necessaries, and we will send the trunk by express to Lyons.
Then with our travelling-bags and bundles, we can follow at our
''Tis well! 'tis well!' replied the chorus, and they all returned to
their packing, which was performed in the most characteristic manner.
Amanda never seemed to have any clothes, yet was always well and
appropriately dressed; so it did not take her long to lay a few
garments, a book or two, a box of Roman-coin lockets, scarabæ brooches,
and cinque-cento rings, likewise a swell hat and habit, into her vast
trunk; then lock and label it in the most business-like and thorough
Matilda found much difficulty in reconciling paint-pots and silk
gowns, blue hats and statuary, French boots and Yankee notions. But
order was at length produced from chaos, and the young lady refreshed
her weary soul by painting large red M's all over the trunk to mark it
for her own.
Miss Lavinia packed and repacked four or five times, forgetting
needfuls, which, of course, were always at the very bottom. At the
fifth plunge into the depths her patience gave out, and with a vow to
be a slave no longer to her treacherous memory, she tumbled every thing
in, performed a solemn jig on the lid till it locked, then pasted
large, but illegible placards in every available spot, and rested from
her labours with every nerve in a throbbing condition.
Shawl-straps of the largest, strongest sort were next procured, and
the three bundles made up with much discussion and merriment.
Into Amanda's went a volume of Shakspeare of great size and weight,
but as indispensable as a tooth-brush to its owner; toilette-articles
tied up in a handkerchief, a few necessary garments, and much
paper,for Amanda was inspired with poetic fire at unexpected moments,
also had five hundred bosom friends, in answering whose epistolary
gushings much stationery was consumed. A pistol, a massive crust of
bread, and an oval box containing all the dainty appliances for the
culture, preservation, and ornamentation of the finger-nails, made up
Matilda's bundle consisted of sketch-books, a trifle of
haberdashery, a curling-stick that was always tumbling out at
inopportune moments, yards of blue ribbon, and a camp-stool strapped
outside in company with a Japanese umbrella, a gift from the stout
doctor, destined to be cursed in many languages by the unhappy beings
into whose backs, eyes, and stomachs it was poked before its wanderings
Lavinia confined herself to a choice collection of bottles and
pill-boxes, fur boots, a grey cloud, and several French novels,the
solace of wakeful nights. A scarlet army blanket, with U. S. in big
black letters on it, enveloped her travelling medicine-chest, and lent
a cheerful air to the sombre spinster, whose black attire and hoarse
voice made the sobriquet of Raven most appropriate.
With these imposing bundles in one hand, little pouches slung over
the shoulder, plain travelling-suits, subdued hats, and resolute but
benign countenances, our three errant damsels set forth one bright June
day, to wander through France at their own sweet will. Not a fear
assailed them; for all men were civil, all women friendly, and the
world wore its sunniest aspect. Not a doubt perplexed them; for the
gifted Amanda spoke many tongues, understood all sorts of money, could
grapple successfully with Murray and Bradshaw, and never got into the
wrong corporation when she traced a route with unerring accuracy
through the mysteries of an Indicator. No lord and master, in the shape
of brother, spouse, or courier, ordered their outgoings and incomings;
but liberty the most entire was theirs, and they enjoyed it heartily.
Wisely and well too; for, though off the grand route, they behaved
themselves in public as decorously as if the eyes of all prim Boston
were upon them, and proved by their triumphant success, that the
unprotected might go where they liked, if they conducted themselves
with the courtesy and discretion of gentlewomen.
How pleasant were the early sail down the Ranee from Dinan to St.
Malo, the comfortable breakfast in the flowery little court of Hôtel
Franklin, and the stroll afterward about the quaint old town, looking
at the churches, buying fruit, and stoutly resisting the temptations of
antique jewelry displayed in the dingy shops! Lavinia never forgave
herself, however, for not securing a remarkable watch, and Amanda
sighed months afterward for a Breton collar and cross of charming
antiquity and ugliness.
Matilda boldly planted her camp-stool, unfurled her umbrella, and,
undaunted by the crowd of round-capped, blue-bloused, wooden-shoed
children about her, began to draw the church.
'I intend to study architecture, and to sketch all the
cathedrals we see,' said the ardent art-student, struggling manfully
with the unruly umbrella, the unsavoury odours from the gutter, and the
garrulous crowd leaning over her shoulder, peering under her hat-brim,
and examining all her belongings with a confiding freedom rather
'Do you know what impertinent things these little scamps are saying
to you?' asked Amanda, pausing in a lecture on surface drainage which
she was delivering to Lavinia, who was vainly struggling to cram a fat
wine bottle, a cabbage leaf of strawberries, and some remarkable cakes
into the lunch-basket.
'No: I don't; and that is the advantage of not knowing any language
but my own,' complacently replied Matilda, who considered all study but
that of art as time wasted, and made her small store of French answer
admirably by talking very loud and fast, and saying, 'Oui, oui, oui,' on all occasions with much gesticulation, and bows and smiles of
great suavity and sweetness.
'Clear out this rabble, or come back to the hotel and wait for the
bus. We shall have the whole town round us soon, and I can't stand it,'
said Amanda, who had no romantic admiration for the Great Unwashed.
'You think I can't do it? Voilà!' and, rising suddenly to an
unexpected height, Matilda waved the umbrella like a bâton,
cried 'Allez!' in a stern voice, and the children fled like
chaff before the wind.
'You see how little is needed, so don't vex me with learning your
old verbs any more!' and Matilda closed her book with an air of calm
'Come home and rest. It is so warm here I am fairly melted,' prayed
Lavinia, who had been longing for summer, and of course was not suited
when she got it.
'Now, do remember one thing: don't let us be gregarious. We never
know who we may pick up if we talk to people; and stray acquaintances
are sad bores sometimes. Granny is such a cross old dear she won't say
a word to any one if she can help it; but you, Mat, can't be trusted if
we meet any one who talks English. So be on your guard, or the peace of
this party is lost,' said Amanda, impressively.
'We are not likely to meet any but natives in this wilderness; so
don't excite yourself, Mandy, dear,' replied Matilda, who, being of a
social turn and an attractive presence, was continually making friends,
to the great annoyance of her more prudent comrades.
In the flowery courtyard sat the group that one meets everywhere on
the Continent,even in the wilds of Brittany. The father and mother
stout, tired, and rather subdued by the newness of things; the son,
Young America personified, loud, important, and inquisitive; the
daughter, pretty, affected, and over-dressed; all on the lookout for
adventures and titles, fellow-countrymen to impress, and foreigners
eager to get the better of them.
Seeing the peril from afar, Amanda buried herself in Murray, to read
up the tomb of Chateaubriand, the tides, population, and any other
useful bit of history; for Amanda was a thrifty soul, and
'Gathered honey all the day
From every opening flower.'
Lavinia, finding the court damp, shrouded herself in the grey cloud,
put her feet on the red bundle, and fortified herself with a Turner's
But Matilda, guileless girl, roamed to and fro, patted the horses at
the gate, picked flowers that no French hand would have dared to touch,
and studied the effect of light and shade on the red head of the
garçon, who gazed sentimentally at 'the blonde Mees,' as he
artlessly watered the wine for dinner.
The Americans had their eye upon her, and felt that, though the
others might be forbidding English women, this one could be made to
talk. So they pounced upon their prey, to the dismay of her mates, and
proceeded to ask fifty questions to the minute. Poor Mat, glad to hear
the sound of her native tongue, fell into the snare, and grew more
confiding every moment.
'She is telling the family history,' whispered Lavinia, in a tone of
'Now they are asking where we came from,' added Amanda, casting down
her book in agony.
'Wink at her,' sighed Lavinia.
'Call to her,' groaned Amanda, as they heard their treasured secret
betrayed, and the enemy clamouring for further information about this
'Matilda, bring me my shawl,' commanded the Dowager.
'Come and see if you don't think we had better go direct to Tours,'
said the wary Amanda, hoping to put the enemy off the track.
The victim came, and vials of wrath were poured upon her head in one
unceasing flow till the omnibus started, and the ladies were appeased
by finding that the enemy did not follow.
'Promise that you won't talk to any but natives, or I decline to
lead this expedition,' said Amanda firmly.
'I promise,' returned Mat, with penitent meekness.
'Now we've got her!' croaked the Raven; 'for she will have to learn
French or hold her tongue.'
'The language of the eye remains to me, and I am a proficient in
that, ma'am,' said Mat, roused by these efforts to deny her the right
of free speech.
'You are welcome to it, dear;' and Amanda departed to buy tickets
and despatch the trunks, with secret misgivings that they would never
be found again.
'Now we are fairly started, with no more weighing of luggage,
fussing over checks, or packing of traps to afflict us. What a heavenly
sense of freedom it gives one, to have nothing but an independent
shawl-strap!' said Matilda, as they settled themselves in a vacant car,
and stowed away the bundles.
What a jolly day that was, to be sure! Whether it was the air, the
good coffee, or the liberty, certain it is that three merrier maids
never travelled from St. Malo to Le Mans on a summer's day. Even the
Raven forgot her woes, and became so exhilarated that she smashed her
bromide bottle out of the window, declaring herself cured, and tried to
sing 'Hail Columbia,' in a voice like an asthmatic bagpipe.
Mat amused herself and her comrades by picking up the different
articles that kept tumbling down on her head from her badly built
bundle; while Amanda scintillated to such an extent that the others
laughed themselves into hysterics, and lay exhausted, prone upon the
They ate, drank, sung, gossiped, slept, read, and revelled, till
another passenger got in, when propriety clothed them as with a
garment, and the mirthful damsels became three studious statues.
The new-comer was a little priest; so rosy and young that they
called him the 'Reverend Boy.' He seemed rather dismayed at first; but,
finding the ladies silent and demure, he took heart, and read
diligently in a dingy little prayer-book, stealing shy glances now and
then from under his broad-brimmed hat at Amanda's white hands, or
Matilda's yellow locks, as if these vanities of the flesh had not quite
lost their charms for him. By and by he fell asleep, and leaned in his
corner, making quite a pretty picture; for the ugly hat was off, his
boyish face as placid as a child's, his buckled shoes and neat
black-stockinged legs stretched comfortably out, his plump hands folded
over the dingy book, and the little bands lay peacefully on his breast.
He was quite at their mercy now; so the three women looked as much
as they liked, wondering if the poor dear boy was satisfied with the
life he had chosen, and getting tenderly pitiful over the losses he
might learn to regret when it was too late. His dreams seemed to be
pleasant ones, however; for once he laughed a blithe, boyish laugh,
good to hear; and when he woke, he rubbed his blue eyes and stared
about, smiling like a newly roused baby.
He got out all too soon, was joined by several other clerical
youths, and disappeared with much touching of big beavers, and wafting
Innocent, reverend little boy! I wonder what became of him, and hope
his sleep is as quiet now as then,his awakening as happy as it seemed
that summer day.
Six o'clock saw our damsels at Le Mans; and, after dinner, a sunset
walk took them to the grand old cathedral, where they wandered till
moonrise. Pure Gothic of the twelfth century, rich in stained glass,
carved screens, tombs of kings and queens, dim little chapels, where
devout souls told their beads before shadowy pictures of saints and
martyrs, while over all the wonderful arches seemed to soar, one above
the other, light and graceful as the natural curves of drooping
branches, or the rise and fall of some great fountain.
'We shall not see anything finer than this, I'm sure. It's a perfect
revelation to me,' said Matilda, in a calm rapture at the beauty all
'This is a pious-feeling church, and I could say my prayers here
with all my soul; for it seems as if the religion of centuries had got
built into it,' added Lavinia, thinking of the ugly imitations at home.
'You will both turn Catholic before we get through,' prophesied
Amanda, retiring to study the tomb of Berengaria, Coeur de Lion's wife.
The square before the hotel was gay with a market, many soldiers
lounging about, and flocks of people eating ices before the cafés. The ladies enjoyed it from the balcony, and then slumbered peacefully
in a great room with three alcoves, much muslin drapery, and a bowl and
pitcher like a good-sized cup and saucer.
Another look at the cathedral in the early morning, and then away to
Tours, which place they found a big, clean, handsome city, all astir
for the Fête-Dieu.
'We will stay over Sunday and see it,' was the general vote as the
trio headed for the great church, and, catching sight of it, they
subsided into a seat by the fountain opposite, and sat looking silently
at the magnificent pile.
How strangely impressive and eloquent it was! The evening red
touched its grey towers with a mellow light, like sunshine on a
venerable head. Lower down, flights of rooks circled round the fretted
niches, quaint windows, and grotesque gargoyles, while the great steps
below swarmed with priests and soldiers, gay strangers and black-robed
nuns, children and beggars.
For an hour our pilgrims sat and studied the wonderful façade, or walked round the outside, examining the rich carvings that covered
every inch of the walls. Twilight fell before they had thought of
entering, and feeling that they had seen enough for that night, they
went thoughtfully home to dream of solemn shadows and saintly faces,
for the cathedral haunted them still.
Next day was spent in viewing Charlemagne's Tower, and seeing the
grand procession in honour of the day. The streets were hung with
garlands, gay tapestries and banners, strewn with fresh boughs, and
lined with people in festival array. As the procession passed, women
ran out and scattered rose-leaves before it, and one young mother set
her blooming baby on a heap of greenery in the middle of the street,
leaving it there, that the Holy Ghost under its canopy might pass over
it. A pretty sight, the rosy little creature smiling in the sunshine as
it sat playing with its own blue shoes, while the golden pageant went
by; the chanting priests stepping carefully, and looking down with
sudden benignity in their tired faces as the holy shadow fell on the
bright head, making baby blessed, and saved for ever in its pious
A great band played finely, scarlet soldiers followed, then the
banners of patron saints were borne by children. Saint Agnes and her
lamb led a troop of pretty little girls carrying tall white lilies,
filling the air with their sweetness. Mary, Our Mother, was followed by
many orphans with black ribbons crossed over the young hearts that had
lost so much. Saint Martin led the charity boys in purple suits of just
the colour of the mantle he was dividing with the beggar on the banner.
A pleasant emblem of the charitable cloak that covers so many.
Priests in full splendour paced solemnly along with censers
swinging, candles flickering, sweet-voiced boys singing, and hundreds
kneeling as they passed. Most impressive figures, unless one caught a
glimpse of something comically human to disturb the effect of the
heavenly pageant. Lavinia had an eye for the ludicrous and though she
dropped a tear over the orphans, and with difficulty resisted a strong
desire to catch and kiss the pretty baby, she scandalized her
neighbours by laughing outright the next minute. A particularly portly,
pious-looking priest, who was marching with superb dignity, and
chanting like a devout bumble-bee, suddenly mislaid his temper, and
injured the effect by boxing a charity boy's ears with his gilded
missal, and then capped the climax by taking a pinch of snuff with a
sonorous satisfaction that convulsed the heretic.
The afternoon was spent in the church, wandering to and fro, each
alone to study and enjoy in her own way. Matilda lost her head
entirely, and had silent raptures over the old pictures. Amanda said
her prayers, looked up her dates, and imparted her facts in a proper
and decorous manner, while Lavinia went up and down, finding for
herself little pictures not painted by hands, and reading histories
more interesting to her than those of saints and martyrs.
In one dim chapel, with a single candle lighting up the divine
sorrow of the Mater Dolorosa, knelt a woman in deep black, weeping and
praying all alone. In another flowery nook dedicated to the Infant
Jesus, a peasant girl was telling her beads over the baby asleep in her
lap; her sunburnt face refined and beautiful by the tenderness of
mother-love. In a third chapel a pale, wasted old man sat propped in a
chair, while his rosy old wife prayed heartily to St. Gratien, the
patron saint of the church, for the recovery of her John Anderson. And
most striking of all was a dark, handsome young man, well-dressed and
elegant, who was waiting at the door of a confessional with some great
trouble in his face, as he muttered and crossed himself, while his
haggard eyes were fixed on the benignant figure of St. Francis, as if
asking himself if it were possible for him also to put away the
pleasant sins and follies of the world, and lead a life like that which
embalms the memory of that good man.
'If we don't go away to-morrow we never shall, for this church will
bewitch us, and make it impossible to leave,' said Amanda, when at
length they tore themselves away.
'I give up trying to sketch cathedrals. It can't be done, and seems
impious to try,' said Matilda, quite exhausted by something deeper than
'I think the Reminiscences of a Rook would make a capital story.
They are long-lived birds, and could tell tales of the past that would
entirely eclipse our modern rubbish,' said Lavinia, taking a last look
at the solemn towers, and the shadowy birds that had haunted them for
The ladies agreed to be off early in the morning, that they might
reach Amboise in time for the eleven o'clock breakfast. Amanda was to
pay the bill, and to make certain enquiries at the office; Mat to fly
out and do a trifle of shopping; while Lavinia packed up the bundles
and mounted guard over them. They separated, but in half-an-hour all
met again, not in their room according to agreement, but before the
cathedral, which all had decided not to revisit on any account.
Matilda was there first, and as each of the others came stealing
round the corner, she greeted them with a laugh, in which all joined
after the first surprise was over.
'I told you it would bewitch us,' said Amanda; and then all took a
farewell look, which lasted so long that they had to rush back to the
hotel in most unseemly haste.
'Now to fresh châteaux and churches new,' sang Lavinia, as
they rolled away on the fourth stage of their summer journey. A very
short stage it was, and soon they were in an entirely new scene, for
Amboise was a little, old-time village on the banks of the Loire,
looking as if it had been asleep for a hundred years. The Lion d'Or was
a quaint place, so like the inns described in French novels, that one
kept expecting to see some of Dumas' heroes come dashing up, all boots,
plumes, and pistols, with a love-letter for some court beauty in the
castle on the hill beyond.
Queer galleries and stairs led up outside the house to the rooms
above. The salle-à-manger was across a court, and every dish
came from a kitchen round the corner. The garçon, a beaming,
ubiquitous creature, trotted perpetually, diving down steps, darting
into dark corners, or skipping up ladders, producing needfuls from most
unexpected places. The bread came from the stable, soup from the
cellar, coffee out of a meal-chest, and napkins from the housetop,
apparently, for Adolphe went up among the weather-cocks to get them.
