The Choice Humorous Works, Ludicrous Adventures 12

The Choice Humorous Works, Ludicrous Adventures 12

"A very droll person, with long legs and a queer face, sung a song

which pleased me very much, because I understood the end of it

perfectly--it was 'tal de lal de lal de lal,' and sounded quite like

English--after he had done, although every body laughed, the whole

house called out 'beast, beast,' and the man, notwithstanding, was

foolish enough to sing it over again."

 

 

VI.

 

ADVENTURES AT PARIS.

 

TO MR. BULL.

 

Paris, January 28, 1824.

 

SIR,--As my daughter Lavy, who acts as my amaranthus, is ill-disposed

with a cold and guittar, contracted by visiting the Hecatombs last

week, I send this without her little billy which she usually sends;

my second daughter has sprained her tender hercules in crossing

one of the roues, and my third daughter has got a military fever,

which, however, I hope, by putting her through a regiment, and giving

her a few subterfuges, will soon abate. I am, however, a good deal

_embracée_, as the French say, with so many invalids.

 

Since I wrote last, I have visited the Hullaballoo, or cornmarket,

so called from the noise made in it; Mr. Fulmer told me I should see

the flower of the French nation there, but I only saw a crowd of old

men and old women; here is a pillow made for judicious astronomy, but

which looks like a sun-dial.

 

We went, on Tuesday, to the symetery of the Chaise-and-pair, as they

call it, where the French and English are miscellaneously interred,

and I amused myself by copying the epigrams on the tombstones--one of

them, which looked like a large bath, Mr. Fulmer told me was a sark

of a goose, which I had previously heard my friend Mr. Rogers call

Mr. Hume's shirt.

 

In the afternoon we went to dine at Beau Villiers's--not the Mr.

Villiers who owes our Government so much money--but the smell of

the postillions which were burning in the rooms quite overpowered

me. I got better in the evening, and as the girls were not with us,

Mr. Fulmer took me round the Palais Royal, which is a curious place

indeed. We saw several Russian war houses, and went into the "Caffee

de Milk alone," so called because, when Bonypart confisticated the

cargoes from the West Indies, and propagated the use of coffee,

the lady who kept this place made a mixture with milk alone, which

answered all the purpose of coffee. The room is surrounded by

looking-glasses, so that the people are always multiplying who go

there: the lady herself was very beautiful, but Mr. Fulmer told me

she was constantly reflected upon. Mr. F. took some melted glass,

upon which I did not like to venture, but contented myself with a

tumbler of caterpillar and water.

 

Wednesday we went to the Shampdemars (which is opposite to the Pere

Elisée), and saw a review of the Queerasses of the Royal Guard. The

sister of the late Dolphin was present--the Dolphin of France is the

same as the Prince of Whales in England. The Duke of Anglehome came

by, from hunting, just at the time; I am told he is quite a Ramrod

in the chace. The troops performed their revolutions with decision,

and having manured all over the ground, fired a fille de joy, and

returned to their quarters.

 

We went yesterday to what is their Parliament House, and while were a

waiting in the antic-room, I saw a picture of Lewes de Sweet himself,

in a large purple robe, lined with vermin and covered with fleur de

lice. Being a stranger, I was allowed to look into the chamber; it

is not quite what I expected: there seemed to be a man in a bar, with

a bell before him, and the men who were speaking spoke all in French,

and looked very shabby and mean; to be sure, they were only the

deputies--it would have been more lucky if we had seen the members

themselves.

 

Lavy, I think, has got a puncheon for Mr. Fulmer, and I am afraid is

a fretting about it, but this is quite cet a dire between us, Mr. B.

He says her figure is like the Venus de Medicine, which is no doubt

owing to the pulling down she has had of late. We are going next

week to Sanclew again, but we travel in such an odd carriage, that I

cannot prevail upon myself to mention its name.

 

You must excuse a short letter to-day. I was determined to write,

else I thought our friends in Westminster might be disappointed. You

shall hear more at large by the next opportunity.

 

Always yours,

D. J. RAMSBOTTOM.

 

If you see Mr. R., tell him Mr. Fulmer has bought him two pictures;

one of Ten Years, the other of Old Beans; I am no judge, but they are

very black, and shine beautifully--they are considered shift doovers

in these parts.

 

 

VII.

 

FURTHER ADVENTURES AT PARIS.

 

Paris, March 15, 1824.

 

MY DEAR BULL,--I believe I shall soon have to announce that Mr.

Fulmer has led my Lavy to the halter--but I am unwilling to be too

sanguinary; should that happen, however, we shall extend our tower,

and proceed to the Pay de Veau and finally to Room, where Mr. Fulmer

is to explain all the antics, what you so well know are collected

there.

 

We have been to-day to see the Hotel de Veal, so called, I believe,

from being situated in the Calf-market; it is now styled the Place de

Grave, because all the malefactors who are decimated by the gulleting

(an instrument so called from its cutting the sufferer's throat) are

buried there. We crossed over the Pont Neuf, in order to go again to

see the Mass. As we went along, I purchased two beautiful sieve jars,

with covers, on purpose to keep Popery in.

