The stranger in France : $b or, a tour from Devonshire to Paris illustrated by engravings in aqua tint of sketches taken on the spot.Carr, John, Sir
History
The stranger in France : $b or, a tour from Devonshire to Paris illustrated by engravings in aqua tint of sketches taken on the spot.
Carr, John, Sir
France -- Description and travel; Paris (France) -- Description and travel
Such a promontory of cap and lace I never before beheld. She had been at
a village marriage that morning, and was bedecked in all her finery. The
people of this province are industrious and rich, and consequently
respectable. At the theatre at Rouen I afterwards saw, in one of the
front boxes, a lady from this country, dressed after its fashion; the
effect was so singular that it immediately induced me to distinguish
her, from the rest of the audience, but her appearance seemed to excite
no curiosity with any other person. Our breakfast cost us each fifteen
sous, to which may be added two sols more, for the maids, who waited
upon us with cheerful smiles, and habited in the full cushvois costume,
and which also entitled us to kisses and curtsies. I beg leave to oppose
our breakfast charge to the rumours which prevailed in England, that
this part of France was then in a state of famine. From this town, the
road was beautifully lined with beech, chesnut, and apple trees. The
rich yellow of the rape seed which overspread the surface of many of the
fields on each side, was very animating to the eye. From this vegetable
the country people express oil, and of the pulp of it make cakes, which
the norman horses will fatten upon. We had an early dinner at Ivetot,
five leagues distant from Bolbec. In ancient periods this miserable town
was once the capital of a separate kingdom. In our dining room were
three beds, or rather we dined in the bed room. I use the former
expression out of compliment to the pride of our little host, who
replied with some loftiness to one of our companions, who, upon entering
the room, and seeing so many accommodations for repose, exclaimed, with
the sharpness of appetite, "my good host, we want to eat, and not to
sleep;" "gentlemen," said our mortified little maitre d'hotel, "this
chamber is the dining room, and it is thought a very good one." From its
appearance I should have believed him, had he sworn that it was the
state room of the palace of this ancient principality, of which this
wretched town was once the capital. It reminded me of an anecdote
related by an ancient english lady of fashion, when she first paid her
respects to James I, soon after his accession to the crown of England.
She mentions in her memoir, that his royal drawing room was so very
dirty, that after the levee she was obliged to recur to her comb for
relief. In plain truth, James I and his court were lousy.
Our master of the house was both cook and waiter. At dinner, amongst
several other dishes, we had some stewed beef, I requested to be
favoured with a little mustard, our host very solemnly replied, "I am
very sorry, citizen, but I have none, if you had been fortunate enough
to have been here about three weeks since, you might have had some." It
was more than I wished, so I ate my beef very contentedly without it.
With our desert we had a species of cake called brioche, composed of
egg, flour, and water; it is in high estimation in France.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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