'No one knows us, no one can speak a word of English, and if we
happen to die here it will never be known. How romantic and nice it
is!' exclaimed Mat, in good spirits, for the people treated the ladies
as if they were duchesses in disguise, and the young women liked it.
'I'm not so sure that the romance is all it looks. We should be in a
sweet quandary if anything happened to our sheet-anchor here. Just
remember, in any danger, save Amanda first, then she will save us. But
if she is lost, all is lost,' replied Lavinia, darkly, for she always
took tragical views of life when her bones ached.
Up the hill they went after breakfast; and balm was found for the
old lady's woes in the sight of many Angora cats, of great size and
beauty. White as snow, with tails like plumes, and mild, yellow eyes,
were these charmers. At every window sat one; on every door-step
sprawled a bunch of down; and frequently the eye of the tabby-loving
spinster was gladdened by the touching spectacle of a blonde mamma in
the bosom of her young family.
'If I could only carry it, I'd have one of those dears, no matter
what it cost!' cried Lavinia, more captivated by a live cat than by all
the dead Huguenots that Catherine de Medicis hung over the castle walls
on a certain memorable occasion.
'Well, you can't, so come on and improve your mind with some good,
useful history,' said Amanda, leading them forward. 'You must
remember that Charles VII. was born here in 1470that Anne of Brittany
married him for her first husband, and that he bumped his head against
a low door in the garden here above, as he was running through to play
bowls with his Anne, and it killed him.'
'Which? the bump or the bowls?' asked Mat, who liked to have things
'Don't be frivolous, child. Here Margaret of Anjou and her son were
reconciled to Warwick. Abd-el Kader and his family were kept prisoners
here, and in the garden is a tomb with a crescent on it; likewise a
pleached walk, and a winding drive inside the great tower, up which
lords and ladies used to ride straight into the hall,' continued the
sage Amanda, who yearned to enlighten the darkness of her careless
A brisk old woman did the honours of the castle, showing them mouldy
chapels, sepulchral halls, rickety stairs, grubby cells, and pitch-dark
passages, till even the romantic Matilda was glad to see the light of
day, and repose in the pleasant gardens while removing the cobwebs from
her countenance and the dust from her raiment.
A lovely view gladdened their eyes as they stood on the balcony
whence the amiable Catherine surveyed the walls hung thick, and the
river choked up with the dead. Below, the broad Loire rolled slowly by
between its green banks. Little boys, in the costume of Cupid, were
riding great horses in to bathe after the day's work. The grey roofs of
the town nestled to the hillside, and far away stretched the summer
landscape, full of vague suggestions of new scenes and pleasures to the
'We start for Chenonceaux at seven in the morning; so, ladies, I beg
that you will be ready punctually,' was the command issued by Amanda,
as they went to their rooms, after a festive dinner of what Lavinia
called 'earth-worms and cacti,' not being fond of stewed brains, baked
eels, or thistles and pigweed chopped up in oil.
Such a droll night as the wanderers spent! No locks on the doors and
no bells. Stairs leading straight up the gallery from the courtyard,
carts going and coming, soft footsteps stealing up and down, whispers
that sounded suspicious (though they were only orders to kill chickens
and pick salad for the morrow), and a ghostly whistle that disturbed
Lavinia so much, she at last draped herself in the green coverlet, and
went boldly forth upon the balcony to see what it meant.
She intended to demand silence in French that would strike terror to
the soul of the bravest native. But when she saw that poor, dear,
hard-worked garçon blacking boots by the light of the moon, her
heart melted with pity; and, resolving to give him an extra fee, she
silently retired to her stone-floored bower, and fell asleep in a
stuffy little bed, whose orange curtains filled her dreams with
volcanic eruptions and conflagrations of the most lurid description.
At seven, an open carriage with a stout pair of horses and a sleepy
driver rolled out of the court-yard of the Lion d'Or. Within it sat
three ladies, who gazed at one another with cheerful countenances, and
surveyed the world with an air of bland content, beautiful to behold.
'I am fairly faint with happiness,' sighed Matilda, as they drove
through fields scarlet with poppies, starred with daisies, or yellow
with buttercups, while birds piped gaily, and trees wore their early
'You did not eat any breakfast. That accounts for it. Have a crust,
do,' said Amanda, who seldom stirred without a good, sweet crust or
two; for they were easy to carry, wholesome to chew, and always ready
at a moment's notice.
'Let us save our entusymusy till we get to the château, and
enjoy this lovely drive in a peaceful manner,' said Lavinia, still a
little sleepy after her adventures in the glimpses of the moon.
So, for an hour or two, they rolled along the smooth road,
luxuriating in the summer sights and sounds about them; the wayside
cottages, with women working in the gardens; villages clustered round
some tiny, picturesque church; windmills whirling on the distant
hill-tops; vineyards full of peasants tying up the young vines, or
trudging by with baskets on their backs, heaped with green cuttings for
the goats at home. Old men, breaking stone by the roadside, touched
their red caps to the pilgrims, jolly boys shouted at them from the
cherry trees, and little children peeped from behind the rose-bushes
Soon, glimpses of the winding Cher began to appear, then an avenue
of stately trees, and then, standing directly in the river, rose the
lovely château built for Diane de Poictiers by her royal lover.
Leaving the carriage at the lodge, our sight-seers crossed the moat,
and, led by a wooden-faced girl with a lisp, entered the famous
pleasure-house, which its present owner (a pensive man in black velvet,
who played fitfully on a French-horn in a pepper-pot tower) is
carefully restoring to its former splendour.
The great picture-gallery was the chief attraction; and beginning
with Diane herselfa tall, simpering baggage, with a bow, hounds,
crescent, and a blue sash for draperythey were led through a rapid
review of all sorts of worthies and unworthies, relics and rubbish,
without end. Portraits are always interesting. Even Lavinia, who 'had
no soul for Art,' as Mat said, looked with real pleasure at a
bass-relief of Agnes of Sorel, and pictures of Montaigne, Rabelais,
Ninon d'Enclos, Madame de Sévigné, and miniatures of La Fayette and Ben
Franklin. The latter gentleman looked rather out of place in such
society; but, perhaps, his good old face preached the Dianes and Ninons
a silent sermon. His plain suit certainly was a relief to the eye,
wearied with periwigged sages and bejewelled sinners.
Here was the little theatre where Rousseau's plays were acted. Here
were the gilded chairs in which kings had sat, swords heroes had held,
books philosophers had pored over, mirrors that had reflected famous
beauties, and painted walls that had looked down on royal revels long
The old kitchen had a fireplace big enough for a dozen cooks to have
spoiled gallons of broth in, queer pots and pans, and a handy little
window, out of which they could fish at any moment, for the river ran
The chapel, chambers, balconies, and terraces were all being
repaired; for, thanks to George Sand's grandmother, who owned the place
in the time of the Revolution, it was spared out of respect to her, and
is still a charming relic of the past.
The ladies went down the mossy steps, leading from the gallery to
the further shore, and, lying under the oaks, whiled away the noon-time
by re-peopling the spot with the shapes that used to inhabit it. A very
happy hour it was, dreaming there by the little river, with the scent
of new-mown hay in the fresh wind, and before them the airy towers and
gables of the old château rising from the stream like a vision
of departed splendour, love, and romance.
Having seen every thing, and bought photographs ad libitum of
the wooden-faced lisper, who cheated awfully, the pilgrims drove away,
satiated with relics, royalty, and 'regardez.'
Another night in the stony-hearted, orange-coloured rooms, with the
sleepless garçon sweeping and murmuring outside like a Banshee,
while the hens roosted sociably in the gallery, the horses seemed to be
champing directly under the bed, and the dead Huguenots bumping down
upon the roof from the castle-walls. Another curious meal wafted from
the bowels of the earth and cooled by all the airs that blow,then the
shawl-straps were girded anew, the carriage (a half-grown omnibus with
the jaundice) mounted, the farewell bows and adieux received, and forth
rumbled the duchesses en route for Blois.
'My heart is rent at leaving that lovely château,' said Mat,
as they crossed the bridge.
'I mourn the earth-worms, the cacti, and the tireless gossoon,'
added Amanda, who appreciated French cookery and had enjoyed
confidences with Adolphe.
'The cats, the cats, the cats! I could die happy if I had one,'
murmured Lavinia; and with these laments they left the town behind
Any thing hotter than Blois, with its half dried-up river, dusty
boulevards, and baked streets, can hardly be imagined. But these
indomitable women 'did' the church and the castle without flinching.
The former was pronounced a failure, but the latter was entirely
satisfactory. The Emperor was having it restored in the most splendid
manner. The interior seemed rather fresh and gay when contrasted with
the time-worn exterior, but the stamped leathern hangings, tiled
floors, emblazoned beams, and carved fireplaces were quite correct.
Dragons and crowns, porcupines and salamanders, monograms and flowers,
shone everywhere in a maze of scarlet and gold, brown and silver,
purple and white.
Here the historical Amanda revelled, and quenched the meek old guide
with a burst of information which caused him to stare humbly at 'the
'Regardez, my dears, the chamber and oratory of Catherine de
Medicis, who here plotted the death of the Duc de Guise. This is the
cabinet of her son, Henri III., where he gave the daggers to the
gentlemen who were to rid him of his enemy, the hero of the barricades.
This is the Salle des Gardes, where Guise was leaning on the
chimney-piece when summoned to the king. This is the little room at the
entrance of which he was set upon in the act of lifting the drapery,
and stabbed with forty wounds.'
'Oh! how horrid!' gasped Matilda, staring about as if she saw the
sanguinary gentlemen approaching.
'So interesting! Do go on!' cried Lavinia, who was fond of woe, and
'This is the hall where the body lay for two hours, covered with a
cloak and a cross of straw on the breast,' cut in Amanda, as the guide
opened his mouth. 'Here the king came to look upon the corpse of the
once mighty Henri le Balafré, and spurned it with his foot, saying, I
shall not translate it for you, Mat,Je ne le croyais pas aussi
grand and then ordered it to be burnt, and the ashes cast into the
river. Remember the date, I implore you, December 23, 1588.'
As Amanda paused for breath the little man took the word, and
rattled off a jumble of facts and fictions about the window from which
Marie de Medicis lowered herself when imprisoned here by her dutiful
son, Louis XIII.
'I wish the entire lot had been tossed out after her, for I do think
kings and queens are a set of rascals,' cried Mat, scandalized by the
royal iniquities to which she had been listening, till the hair stood
erect upon her innocent head.
The Salle des États was being prepared for the trial of the men who
had lately attempted the Emperor's life, and a most theatrical display
of justice was to be presented to the public. The richly carved
stair-case, with Francis the First's salamanders squirming up and down
it, was a relic worth seeing; but the parched pilgrims found the little
pots of clotted cream quite as interesting, and much more refreshing,
when they were served up at lunch (the pots, not the pilgrims), each
covered with a fresh vine-leaf, and delicately flavoured with
butter-cups and clover.
Amanda won the favour of the stately garçon by praising them
warmly, and he kept bringing in fresh relays, and urging her to eat a
third, a fourth, with a persuasive dignity hard to resist.
'But yes, Mademoiselle, one more, for nowhere else can crême de
St. Gervais be achieved. They are desired, ardently desired, in
Paris; but, alas! it is impossible to convey them so far, such is their
How many the appreciative ladies consumed, the muse saith not; but
the susceptible heart of the great garçon was deeply touched,
and it was with difficulty that they finally escaped from his
On being presented with a cast-off camp-stool, and a pair of old
boots to dispose of, he instantly appropriated them as graceful
souvenirs, and clasping his hands, declared with effusion that he would
seat his infant upon the so-useful stool, and offer the charming boots
to Madame my wife, who would weep for joy at this touching tableau.
With this melodramatic valedictory, he suffered the guests to
depart, and the last they saw of him, he was still waving a dirty
napkin as he stood at the gate, big, bland, and devoted to the end,
though the drops stood thick upon his manly brow, and the sun glared
fiercely on his uncovered head.
'I shall write an article on garçons when I get home,' said
Lavinia, who was always planning great works and never executing them.
'We have known such a nice variety, and all have been so good to us
that we owe them a tribute. You remember the dear, tow-headed one at
Morlaix, who insisted on handing us dishes of snails, and papers of
pins with which to pick out the repulsive delicacy?'
'Yes, and the gloomy one with black linen sleeves who glowered at
us, sighed gustily in our ears, and anointed us with gravy as he waited
at table,' added Amanda.
'Don't forget the dark one with languid, Spanish eyes and curly
hair, on the boat going down the Rance. How picturesque and polite he
was, to be sure, as he kept picking up our beer-bottles when they
rolled about the deck!' put in Mat, who had the dark youth safely in
her sketch-book, with eyes as big and black as blots.
'The solemn one at Tours, who squirted seltzer-water out of window
at the beggars, without a smile, was very funny. So was the little one
with grubby hands, who tottered under the big dishes, but insisted on
carrying the heaviest.'
'The fast-trotter at Amboise won my heart, he was so supernaturally
lively, and so full of hurried amiability. A very dear garçon
'Be sure you remember the superb being at Brest, whose eyes
threatened to fall out of his head at exciting moments. Also, Flabot's
chubby boy who adored Mat, and languished at her, over the onions, like
a Cupid in a blue blouse.'
'I will do justice to everyone,' and Lavinia took copious notes on
Orleans was a prim, tidy town, and after taking a look at the fine
statue of the Maid, and laughing at some funny little soldiers drumming
wildly in the Place, our travellers went on to Bourges.
'This, now, is a nice, dingy old place, and we will take our walks
abroad directly, for it looks like rain, and we must make the most of
our time and money,' said Amanda;
'For, though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.'
Forth they went, as soon as dinner was over, and found the waters
all abroad also; for every man was playing away with a hose, every
woman scrubbing her door-steps, and the children gaily playing
leap-frog in the puddles.
'Nasty, damp place!' croaked the Raven, obscuring her disgusted
countenance behind the inevitable grey cloud, and gathering her
garments about her, as they hopped painfully over the wet stones, for
sidewalks there were none.
'I find it refreshing after the dust and heat. Please detach Mat
from that shop window, and come on, or we shall see nothing before
dark,' replied the ever amiable Amanda.
Matilda would glue herself to every jeweller's window, and
remain fascinated by the richness there displayed, till led away by
force. On this occasion, however, her mania led to good results; for,
at the ninth window, as her keepers were about to drag her away, a ring
of peculiar antiquity caught their eyes simultaneously, and, to Mat's
amazement, both plunged into the little shop, clamouring to see it. A
pale emerald, surrounded by diamond chippings set in silver, with a
wide gold band cut in a leafy pattern, composed this gem of price.
'A Francis First ring, sold by a noble but impoverished family, and
only a hundred francs, Madame,' said the man, politely anxious to cheat
the fair foreigners out of four times its value.
'Can't afford it,' and Lavinia retired. But the shrewd Amanda, with
inimitable shrugs and pensive sighs, regretted that it was so costly.
'A sweet ring; but, alas! forty francs is all I have to give.'
The man was desolated to think that eighty francs was the lowest he
was permitted to receive. Would Madame call again, and perhaps it might
Ah, no! Madame is forced to depart early, to return no more.
Mon Dieu! how afflicting! In that case, sixty would be
possible for so rare a relic.
Madame is abîmé, but it is not to be. Forty is the utmost;
therefore Merci, and Bonjour.
'Hold! Where shall it be sent?' cries the man, giving in, but not
confessing it, with awkward frankness.
A thousand thanks! Madame will pay for it at once; and laying down
the money, she sweetly bows herself away, with the ring upon her
'What a people!' ejaculated Lavinia, who always felt like a fly in a
cobweb when she attempted to deal with the French, in her blunt,
'It is great fun,' answered Amanda, flashing her ring with
satisfaction after the skirmish. 'Will Madame kindly direct me to the
house of Jacques Coeur?' she added, addressing an old woman clattering
by in sabots.
'Allez toujours à droit en vous appuyant sur la gauche,' replied the
native, beaming and bowing till the streamers of her cap waved in the
They followed these directions, but failed to find the place, and
applied to another old woman eating soup on her door-step.
'Suivez le chemin droit en tombant à gauche' was the reply, with a
wave of the spoon to all the points of the compass.
'Great heavens, what a language!' cried Lavinia, who had been vainly
endeavouring to 'support' herself, as she 'fell' in every direction
over and into the full gutters.
The house was found at last, an ancient, mysterious place, with a
very curious window, carved to look as if the shutters were half open,
and from behind one peeped a man's head, from the other a woman's, both
so life-like that it quite startled the strangers. Murray informed the
observers that these servants are supposed to be looking anxiously for
their master's return, Jacques having suddenly disappeared, after
lending much money to the king, who took that mediæval way of paying
Service was being held in the church, and the ladies went in to rest
and listen, for the music was fine. Much red and white drapery gave the
sanctuary the appearance of a gay drawing-room, and the profane Lavinia
compared the officiating clergy to a set of red furniture. The biggest
priest was the sofa, four deacons the arm-chairs, and three little boys
the foot-stools, all upholstered in crimson silk, and neatly covered
with lace tidies.
As if to rebuke her frivolity, a lovely fresh voice from the hidden
choir suddenly soared up like a lark, singing so wonderfully that a
great stillness fell on the listeners, and while it lasted the tawdry
church and its mummery were quite forgotten, as the ear led the heart
up that ladder of sweet sounds to heaven. Even when the others joined
in, one could still hear that child-voice soaring and singing far above
the rest, as if some little angel were playing with the echoes among
the arches of the roof.
A proud native informed the strangers that it was a poor boy whose
exquisite voice was the pride of the town, and would in time make his
fortune. As the choir-boys came racing down stairs after service,
pulling off their dingy robes as they ran, Lavinia tried to pick out
the little angel, but gave it up in despair, for a more uninteresting
set of bullet-headed, copper-coloured sprigs she never saw.
Rain drove the wanderers back to the hotel, and there they made a
night of it. Ordering a fire in the largest of the three stuffy little
cells which they occupied, they set about being comfortable, for it had
turned chilly, and a furious wind disported itself in and out through
numberless crevices. Lavinia was inspired to mull some wine, and brewed
a mild jorum that cheered, but did not inebriate. Amanda produced her
Shakspeare, and read aloud while the simmering and sipping went on.
