"Embarked in a small vessel; wind contrary. The vessel struck upon a sandbank. Then was driven with violence upon a rocky road in the harbour. Tide was ebbing very fast." (Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.) "Monday, 29th October. Boulogne.--We walked to Buonaparte's Pillar, which, on the day when he harangued his soldiers (pointing to the shores of England whither he should lead them to conquest), he decreed should be erected in commemoration of the Legion of Honour then established. The pillar is seen far and wide, _unfinished_, as the intricate casing of a _scaffolding loftier than itself, shows at whatever distance_ it is seen. It is said the Bourbons intend to complete the work, and give it a new name; but I think it more probable that the scaffolding may be left to fall away, and the Pile of marble remain strewn round, as it is, with unfinished blocks, an undisputed Monument of the Founder's vanity and arrogance; and _so_ it may stand as long as the brick towers of Caligula have done, a remnant of which yet appears on the cliffs. We walked on the ground which had been covered by the army that dreamt of conquering England, and were shown the very spot where their Leader made his boastful speech. "On the day fixed for our departure from Boulogne, the weather being boisterous and wind contrary, the _Packet_ could not sail, and we trusted ourselves to a small vessel, with only one effective sailor on board. Even _Mary_ was daunted by the Breakers outside the Harbour, and _I_ descended into the vessel as unwillingly as a criminal might go to execution, and hid myself in bed. Presently our little ship moved; and before ten minutes were gone she struck upon the sands. I felt that something disastrous had happened; but knew not what till poor Mary appeared in the cabin, having been thrown down from the top of the steps. There was again a frightful beating and grating of the bottom of the vessel, water rushing in very fast. A young man, an Italian, who had risen from a bed beside mine, as pale as ashes, groaned in agony, kneeling at his prayers. My condition was not much better than his; but I was more quiet. Never shall I forget the kindness of a little Irish woman who, though she herself, as she afterwards said, was much frightened, assured me even chearfully that there was no danger. I cannot say that her words, as assurances of safety, had much effect upon me; but the example of her courage made me become more collected; and I felt her human kindness even at the moment when I believed that we might be all going to the bottom of the sea together; and the agonizing thoughts of the distress at home were rushing on my mind." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. ii.)--ED. VARIANTS: [Footnote 566: 1837. ... murmuring sea, 1822. ] XXXV AFTER LANDING--THE VALLEY OF DOVER NOV. 1820