 

I believe I forgot to say that we went one morning to an expedition

of pictures at the Looksombre palace, so called from its dull

situation. It was very fine: one particularly struck my fancy.

It was Phœbe offering Hector to the Gods. There was another of

Morpheus charming the Beasts, which was extremely moving; there was

also a beautiful portrait of a lady, and Mr. Fulmer said she was

in excellent keeping. I did not, of course, ask who she was, and I

wonder how they can admit likenesses of that class of people into

such a place. Mr. Fulmer shewed me a large picture, painted by David,

which is wonderfully fresh, considering its vast age. I knew David

was the greatest musician of his time, but I did not know that he was

a painter into the bargain. These genuses are always gifted creturs.

 

We have been to the Jardin des Plantes, or place for wild beasts,

where we saw some lepers and tygers--and two birds called carraways,

from India; there is also an oliphant, which contradicts the absurd

story that these animals carry their trunks about with them--this

great creature had nothing but a long snout, which made him look to

me as if his tail had been misplaced--it was intended by Bonypart to

put the statute of one of these animals up, for a fountain on the

Bullwards, indeed the impediment is already constructed.

 

I was very much delighted with the place Louis Quinzy--so called from

his having died of a sore throat--the Admiralty is situated here,

with a dollygraph on the top--Mr. Fulmer introduced me to one of the

officers in the naval department, who was a very favourable specimen

of the French moreen.

 

We went to the Odium, a favourite playhouse of Bonypart's, on purpose

to see the Civil Barber, a play written by one Beau Marchy--but

we were disappointed, for the house was not open, so by way of a

pease-alley, as Mr. Fulmer calls it, we went to the Fait d'Eau, a

kind of French uproar, where we paid very dear for tickets, and

got no places after all. I was quite sick and tired of the affair

altogether, and if Mr. Fulmer had not got me a caffé au lait to carry

me home, I think I should have perspired from fatigue.

 

I had almost forgot to tell you that we went to the palace at

Marselles, distant from this about ten miles--it is indeed a

beautiful place. There we saw the great Owes playing, which is

water-works, and represents water coming out of the tails of Lions,

and out of the ears and noses of frogs and goddesses, as natural

as the life. Here is a wonderful fine chapel, all of marvel, and a

strait canal which has no end--I forget how much it cost the nation

to make all this water, but I am sure it is cheap at the money

whatever it may be--though by the name it seems to be still owing.

Mr. Fulmer called such an expense an easy mode of liquidating a

national debt--but really I don't know why.

 

I have little time for more at present, because two of the doctors

from the Sore-bone are coming to see my daughter's sprained ancle

to-night; but it is curious to remark how foolish the people are,

when one has not a gentleman with one, for Mr. Fulmer being out

to-day, I sent to the Traitors for the bill of fare, and the man

talked of sending the dinner in a cart, which I thought was useless,

it being only just over the way. So they sent the bill, and I not

being particular, and not understanding the names of the things,

ordered the first four dishes in the list, and they sent me four

different sorts of soup, and when I complained of the cook, the

garkon or waiter talked of quizzing and quizzing her, (doubtlessly

meaning me) as if I had been a person of no consequence--indeed he

once or twice went so far as to swear at me, and say dam when he

spoke to me, but I had nobody at home to take my part, and therefore

I eat the four soups and said nothing about it.

 

The daughter of Mr. Ratschild is going to be married--they call him

Creases, but he is a Jew. He gives her a dot the day of her wedding,

of five millions of franks; but for all he is so rich, they say he

is quite circumsized in his affairs compared with his brother in

London--his daughter will be made a barrenness when she is married.

 

Mr. Cambray Serres is more--which here means no more. I suppose, by

his name, that he is related to our royal family at home.

 

Do you know, Mr. Bull, that I have found out one very surprising

thing, the French ridicule the English in everything; they have

got a farce which they call "Anglase poor rear," which is quite

scandalous, and every thing they have, they nick-name after us; they

call a note Billy, and a book Tom; a pie they have christened Patty;

they call the mob a fool; any thing that is very shameful they call

Hunt, but whether they mean John, Henry, Joseph, or Leigh, I cannot

discover--they call the winter a heaver--the autumn Old Tom, and the

summer they call Letty.

 

I think the French must have been originally Irish, for they say

crame for cream, and suprame for supreme, and so on: but I will

endeavour to find out more about this.

 

I went to see a vealyard (that is, an old man), who had been a sort

of anchor-wright or hermit many years ago; he had been put into the

dungeons of the Inquisition in furs, and suffered what they call the

piano-forte and door of that terrible place--if we go to Room we

shall see the buildings in which he was confined, and I dare say we

shall go there, and from that to Naples, and into the Gulp of Venus,

and so to Cecily, which I shall very much like whoever she may be, because I knew a namesake of her's down in Dorsetshire.