Matilda sketched the noble commander as she lay upon the sofa, with her
Egyptian profile in fine relief, and her aristocratic red slippers
gracefully visible. A large grey cat of a social turn joined the party,
and added much to the domesticity of the scene by sitting on the hearth
in a cosy bunch and purring blissfully.
'Now it is your turn to propose something for the general amusement,
Mandy,' said Mat, when the beakers were drained dry and the Montagues
and Capulets comfortably buried.
'Let us attend to the culture of our nails,' replied Amanda,
producing her polissoir, powder, and knife.
Three cups of tepid water were produced, and the company sat eagerly
soaking their finger tips for a time, after which much pruning and
polishing went on, to the great bewilderment of Puss, who poked her own
paws into the cups, as if trying to test the advantages of this
remarkable American custom.
'What would our blessed mother say if she saw us now?' said
Mat, proudly examining ten pointed pink nails at the tips of her long
'People told us we should get demoralised if we came abroad, and
this is the first step on the downward road,' returned Lavinia, shaking
her head over her own backslidings.
'No: it's the second step. We ate calves' brains for dinner, and
what I'm sure were frogs' legs with mushrooms. You know we vowed we
wouldn't touch their horrid messes, but I really begin to like them,'
confessed Mat, who had pronounced every dish at dinner 'De-licious!'
'Ha! I will write a poem!' cried Amanda, and leaping from the sofa
she grasped her pen, flung open her portfolio, and in a few brief
moments produced these inspired stanzas.
THE DOWNWARD ROAD.
Two Yankee maids of simple mien,
And earnest, high endeavour,
Come sailing to the land of France,
To escape the winter weather.
When first they reached that vicious shore
They scorned the native ways,
Refused to eat the native grub,
Or ride in native shays.
'Oh, for the puddings of our home!
Oh, for some simple food!
These horrid, greasy, unknown things,
How can you think them good?'
Thus to Amanda did they say,
An uncomplaining maid,
Who ate in peace and answered not
Until one day they said
How can you eat this garbage vile
Against all nature's laws?
How can you eat your nails in points,
Until they look like claws?'
Then patiently Amanda said,
'My loves, just wait a while,
The time will come you will not think
The nails or victuals vile.'
A month has passed, and now we see
That prophecy fulfilled;
The ardour of those carping maids
Is most completely chilled.
Matilda was the first to fall,
Lured by the dark gossoon,
In awful dishes one by one
She dipped her timid spoon.
She promised for one little week
To let her nails grow long,
But added in a saving clause
She thought it very wrong.
Thus did she take the fatal plunge,
Did compromise with sin,
Then all was lost; from that day forth
French ways were sure to win.
Lavinia followed in her train,
And ran the self-same road,
Ate sweet-bread first, then chopped-up brains,
Eels, mushrooms, pickled toad.
She cries, 'How flat the home cuisine
After this luscious food!
Puddings and brutal joints of meat,
That once we fancied good!'
And now in all their leisure hours
One resource never fails,
Morning and noon and night they sit
And polish up their nails.
Then if in one short fatal month
A change like this appears,
Oh, what will be the next result
When they have stayed for years?
Tremendous applause greeted this masterly effort, and other poems
were produced with the rapidity of genius by Amanda and Lavinia, each
writing the alternate verse, à la Beaumont and Fletcher, which
gave a peculiar charm to these effusions.
When Matilda was called upon for a festive suggestion, she promptly
replied, with a graceful yawn:
'Let's go to bed.'
The meeting, therefore, broke up, and the younger ladies retired to
their cells in good order. But the Raven, excited by the jocund hour,
continued to rustle and patter about the warm room in a state of
inexpressible hilarity, most exasperating to the others, who desired to
sleep. Not content with upsetting the fire-irons occasionally, singing
to the cat, and slamming the furniture about, this restless bird kept
appearing first at one cell door with a conundrum, then at the other
with a joke, or insisted on telling funny stories in her den, till the
exhausted victims implored her to take an opium pill and subside before
they became furious. She obeyed, and after a few relapses into
wandering and joking, finally slumbered.
Then occurred the one thrilling adventure of this happy journey. In
the darkest hour before dawn Mat awoke, heard a suspicious noise in the
middle room, and asked if Lavinia was on the rampage again. No reply,
and, listening, a low, rasping, rustling sound was heard.
'Thieves, of course. Our watches and purses are on the table, and
Lavinia has probably forgotten to lock the door. I must attend to
this.' And up rose the dauntless Matilda, who feared neither man nor
Grasping her dagger, hitherto used as a paper cutter, but always
eager to be steeped in the gore of brigands, robbers, or beasts of
prey, she crept to the door and peeped in. The pale glow of the fire
showed her a dark figure crouching in the opposite door-way. The click
of a pistol caught her ear, but dodging quickly, the heroic girl cried
sternly from the shelter of Lavinia's bed-curtain,
'Come out, or I'll fire!'
'Mio Dio! is it only you?' answered a familiar voice, as Amanda,
shrouded in a waterproof, sprang up and lit a match.
'What are you prowling about for?' demanded Mat.
'To blow your brains out, apparently,' answered Mandy, lowering her
arms. 'Why are you abroad?'
'To stab you, I fancy,' and Mat sheathed her dagger balked of its
'I heard a noise.'
'So did I.'
'Let's see what it is,' and lighting a candle, the fair Amazons
looked boldly about the shadowy room.
Lavinia lay wrapt in slumber, with only the end of her sarcastic
nose visible beyond the misty cloud that enveloped her venerable
countenance. The outer door was fast, and the shutters closed. No
booted feet appeared below the curtains, no living eyes rolled awfully
in the portrait of the salmon-coloured saint upon the wall. Yet the
rustling and rasping went on, and with one impulse the defenders of
sleeping innocence made for the table in the corner.
There was the midnight robber at his fell work!the big cat
peacefully gnawing the cold chicken, and knocking about the treasured
crusts dragged from the luncheon-basket carefully packed for an early
'Wake and behold the ruin your pet has made!'
'We might be murdered or carried off a dozen times over without her
knowing it. Here's a nice duenna!'
And the indignant ladies shook, pinched, and shouted till the
hapless sleeper opened one eye, and wrathfully demanded what the matter
They told her with eloquent brevity, but instead of praising their
prowess, and thanking them with fervour, the ungrateful woman shut her
eye again, merely saying with drowsy irascibility,
'You told me to go to sleep, and I went; next time fight it out
among yourselves, but don't wake me.'
'Throw the cat out of window and go to bed, Mat,' and Amanda
uncocked her pistol with the resignation of one who had learned not to
expect gratitude in this world.
'Touch a hair of that dear creature and I'll raise the house!' cried
Lavinia, roused at once.
Puss, who had viewed the fray sitting bolt upright on the table, now
settled the vexed question by skipping into Lavinia's arms, feeling
with the instinct of her race that her surest refuge was there. Mat
retired in silent disgust, and the Raven fell asleep soothed by the
grateful purring of her furry friend.
'Last night's experiences have given me a longing for adventures,'
said Mat, as they journeyed on next morning.
'I've had quite enough of that sort,' growled Lavinia.
'Let us read our papers, and wait for time to send us something in
the way of a lark,' and Amanda obscured herself in a grove of damp
Lavinia also took one and read bits aloud to Mat, who was mending
her gloves, bright yellow, four-buttoned, and very dirty.
'Translate as you go alongI do so hate that gabble,' begged Mat,
who would not improve her mind.
So Lavinia gave her a free translation which convulsed Amanda behind
her paper. Coming to this passage, 'Plusieurs faits graves sont
arrivés,' the reader rendered it, 'Several made graves have arrived,'
adding, 'Dear me, what singular customs the French have, to be sure!' A
little farther on she read, 'Un portrait de feu Monsieur mon père,'
adding, 'A fire portrait means a poker sketch, I suppose.'
Here a smothered giggle from Amanda caused the old lady to say
'Bless you!' thinking the dear girl had sneezed.
'I must have some blue cotton to mend my dress with. Remind me to
get some at Moulins. By the way, how do you ask for it in French?' said
Mat, surveying a rent in her skirts.
'Oh, just go in and say, Avez-vous le fils bleu?' replied Lavinia,
with a superior air.
'A blue son! My precious granny, what will you say next?' murmured
Amanda, faint with suppressed laughter.
'What are you muttering about?' asked Granny, sharply.
'Trying to recall those fine lines in Wilhelm Meister; don't you
remember? Wer nie sein Brod mit Thränen ass,' replied Amanda, polite
even at the last gasp.
'I read my Goethe in decent English, and don't know anything about
training asses,' returned Lavinia, severely.
That was too much! Amanda cast her paper down, and had her laugh
out, as the only means of saving herself from suffocation. The others
gazed upon her in blank amazement, till she found breath enough to
enlighten them, when such peals of merriment arose, that the guard
popped his head in to see if he had not unwittingly shipped a load of
'That was splendid! But now we must sober down, for a gorgeous being
is about to get in,' said Amanda, as they stopped at a station.
The gorgeous being entered, and found three demure ladies rapt in
newspapers. They apparently saw nothing but the words before them; yet
every one of them knew that the handsome young man had bowed in the
most superior manner; also, that he was dressed in brown velvet, long
gaiters, buttoned to the knee, a ravishing blue tie, buff gloves, and
pouch and powder-horn slung over his shoulder. Also, that a servant
with two dogs and a gun had touched his hat and said, 'Oui, monsieur le
comte,' as he shut the door.
A slight thrill pervaded the statues as this fact was made known,
and each began to wonder how the elegant aristocrat would behave. To
say that he stared, feebly expresses the fixity of his noble gaze, as
it rested in turn upon the three faces opposite. When satisfied, he
also produced a paper and began to read. But Matilda caught a big,
black eye peering over the sheet more than once, as she peered over the
top of her own.
'I don't like him. Remember, we don't speak French,' whispered the
'I can swear that I don't,' said Lavinia, with an irrepressible
smile, as she remembered the 'blue son.'
'The language of the eye is not forbidden me, and I can't sit baking
under a newspaper all the way,' returned Matilda, whose blond curls had
evidently met with the great creature's approval.
A slight pucker about the Comte's lips caused a thrill of horror to
pervade the ladies, as Amanda murmured under her breath,
'He may understand English!'
'Then we are lost!' returned the tragic Raven.
'Wish he did. I really pine for a little attention. It gives such a
relish to life,' said Matilda, thinking regretfully of the devoted
beings left behind.
The prudent Amanda and the stern Lavinia steeled their hearts, and
iced their countenances to the comely gentleman. But the social Matilda
could not refrain from responding to his polite advances, with a modest
'Merci, Monsieur,' as he drew the curtain for her, a smile when he
picked up the unruly curling-stick, and her best bow as he offered his
paper with a soft glance of the black eyes.
In vain Amanda tried to appal her with awful frowns; in vain Lavinia
trod warningly upon her foot: she paid no heed, and left them no hope
but the saving remembrance that she couldn't talk French.
'If the man don't get out soon, I'll tie her up in my shawl, and
tell him she is mad,' resolved Lavinia, whose spinster soul was always
scandalised at the faintest approach to a flirtation.
'If the man does speak English, Mat will have it all her own way,'
thought Amanda, remembering the vow imposed upon the reckless girl.
Alas, alas for the anxious twain! The man did not get out
soon, the man did speak English, and in ten minutes Matilda was
off, like a colt without a halter. The anguish of her keepers added
zest to the fun, and finding that the gentleman evidently thought her
the lady of the party (owing to the yellow gloves, smartest hat, and
irreproachable boots), and the others in sober gray and black, were
maid and duenna, this reprehensible girl kept up the joke, put on airs,
and enjoyed that flirtatious hour to her heart's content.
As if to punish the others for their distrust, and to reward Mat's
interest in him, M. le Comte devoted himself to Mademoiselle, telling
her about his hunting, his estate, and finished by inviting her and her
party to call and view his château, if they ever paused at the
town, which had the honour of being his summer residence. Mat responded
to all these courtesies with confiding sweetness, and when at length he
was desolated at being obliged to tear himself away, she
'Gave sigh for sigh,'
as he retired with a superb bow, a gallant 'Bon voyage, mesdames,'
and a wicked twinkle of the black eyes as they rested on the faces of
the frozen ladies.
'I got rather the best of the joke in that little affair: didn't I?'
said Mat, gayly, as the brown velvet Adonis vanished.
'You are a disgrace to your party and your nation,' sternly
Lavinia spoke not, but shook her little sister till the hat flew off
her head, and she had only breath enough left to declare with
unquenched ardour that she would do it again the very next chance she
Lectures, laughter, and longings for 'my Comte' beguiled the
remainder of the way, and Moulang (as Mat pronounced Moulins)
was reached after a pleasant trip through a green country, picturesque
with the white cattle of Berri. There was not much to see, but the town
was so quaint and quiet, that Amanda was seized with one of her
'Let us find a little house somewhere and stay a week or two. I fain
would rest and ruminate among the white cows for a while; have a little
washing done, and slowly prepare to emerge into the world again. Lyons
is our next point, and there we must bid adieu to freedom and
'Very well, dear,' responded Lavinia, with resignation, having
learned that the best way to curb these aberrations of genius was to
give in, and let circumstances prove their impracticability.
So Amanda inquired of the landlady if such a rustic cot could be
found. Whereupon the dingy little woman clasped her dingy little hands,
and declared that she had exactly the charming retreat desired. Truly
yes, and she would at once make her toilette, order out the carriage,
and display this lovely villa to the dear ladies.
With many misgivings the three squeezed themselves into a square
clothes-basket on wheels, drawn by an immense, bony, white horse,
driven by a striped boy, and adorned by Madame, in a towering bonnet,
laden with amazing fruit, flowers, and vegetables. Lavinia counted
three tomatoes, a bunch of grapes, poppies and pansies, wheat ears and
blackberry-vines, a red, red rose, and one small lettuce, with glass
dewdrops and green grubs lavishly sprinkled over it. A truly superb
chapeau and a memorable one.
Away they trundled through stony streets, dusty roads, waste
grounds, marshy meadows, and tumbled-down pleasure-gardens, till the
clothes-basket turned down a lane, and the bony horse stopped at length
before a door in a high red wall.
'Behold!' cried madame, leading them with much clanking of keys,
into a cabbage-garden. A small tool-house stood among the garden-stuff,
with brick floors, very dirty windows, and the atmosphere of a tomb.
Bags of seed, wheel-barrows, onions, and dust cumbered the ground.
Empty bottles stood on the old table, cigar ends lay thick upon the
hearth, and a trifle of gay crockery adorned the mantel-piece.
'See, then, here is a salon, so cool, so calm. Above is a
room with beds, and around the garden where the ladies can sit all day.
A maid can achieve the breakfast here, and my carriage can come for
them to dine at the hotel. Is it not charmingly arranged?
'It is simply awful,' said Mat, aghast at the prospect.
'Settle it as you like, dear, only I'm afraid I couldn't stay
very long on account of the dampness,' observed Lavinia,
cheerfully, as she put a hoe-handle under her feet and wiped the blue
mould from a three-legged chair.
'It won't do, so I'll tell her you are an invalid and very
particular,' said Amanda, with another inspiration, as she led the
landlady forth to break the blow tenderly.
'My neuralgia is useful if it isn't ornamental; and what a comfort
that is!' said Lavinia, as she lightly threw a large cockroach out of
window, dodged a wasp, and crushed a fat spider.
And so it was in many ways. If the party wanted a car to themselves,
Granny was ordered to lie down and groan dismally, which caused other
travellers to shun the poor invalid. If rooms did not suit, suffering
Madame must have sun or perish. Late lunches, easy carriages,
extra blankets, every sort of comfort was for her, whether she wanted
them or not.
'Shall I be sick or well?' was always the first question when an
invitation came, for 'my sister's delicate health' was the standing
excuse when parties palled, or best gowns were not get-at-able.
While Amanda conferred with the hostess among the cabbages, Mat
discovered that the picturesque white cattle in the field close by were
extremely fierce and unsocial; that there was no house in sight, and
the venerable horse and shay would never sustain many trips to and fro
to dinner at the hotel. Lavinia poked about the house, and soon
satisfied herself that it abounded in every species of what Fanny
Kemble calls 'entomological inconvenience,' and an atmosphere admirably
calculated to introduce cholera to the inhabitants of Moulins.
'It is all settled; let us return,' said Amanda, appearing at last
with an air of triumph, having appeased the old lady by eating green
currants, and admiring an earwiggy arbour, commanding a fine view of a
marsh where frogs were piping and cool mists rising as the sun set.
The chickens were tough at dinner, the wine bitter, the bread sour,
but no one reproached Amanda as the cause of this change. And when the
hostess bowed them out, next day, without a smile, they drove away,
conscious only of deep gratitude that they were saved from leaving
their bones to moulder among the cabbages of Moulins.
'Now we return to civilisation, good clothes, and Christian food,'
said Lavinia, as they surveyed their fine rooms at the Grand Hotel,
'Likewise letters and luggage,' added Amanda, as the maid brought in
a bundle of letters, and two porters came bumping up with the trunks.
'Well, I've enjoyed the trip immensely, though nothing very
remarkable has happened,' said Mat, diving into her private ark with
'I should like to wander in the wilderness for years, if I could
hear from my family at intervals,' said Lavinia, briskly breaking open
the plump, travel-worn letters.
'Then you consider our trip a success?' asked Amanda, pausing in the
act of removing the dust from her noble countenance.
'A perfect success! We have done what we planned, had no mishaps,
seen and enjoyed much, quarrelled not at all, laughed a great deal, and
been altogether festive, thanks to you. I shall hang my shawl-strap on
the castle wall as a trophy of the prowess of my Amanda, and the
success of the last Declaration of American Independence,' replied
'I, also,' said Mat, opening her bundle for the one hundreth and
'You do me proud; I humbly thank you,' and with a superb curtsy the
commander-in-chief modestly retired behind the towel.
'My children, listen to the words of wisdom ere it is too late,'
began Lavinia, as the three sat about in dressing-gowns after a busy
day in Geneva.
'We listen, go on, Granny,' replied the irreverent girls.
