I
rarely see even a fellow with a wheel-barrow who has not a shirt on,
and that, too, such a one as shows it has been washed; nor even a
beggar without both a shirt and shoes and stockings. The English
are certainly distinguished for cleanliness.
It has a very uncommon appearance in this tumult of people, where
every one, with hasty and eager step, seems to be pursuing either
his business or his pleasure, and everywhere making his way through
the crowd, to observe, as you often may, people pushing one against
another, only perhaps to see a funeral pass. The English coffins
are made very economically, according to the exact form of the body;
they are flat, and broad at top; tapering gradually from the middle,
and drawing to a point at the feet, not very unlike the case of a
violin.
A few dirty-looking men, who bear the coffin, endeavour to make
their way through the crowd as well as they can; and some mourners
follow. The people seem to pay as little attention to such a
procession, as if a hay-cart were driving past. The funerals of
people of distinction, and of the great, are, however, differently
regarded.
These funerals always appear to me the more indecent in a populous
city, from the total indifference of the beholders, and the perfect
unconcern with which they are beheld. The body of a fellow-creature
is carried to his long home as though it had been utterly
unconnected with the rest of mankind. And yet, in a small town or
village, everyone knows everyone; and no one can be so insignificant
as not to be missed when he is taken away.
That same influenza which I left at Berlin, I have had the hard
fortune again to find here; and many people die of it. It is as yet
very cold for the time of the year, and I am obliged every day to
have a fire. I must own that the heat or warmth given by sea-coal,
burnt in the chimney, appears to me softer and milder than that
given by our stoves. The sight of the fire has also a cheerful and
pleasing effect. Only you must take care not to look at it
steadily, and for a continuance, for this is probably the reason
that there are so many young old men in England, who walk and ride
in the public streets with their spectacles on; thus anticipating,
in the bloom of youth, those conveniences and comforts which were
intended for old age.
I now constantly dine in my own lodgings; and I cannot but flatter
myself that my meals are regulated with frugality. My usual dish at
supper is some pickled salmon, which you eat in the liquor in which
it is pickled, along with some oil and vinegar; and he must be
prejudiced or fastidious who does not relish it as singularly well
tasted and grateful food.
I would always advise those who wish to drink coffee in England, to
mention beforehand how many cups are to be made with half an ounce;
or else the people will probably bring them a prodigious quantity of
brown water; which (notwithstanding all my admonitions) I have not
yet been able wholly to avoid. The fine wheaten bread which I find
here, besides excellent butter and Cheshire-cheese, makes up for my
scanty dinners. For an English dinner, to such lodgers as I am,
generally consists of a piece of half-boiled, or half-roasted meat;
and a few cabbage leaves boiled in plain water; on which they pour a
sauce made of flour and butter. This, I assure you, is the usual
method of dressing vegetables in England.
The slices of bread and butter, which they give you with your tea,
are as thin as poppy leaves. But there is another kind of bread and
butter usually eaten with tea, which is toasted by the fire, and is
incomparably good. You take one slice after the other and hold it
to the fire on a fork till the butter is melted, so that it
penetrates a number of slices at once: this is called toast.
The custom of sleeping without a feather-bed for a covering
particularly pleased me. You here lie between two sheets:
underneath the bottom sheet is a fine blanket, which, without
oppressing you, keeps you sufficiently warm. My shoes are not
cleaned in the house, but by a person in the neighbourhood, whose
trade it is; who fetches them every morning, and brings them back
cleaned; for which she receives weekly so much. When the maid is
displeased with me, I hear her sometimes at the door call me "the
German"; otherwise in the family I go by the name of "the
Gentleman."
I have almost entirely laid aside riding in a coach, although it
does not cost near so much as it does at Berlin; as I can go and
return any distance not exceeding an English mile for a shilling,
for which I should there at least pay a florin. But, moderate as
English fares are, still you save a great deal, if you walk or go on
foot, and know only how to ask your way. From my lodging to the
Royal Exchange is about as far as from one end of Berlin to the
other, and from the Tower and St. Catharine's, where the ships
arrive in the Thames, as far again; and I have already walked this
distance twice, when I went to look after my trunk before I got it
out of the ship.
