Little Women (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) (51 page)

Dearest people, LONDON

Here I really sit at a front window of the Bath Hotel, Piccadilly. It’s not a fashionable place, but Uncle stopped here years ago, and won’t go anywhere else; however, we don’t mean to stay long, so it’s no great matter. Oh, I can’t begin to tell you how I enjoy it all! I never can, so I’ll only give you bits out of my notebook, for I’ve done nothing but sketch and scribble since I started.

I sent a line from Halifax,
^ge
when I felt pretty miserable, but after that I got on delightfully, seldom ill, on deck all day, with plenty of pleasant people to amuse me. Everyone was very kind to me, especially the officers. Don’t laugh, Jo, gentlemen really are very necessary aboard ship, to hold on to, or to wait upon one; and as they have nothing to do, it’s a mercy to make them useful, otherwise they would smoke themselves to death, I’m afraid.

Aunt and Flo were poorly all the way, and liked to be let alone, so when I had done what I could for them, I went and enjoyed myself. Such walks on deck, such sunsets, such splendid air and waves! It was almost as exciting as riding a fast horse, when we went rushing on so grandly. I wish Beth could have come, it would have done her so much good; as for Jo, she would have gone up and sat on the maintop jib, or whatever the high thing is called, made friends with the engineers, and tooted on the captain’s speaking trumpet, she’d have been in such a state of rapture.

It was all heavenly, but I was glad to see the Irish coast, and found it very lovely, so green and sunny, with brown cabins here and there, ruins on some of the hills, and gentlemen’s countryseats in the valleys, with deer feeding in the parks. It was early in the morning, but I didn’t regret getting up to see it, for the bay was full of little boats, the shore so picturesque, and a rosy sky overhead. I never shall forget it.

At Queenstown
^gf
one of my new acquaintances left us—Mr. Lennox—and when I said something about the Lakes of Killarney, he sighed and sang, with a look at me—

Wasn’t that nonsensical?

We only stopped at Liverpool a few hours. It’s a dirty, noisy place, and I was glad to leave it. Uncle rushed out and bought a pair of dogskin gloves, some ugly, thick shoes, and an umbrella, and got shaved à la mutton chop,
^gh
the first thing. Then he flattered himself that he looked like a true Briton, but the first time he had the mud cleaned off his shoes, the little bootblack knew that an American stood in them, and said, with a grin, “There yer har, sir. I’ve give ‘em the latest Yankee shine.” It amused Uncle immensely. Oh, I
must
tell you what that absurd Lennox did! He got his friend Ward, who came on with us, to order a bouquet for me, and the first thing I saw in my room was a lovely one, with “Robert Lennox’s compliments,” on the card. Wasn’t that fun, girls? I like traveling.

I never
shall
get to London if I don’t hurry. The trip was like riding through a long picture gallery, full of lovely landscapes. The farmhouses were my delight, with thatched roofs, ivy up to the eaves, latticed windows, and stout women with rosy children at the doors. The very cattle looked more tranquil than ours, as they stood knee-deep in clover, and the hens had a contented cluck, as if they never got nervous like Yankee biddies.
^gi
Such perfect color I never saw—the grass so green, sky so blue, grain so yellow, woods so dark—1 was in a,rapture all the way. So was Flo, and we kept bouncing from one side to the other, trying to see everything while we were whisking along at the rate of sixty miles an hour. Aunt was tired and went to sleep, but Uncle read his guidebook, and wouldn’t be astonished at anything. This is the way we went on: Amy, flying up—“Oh, that must be Kenilworth,
^gj
that gray place among the trees!” Flo, darting to my window—“How sweet! We must go there some time, won’t we, Papa?” Uncle, calmly admiring his boots—“No, my dear, not unless you want beer; that’s a brewery.”

A pause—then Flo cried out, “Bless me, there’s a gallows and a man going up.” “Where, where?” shrieks Amy, staring out at two tall posts with a crossbeam and some dangling chains. “A colliery,”
^gk
remarks Uncle, with a twinkle of the eye. “Here’s a lovely flock of lambs all lying down,” says Amy. “See, Papa, aren’t they pretty!” added Flo sentimentally. “Geese, young ladies,” returns Uncle, in a tone that keeps us quiet till Flo settles down to enjoy
The Flirtations of Capt. Cavendish,
and I have the scenery all to myself.