'If we stay here a week longer, we are ruined. Firstly, this
Metropole is an expensive hotel; also noisy and full of fashionable
people, whom I hate. Secondly, the allurements of the jewellers' shops
are too much for us, and we had better flee before we spend all our
money. Thirdly, if war does break out along the Rhine, as rumour now
predicts, Geneva will be crammed with people whose plans, like ours,
are upset; therefore we had better skip across the lake, and secure a
comfortable place for ourselves at Vevey or Montreaux, for we shall
probably have to winter there.'
'Hear, hear! we will do it, and if Italy doesn't get over her
revolution in time for us to go to Rome, we must content ourselves with
some nook in this refuge for all wanderers on the face of the
continent,' said Amanda.
'But I like Geneva so much. It's such fun to watch the splendid
waiters file in at dinner, looking like young gentlemen ready for a
ball; the house is so gay, and the shops!never did I dream of such
richness before. Do stay another week and buy a few more things,'
prayed Matilda, who spent most of her time gloating over the jewelry,
and tempting her sister to buy all manner of useless gauds.
'No: we will go to-morrow. I know of several good pensions at
Vevey, so we are sure of getting in somewhere. Pack at once, and let us
flee,' returned Lavinia, who, having bought a watch, a ring, and a
locket, felt that it was time to go.
And go they did, settling for a month at Bex, a little town up the
valley of the Rhone, remarkable for its heat, its dirt, its lovely
scenery, and the remarkable perfection to which its inhabitants had
brought the goître, nearly every one being blessed with an
unsightly bunch upon the neck, which they decorated with ribbons and
proudly displayed to the disgusted traveller.
Here in the rambling old Hôtel des Bains, with its balconies,
gardens, and little rooms, the wanderers reposed for a time. A Polish
countess, with her lover, daughter, and governess, conferred
distinction upon the house. An old Hungarian count, who laboured under
the delusion that he descended in a direct line from Zenobia, also
adorned the scene. An artist with two pretty boys, named Alfred
Constable Landseer Reynolds and Allston West Cuyp Vandyke, afforded
Matilda much satisfaction.
English mammas with prim daughters of thirty or so still tied to
their apron-strings were to be found, of course, for they are
everywhere; also wandering French folk raving about the war one minute
and tearing their hair over bad coffee the next.
Amanda read newspapers and talked politics with the old count; while
Lavinia, with a paper bag of apricots under one arm and a volume of
Disraeli's novels under the other, spent her shining hours wandering
from balcony to garden, enjoying the heat, which gave her a short
respite from her woes.
While here Matilda, in company with a kindred soul, made the ascent
of Mount St. Bernard with the pleasing accompaniments of wind, rain,
thunder, and lightning. But the irrepressible Americans went on in
spite of warnings from more prudent travellers who stopped half-way.
With one mule and a guide for escort, the two enthusiasts waded swollen
streams with ice-cold water up to their knees, climbed slippery roads,
faced what seemed a whirlwind at that height, and, undaunted by the
uproar of the elements, pressed on to the Hospice, to the great
admiration of Moritz, the guide, who told them he had seldom taken men
up in such a storm, never ladies.
At the Hospice the dripping lasses found a hospitable welcome from
the handsome monk who does the honours there. Being provided with dry
garments, and having much fun over the tall Matilda draped in skirts of
many colours in the attempt to get any long enough, they were fed and
warmed by the engaging monk, who entertained them as they sat about a
roaring fire while the storm raged without, with thrilling tales of the
travellers they had saved, the wild adventures they had known in the
dreadful winter time, and the gifts bestowed upon them by grateful
travellers or generous guests.
The Prince of Wales had sent them a piano, and many fine pictures
ornamented the walls from famous persons. An old English lady who
spends her summers up there seemed much amused at the prank of the
girls, and evidently wondered what their guardians were about.
A merry and memorable evening; and when, on going to their cells,
they found the beds nicely warmed, Matilda exclaimed,
'This is the most delightful of the romantic and the comfortable I
ever saw. Alps and warming-pans taken jintly are delicious!'
At five next morning they were wakened by the chanting of the
invisible brotherhood, and went down to the chapel for mass. On going
out for a clamber on the rocks, seven or eight great dogs came baying
and leaping about them, licking their hands and smelling their garments
to see if they were hurt. Looking into their bright, benevolent eyes,
one could well believe the wonderful tales told of their courage and
sagacity. Though so powerful and large they were gentle as kittens, and
the dog-loving girls were proud to receive and return the caresses of
these four-footed heroes.
Leaving a grateful souvenir in the box intended to receive
whatever guests choose to leave, the girls descended in the morning
sunshine, finding it a very different experience from the ascent. All
was clear and calm now,beautiful and grand; and only pausing at M. to
send back a fine engraving to the comely priest, who had made a deep
impression on their romantic hearts, the enfants returned to
their anxious friends, mildewed, rumpled, and weary, but full of
enthusiastic delight over their successful ascent of St. Bernard.
War broke out, and Alexandre, the all-accomplished head-waiter,
dropped his napkin, shouldered his gun, and marched away, leaving the
Hôtel des Bains desolate. Being pretty thoroughly baked, and very weary
of the little town, our trio departed to Vevey, and settled down in the
best pension that ever received the weary traveller.
Standing in its own pretty grounds, and looking out upon the lake,
Pension Paradis deserves its name. Clean and cosy within, a good table,
a kindly hostess, and the jolliest old host ever seen! what more could
the human heart desire?
Vevey was swarming with refugees. Don Carlos, or the Duke de Madrid,
as he was called, was there with his Duchess and court, plotting heaven
knows what up at his villa, with the grave, shabby men who haunted the
Queen Isabella reigned at one hotel, and Spanish grandees pervaded
the place. There were several at Pension Paradis, and no one guessed
what great creatures they were till a fête day arrived, and the
grim, gray men blossomed out into counts, marquises, and generals
covered with orders, stars, and crosses splendid to behold.
One particularly silent, shabby little man with a shaven head and
fine black eyes, who was never seen to smile, became an object of
interest on that occasion by appearing in a gorgeous uniform with a
great gilt grasshopper hanging down his back from a broad green ribbon.
Who was he? What did the grasshopper mean? Where did he go to in a fine
carriage, and what was he plotting with the other Carlists, who dodged
in and out of his room at all hours?
No one ever knew, and all the artful questions put to the young
Spaniard, who played croquet with the girls, were unavailing. Nothing
was discovered, except that little Mirandola had a title, and might be
sent back to Spain any day to lose his life or liberty in some rash
plot, which circumstance made the black-eyed boy doubly interesting to
the free-born Americans. Lavinia bewailed his hard lot, Amanda taught
him whist and told his fortune, and Matilda put him in her sketch-book
done in the blackest India-ink. It is also to be recorded that the
doomed little Don was never seen to laugh but once, and that was when
the girls taught him the classical game of Muggins. The name struck
him; he went about saying it to himself, and on the first occasion of
his being 'mugginsed,' he was so tickled that he indulged in a hearty
boy's laugh; but immediately recovered himself, and never smiled again,
as if in penance for so forgetting his dignity.
A bashful Russian, who wore remarkably fine broadcloth and had
perfect manners, was likewise received into the good graces of the
ladies, who taught him English, called him 'the Baron' in private, and
covered him with confusion in public by making him talk at table.
But the most amusing of all the family was Madame A., a handsome
widow from Lyons, with two ugly children and a stout old mamma, who
wore orange stockings and a curious edifice of black lace encircled
with large purple asters. The widow had married an Italian artist, who
was mortally jealous of his wife, whose blonde beauty attracted much
attention at Rome. In some quarrel with a model the husband was
stabbed, and the handsome widow left in peace.
A tall, fair lady, with a profile like Marie Antoinette; she dressed
in white with violet ribbons, and wore much ancient jewelry. A
loud-voiced, energetic woman, who bewailed the sack of her house at
Lyons, scolded her children, and cursed the Germans with equal
volubility and spirit. When silent she was the picture of a patrician
beauty; but, alas! her voice destroyed the charm, and her
mannersgreat heavens, what things that woman did! Picking her pearly
teeth with a hair-pin, and knocking her darlings into their chairs with
one sweep of her elbow when they annoyed her at table, were the least
of the horrors she perpetrated.
But she talked well, devoted herself to her family, and took
misfortune bravely; so much may be pardoned her.
Her infants were only remarkable for their ugliness and curious
costumes. The little girl usually wore soiled silk gowns, and had her
hair tied up with bits of twine. The boy appeared in a suit of yellow
calico spotted with black, looking very much like a canary bird who had
fallen into an inkstand. On festival occasions he wore white cloth
raiment, with red ribbons stuck here and there, and high red boots.
But, on the whole, the old mamma was the queerest of the set; for
she spent most of her time lumbering up and down stairs, which
amusement kept the orange hose constantly before the public. When not
disporting herself in this way, she dozed in the salon, or
consumed much food at table with a devotion that caused her to suck her
fingers, on every one of which shone an antique ring of price. Her
head-gear was a perpetual puzzle to the observing Lavinia, who could
never discover whether it was a cap, a bonnet, or a natural production,
for it was never off. Madame walked out in it, wore it all day, and
very likely slept in it. At least Lavinia firmly believed so, and often
beguiled the watches of the night, imagining the old soul placidly
slumbering with the perennial asters encircling her aged brow like a
One other party there was who much amused the rest of the household.
An American lady with a sickly daughter, who would have been pretty but
for her affectation and sentimentality. The girl was engaged to a
fierce, dissipated little Russian, who presented her with a big bouquet
every morning, followed her about all day like a dog, and glared
wrathfully at any man who cast an eye upon the languishing damsel in
white muslin and flowing curls 'bedropt with pearls,' as a romantic
lady expressed it.
It was evident that the Russian without any vowels in his name was
going to marry Mademoiselle for her money, and the weak Mamma was full
of satisfaction at the prospect. To others it seemed a doubtful
bargain, and much pity was felt for the feeble girl doomed to go to
Russia with a husband who had 'tyrant' written in every line of his
bad, blasé little face and figure. French polish could not hide
the brute, nor any quantity of flowers conceal the chain by which he
was leading his new serf away to bondage in St. Petersburg.
Into the midst of this select society came a countryman of our
three,a jocund youth fresh from Algiers, with relics, adventures, and
tales that utterly eclipsed the 'Arabian Nights.' Festive times
followed, for the 'Peri' (the pet name of aforesaid youth) gave them
the fruits of his long wanderings, sung whole operas heard in Paris,
danced ballets seen in Berlin, recounted perils among the Moors, served
up gossip from the four corners of the globe, and conversed with each
member of the household in his or her own language.
A cheerful comrade was the 'Peri,' and a great addition to the
party, who now spent most of their time sitting about the town, eating
grapes, and listening to the pranks of this sprightly M.D., who seemed
to be studying his profession by wandering over Europe with a guitar
à la troubadour.
Sounding the lungs of a veiled princess in Morocco was the least of
his adventures, and the treasures he had collected supplied Lavinia
with materials for unlimited romances: cuff-buttons made from bits of
marble picked up among the ruins of Carthage; diamond crescents and
ear-rings bought in Toledo, so antique and splendid that relic-loving
Amanda raved about them; photographs of the belles of
Constantinople, Moorish coins and pipes, bits of curious Indian
embroidery; and, best of all, the power of telling how each thing was
found in so graphic a manner that Eastern bazaars, ruins, and palaces
seemed to rise before the listeners as in the time of the magic
story-tellers. But all too soon he packed his knapsack, and promising
to bring each of his friends the nose or ear of one of the shattered
saints from the great cathedral at Strasbourg, the 'Peri' vanished from
Paradis, and left them all lamenting.
The little flurry in Italy ending peacefully, our travellers after
much discussion resolved to cross the Alps and spend the winter in
Rome, if possible. So with tragic farewells from those they left behind
them, who, hoping to keep them longer, predicted all manner of
misfortunes, the three strong-minded ladies rumbled away in the
coupé of a diligence to Brieg.
A lovely day's journey up the valley of the Rhone, and a short
night's rest in the queer little town at the foot of the mountains.
Before light the next morning they were called, and, after a hurried
breakfast in a stony hall, went shivering out into the darkness, and,
stumbling through the narrow street, came to the starting-point.
Lanterns were dancing about the square, two great diligences loomed up
before them, horses were tramping, men shouting, and eager travellers
scrambling for places. In the dimly lighted office, people were
clamouring for tickets, scolding at the delay, or grimly biding their
time in corners, with one eye asleep, and the other sharply watching
'Isn't it romantic?' cried Matilda, wide awake, and in a twitter of
'It is frightfully cold; and I don't see how we are going, for both
those caravans are brimful,' croaked Lavinia, chafing her purple nose,
and wishing it had occurred to her to buy a muff before going to sunny
'I have got through tickets, and some one is bound to see us over
these snow-banks, so trust in Providence and the other man, and we
shall come out right, I assure you,' replied the energetic Amanda, who
had conferred with a spectral being in the darkness, and blindly put
her faith in him.
Away lumbered one diligence after the other, the first drawn by
seven horses, the second by five, while the carrier's little cart with
one brought up the rear. But still three muffled ladies sat upon a cool
stone in the dark square, waiting for the spectre to keep his promise.
He did like a man; for suddenly the doors of an old stable flew
open, and out rattled a comfortable carriage with a pair of stout
little horses jingling their bells, and a brisk driver, whose voice was
pleasant, as he touched his hat and invited the ladies to enter,
assuring them that they would soon overtake and pass the heavy
diligences before them.
'Never again will I doubt you, my Amanda,' cried the Raven, packing
herself into the dowager's corner with a grateful heart.
'I hope the top of this carriage opens, for I must see
everything,' cried Matilda, prancing about on the front seat in a
chaos of wraps, books, bottles, and lunch-baskets.
'Of course it does, and when there is anything to see we will see
it. It is dark and cold now, so we'd better all go to sleep again.'
With which sage remark, Amanda burrowed into her cloaks and
slumbered. But not the other two. Matilda stuck her head out of one
window, uttering little cries of wonder and delight at all she saw;
while Livy watched the solemn stars pale one by one as the sky
brightened, and felt as if she were climbing up, out of a dark valley
of weariness and pain, into a new world full of grand repose.
Slowly winding higher and higher through the damp pine forest,
softly stirring in the morning wind, they saw the sky warm from its
cold gray to a rosy glow, making ready for the sun to rise as they
never saw it rise before.
'Full many a glorious morning have I seen,
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,'
but never more wonderfully than on that day. Long after the distant
peaks flamed in the ruddy light, they rode in shadow; but turning
suddenly round a corner, the sun came dazzling through a great gorge,
startling them with the splendour it brought.
Down went the carriage-top, and standing bolt upright, three pairs
of eager eyes drank in the grandeur and the beauty that makes the
crossing of the Simplon an experience to live for ever in the memory.
Peak after peak of the Bernese Oberland rose behind them, silver white
against a wonderful blue sky. Before them Monte Rosa, touched with the
morning red, and all around great glaciers glittering in the sunshine,
awful gorges with torrents thundering from the heights above, relics of
land-slides and avalanches still visible in uprooted trees, boulders
tumbled here and there, and ruins of shepherds' huts in solitary nooks
where sheep now feed.
The road crept in and out, over frail bridges, spanning chasms that
made one dizzy to look into, through tunnels of solid rock, or
galleries with windows over which poured waterfalls from the
treacherous glaciers above. This road is a miracle in itself, for all
nature seems to protest against it, and the elements never tire of
trying to destroy it. Only a Napoleon would have had the audacity to
dream of such a path, and it is truly a royal road into a lovely land.
Passing the diligences the little carriage went rapidly on, and soon
the three were almost alone. Out leaped Lavinia and Matilda, and walked
along the level way that curved round a great gorge.
'Go on and let me be. It is all so magnificent it almost takes my
breath away. I must just sit a minute, like a passive bucket, and let
it pour into me,' said Lavinia, in a solemn tone.
Mat understood; for her own heart and soul were full, and with a
silent kiss of sympathy, walked on, leaving her sister to enjoy that
early mass in a grander cathedral than any built with hands.
In spite of the sunshine it was very cold, and when the three met
again their noses looked like the eldest Miss Pecksniff's, 'as if
Aurora had nipped and tweaked it with her rosy fingers.' Subsiding into
their places with pale, excited faces, they went silently on for a long
time, with no sound but the chime of the bells on the horses who were
covered with a light hoar-frost. Wrapped up to their eyes, like
Egyptian women, sat Livy and Amanda; while Matilda, having tried to
sketch Monte Rosa, and given it up, made a capital caricature of them
as they ate cold chicken, and drank wine, in a primitive manner, out of
It was a sudden descent from the sublime to the ridiculous; but the
feeble human mind cannot bear too much glory at once, and is saved by
the claims of the prosaic body, that will get tired and hungry even
atop of the everlasting hills. So the enthusiasts picked their chicken
bones, sipped their wine, and felt less exhausted and hysterical. A
good laugh over the carrier's little boy, who sniffed the banquet afar
off, and came running to offer a handful of pale Alpine flowers, with
wistful glances at the lunch, did them more good still: for the little
chap caught and bolted the morsels they gave him with such dexterous
rapidity, it was as good as juggling.
Refuges and the Hospice came in sight one after the other, and while
waiting to change horses one had time to wonder how the people living
there managed to be such a stolid, dirty, thriftless-looking set.
Mountaineers should be intelligent, active, and hardy; but these men
were a most ungainly crew, and Lavinia's theories got a sad blow.
A bad dinner at Simplon would have been an affliction at any other
time; but with the Valley of Gondo for dessert, no one cared for other
food. Following the wild stream that had worn its way between the
immense cliffs, they drove rapidly down towards Italy, feeling that
this was a fit gateway to the promised land.
At Iselle, on the frontier, they enacted a little farce for the
benefit of the custom-house officers. Lavinia and Amanda had old
passports, and had been told they would be needed. Mat had none, so she
was ordered to try the rôle of maid. Before they arrived, she
took out her ear-rings, tied up her curls under a dingy veil, put on a
waterproof, and tried to assume the demure air of an Abigail.
When they alighted, she was left to guard the wraps in the carriage
while the others went with the luggage, expecting to have much trouble;
for all manner of hindrances had been predicted owing to the unsettled
state of the country. Nothing could be simpler, however; no passports
were demanded, a very careless search of luggage, and it was all over.
So Matilda threw off her disguise, and ascended the diligence in her
own character, for here, alas! they left the cozy little carriage with
the affable driver and the jingling bells.
