From H. E. Darwin to Emma Darwin 24 May 1866

Dearest Mamy,

I'm very glad to have had your letter aggreeing with me in my decision. I couldn't well have done any thing else—though after all I don't know that E. is making a real step. She is better—but not so well as before we left England— However the weather is so cold I am very glad to have stopped for German baths wd be intolerable till it is more like summer. The paysan here says that the ""temps is fou"" wh. tickles my fancy. It is quite cold—my feet are very cold at this moment & in the morning we always put on winter coats indoors. It is colder in than out as the sun of course is hot. Thank you for yr. Chatham letter which I expect to get tomorrow, & thank Lizzie for her Vienne letter—it was very good of her to write. I did not expect any body to write to me there, tho' I had asked for it—& so have only written for it today. It still remains a very open question whether I shall get it. English characters are so hard to decipher for the foreign mind— I am glad you've had a propserous visit from the Harries & I hope Papa was well enough to enjoy Uncle H. I thought the tiresome old Origin wd have been done long ago. If it doesn't look sharp I shall be able to do the proofsheets after all. Nobody has even condescended to tell me when Lizzie is going to Ireland, but I spose not just immediately. Elinor & I have been wildly going through the list of places we might go to—she hankers after dear sweet little St Jean—but that I can't allow. There is another place has turned up if there was the slightest chance of its being fine—we wd go to Vence—about 20 minutes rail & an hours drive—but in the 1^st. place we don't know about beds & in the next the weather is too horrid to go amongst mountains— Here we have the clouds as rain but at Vence we shall be up in them. So I guess we shall stay on here so will you write again here if you have not already written before you get this— At any rate we shall have to .... I don't know what I was going to say— You will have had my Yes letter forwarded telling you about beloved St Jean. Yesterday I went a little donkey exped with Miff— The day before I went a very pretty walk with a dear dog who lives here & who made a very sweet companion— The only thing was he was so astonished at a cow a loose cow! that I daren't pass her thinking she might be equally astonished at his behaviour. It is so nice to come home with a great bunch of flowers every walk— there is a very handsome bugloss out very like our one & I daresay the same, lovely convolvuli anchusas etc. but you can always come home with a g^t. handsome bunch as big as you can hold with y^r. two fists—there is a very handsome pea, too, one finds now, which one scarcely can believe is wild. My walking companion, dear Flock, was a most agreable contrast to my donkey companion. If ever there was a little spoilsport it is little Miss S. Our afternoon was cloudy & only two donkeys came— Elinor did not feel up to going & made me take 1 of these two donkeys & I was rather aggravated at this. (I was exceedingly glad afterwards she hadn't gone—her back was so bad as it was) The Mistress of these donkeys is ill & so a boy has to be picked up out of the mud as it were—& consequently he can't always speak french or understand the management of donkeys— One of these donkeys walks quick the other slow. I was on the slow one and Miss S. wasn't content becos I didn't beat the poor beast all the time—so off she made me get in order to change—a very tiresome occupation—1 of these donks bites the other kicks & the boy can't manage either—at last we are both remounted—when Miss S. ceaselessly whips & clicks & urges on her donkey—this has no effect on the slug but makes mine race on— I'm not going to tug my arms off to keep him in—once I get on a donkey I give my self completely to his will knowing it is so much stronger than my own—then our poor boy can't keep up & Miss S. gets very X with him—& scolds him & is angry cos he doesn't understand french—& even those that do understand french never understand her orders, so you may guess what a poor puzzle headed country boy gets on— This was the way we went on nag nag nag at the boy & donkeys & sidelong at me cos I can't converse on the effect of peasant proprietors on the land as propounded by Fawcett when I am a quarter of a mile ahead of her— She had completely exhausted herself by the time we got to our destination the same fontaine I had been to before. I was lame & so I found my dear girl & we had a couple of chairs & had a long talk & Miss S. went off & recovered her equanimity & I ditto— My girl sent her little sisters for some cherries for me, & whether it was that or whether it was talking to me she forgot her Pa's tea but he came in & I heard the most awful sacréing & banging of doors & scolding & I wasn't sure whether I hadn't better slink off— My girls mother had died when she was 13—she was then taken from the convent where she was being educated & had to come home & keep house and mind her 5 little sisters—& she said she didn't like it at all & no wonder with such a Papa, & she left her dear friend at the convent, & now her sister is at the convent being educated—because she wont mind what anybody says & wd go out into the compagne & Papa said she must go for 7 years—& she can't bear it— I was so sorry for my nice sweet looking Rosalie to have such a wretch of a father. It is so odd in France—the boys have to pay for schooling 50 centimes a month & the girls 4 francs a month, so that we found at Menton our donkey girl didn't know how to read—& at St Jean even the respectable women, our landlady told us, didn't know how to read or write— This miller does send all his daughters to school before they go to the Convent.

Then to make matters perfect my donkey went lame in coming home & I being lame cdn't get off and walk. Today we have been seeing her off to Lausanne to see a friend. This has been brewing some time but I haven't dared to believe in it & now E. & I shall have a peaceful week— Poor little soul she isn't fit for it a bit— We went down to see her off at the Gare & the nasty sulky Chef wdn't let E. go in to put her in the train but she courageously rushed past the facteur full tilt—fortunately he was already struggling with another party & so she disregarded his frantic commands & galopped thro' the Salles d'attente & out on to the platform— I stayed behind for fear she shdn't be able to get out when I might have to fight for her—but she cleverly slipped out by the luggage door— I do think french officialism is so unutterably tiresome. What do you mean about the Hensleighs & Rome? I have heard nothing & am very curious to know—

Tub is cooling so Goodbye— I suppose by the end of next week we shall be on our road to Paris— yours ever | H. E. D.

I have written this vilely I know