Of course it rained when we got to London, and there was nothing to be seen but fog and umbrellas. We rested, unpacked, and shopped a little between the showers. Aunt Mary got me some new things, for I came off in such a hurry I wasn’t half ready. A white hat and blue feather, a muslin dress to match, and the loveliest mantle you ever saw. Shopping in Regent Street is perfectly splendid; things seem so cheap—nice ribbons only sixpence a yard. I laid in a stock, but shall get my gloves in Paris. Doesn’t that sound sort of elegant and rich?

Flo and I, for the fun of it, ordered a hansom cab, while Aunt and Uncle were out, and went for a drive, though we learned afterward that it wasn’t the thing for young ladies to ride in them alone. It was so droll! for when we were shut in by the wooden apron, the man drove so fast that Flo was frightened, and told me to stop him. But he was up outside behind somewhere, and I couldn’t get at him. He didn’t hear me call, nor see me flap my parasol in front, and there we were, quite helpless, rattling away, and whirling around corners at a breakneck pace. At last, in my despair, I saw a little door in the roof, and on poking it open, a red eye appeared, and a beery voice said—

“Now then, mum?”

I gave my order as soberly as I could, and slamming down the door, with an “Aye, aye, mum,” the man made his horse walk, as if going to a funeral. I poked again and said, “A little faster,” then off he went, helter-skelter as before, and we resigned ourselves to our fate.

Today was fair, and we went to Hyde Park, close by, for we are more aristocratic than we look. The Duke of Devonshire lives near. I often see his footmen lounging at the back gate; and the Duke of Wellington’s house is not far off. Such sights as I saw, my dear! It was as good as Punch,
^gl
for there were fat dowagers rolling about in their red and yellow coaches, with gorgeous Jeameses
^gm
in silk stockings and velvet coats, up behind, and powdered coachmen in front. Smart maids, with the rosiest children I ever saw, handsome girls, looking half asleep, dandies in queer English hats and lavender kids
^gn
lounging about, and tall soldiers, in short red jackets and muffin caps stuck on one side, looking so funny I longed to sketch them.

Rotten Row means
“Route de Roi,”
or the king’s way, but now it’s more like a riding school than anything else. The horses are splendid, and the men, especially the grooms, ride well; but the women are stiff, and bounce, which isn’t according to our rules. I longed to show them a tearing American gallop, for they trotted solemnly up and down, in their scant habits and high hats, looking like the women in a toy Noah’s Ark. Everyone rides—old men, stout ladies, little children—and the young folks do a deal of flirting here, I saw a pair exchange rose buds, for it’s the thing to wear one in the buttonhole, and I thought it rather a nice little idea.

In the P.M. to Westminster Abbey, but don’t expect me to describe it, that’s impossible—so I’ll only say it was sublime! This evening we are going to see Fechter,
^go
which will be an appropriate end to the happiest day of my life.

MIDNIGHT

It’s very late, but I can’t let my letter go in the morning without telling you what happened last evening. Who do you think came in, as we were at tea? Laurie’s English friends, Fred and Frank Vaughn! I was so surprised, for I shouldn’t have known them but for the cards. Both are tall fellows with whiskers, Fred handsome in the English style, and Frank much better, for he only limps slightly, and uses no crutches. They had heard from Laurie where we were to be, and came to ask us to their house; but Uncle won’t go, so we shall return the call, and see them as we can. They went to the theater with us, and we did have such a good time, for Frank devoted himself to Flo, and Fred and I talked over past, present, and future fun as if we had known each other all our days. Tell Beth Frank asked for her, and was sorry to hear of her ill health. Fred laughed when I spoke of Jo, and sent his “respectful compliments to the big hat.” Neither of them had forgotten Camp Laurence, or the fun we had there. What ages ago it seems, doesn’t it?