Only two places could be found in the crowded diligences, and great
was the fuss till Amanda was invited up aloft by a friendly gentleman
who had a perch behind, large enough for two. There they discussed
theology and politics to their hearts' content, and at parting the
worthy man cut his book in two, and gave Amanda half that she might
refresh herself with a portion of some delightfully dry work on
Druidical Remains, Protoplasm, or the state of the church before the
The force of contrast makes the charm of this entry into Italy; for,
after the grandeur of the Alps and the gloomy wildness of Gondo, the
smiling scene is doubly lovely as one drives down to Domo d'Ossola.
Weariness, hunger, and sleep were quite forgotten; and when our
travellers came to Lago Maggiore, glimmering in the moonlight, they
could only sigh for happiness, and look and look and look.
'Victory has perched upon our banners so far, I am sure, for never
was a trip more delightful. It is not every stranger who is fortunate
enough to see sunrise, noonday, sunset, and moonlight in crossing the
Alps,' said Matilda, as she fell into her bed quite exhausted by the
excitement of the day.
'I feel a richer, better woman for it, and don't believe I shall
ever see anything more satisfactory if I stay in Italy ten years,'
responded Lavinia, wrapping the red army-blanket
'Like a martial cloak around her.'
'Wait till the spell of Rome is upon you, and then see what you will
feel, my Granny' predicted Amanda, who had felt the spell, and
had not yet escaped from it.
'Don't believe it will suit me half so well,' persisted Livy, who
would prefer nature to art, much to Amanda's disgust.
'We shall see,' observed Amanda, with the exasperating mildness of
'We shall!' and Livy tied her cap in a hard knot as if to settle the
Sleep as deep, dreamless, and refreshing as if the beneficent spirit
of Carlo Borromeo still haunted the enchanted lake, prepared the three
for a day of calm delights. The morning was spent floating over the
lake in a luxuriously cushioned boat with a gay awning and a
picturesque rower, to visit Isola Bella. Everyone knows what a little
Paradise has been made to blossom on that rock; so raptures over the
flowers, the marbles, the panniers of lovely fruit, and the dirty,
pretty children who offered them, are unnecessary.
In the afternoon, having despatched the luggage to Florence, our
travellers sailed away to Luini, catching last glimpses of Monte Rosa,
and enjoying the glories of an Italian sunset on an Italian lake. At
Luini the girls caused much excitement by insisting on sitting up with
the driver instead of sharing the coupé with their decorous
duenna. 'We must see the lovely views and the moonlight,' said
Amanda, and up she went.
'To sit aloft with a brigandish driver dressed in a scarlet and
black uniform, with a curly horn slung over his shoulder, and to go
tearing up hill and down with four frisky horses, is irresistible,' and
up skipped Matilda.
'You will both catch your death of cold, if you don't break your
necks, so it will be well to have some one to nurse or bury you,' and
Lavinia, finding commands and entreaties vain, entered the coupé
with mournful dignity.
With a toot of the horn, and cheers from the crowd, which the girls
gracefully acknowledged, away rumbled the diligence, with at least two
very happy occupants. How lovely it was! First, the soft twilight
wrapping everything in mysterious shadow, and then the slow uprising of
a glorious full moon, touching the commonest object with its magical
light. Cries of rapture from the girls atop were answered by
exclamations from Livy, hanging half out of the coupé regardless
of night air, or raps on the head from overhanging boughs, as they went
climbing up woody hills, or dashing down steep roads that wound so
sharply round corners, it was a wonder the airy passengers did not fly
off at every lurch. Rattling into quiet little towns with a grand
'tootle-te-too' of the horn was an especial delight, and to see the
people gather so quickly that they seemed to spring from the ground. A
moment's chatter, a drink for the horses, a soft 'Felice notte,'
another toot, and away thundered the diligence for miles more of
moonlight, summer air, and the ecstasy of rapid motion.
What that dear, brown driver with the red vest, the bobtailed,
buttony coat, and the big yellow tassels dancing from his hat brim,
thought of those two American damsels we shall never know. But it may
be imagined that, after his first bewilderment, he enjoyed himself; for
Amanda aired her Italian and asked many questions. Matilda invited him
to perform national airs on all occasions, and both admired him as
openly as if he had been a pretty child.
Lavinia always cherished a dark suspicion that she narrowly escaped
destruction on that eventful night; for, judging from the frequent
melody, and the speed of the horses, she was sure that either Amanda
tooted and Matilda drove, or that both so bewildered the brigand that
he lost his head. However, it was all so delightful that even Granny
felt the charm, and was sure that if they did upset in some romantic
spot, a Doctor Antonio would spring up as quickly as a mushroom, and
mend their bones, marry one of her giddy charges, and end the affair in
the most appropriate manner.
Nothing happened, fortunately, and by nine o'clock they were safely
at Lugano, and, tearing themselves from the dear brigand, were taken
possession of by a shadowy being, who fed them in a marble hall with
statues ten feet high glaring at them as they ate, then led them to a
bower which had pale green doors, a red carpet, blue walls, and yellow
bed covers,all so gay it was like sleeping in a rainbow.
As if another lovely lake under the windows, and moonlight ad
libitum, was not enough, they had music also. Lavinia scorned the
idea of sleep, and went prowling about the rooms, hanging over the
balconies, and doing the romantic in a style that was a disgrace to her
years. She it was who made the superb discovery that the music they
heard came from across the way, and that by opening a closet window
they could look into a theatre and see the stage.
All rushed at once and beheld an opera in full blast, heartily
enjoying the unusual advantages of their position; for not only could
they hear the warblers, but see them when the curtain was down. What a
thing it was to see Donna Anna do up her black hair, Don Giovanni dance
a jig, and stately Ottavio imbibe refreshment out of a black bottle,
and the ghostly Commander prance like a Punchinello as they got him
The others soon succumbed to sleep; but, till long after midnight,
old Livy wandered like a ghost from the front balcony, with the lovely
lake, to the closet window and its dramatic joys, feeling that no
moment of that memorable night should be lost, for what other traveller
could boast that she ever went to the opera wrapped in a yellow
On the morrow a few pictures of Luini before breakfast, and then
more sailing over lakes, and more driving in festive diligences to
Menaggio, where a boat like a market waggon without wheels bore them
genteelly to Cadenabbia, and a week of repose on the banks of Lago
Their palace did not 'lift its marble walls to eternal summer' by
any means; for it rained much, and was so cold that some took to their
beds for warmth, stone floors looking like castile-soap not being just
the thing for rheumatism. Hand-organs, dancing-bears, two hotels, one
villa, no road but the lake, and an insinuating boatman with one eye
who lay in wait among the willows, and popped out to grab a passenger
when anyone ventured forth, are all that remains in the memory
A few extracts from Lavinia's note-book may be found useful at this
point, both as a speedy way of getting our travellers to Rome, and for
the bold criticisms on famous places and pictures which they contain:
'Milan.Cathedral like a big wedding-cake. Last Supper in the
barracksdid not thrill; tried to, but couldn't, as the picture is
so dim it can hardly be seen. Ambrosian Library.Lock of L. Borgia's
hair; tea-coloured and coarse. Don't believe in it a bit. Jolly old
books, but couldn't touch 'em. Fine window to Dante. Saw cathedral
illuminated; very theatrical, and much howling of people over the
deputies from Rome. Don't know why they illuminated or why they howled;
didn't ask. Men here handsome, but rude. Women wear veils and no
bonnets,fat and ugly. Gloves very good.Arch of Peace.More peace
and less arch would be better for Italy.
'Raphael's Marriage of the Virgin.Stiff and stupid. Can't like
Raphael. Dear, pious, simple, old Fra Angelico suits me better.
'To the Public Garden with A.; saw a black ostrich with long pink
legs, who pranced and looked so like an opera dancer that we sat on the
fence and shrieked with laughter.
'Pavia.To the Certosa to see the old Carthusian Convent founded in
1396; cloisters, gardens, and twenty-four little dwellings, with
chapel, bedroom, parlour, and yard for each monk, who is never to
speak, and comes out but once a week. A nice way for lazy men to spend
their lives when there is so much work to be done for the Lord and his
poor! Wanted to shake them all round, though they did look well in
their gowns and cowls gliding about the dim cloisters and church.
Perhaps they are kept for that purpose.
'Parma.Dome of church frescoed by Correggio. All heaven
upsidedown; fat angels turning somersaults, saints like butchers, and
martyrs simpering feebly. Like C.'s babies much better. Heaven can't be
painted, and they'd better not try. Madonna, by Girolamo, was lovely.
Room of the Abbess, with rosy children peeping through the lattice,
very charming. Madonna della Scodellathe boy Christ very charming.
The old Farnese Theatre most interesting; got a scrap of canvas from a
mouldy scene. Dead old place is Parma.
'Bologna.Drove in a pelting rain to the Academy, and saw many
pictures. A Pietà, by Guido, was very striking. The desolate mother,
with her dead son on her knees, haunted me long afterwards. St. Jerome
and the infant Christ, by Elizabeth Sirani, I liked. Raphael won't suit
yet. Sad for me, but I cannot admire Madonnas with faces like
fashion-plates, or dropsical babies with no baby sweetness about them.
'Florence.Bought furs. Nice climate to bring invalids into. Always
did think Italy a humbug, and I begin to see I was right. Acres of
pictures. Like about six out of the lot. Can't bear the Venus, or
Titian's famous hussy hanging over it. Like his portraits much. Busts
of Roman emperors great fun. Such bad heads! The Julias, Faustinas, and
Agrippinas, with hair dressed like a big sponge on the brow, were so
comical I was never tired of looking at them. I see now where the
present bedlamite style of coiffure comes from.
'The philosophers, &c., were very interesting. Cicero so like
Wendell Phillips that I could hardly help clapping my hands and saying,
'Gave A. a sad blow by saying the Campanile looked like an inlaid
work-box. Did not admire it half so much as I did a magnificent stone
pine. Best of all, saw in the old Monastery of St. Marco many works of
Fra Angelico. I love his pictures, for he put his pious heart into
them, and one sees and feels it, and I don't care if his saints do have
six joints to their fingers and impossible noses. A very dear picture
of Providenza,poor monks at an empty table and angels bringing
'Angelico's picture of heaven was more to my mind than any I have
seen. No stern, avenging God, no silly Madonna, but happy souls playing
like children, or singing and piping with devout energy.
'Relics of Savonarola,his cell, bust, beads, hair-cloth shirt, and
a bit of wood from the pile on which they burnt him. I like relics of
one man who really lived, worked, and suffered, better than armies of
angels, or acres of gods and goddesses.
'Pleasant drives. Saw artists, Casa Guidi windows, and a model baby
house with dolly's name on the door, and steps modelled by hands that
have made famous statues. Papa's baby house was best of all his works
to me. A nice little earthquake and a trifle of snow to enhance the
charms of this sweet spot.
'Visited Parker's grave, and was afflicted to find it in such an
unlovely, crowded cemetery. It does not matter after all: his best
monument is in the hearts that love him and the souls he fed. As I
stood there a little brown bird hopped among the vines that covered the
grave, pecked its breakfast from a dry seed-pod, perched on the
head-stone with a grateful twitter, as grace after meat, and flew away,
leaving me comforted by the little sermon it had preached.'
'I don't wish to hurt your feelings, dear, but if this is Rome I
must say it is a very nasty place,' began Lavinia, as they went
stumbling through the mud and confusion of a big, unfinished station on
their arrival at the eternal city.
'People of sense don't judge a place at ten o'clock of a pitch-dark,
rainy night, especially if they are hungry, tired, and, excuse me,
love, rather cross,' returned Amanda, severely, as they piled into a
carriage and drove to Piazzi di Spagna.
'I see a divine fountain! A splendid palace! Now it's a statue of
some sort! I do believe that dark figure was a monk! I know I shall
like it in spite of everything,' cried Matilda excitedly, flattening
her nose against the window.
She had been much disappointed at not being able to enter Rome by
daylight, so that she might clasp her hands and cry aloud, half-stifled
with the overpowering emotions of the moment, 'Roma! Roma! the eternal
city, bursts upon my view!' That was the proper thing to do, and it was
a blow to make so commonplace and ignoble an entry into the city of her
Early next morning, Livy was roused from slumber by cries of
delight, and, starting up, beheld her artist sister wrapped in a
dressing-gown, with dishevelled hair, staring out of the window, and
'Spanish Steps, that's where the models sit. Propaganda, famous
Jesuit school. Hope I shall see the little students in their funny hats
and gowns. That's the great monument thing put up to settle the
Immaculate Conception fuss. Very fine, but the apostles look
desperately tired of holding it up. Dear old houses! Heavens! there's a
trattoria man with somebody's breakfast on his head! Don't see any
costumes. Where are the sheepskin suits? the red skirts and white
head-cloths? Girl with flowers. Oh, how lovely! Mercy on us, there's an
officer staring up here, and I never saw him!'
In came the blond head, and the blue dressing-gown vanished from the
eyes of the handsome soldier who had been attitudinizing with his high
boots, gray and scarlet cloak, jingling sword, and becoming barrette
cap, for the especial benefit of the enraptured stranger.
'Livy, it is just superb! Get up and come out at once. It is
clouding up, and I must have one look or lose my mind,' said Matilda,
flying about with unusual energy.
'You will have to get used to rain if you stay here long, my child,'
returned the Raven.
And she was right. It poured steadily for two months, with
occasional flurries of snow, also thunder, likewise hurricanes, the
tramontàna, the sirocco, and all the other charming features of an
Italian winter. That nothing might be wanting, a nice little inundation
was got up for their benefit, December 28th.
Sitting peacefully at breakfast on the morning of that day, in their
cosey apartment, with a fire of cones and olive-wood cheerily burning
on the hearth, Jokerella, the big cat, purring on the rug, the little
coffee-pot proudly perched among bread and butter, eggs and fruit,
while the ladies, in dressing-gowns and slippers, lounged luxuriously
in arm-chairs, one red, one blue, one yellow; they (the ladies, not the
chairs) were started by Agrippina, the maid, who burst into the room
like a bomb-shell, announcing, all in one breath, that the Tiber had
risen, inundated the whole city, and instant death was to be the doom
Rushing to the window to see if the flood had quite covered the
steps, and cut off all retreat, the friends were comforted to observe
no signs of water, except that half-frozen in the basin of the fountain
above which leaned their favourite old Triton, with an icicle on the
end of his nose.
'I must go and attend to this. The poor will suffer; we may be able
to help,' said Livy, forgetting her bones, and beginning to scramble on
her fur boots as if the safety of the city depended on her.
The others followed suit, and leaving Jokerella to ravage the table,
they hurried forth to see what Father Tiber was up to. A most
reprehensible prank, apparently, for the lower parts of the city were
under water, and many of the great streets already as full of boats as
The Corso was a deep and rapid stream, and the shopkeepers were
disconsolately paddling about, trying to rescue their property.
'Our dresses, our beautiful new dresses, where are they now!' wailed
the girls, surveying Mazzoni's grand store, with water up to the
balcony, where many milliners wrung their hands, lamenting.
The Piazza del Popolo was a lake, with the four stone lions just
visible, and still spouting water, though it was a drug in the market.
In at the open gate rolled a muddy stream, bearing hay-stacks,
brushwood, and drowned animals along the Corso. People stood on their
balconies wondering what they should do, many breakfastless; for how
could the trattoria boys safely waft their coffee-pots across
such canals of water? Carriages splashed about in shallower parts with
agitated loads, hurrying to drier quarters; many were coming down
ladders into boats, and crowds stood waiting their turn with bundles of
valuables in their hands.
The soldiers were out in full force, working gallantly to save life
and property; making rafts, carrying people on their backs, and going
through the inundated streets with boat-loads of food for the hungry,
shut up in their ill-provided houses. Usually at such times the priests
did this work; but now they stood idly looking on, and saying it was a
judgment on the people for their treatment of the Pope. The people were
troubled because the priests refused to pray for them: but otherwise
they snapped their fingers at the sullen old gentlemen in the Vatican;
and the brisk, brave troops worked for the city quite as well (the
heretics thought better) than the snuffy priests.
In the Ghetto the disaster was truly terrible, for the flood came so
suddenly that the whole quarter was under water in an hour. The scene
was pitiful; for here the Jews live packed like sardines in a box, and
being washed out with no warning, were utterly destitute. In one street
a man and woman were seen wading up to their waists in water, pushing
an old mattress before them, on which were three little children, all
they had saved.
Later in the day, as boats of provisions came along, women and
children swarmed at the windows, crying, 'Bread! bread!' and their
wants could not be supplied in spite of the care of the city
authorities. One old woman who had lost everything besought the
rescuers to bring her a little snuff for the love of heaven; which was
very characteristic of the race. One poor man, in trying to save a sick
wife and his little ones in a cart, upset them, and the babies were
drowned at their own door. Comedy and tragedy side by side.
Outside the city, houses were carried off, people lost, and bridges
swept away, so sudden and violent was the flood. The heavy rains and
warm winds melted the snow on the mountains, and swelled the river till
it rose higher than at any time since 1805.
Many strangers, who came to Rome for the Christmas holidays, sat in
their fine apartments without food, fire, light, or company, till taken
off in boats or supplied by hoisting stores in at the windows.
'We can hold out some time, as we live on a hill, and Pina has laid
in provisions for several days. But if the flood lasts, we shall come
to want; for the wood-yards are under water, the railroads down, and
the peasants can't get into the city to bring supplies, unless the
donkeys swim,' said Amanda, reviewing the situation.
'Never mind; it's so exciting; only we must not forget that we
engaged to go and see the Roastpig Aurora to-day,' answered Matilda,
who insisted on pronouncing Rospigliosi in that improper manner.
'I like this infinitely better than any of your picturesque
refrigerators, and it thrills me more to watch one of those dear, dirty
soldiers save women and babies than to see a dozen Dying Gladiators
gasping for centuries in immortal marble,' added Lavinia, who had
shocked her artistic friends by sniffing at the famous statue, and
wishing the man would die and done with it, and not lie squirming
'Come away, Mat: she has no soul for art, and it is all in vain to
try and breathe one into her,' said Amanda, with the calm pity of one
who had read up every great picture, studied up every famous statue,
and knew what to admire, when to thrill, and just where the various
emotions should come in.
