A BUNDLE OF LETTERS
CHAPTER I
FROM MISS MIRANDA MOPE, IN PARIS, TO MRS. ABRAHAM C. MOPE, AT BANGOR,
MAINE.
September 5th, 1879.
My dear mother--I have kept you posted as far as Tuesday week last,
and, although my letter will not have reached you yet, I will begin
another before my news accumulates too much. I am glad you show my
letters round in the family, for I like them all to know what I am
doing, and I can't write to every one, though I try to answer all
reasonable expectations. But there are a great many unreasonable
ones, as I suppose you know--not yours, dear mother, for I am bound
to say that you never required of me more than was natural. You see
you are reaping your reward: I write to you before I write to any
one else.
There is one thing, I hope--that you don't show any of my letters to
William Platt. If he wants to see any of my letters, he knows the
right way to go to work. I wouldn't have him see one of these
letters, written for circulation in the family, for anything in the
world. If he wants one for himself, he has got to write to me first.
Let him write to me first, and then I will see about answering him.
You can show him this if you like; but if you show him anything more,
I will never write to you again.
I told you in my last about my farewell to England, my crossing the
Channel, and my first impressions of Paris. I have thought a great
deal about that lovely England since I left it, and all the famous
historic scenes I visited; but I have come to the conclusion that it
is not a country in which I should care to reside. The position of
woman does not seem to me at all satisfactory, and that is a point,
you know, on which I feel very strongly. It seems to me that in
England they play a very faded-out part, and those with whom I
conversed had a kind of depressed and humiliated tone; a little dull,
tame look, as if they were used to being snubbed and bullied, which
made me want to give them a good shaking. There are a great many
people--and a great many things, too--over here that I should like to
perform that operation upon. I should like to shake the starch out
of some of them, and the dust out of the others. I know fifty girls
in Bangor that come much more up to my notion of the stand a truly
noble woman should take, than those young ladies in England. But
they had a most lovely way of speaking (in England), and the men are
REMARKABLY HANDSOME. (You can show this to William Platt, if you
like.)
I gave you my first impressions of Paris, which quite came up to my
expectations, much as I had heard and read about it. The objects of
interest are extremely numerous, and the climate is remarkably
cheerful and sunny. I should say the position of woman here was
considerably higher, though by no means coming up to the American
standard. The manners of the people are in some respects extremely
peculiar, and I feel at last that I am indeed in FOREIGN PARTS. It
is, however, a truly elegant city (very superior to New York), and I
have spent a great deal of time in visiting the various monuments and
palaces. I won't give you an account of all my wanderings, though I
have been most indefatigable; for I am keeping, as I told you before,
a most EXHAUSTIVE journal, which I will allow you the PRIVILEGE of
reading on my return to Bangor. I am getting on remarkably well, and
I must say I am sometimes surprised at my universal good fortune. It
only shows what a little energy and common-sense will accomplish. I
have discovered none of these objections to a young lady travelling
in Europe by herself of which we heard so much before I left, and I
don't expect I ever shall, for I certainly don't mean to look for
them. I know what I want, and I always manage to get it.
I have received a great deal of politeness--some of it really most
pressing, and I have experienced no drawbacks whatever. I have made
a great many pleasant acquaintances in travelling round (both ladies
and gentlemen), and had a great many most interesting talks. I have
collected a great deal of information, for which I refer you to my
journal. I assure you my journal is going to be a splendid thing. I
do just exactly as I do in Bangor, and I find I do perfectly right;
and at any rate, I don't care if I don't. I didn't come to Europe to
lead a merely conventional life; I could do that at Bangor. You know
I never WOULD do it at Bangor, so it isn't likely I am going to make
myself miserable over here. So long as I accomplish what I desire,
and make my money hold out, I shall regard the thing as a success.
Sometimes I feel rather lonely, especially in the evening; but I
generally manage to interest myself in something or in some one. In
the evening I usually read up about the objects of interest I have
visited during the day, or I post up my journal. Sometimes I go to
the theatre; or else I play the piano in the public parlour. The
public parlour at the hotel isn't much; but the piano is better than
that fearful old thing at the Sebago House. Sometimes I go
downstairs and talk to the lady who keeps the books--a French lady,
who is remarkably polite. She is very pretty, and always wears a
black dress, with the most beautiful fit; she speaks a little
English; she tells me she had to learn it in order to converse with
the Americans who come in such numbers to this hotel. She has given
me a great deal of information about the position of woman in France,
and much of it is very encouraging. But she has told me at the same
time some things that I should not like to write to you (I am
hesitating even about putting them into my journal), especially if my
letters are to be handed round in the family. I assure you they
appear to talk about things here that we never think of mentioning at
Bangor, or even of thinking about. She seems to think she can tell
me everything, because I told her I was travelling for general
culture. Well, I DO want to know so much that it seems sometimes as
if I wanted to know everything; and yet there are some things that I
think I don't want to know. But, as a general thing, everything is
intensely interesting; I don't mean only everything that this French
lady tells me, but everything I see and hear for myself. I feel
really as if I should gain all I desire.
I meet a great many Americans, who, as a general thing, I must say,
are not as polite to me as the people over here. The people over
here--especially the gentlemen--are much more what I should call
ATTENTIVE. I don't know whether Americans are more SINCERE; I
haven't yet made up my mind about that. The only drawback I
experience is when Americans sometimes express surprise that I should
be travelling round alone; so you see it doesn't come from Europeans.
I always have my answer ready; "For general culture, to acquire the
languages, and to see Europe for myself;" and that generally seems to
satisfy them. Dear mother, my money holds out very well, and it IS
real interesting.