Aunt is tapping on the wall for the third time, so I must stop. I really feel like a dissipated London fine lady, writing here so late, with my room full of pretty things, and my head a jumble of parks, theaters, new gowns, and gallant creatures who say “Ah!” and twirl their blond mustaches with the true English lordliness. I long to see you all, and in spite of my nonsense am, as ever, your loving

AMY

 

PARIS

DEAR GIRLS,

In my last I told you about our London visit—how kind the Vaughns were, and what pleasant parties they made for us. I enjoyed the trips to Hampton Court and the Kensington Museum
^gp
more than anything else—for at Hampton I saw Raphael’s cartoons, and, at the Museum, rooms full of pictures by Turner, Lawrence, Reynolds, Hogarth,
¹⁰
and the other great creatures. The day in Rich mond Park was charming, for we had a regular English picnic, and I had more splendid oaks and groups of deer than I could copy; also heard a nightingale, and saw larks go up. We “did” London to our hearts’ content, thanks to Fred and Frank, and were sorry to go away; for though English people are slow to take you in, when they once make up their minds to do it they cannot be outdone in hospitality,
I
think. The Vaughns hope to meet us in Rome next winter, and I shall be dreadfully disappointed if they don‘t, for Grace and I are great friends, and the boys very nice fellows—especially Fred.

Well, we were hardly settled here, when he turned up again, saying he had come for a holiday, and was going to Switzerland. Aunt looked sober at first, but he was so cool about it she couldn’t say a word; and now we get on nicely, and are very glad he came, for he speaks French like a native, and I don’t know what we should do without him. Uncle doesn’t know ten words, and insists on talking English very loud, as if that would make people understand him. Aunt’s pronunciation is old-fashioned, and Flo and I, though we flattered ourselves that we knew a good deal, find we don‘t, and are very grateful to have Fred do the
“parley vooing,”
^gq
as Uncle calls it.

Such delightful times as we are having! Sight-seeing from morning till night, stopping for nice lunches in the gay cafés, and meeting with all sorts of droll adventures. Rainy days I spend in the Louvre, reveling in pictures. Jo would turn up her naughty nose at some of the finest, because she has no soul for art, but
I
have, and I’m cultivating eye and taste as fast as I can. She would like the relics of great people better, for I’ve seen her Napoleon’s cocked hat and gray coat, his baby’s cradle and his old toothbrush; also Marie Antoinette’s little shoe, the ring of Saint Denis, Charlemagne’s sword,
¹¹
and many other interesting things. I’ll talk for hours about them when I come, but haven’t time to write.

The Palais Royale is a heavenly place—so full of
bijouterie
^gr
and lovely things that I’m nearly distracted because I can’t buy them. Fred wanted to get me some, but of course I didn’t allow, it. Then the Bois and the Champs Elysées are
très magnifique.
^gs
I’ve seen the imperial family
¹²
several times—the emperor an ugly, hard-looking man, the empress pale and pretty, but dressed in bad taste,
I
thought—purple dress, green hat, and yellow gloves. Little Nap is a handsome boy, who sits chatting to his tutor, and kisses his hand to the people as he passes in his four-horse barouche, with postilions in red satin jackets
¹³
and a mounted guard before and behind.

We often walk in the Tuileries Gardens, for they are lovely, though the antique Luxembourg Gardens suit me better. Père la Chaise is very curious, for many of the tombs are like small rooms, and looking in, one sees a table, with images or pictures of the dead, and chairs for the mourners to sit in when they come to lament. That is so Frenchy.

Our rooms are on the Rue de Rivoli, and sitting on the balcony, we look up and down the long, brilliant street. It is so pleasant that we spend our evenings talking there when too tired with our day’s work to go out. Fred is very entertaining, and is altogether the most agreeable young man I ever knew—except Laurie, whose manners are more charming. I wish Fred was dark, for I don’t fancy light men, however, the Vaughns are very rich and come of an excellent family, so I won’t find fault with their yellow hair, as my own is yellower.

Next week we are off to Germany and Switzerland, and as we shall travel fast, I shall only be able to give you hasty letters. I keep my diary, and try to “remember correctly and describe clearly all that I see and admire,” as Father advised. It is good practice for me, and with my sketchbook will give you a better idea of my tour than these scribbles.

Adieu, I embrace you tenderly.

VOTRE AMIE
^gt

 

HEIDELBERG

MY DEAR MAMMA,

Having a quiet hour before we leave for Berne,
^gu
I’ll try to tell you what has happened, for some of it is very important, as you will see.