So they left the outcast perched on a wall, waving her muff at them,
and calling out, 'Nater for ever!' to the great horror of an English
lady, who would have seen all Rome upset without any unseemly
That night the gas gave out, and mysterious orders were left at
houses for lamps to be kept burning till morning. Thieves abounded, and
the ladies prepared their armsone pistol, one dagger, and a large
umbrellathen slept peacefully, undisturbed by the commotion in the
kitchen, where cats, live chickens, and Pina's five grandmothers, all
lived together, rent free.
Amanda's last prediction was, that they would find themselves gently
floating out at the Porta Pia about midnight. Mat wailed for a
submerged gallery in which she had hoped to ice herself on the morrow,
and Livy indulged the sinful hope that the Pope would get his
pontifical petticoats very wet, be a little drowned, and terribly
scared by the flood, because he spoilt the Christmas festivities, and
shut up all the cardinals' red coaches.
Next day the water began to abate, and people made up their minds
that the end of the world was not yet. Gentlemen paid visits on the
backs of stout soldiers, ladies went shopping in boats, and family
dinners were handed in at two-story windows without causing any remark,
so quickly do people adapt themselves to the inevitable.
Hardly had the watery excitement subsided when a new event set the
city in an uproar.
The King was not expected till the tenth of January; but the kind
soul could not wait, and, as soon as the road was passable, he came
with 300,000 francs in his hands to see what he could do for his poor
Romans. He arrived at 4 A.M., and though unexpected, the news flew
through the city, and a crowd turned out with torches to escort him to
Again did the explosive Pina burst in upon her mistresses with the
news, this time in tears of joy, for the people began to think the King
would never come, and therefore were especially touched by this prompt
visit in the midst of their trouble. The handsome damsel was a
spectacle herself, so dramatic was she as she shook her fist at the
Pope, and cheered for the King, with a ladle in one hand, an artichoke
in the other, her fine eyes flashing, and her mellow voice trembling,
while she talked regardless of the polenta going to destruction
in the frying-pan.
On went the bonnets, out flew the ladies, and rushed up to the
Quirinal, where stood a great crowd waiting eagerly for a sight of the
There was a great bustle among the officials, and splendid
creatures, in new uniforms, ran about in all directions. Grand
carriages arrived, bringing the high and mighty, gaping but loyal, to
greet their lord. General Marmoraa thin, shabby, energetic manwas
everywhere; for the new order of things seemed a little hitchy. Dorias
and Colonnas gladdened plebeian eyes, and the people cheered every
thing, from the Commander-in-Chief to somebody's breakfast, borne
through the crowd by a stately 'Jeames' in livery, who graciously
acknowledged the homage.
For one mortal hour our ladies stood in a pelting rain, and then
retired, feeling that the sacrifice of their best hats was all that
could reasonably be expected of free-born Americans. They consoled
themselves by putting out Pina's fine Italian banner (made in secret,
and kept ready for her King, for the padrona was papalino
), and supporting it by two little American flags, the stars and stripes
of which much perplexed the boys and donkeys disporting themselves in
the Piazza Barberini.
But the excitement was so infectious that the girls could not resist
another run after royalty; so, while Livy consoled herself with the
fire and the cat, they took a carriage and chased the King till they
caught him at the Capitol. They had a fine view of him as he came down
the long steps, almost alone, and at the peril of his life, through a
mass of people cheering frantically, and whitening the streets with
The enthusiastic damsels mounted up beside the driver, and hurrahed
with all their hearts and voices, as well they might, for it certainly
was a sight to see. The courage of the King, in trusting himself in a
city full of enemies, touched the people quite as much as the kindly
motive that brought him there, and kept him sacred in their eyes.
The girls had a second view of him on the balcony of the Quirinal;
for the populace clamoured so for another sight of 'Il Rè,' that the
Pope's best velvet hangings were hastily spread, and Victor Emmanuel
came out and bowed to his people, 'who stood on their heads with joy,'
as Amanda expressed it.
He was in citizen's dress, and looked like a stout, brown, soldierly
man, not so ugly as the pictures of him, but not an Apollo by any
Hating ceremony and splendour, he would not have the fine apartments
prepared for him, but chose a plain room, saying, 'Keep the finery for
my son, if you like; I prefer this.'
He drove through the Ghetto, and all the desolated parts of the
city, to see with his own eyes the ruin made; and then desired the city
fathers to give to the poor the money they had set apart to make a
splendid welcome for him.
He only spent one day, and returned to Florence at night. All Rome
was at the station to see him off: ladies with carriages full of
flowers, troops of soldiers, and throngs of poor people blessing him
like a saint; for this kingly sympathy of his had won all hearts.
'When he does make his grand entry, we will decorate our balcony,
and have our six windows packed with loyal Yankees who will hurrah
their best for the honest man, as they call Victor Emmanueland that
is high praise for a king.'
So said the three, and while waiting for the event (which did not
occur in their day, however,) they indulged in all the pastimes modern
Rome afforded. They shivered through endless galleries, getting
'cricks' in their necks staring at frescoes, and injuring their optic
nerves poring over pictures so old that often nothing was visible but a
mahogany-coloured leg, an oily face, or the dim outline of a green
saint in a whirlwind of pink angels.
They grubbed in catacombs and came up mouldy. They picnicked in the
tomb of Cæcelia Metella, flirted in the palace of the Cæsarsnot in
the classical manner, however,got cold by moonlight in the Colosseum,
and went sketching in the Baths of Caracalla, which last amusement
generally ended in the gentlemen and ladies drawing each other, and
returning delighted with the study of art in 'dear Rome.'
They went to fancy parties, where artists got themselves up like
their own statues and pictures, and set mediæval fashions which it was
a pity the rest of the world did not follow. They drank much social tea
with titled beings, as thick as blackberries, and, better still, men
and women who had earned noble names for themselves with pencil, pen,
or chisel. They paid visits in palaces where the horses lived in the
basement, rich foreigners on the first floor, artists next, and princes
in the attic.
They went to the hunt, and saw scarlet coats, fine horses, bad
riding, many hounds, and no foxes.
As a change they got up game parties à la Little Athens in
their own small salon, introduced the Potatoe Pantomime, had
charades, and enacted the immortal Jarley's waxworks on one of the
A true Yankee breakfast of fish-balls, johnny-cake, and dip-toast,
was given in their honour, and its delights much enhanced by its being
eaten in a lovely room with reeds and rushes on the pale-green walls,
shell-shaped chairs, and coral mirror-frames. What a thing it was to
consume those familiar viands in a famous palace, with Guido's Cenci
downstairs, a great sculptor next door, three lovely boys as waiters,
and 'Titian T.' to head the feast, and follow it up with dates from the
Nile, and Egyptian sketches that caused the company to vote a speedy
adjournment to the land 'of corkendills' and pyramids.
These and many other joys they tasted, and when all else palled upon
them they drove on the Campagna and were happy.
It is sad to be obliged to record that these quiet drives were the
especial delight of the unsocial Lavinia, whose ill-regulated mind soon
wearied of swell society, classical remains, and artistic revelry.
Ancient Rome would have suited her excellently, she thought; but modern
Rome was such a chaos of frivolity and fanaticism, poverty and
splendour, dirt and devilry, dead grandeur and living ignorance, that
she felt as if shut up in a magnificent tomb, the bad air of which was
poisoning both body and soul.
Her only consolation was the new freedom, that seemed to blow over
Rome like a wholesome wind. Old residents lamented the loss of the
priestly pageants, fêtes, and ceremonies; but this republican
spinster preferred to see Rome guarded by her own troops, and governed
by her own King, who ordered streets to be cleaned, fountains filled,
schools opened, and all good institutions made possible, rather than
any amount of Papal purple covering poverty, ignorance, and
superstition. Better than the sight of all the red coaches that ever
rumbled was the spectacle of many boys quitting the Jesuit college and
demanding admittance into the free schools; and sweeter than the music
of all the silver trumpets that ever blew were the voices of happy men
and women singing once forbidden songs of liberty in the streets of
These sentiments, and others equally unfashionable, were only
breathed into the ear of sister Matilda when the two retired to the
Campagna to confide to one another the secrets of their soulsa
process necessary about once a week; for after visiting studios, going
to parties, and telling polite fibs about everything they saw, it was
impossible to exist without finding a vent of some sort. Once out among
the aqueducts, Matilda could freely own that she thought genius a rare
article in the studios, where she expected to learn so much; and
Lavinia could make the awful avowal that parties at which the order of
performance was gossip, tea, musicthen music, tea, and gossip, all
togetherwere not her idea of intellectual society. Their criticisms
on pictures and statues cannot be recorded without covering their
humble names with infamy; and why the sky did not fall upon, or the
stones rise up and smite these Vandals, is a mystery to this day.
They did enjoy much in their own improper manner, but poor Amanda's
sufferings can better be imagined than described. So when Lavinia,
early in March, proposed to flee to the mountains before they became
quite demoralized, and learned to steal and stab, as well as lie and
lounge, she readily assented, and they retired to Albano.
'The decline and fall of the Roman Empire was nothing to this, and
never have I seen such unappreciative women as you two,' sighed Amanda,
as they rolled away from Numero Due Piazza Barberini, leaving Agrippina
sobbing at the top of the stairs and the padrona bobbing little
curtsies at the bottom.
'I am sure the Cenci will haunt me all my days, and so will many
other famous things,' said Matilda, while her eye roved fondly from a
very brown Capuchin monk to a squad of Bersaglieri trotting by with
jaunty cocks' feathers dancing in the wind, muskets gleaming, and trim
boots skipping through the mud with martial regularity.
'When I get the contents of my head sorted out, I shall doubtless
rejoice that I have seen Rome; but just now all that I can clearly
recall are the three facts that the Pope had a fit, our dear man Romeo
got very tipsy one night, and that we went to see the Sistine Chapel
the day the eclipse made it as dark as a pocket. Yes,' continued
Lavinia, with an air of decision, 'I am glad to have seen this
classical cesspool, and still more glad to have got out of it alive,'
she added, sniffing the air from the mountains, as if the odour of
sanctity which pervaded the holy city did not suit her.
It blew great guns up at Albano, and the society consisted chiefly
of donkeys. But the ladies enjoyed themselves nevertheless, and felt
better and better every day; for early hours, much exercise, and no
æsthetic tea, soon set them up after the dissipation of the winter.
Three pleasing events diversified their stay. The first happened the
day after they arrived. The girls went forth early to look about them,
and to see if they could find a little apartment where all could be
more comfortable than in the breezy rooms at the hotel. Following the
grassy road that winds down the valley below the viaduct, they came to
a lovely garden, and, finding the gate open, went in. A queer old villa
was perched on the hill above, and a manly form was observed to be
leaning from a balcony, as if enjoying the fine view from the height.
'I fancied that house was empty, or we wouldn't have come in. Never
mind: we won't go back now; and if any one comes after us, we will
apologize and say we lost our way going to Ajaccio,' said Amanda, as
they went calmly forward among the posy-beds that lay blooming on the
It was well they prepared themselves, for the manly form suddenly
disappeared from the balcony, and a moment afterwards came swiftly
towards them through the shrubs.
A comely young gentleman, who greeted them with Italian grace,
accepted their apology smiling, and begged them to walk in his garden
whenever they liked. It was always open, he said, and the peasants
often used that path, admiring but never hurting a leaf. Hearing that
they were in search of an apartment, he instantly begged them to come
up and look at some rooms in the villa. His father was a refugee from
France, and desired to let a part of his house. Come and behold these
So charming was the interest he took in the errant damsels that they
could not resist, and after rolling up their eyes at one another to
express their enjoyment of the adventure, they graciously followed the
handsome youth into the villa.
With confiding hospitality he took them everywhereinto his
mother's room, the kitchen, and nursery. In the latter place they found
two small boys, who bore such a striking resemblance to Napoleon I.
that the girls spoke of it, and were enraptured at the reply they
'Truly yes: we belong to the family. My mother is a Buonaparte, my
father Count '
'Here's richness and romance!' 'What will Livy say?' whispered the
girls to one another, as their guide left them in the salon and
went to find his father.
'She will scold us for coming here,' said Amanda, remembering her
own lectures on the proprieties.
'Yes; but she will forgive us the minute we say Napoleon, for that
bad little man is one of her heroes,' added Mat, pretending to be
admiring the view, while she privately examined a lady in a bower
belowa stout, dark lady, with all the family traits so strongly
marked that there could be no doubt of the young man's assertion.
Presently he came back with an affable old gentleman, who evidently
had an eye to the main chance; for, in spite of his elegance and
affability, he asked a great price for his rooms, and felt that any
untitled stranger should be glad to pay well for the honour of living
under the roof of a Buonaparte.
Amanda left the decision to her invisible duenna, and with a
profusion of compliments and thanks, they got away, being gallantly
escorted to the gate by the young count, who filled their hands with
flowers, and gazed pensively after them, as if he found the society of
two bright American girls very agreeable after that of his lofty
parents, or the peasantry of the town.
Home they ran and bounced in upon Livy, blooming and breathless, to
pour out their tale, and suggest an immediate departure to the blissful
spot where counts and crocuses flourished with Italian luxuriance.
But after the first excitement had subsided, Lavinia put a wet
blanket on the entire plan by declaring that she would never board with
any grasping old patrician, who would charge for every bow, and fall
back on his ancestors if he was found cheating. She would go and look
at the place, but not enter it, nor be beholden to the resident Apollo
for so much as a dandelion.
So the mourning damsels led the griffin over the viaduct, through
the dirty little town, by the villa on its least attractive side. Up at
the window were the two little Napoleonic heads, with big, black eyes,
strong chins, and dark hair streaked across wide, olive-coloured
foreheads. A vision of papa was visible in the garden pruning a vine
with gloves on his aristocratic hands, and a shabby velvet coat on his
highly connected back. Also, afar off on the balconyoh, sight to
touch a maiden's heart!was the young count gazing wistfully towards
Albano. He did not see the charmers as they crept down the rough road
close to the garden wall, and went sadly home, along the blooming path,
to the 'Tomb of the Four Thimbles,' as Livy irreverently called the
ruin which has an ornament at each of its corners like a gigantic
thimble of stone.
A note in Amanda's most elegant French, declining the apartments in
the name of Madame Duenna, closed the door of this Eden upon the
wandering peris, who entered never more. Now and then, as they went
clattering by on their donkeys to Lake Nemi, or some other picturesque
They saw again the crocus bloom,
And, leaning from that lofty room,
Sir Launcelot with face of gloom
Look down to Camelot.
Up flew their veils and floated wide,
But Livy pinned them to her side,
'The curse has come upon us!' cried
The ladies of Shalott.
The second adventure befell Amanda alone, and in this wise.
Going one day to Rome, on business, she found herself shut up in a
car with a gorgeous officer and a meek young man, who read papers all
the way. The tall soldier, in his gray and silver uniform, with a
furred, frogged, and braided jacket, not to mention the high boots or
the becoming cap, was so very polite to the lone lady that she could
not remain dumb without positive rudeness. So Amanda conversed in her
most charming manner, finding inspiration doubtless in the dark eyes
and musical voice of her handsome vis-à-vis, for the officers
from Turin are things of beauty and joys for ever to those who love to
look on manly men.
Among other things, the two had a little joke about the Baron
Rothschild, who rode about Albano on a tiny donkey with two servants
behind him; also the Baroness, a painfully plain woman, with an ugly
dog the image of herself.
When they arrived at Rome, however, their joke was turned against
them, by the discovery that the meek man was the Baron's secretary, who
would doubtless repeat their chat at head-quarters. To see the handsome
man slap his brow, and then laugh like a boy at the fun, was worth a
longer journey, Amanda thought, as he put her into a carriage, gave her
his best martial salute, and went clanking away about his own affairs.
Amanda returned at 4 P.M., and her emotions may be imagined when the
dark face of her officer peered in at the car window, and the melodious
voice asked if he might be permitted to enter. Of course he might; and,
as no secretary now spoilt the tête-à-tête, Mars became
delightfully confidential, and poured his woes into the sympathising
bosom of Amanda.
It had been a great affliction to him that his regiment was
quartered at Albano for some months. Mio Dio! so dull was it,
life had already become a burden; but now, if the Signorina was to be
there, if she permitted him to make himself known to her party, what
joys were in store for him. The Signorina loved to ride. Behold he had
superb horses languishing in the stables, that henceforth were
dedicated to her use. His fellow officers were gentlemen of good
family, brave as lions, and dying of ennui; if they might be
presented to the ladies, life would be worth having, and Albano a
To all this devotion the prudent Amanda listened with pleasure, but
promised nothing till Signore Mars had made the acquaintance of certain
American gentleman and married ladies, then it would be possible to
enjoy the delights of which he spoke. The Colonel vowed he would
instantly devote himself to this task, and thus they came to the lonely
little station at Albano.
Amanda had ordered the carriage to meet her; but it was not there,
and she was forced to wait till all her fellow-passengers were gone.
All but the gallant officer, who decorously remained outside, marching
to and fro as if on guard, till his servant came with his horse. Then
he begged to be allowed to see why the carriage did not come, and
Amanda consented, for night was falling, and two miles of mud lay
between her and home.
Away dashed the servant, but his master did not follow: standing in
the doorway, he declared that he must remain as the Signorina's
protector, for no trains were due for hours; the dépôt man was gone,
and it was too late for any lady to stay there alone. Again Amanda
gratefully consented, wondering what would be the end of her adventure;
and again the stately Colonel resumed his march outside, singing as he
tramped, and evidently enjoying the escort duty that gave him so good
an opportunity of displaying not only his gallantry, but his fine voice
and handsome figure.
Down rattled the carriage at last, accompanied, to Amanda's dismay,
by three of the Colonel's friends, who had evidently received a hint of
the affair, and had come to have a hand in it.
With much bowing of the gentlemen, and much prancing of their fine
horses, Amanda was handed to her seat, and went lumbering back to the
hotel with her splendid escort careering about her, to the great
edification of the town.
When the rescued damsel told the tale to her mates, Matilda tore her
hair and lamented that she had not been there. Even the stern Livy had
no lecture for the erring lamb, but was as full of interest as either
of the girls, for anything in the shape of a soldier was dear to her
When the ladies rode forth next day, three elegant St. Georges in
full rig saluted as these modern Unas ambled by on their meek
donkeysa performance punctually executed ever afterward whenever the
three blue veils appeared. Much curvetting went on before the hotel
door; much clanking of spurs and sabres was heard in the little lane on
to which the apartment of the ladies looked, and splendid officers
seemed to spring up like violets in secluded spots where maidens love
It was all very nice; and the girls were beginning to feel that the
charms of Albano rivalled those of Rome, when a sad blow upset their
castles in the air, and desolated the knights over the way.
The highly respectable Americans who were to serve as the link
between the soldiers and the ladies decidedly declined the office,
objecting to the martial gentleman as being altogether too dangerous to
bring into the dove-cot. So the poor dears sighed in vain, and the
longing damsels never rode the fine horses that were temptingly paraded
before them on all occasions.
They did their best; but it was soon evident to Lavinia that in some
unguarded moment the impetuous Mat would yield to the spell and go
gambading away for a ride sans duenna, sans habit,
sans propriety, sans everything. Amanda likewise seemed
losing her head, and permitted the dark-eyed Colonel to talk to her
when they met; only a momentbut what a perilous moment it was!when
this six-foot Mars leaned over a green hedge and talked about the
weather in the softest Italian that ever melted a woman's heart.
'I'm going to Venice next week; so you may as well make up your
minds to it, girls. I cannot bear this awful responsibility any
longer; for I am very sure you will both be off to Turin with those
handsome rascals if we stay much longer. My mind is made up, and I
won't hear a word.'
Thus Lavinia, with a stern countenance; for the romantic old lady
felt the charm as much as the girls did, and decided that discretion
was the better part of valour for the whole party.
'I should never dare to go home and tell my honoured parents that
Mat had run away with a man as handsome as Jove, and as poor as Job.
Amanda's indignant relatives would rise up and stone me if I let her
canter into matrimony with the fascinating Colonel, who may have a wife
and ten children in Turin, for all we know. They must be torn
away at once, or my character as duenna is lost for ever.'
Having made up her mind, Livy steeled her heart to all appeals, and
wrote letters, packed trunks, and watched her little flock like a
How she would ever have got them through that last week is very
uncertain, if a providential picnic had not helped her.
A fair was held in the town, and a delightful surprise-party was got
up among the artists of Rome. Twenty-five came driving over in a big
carriage, with four gaily decorated horses, postilions, hampers of
lunch, flutes and horns, and much jollity bottled up for the occasion.
A very festive spectacle they made as they drove through the narrow
streets with flowers and streamers in their hats, singing and joking in
true artistic style.
They meant to have lunched in the open air; but, as it was cloudy,
decided to spread the feast at the hotel. Such a delightful revel as
followed! A scene from the 'Decameron,' modernised, would give some
idea of it; for after the banquet all adjourned to the gardens of the
Doria Villa, and there disported themselves as merrily as if all the
plagues of life were quite forgotten, and death itself among the lost
arts. Flirting and dancing, charades and singing, stories and statues,
poems and pictures, gossip and gambols, absorbed the hours as
pleasantly as in the olden time. And if the costumes were not as
picturesque as those in Vedder's fine picture, the ladies were as
lovely, the gentlemen as gallant, and all much better behaved than
those of Boccaccio's party.
A few drops of rain quenched the fun at its height, and sent the
revellers home as fast as four horses could take them, leaving the town
gaping after them, and our ladies much enlivened by the delights of the
This third and last event pleasantly ended their sojourn at Albano;
for a day or two later they vanished, leaving the dear officers
disconsolate till the next batch of travelling ladies came to comfort
A week was spent in Venice, floating about all day from one
delightful old church to another, or paying visits to Titians and
Tintorettos; buying little turtles, photographs, or Venetian glass;
eating candied fruit and seeing the doves fed in the square of San
Marco; visiting shops full of dusty antiquities, or searching the
stalls on the Rialto for Moor's-head rings; being rowed to the Lido by
Giacomo in a red sash; and lulled to sleep at night by the songs of a
chorus that floated under the windows in the moonlight.
Lavinia never could get used to seeing the butcher, the baker, and
the postman go their rounds in boats. Matilda was in bliss, with a
gondola all to herself, where she sat surrounded with water-colours,
trying to paint everything she saw; for here the energy she had lost at
Rome seemed to return to her. Amanda haunted a certain shop, trying to
make the man take a reasonable sum for a very ancient and ugly bit of
jewellery, which she called 'a sprigalario,' for want of a better name;
and after each failure she went off to compose herself with a visit to
Of course they all saw the Bridge of Sighs and the dungeons below,
with their many horrors; likewise a Mass at St. Mark's, where the
Patriarch was a fat old soul in red silk, even to his shoes and holy
pocket-handkerchief; and the service appeared to consist in six purple
priests dressing and undressing him like an old doll, while a dozen
white-gowned boys droned up in a gold cock-loft, and many beggars
whined on the dirty floor below.
Do other travellers eat locusts, I wonder, as ours did one sunny
day, sitting on church steps, and discover that the food of the Apostle
was not the insect whose 'zeeing' foretells hot weather; but the long,
dry pods of the locust-tree, sweet to the taste, but rather 'dry
fodder,' as the impious Livy remarked after choking herself with a
quarter of a yard of it.
When the week was up Mat implored to be left behind with Angela, the
maid, and Brio, a big poodle possessed of the devil. But she was torn
away, and only consoled by the promise of many new gloves, with as many
buttons as she pleased, when they got to Munich.
'The lakes are the proper entrance into Italy, and Venice a lovely
exit. One soon tires of it, and is ready to leave, which is an
excellent arrangement, though I should prefer to depart in some more
cheerful vehicle than a hearse,' observed Lavinia, as they left the
long, black gondola at the steps of the station.
'Haven't you a sigh for those lovely lakes, a tear for Albano, a
pang of regret for Rome?' asked Amanda, hoping to wring one moan for
Italy from the old lady.
'Not a sigh, not a tear, not a regret. I find I like them all better
the farther I get from them, and by the time I am at home I may be able
to say I adore them, but I doubt it,' returned the incorrigible Livy,
and from that moment Amanda regarded her Granny as one dead to all the
dear delusions of antiquity.
'From this moment I cease to be the commander-in-chief. Livy adores
England, can speak the language, understands the money, and knows all
about London; so she shall be leader, and I will repose after my
long labour.' With this remark Amanda retired from office covered with
glory, and her mates voted to erect a statue in her honour as a token
of their undying gratitude.
Lavinia took the lead from the moment they landed at St. Catherine's
Warf; and though somewhat demoralized by a rough passage of eighteen
hours from Antwerp, was equal to the occasion. She did love England,
and thought London the most delightful city in the world, next to
Boston. Its mud and fog were dear to her; its beef and beer were nectar
and ambrosia, after the continental slops and messes; its steady-going,
respectable citizens, beautiful in her eyes, and the words 'home' and'
comfort' were not an idle mockery here.
Therefore the old lady joyfully sniffed the smoky air, gazed with
tenderness on the grimy houses, and cast herself, metaphorically
speaking, into the arms of a stout, ruddy-faced porter, as if at last
she had found a man and a brother.
Nobly did the burly Briton repay her confidence and earn the
shilling which in England makes all things possible. He bore them to
the station, got tickets, checked luggage, put the ladies in a
first-class compartment, gave them all necessary directions about the
hotel they were after, and when the bell rang touched his cap with a
smile upon his dear, red face, which caused Lavinia to add a sixpence
to the shilling she gave him with a mental blessing.
'This is truly a decent country. See how well one is cared for, how
civil everybody is, how honest, how manly,' began Livy, as she mounted
her hobby, and prepared for a canter over the prejudices of her friend;
for Amanda detested England because she knew nothing of it.
'The cabman cheated us, asking double fares,' replied the dear girl,
wrapping herself in many cloaks and refusing to admire the fog.
'Not at all,' cried Livy; 'the trunks were immense, and you'll find
we shall have to pay extra for them everywhere. It is the same as
having them weighed and paying for the pounds, only this saves much
time and trouble. Look at the handsome guard in his silver-plated
harness. How much nicer he is than a gabbling Italian, or a Frenchman
who compliments you one minute and behaves like a brute the next! It
does my soul good to see the clean, rosy faces, and hear good English
instead of gibberish.'
'Never in my life have I seen such tall, fine-looking men, only they
are all fair, which isn't my style,' observed Matilda, with a secret
sigh for the dark-eyed heroes from Turin.
Thus conversing, they soon came to the GHotel just at the end of
the railway, and without going out of the station found themselves
settled in comfortable rooms.
'Regard, if you please, these toilette arrangementstwo sorts of
bath-pan, two cans of cold water, one of hot, two big pitchers, much
soap, and six towels about the size of table-cloths. I call that an
improvement on the continental cup, saucer, and napkin accommodation,'
said Lavinia, proudly displaying a wash-stand that looked like a
dinner-table laid for a dozen, such was the display of glass, china,
'The English certainly are a clean people,' replied Amanda,
softening a little as she remembered her fruitless efforts to find a
bath-pan in Brittany, where the people said the drought was caused by
the English using so much water.
'They need more appliances for cleanliness than any other race,
because they live in such a dirty country,' began Matilda, removing the
soot from her face in flakes.
What more she might have said is unknown; for Livy closed her mouth
with a big sponge, and all retired to repose after the trials of the
'Now, my dears, you shall have food fit for Christian women to eat.
No weak soup, no sour wine, no veal stewed with raisins, nor greasy
salad made of all the weeds that grow. Beef that will make you feel
like giants, and beer that will cheer the cockles of your hearts; not
to mention cheese which will make you wink, and bread with a little
round button atop of the loaf like the grand Panjandrum in the old
Thus Lavinia enthusiastically, as she led her flock of two into the
eating-room at luncheon time. Being seated at a little table by one of
the great windows, the old lady continued to sing the praises of
Britannia while wafting for the repast.
'Isn't this better than a stone-floored café with nine clocks
all wrong, seven mirrors all cracked, much drapery all dirty, a flock
of garçons who fly about like lunatics, and food which I shudder
to think of? Look at this lofty room; this grave thick carpet; that
cheerful coal-fire; these neat little tables; these large, clean
windows; these quiet, ministerial waiters, who seem to take a paternal
interest in your wants, and best of all in this simple, wholesome,
Here the arrival of a glorified beefsteak and a shining pint-pot of
foaming ale give an appropriate finish to Livy's lecture. She fell upon
her lunch like a famished woman, and was speechless till much meat had
vanished, and the ale was low in the pot.
'It is good,' admitted Amanda, who took to her beer like a
born Englishwoman, and swallowed some of her prejudices with her
'It's such a comfort to know that I am not eating a calf's brains or
a pig's feet, that I can enjoy it with a free mind, and the sight of
those two beautiful old gentlemen gives it an added relish,' said
Matilda, who had been watching a pair of hale old fellows eat their
lunch in a solid, leisurely way that would have been impossible to an
'It is so restful to see people take things calmly, and not bolt
their meals, or rush about like runaway steam-engines. It is this
moderation that keeps Englishmen so hearty, jolly, and long-lived. They
don't tear themselves to pieces as we do, but take time for rest,
exercise, food, and recreation, like sensible people as they are. It is
like reposing on a feather-bed to live here, and my tired nerves
rejoice in it,' said Lavinia, eating bread and cheese as if that was
her mission in life.
'A slight amount of haste will be advisable, my Granny, unless we
intend to spend all our substance on these restful comforts of yours.
This hotel is delightfully cosy, but expensive; so the quicker we go
into lodgings the better for us,' suggested the thrifty Amanda, seeing
that Livy was too infatuated to care for cost.
'I'll go the first thing to-morrow and look at the rooms Mrs. Blank
recommended to us. This afternoon we will rest and write letters,
unless some one comes to call,' said Livy, leading her girls to the
reading-room, where sleep-inviting chairs, tables supplied with
writing-materials, and groves of newspapers, wooed the stranger to
Hardly were they seated, however, than Jeames brought in the card of
a friend who had been told when they would arrive, and hastened at once
to meet them. How pleasant is the first familiar face one sees in a
strange land! Doubly pleasant was Mr. C.'s, because he brought
hospitable invitations from other friends, kind welcomes, and tickets
to several of the art exhibitions then open.
Hardly had he gone, after a half-hour's chat, than another card was
handed, and the name it bore caused a slight flutter in the dove-cot. A
friend of Miss Livy's, in Boston, had sent orders to his brother in
London to devote himself to the wandering ladies when they came. They
had never met; the poor man didn't care to have his quiet invaded by
strange women, and to do the honours of London is no small task: yet
this heroic gentleman obeyed orders without a murmur; and, leaving his
artistic seclusion, shouldered his burden with the silent courage of a
A grave, dark, little man, with fine eyes, quiet manners, and a
straight-forward way with him that suited blunt Livy excellently. How
he dared to face the three unknown women so calmly, listen to their
impossible suggestions so politely, and offer himself as a slave so
cheerfully, will for ever remain a mystery to those grateful souls.
His first service was to pack them into a cab and bear them safely
to the bankers for letters and money; and this he followed up by
several weeks of servitude, which must have been worse than Egyptian
Two more large ladies joined the party after they were settled in
lodgings at Kensington; but, undaunted by the fact, this long-suffering
man escorted the whole five to galleries and theatres, trips into the
city, and picnics in the country; went shopping with them, lugged
parcels, ran errands, paid bills, and was in fact the sheet-anchor of
the whole party. Imagine the emotions of one shy man when called upon
to lead a flock of somewhat imposing ladies everywhere; to have two
cabs full on all occasions; to be obliged to support the invalids to
follow the caprices of the giddy, to gratify the demands of the
curious, and to hear the gabble of the whole five day after day.
Bürger's Brave Man was a coward compared to him; for he not only
gave his days, but his evenings also, joining in endless games of
whist, drinking much weak tea, and listening to any amount of twaddle
on all subjects.
The society was not such as intelligent men enjoy, being composed of
two Egyptian boys and three fussy old ladies. One of them was immensely
stout, wore a bright green cap, with half-a-pint of scarlet cherries
bobbing on her brow. She talked on all subjects, and handed round an
album full of her own poems on all occasions. The second must have been
a sister of 'Mr. T.'s Aunt,' so grim and incoherent was she. Sitting in
the corner, she stared at the world around her with an utterly
expressionless countenance, and when least expected broke out with some
startling remark, such as, 'If that fence had been painted green we
should get to heaven sooner,' or 'Before I had fits my memory was as
good as anybody's, but my daughter married a clergyman, and took it
The third antiquity was the hostess, a buxom lady, much given to gay
attire and reminiscences of past glory, 'Before me 'usband went into
public life.' The strangers innocently supposed the departed Mr. K. to
have been an M.P. at least, and were rather taken aback on learning
that he had been a pawnbroker.
The Egyptian youths were handsome, dark lads, with melodious voices,
lustrous eyes, and such fiery tempers that one never knew whether they
were going to pass the bread or stab one with the carving-knife.
As a slight mitigation of this slow society, the Russian from
Pension Paradis appeared with his broadcloth more resplendent than
ever. The ladies had seen him in Rome; but the fever scared him away,
and he was now fleeing from another lodging-house, where the hostess
evidently intended to marry him to her daughter, in the MacStinger
In this varied circle did the devoted being afore-mentioned pass
many hours after the day's hard labour was happily over, and when
anyone pitied him for leading the life of a galley-slave, he hid his
anguish and answered with a smile,
'My brother told me to do it, and I never disobey Tom. In fact, I
find I rather like it.'
That last fib was truly sublime, and the name of Cassabianca pales
before that of one who obeyed fraternal commands to the letter, and
tried to love his duty, heavy as it was. If, as has been sometimes
predicted, England had gone under just then, it might truly have been
Though prince and peer and poet rare
Were sunk among the piles,
The noblest man who perished there
Was faithful W. Ns.
The sight-seeing fever raged fiercely at first, and the flock of
Americans went from Windsor Castle to the Tower of London, from
Westminster Abbey to Madame Taussaud's Waxwork Show, with a vigour that
appalled the natives. They would visit two or three galleries in the
morning, lunch at Dolly's (the dark little chop-house which Johnson,
Goldsmith, and the other worthies used to frequent in the good old
times), go to Richmond in the afternoon and dine at the 'Star and
Garter,' or to Greenwich and eat 'white baits fish,' as the Russian
called that celebrated dish, and finish off the evening at some
theatre, getting home at midnight, in a procession of two cabs and a
When the first excitement was over, Lavinia and Matilda took a turn
at society, having friends in London. Amanda could not conquer her
prejudices sufficiently to accompany them, and, falling back on the
climate as her excuse, stayed at home and improved her mind.
'I feel now like girls in novels. You are the Duchess of Devonshire
and I am Lady Maud Plantagenet, going to a ball at Buckingham Palace. I
know that I was made to sit in the lap of luxury: it agrees with me so
well,' said Matilda, as the two rolled away to Aubrey House in a
brougham, all lamps, glass, and satin. Her long blue train lay piled up
before her, the light flashed on her best Roman ear-rings, her curls
were in their most picturesque array, andcrowning joy of
allcream-coloured gloves, with six buttons, covered her arms, and
filled her soul with happiness, because they were so elegant and cost
so little, being bought in Rome just after the flood.
Dowager Livy responded gravely from the depths of her silver-grey
silk, enlivened with pink azaleas,
'My child, thank your stars that you are a free-born Yankee, and
have no great name or state to keep up. Buckingham Palace is all very
well, and I shouldn't mind calling on Mrs. Guelph, or Saxe Coburg,
whichever it is, but I much prefer to be going to the house of a
Radical M.P., who is lending a hand to all good works. Mrs. T. is a far
more interesting woman to me than Victoria, for her life is spent in
helping her fellow-creatures. I consider her a model
Englishwomansimple, sincere, and accomplished; full of good sense,
intelligence, and energy. Her house is open to all, friend and
stranger, black and white, rich and poor. Great men and earnest women
meet there; Mazzini and Frances Power Cobbe, John Bright and Jean
Ingelow, Rossetti the poet, and Elizabeth Garrett the brave little
doctor. Though wealthy and living in an historical mansion, the host is
the most unassuming man in it, and the hostess the simplest dressed
lady. Their money goes in other ways, and the chief ornament of that
lovely spot is a school, where poor girls may get an education. Mrs. T.
gave a piece of her own garden for it, and teaches there herself, aided
by her friends, who serve the poor girls like mothers and sisters, and
help to lift them up from the slough of despond in which so many sink.
That beats anything you'll find in Buckingham Palace, sister Mat.'
'If they want a drawing-teacher I'll offer myself, for I think that
is regularly splendid,' said Matilda warmly, as Livy paused for breath
after her harangue.
With these new ideas in her head, Lady Maud enjoyed her party, while
the Duchess revelled in radicals to her heart's content; for Aubrey
House was their head-quarters, and all were out in full force. It was
cheering to our spinster to find that things had moved a good deal
since a former visit, five or six years before, when Mill had carried
into the House of Commons a Woman's Rights petition that filled both
arms. People laughed then, and the stout-hearted women laughed also,
but said, 'Our next petition shall be so big it will have to go in a
wheel-barrow.' Now the same people talked over the question soberly,
and began to think something besides fun might come of it. The pioneers
rejoiced over several hard-won battles, and the scoffers came to see
that the truest glory was won by those who did the hard work, and stood
by a good cause when most unpopular; not by those who kept out of the
field till the fight was over, and then came in to wave the flags and
beat the drums over victories they had not helped to win.
'It seems to me that these Englishwomen make less noise and do more
work than we Americans. I shouldn't dare to say so in public; but their
quiet, orderly ways suits me better than the more demonstrative
performances of my friends at home. Slow coaches as we call them, I
should not be surprised if they got the suffrage before we did, as the
tortoise won in the fable,' was Lavinia's secret thought as they drove
away, after a very charming evening.
Perhaps the fact that reforms of all sorts had been poured into her
ears till her head was like a hive of bees, may account for this
unpatriotic thought. Or it may be the pleasant effect of the healthful
aspect of these English workers. Old or young, all seemed to have
cheerful, well-balanced minds, in strong, healthy bodies. No one
complained of her nerves, or let them unconsciously put a sharp edge to
her tongue, give a blue tinge to the world, or sour the milk of human
kindness in her heart. Less quick and bright, perhaps, than the ladies
over the sea, but more womanly, and full of a quiet tenacity of purpose
better than eloquence.
Miss Livy's tastes being of a peculiar sort, and pictures having
palled upon her to such a degree that she couldn't even look at an
ornamental sign-board without disgust, she often left her more artistic
friends and went forth on excursions of her own. As she never used
either map or guide book, it was a wonder how she found her way; and
the infants were often on the point of sending for the city crier, if
there is such a functionary, to find the lost duenna. But old Livy
always turned up at last, mud to the eyes, tired out, and more deeply
impressed than ever with the charms of London.
One day she set forth to hear Spurgeon. Being told that Lambeth was
a wretched quarter of the city, that the Tabernacle was two or three
miles away, and very difficult to enter when found, only added zest to
the thing, and she departed, sure of finding adventures, if not
If an omnibus conductor had not befriended her, she would probably
have found herself at Hampstead or Chelsea, for London busses are as
bewildering as London streets. Thanks to this amiable man, who
evidently felt that the stranger in his gates needed all his care, the
old lady safely reached the Elephant and Castle, and was dismissed with
a moss rose-bud from the lips of her friend, a reassuring pat on the
shoulder, and a paternal ''Ere yer are, my dear,' which unexpected
attentions caused her to depart with speed.
There certainly was need of a Tabernacle in that quarter, for the
poverty and wickedness were very dreadful. Boys not yet in their teens
staggered by half-tipsy, or lounged at the doors of gin-shops.
Bonnetless girls roamed about singing and squabbling. Forlorn babies
played in the gutter, and men and women in every stage of raggedness
and degradation marred the beauty of that fair Sunday morning.
Crowds were swarming into the Tabernacle: but, thanks to the order a
friend had given her, Miss Livy was handed to a comfortable seat, with
a haggard Magdalen on one side and a palsy-stricken old man on the
other. Staring about her, she saw an immense building with two
galleries extending round three sides, and a double sort of platform
behind and below the pulpit, which was a little pen lifted high that
all might see and hear.
Every seat, aisle, window-ledge, step, and door-way, was packed with
a strange congregation; all nations, all colours, all ages, and nearly
all bearing the sad marks of poverty or sin. They all sung, cried out
if anything affected or pleased them in the sermon, and listened with
interest to the plain yet fervent words of the man who has gathered
together this flock of black sheep and is so faithful a shepherd to
Every one knows how Spurgeon looks in pictures, but in the pulpit he
reminded Livy of Martin Luther. A square, florid face, stout figure, a
fine keen eye, and a natural, decided manner, very impressive. A
strong, clear voice of much dramatic power, and a way of walking the
pulpit like Father Taylor.
His sermon was on 'Small Temptations,' and he illustrated it by
facts and examples taken from real life, pointing out several of his
congregation, and calling them by name, which original proceeding
seemed to find favour with his people. He used no notes, but talked
rather than preached; and leaning over the railing, urged, argued,
prayed, and sang with a hearty eloquence, very effective, and decidedly
refreshing after High Church mummery abroad, and drowsy Unitarianism at
home. Now and then he stopped to give directions for the comfort of his
flock in a free and easy manner, which called up irresistible smiles on
the faces of strangers.
'Mrs. Flacker, you'd better take that child into the ante-room: he's
tired.' 'Come this way, friends: there's plenty of room.' 'Open all the
windows, Manning: it's very warm.' And when a sad sort of cry
interrupted him, he looked down at an old woman shaking with epilepsy,
and mildly remarked, 'Don't be troubled, brethren: our sister is
subject to fits,' and preached tranquilly on.
For two hours he held that great gathering, in spite of heat,
discomfort, and other afflictions of the flesh, and ended by saying, in
a paternal way,
'Now remember what I've said through the week, and next Sunday show
me that I haven't talked in vain.'
He read a list of meetings for every night in the week. One
especially struck Livy, as it was for mothers to meet and talk over
with him the best ways of teaching and training their children.
Spurgeon evidently does not spare his own time and strength; and
whatever his creed may be, he is a good Christian in loving his
neighbour better than himself, and doing the work his hand finds
to do with all his might.
'That is a better church than most of those I enter where
respectable saints have the best seats, and there is no place for
sinners,' said Livy when she got home. 'Spurgeon's congregation
preached more eloquently to me than he did. The Magdalen cried as if
her heart was broken, and I am sure those tears washed some of her sins
away. The feeble old man looked as if he had found a staff for his
trembling hands to lay hold upon, and the forlorn souls all about me,
for a time at least, laid down their burdens and found rest and comfort
in their Father's house. It did me more good than the preaching of all
the bishops in London, or the finest pageant at St. Paul's; and I am
truly glad I went, though the saucy conductor did smirk at me over the
In contrast to this serious expedition, the old lady had a very
jolly one not long afterward. A certain congenial Professor asked her
one day what person, place, or thing in London she most desired to see.
Clasping her hands with the energy of deep emotion, she replied,
'The home of the immortal Sairy Gamp. Long ago I made a vow, if I
ever came to London I'd visit that spot. Let me keep my vow.'
'You shall!' responded the Professor with a responsive ardour, which
caused Livy to dive into her waterproof without another word.
Away they went in a pouring rain, and what people thought of the
damp but enthusiastic couple who pervaded the city that day I can't
say; I only know a merrier pair of pilgrims never visited those grimy
shrines. They met several old friends, and passed several familiar
spots by the way. Major Bagstock and Cousin Phenix stared at them from
a club-house window. Tigg Montague's cab dashed by them in Regent
Street, more gorgeous than ever. The brothers Cheeryble went trotting
cityward arm in arm, with a smile and ha'penny for all the beggars they
met; and the Micawber family passed them in a bus, going, I suppose, to
accompany the blighted Wilkins to gaol.
In a certain grimly genteel street they paused to stare up at a row
of grimly respectable houses; for, though the name wasn't on any of the
doors, they were sure Mr. Dombey still lived there. A rough dog lay on
one of the doorsteps, and a curtain fluttered at an open upper window.
Poor Di was growling in his sleep, and above there little Paul was
watching for the golden water on the wall, while faithful Florence sung
to him, and Susan Nipper put away derisive sniffs and winks in closets
and behind doors for the benefit of 'them Pipchinses.'
Coming to a poorer part of the city, they met Tiny Tim tapping along
on his little crutch, passed Toby Veck at a windy street-corner, and
saw all the little Tetterbys playing in the mud.
'Come down this street, and take a glimpse at St. Giles's, the worst
part of London,' said the Professor; and, following, Livy saw misery
enough in five minutes to make her heart ache for the day. A policeman
kept near them, saying it wasn't safe to go far there alone.
Vice, poverty, dirt, and suffering reigned supreme within a stone's
throw of one of the great thoroughfares, and made Alsatia dangerous
ground for respectable feet. Here, too, they saw familiar phantoms:
poor Jo, perpetually moving on; and little Oliver led by Nancy, with a
shawl over her head and a black eye; Bill Sykes, lounging in a doorway,
looking more ruffianly than ever; and the Artful Dodger, who kept his
eye on them as two hopeful 'plants' with profitable pockets ready for
They soon had enough of this, and hurried on along High Holborn,
till they came to Kingsgate Street, so like the description that I am
sure Dickens must have been there and taken notes. They knew the house
in a moment: there were the two dingy windows over the bird-shop; the
checked curtains were drawn, but of course the bottomless bandboxes,
the wooden pippins, green umbrella, and portrait of Miss Harris were
all behind them. It seemed so real that they quite expected to see a
red, snuffy old face appear, and to hear a drowsy voice exclaim: 'Drat
that bell: I'm a coming. Don't tell me it's Mrs. Wilkins, without even
a pincushion prepared.'
While Livy stood gazing in silent satisfaction (merely regretting
that the name on the door was Pendergast, not Sweedle-pipes), the
Professor turned to a woman, and asked with admirable gravity, 'Can you
tell me where Mrs. Gamp lives?'
'What's her business?' demanded the matron, with interest.
'A nurse, ma'am.'
'Is she a little fat woman?'
'Fat, decidedly, and old,' returned the Professor, without a smile
on his somewhat cherubic countenance.
'Well, she lives No. 5, round the corner.'
On receiving this unexpected reply, they looked at one another in
comic dismay; but would certainly have gone to No. 5, and taken a look
at the modern Sairy, if the woman hadn't called out as they moved on
'I b'lieve that nuss's name is Britiain, not Gamp; but you can ask.'
Murmuring a hasty 'thank you,' they fled precipitately round the
corner, and there enjoyed a glorious laugh under an umbrella, to the
great amazement of all beholders.
Being on a Dickens pilgrimage, they went to Furnival's Inn, where he
wrote 'Pickwick' in a three-story room, and read it to the old porter.
The same old porter told them all about it, and quite revelled in the
remembrance. It did one's heart good to see the stiff, dried-up old
fellow thaw and glow with the recollection of the handsome young man
who was kind to him long ago, before the world had found him out.
'Did you think the book would be famous when he read it to you in
1834, as you say?' asked the Professor, beaming at him in a way that
would have melted the heart of the stiff-tailed lion of the
Northumberlands, if he'd possessed such an organ.
'O dear, yes, sir; I felt sure it would be summat good, it made me
laugh so. He didn't think much of it; but I know a good thing
when I see it;' and the old man gave an important nod, as if all the
credit of the blessed 'Pickwick' belonged to him. 'He married Miss
Hogarth while livin' here; and you can see the room, if you like,' he
added, with a burst of hospitality, as the almighty sixpence touched
Up they went, over the worn stairs; and, finding the door locked,
solemnly touched the brass knob, read the name 'Ed Peck' on the plate,
and wiped their feet on a very dirty mat. It was ridiculous, of course;
but hero-worship is not the worst of modern follies, and when one's
hero has won from the world some of its heartiest smiles and tears, one
may be forgiven for a little sentiment in a dark entry.
Next they went to the Saracen's Head, where Mr. Squeers stopped when
in London. The odd old place looked as if it hadn't changed a particle.
There was the wooden gallery outside, where the chamber-maids stood to
see the coach off; the archway under which poor Nicholas drove that
cold morning; the office, or bar, where the miserable little boys
shivered while they took alternate sips out of one mug, and bolted
hunches of bread and butter as Squeers 'nagged' them in private and
talked to them like a father in public. Livy was tempted to bring away
a little porter-pot hanging outside the door, as a trophy; but fearing
Squeers's squint eye was upon her, she refrained, and took a muddy
They took a peep at the Temple and its garden. The fountain was not
playing, but it looked very pleasant, nevertheless; and as they stood
there the sun came out, as if anxious that they should see it at its
best. It was all very well to know that Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night'
was played in Middle Temple Hall, that the York and Lancaster roses
grew here, that Dr. Johnson lived No. 1 Inner Temple Lane, and that
Goldsmith died No. 2 Brick Court, Middle Temple; these actual events
and people seemed far less real than the scenes between Pendennis and
Fanny, John Westlock and little Ruth Pinch. For their sakes Livy went
to see the place; and for their sakes she still remembers that green
spot in the heart of London, with the June sunshine falling on it as it
fell that day.
The pilgrimage ended with a breathless climb up the Monument, whence
they got a fine view of London, and better still of Todgerses. Livy
found the house by instinct; and saw Cherry Pecksniff, now a
sharp-nosed old woman, sitting at the back window. A gaunt,
anxious-looking lady, in a massive bonnet, crossed the yard, with a
basket in her hand; and the Professor said at once, 'That's Mrs.
Todgers, and the amount of gravy single gentlemen eat is still weighing
heavy on her mind.' As if to make the thing quite perfect, they
discovered fitful glimpses of a tousled-looking boy, cleaning knives or
boots, in a cellar-kitchen; and all the lawyers in London couldn't have
argued them out of their firm belief that it was young Bailey,
undergoing his daily torment in company with the black beetles and the
That nothing might be wanting to finish off the rainy-day ramble in
an appropriate manner, when Livy's companion asked what she'd have for
lunch, she boldly replied,
'Weal pie and a pot of porter.'
As she was not fond of either, it was a sure proof of the sincerity
of her regard for the persons who have made them immortal. They went
into an eating-house, and ordered the lunch, finding themselves objects
of interest to the other guests. But, though a walking doormat in point
of mud, and somewhat flushed and excited by the hustling, climbing, and
adoring, it is certain there wasn't a happier spinster in this 'Piljin
Projess of a wale,' than the one who partook of 'weal pie' in memory of
Sam Weller, and drank 'a modest quencher' to the health of Dick
Swiveller at the end of that delightful Dickens day.
Much might be written about the domestic pleasures of English
people, but as the compiler of this interesting work believes in the
sacredness of private life, and has a holy horror of the dreadful
people who outrage hospitality by basely reporting all they have seen
and heard, she will practise what she preaches, and firmly resist the
temptation to describe the delights of country strolls with poets,
cosey five-o'clock teas in famous drawing-rooms, and interviews with
persons whose names are household words.
This virtuous reticence leaves the best untold, and brings the story
of two of our travellers to a speedy end. Matilda decided to remain and
study art, spending her days copying Turner at the National Gallery,
and her evenings in the society of the eight agreeable gentlemen who
adorned the house where she abode.
Amanda hurried home with friends to enjoy a festive summer among the
verdant plains of Cape Cod. With deep regret did her mates bid her
adieu, and nothing but the certainty of soon embracing her again would
have reconciled Livy to the parting; for in Amanda she had found that
rare and precious treasure, a friend.
'Addio, my beloved Granny; take care of your dear bones and come
home soon,' said Amanda, in the little back entry, while her luggage
was being precipitated downstairs.
'Heaven bless and keep you safe, my own Possum. I shall not stay
long because I can't possibly get on without you,' moaned Livy,
clinging to the departing treasure as Diogenes might have clung to his
honest man, if he ever found him; for, with better luck than the old
philosopher, Livy had searched long years for a friend to her mind, and
got one at last.
'Don't be sentimental, girls' said Matilda, with tears in her eyes,
as she hugged her Mandy, and bore her to the cab.
'Rome and Raphael for ever!' cried Amanda, as a cheerful parting
'London and Turner!' shouted Matilda with her answering war-cry.
'Boston and Emerson!' sobbed Lavinia, true to her idols even in the
Then three damp pocket-handkerchiefs waved wildly till the dingy cab
with the dear Egyptian nose at the window, and the little bath-pan
clattering frantically up aloft, vanished round the corner, leaving a
void behind that all Europe could not fill.
A few weeks later Livy followed, leaving Mat to enjoy the liberty
with which American girls may be trusted when they have a purpose or a
profession to keep them steady. And so ended the travels of the trio,
travels which had filled a year with valuable experiences, memorable
days, and that culture which a larger knowledge of the world, our
fellow-men, and ourselves gives to the fortunate souls to whom this
pleasure is permitted.
One point was satisfactorily proved by the successful issue of this
partnership; for, in spite of many prophecies to the contrary, three
women, utterly unlike in every respect, had lived happily together for
twelve long months, had travelled unprotected safely over land and sea,
had experienced two revolutions, an earthquake, an eclipse, and a
flood, yet met with no loss, no mishap, no quarrel, and no
disappointment worth mentioning.
With this triumphant statement as a moral to our tale, we would
respectfully advise all timid sisters now lingering doubtfully on the
shore, to strap up their bundles in light marching order, and push
boldly off. They will need no protector but their own courage, no guide
but their own good sense and Yankee wit, and no interpreter, if that
woman's best gift, the tongue, has a little French polish on it.
Dear Amandas, Matildas, and Lavinias, why delay? Wait on no man, but
take your little store and invest it in something far better than Paris
finery, Geneva jewellery, or Roman relics. Bring home empty trunks, if
you will, but heads full of new and larger ideas, hearts richer in the
sympathy that makes the whole world kin, hands readier to help on the
great work God gives humanity, and souls elevated by the wonders of art
and the diviner miracles of Nature.
Leave ennui and discontent, frivolity and feebleness, among
the ruins of the Old World, and bring home to the New the grace, the
culture, and the health which will make American women what now they
just fail of being, the bravest, brightest, happiest, and handsomest
women in the world.
PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE LONDON