PRAGUE, _September 11, 1854_.
My companions left me this morning in order to return to France. I am
ill and out of spirits, and the gloomiest thoughts come to my mind. If I
feel better to-morrow morning, I shall leave for Vienna, where I shall
arrive at night. I am beginning to be horribly tired. This city is quite
picturesque, and the music is excellent. I visited yesterday two or
three public gardens and concerts, where I saw the national dances and
waltzes, all of which were executed with the utmost propriety and
composure. There can be no music, however, more captivating than that
produced by a Bohemian orchestra.
The faces here are entirely unlike those I saw in Germany; very big
heads, broad shoulders, small hips, and no legs at all, is my
description of a Bohemian beauty.
We brought into play, to no purpose, yesterday, our knowledge of
anatomy, to try to understand how these women walk. Aside from this,
they have unusually beautiful eyes, and black hair that is often very
long and silky, but hands and feet of a length, width, and coarseness
that are a source of wonder to travellers best accustomed to the most
extraordinary sights. Crinoline is unknown to them. In the evening, at
the public gardens, they drink a jug of beer, and afterwards take a cup
of coffee, which gives them an appetite to dispose of three veal cutlets
with ham, so that there is room enough left only for several light
pastries, somewhat like our tipsy cakes. Such are my observations on
manners and customs.
My bed is made up with a spread of the most beautiful colors, about
forty inches in length, and to this is buttoned a napkin, which serves
as a sheet. When I have adjusted this over me, my servant spreads over
the whole an eiderdown, which I spend my entire night in tumbling up and
replacing in position. On the other hand, I eat all sorts of remarkable
things; among others preserved mushrooms, which are delicious, and wild
fowls, delicious also. All this does not prevent my longing for your
presence.
Apparently, you are getting on amazingly at D., with no thought of the
miserable people who are roaming in Bohemia. Your sublime indifference,
whether sincere or assumed (I have never been able to discover which),
is extremely irritating. With you, it is out of sight out of mind. I am
in great uncertainty as to my future course. If I were absolutely sure
of provoking you by remaining a long time in Vienna, I should settle
down here for goodness knows how many months; but you would not miss a
single meal on my account, and besides, I fear I should become mortally
bored with their _gemüth_. It is probable, therefore, that I shall
remain in Vienna only long enough to enjoy its novelty; that is, until
towards the end of the month. I may be in Berlin about the first of
October, and by the 10th or 12th in Paris.
I suppose you have already sent me a letter here in Vienna, to tell me
what you are doing and what you expect to do: all this will have its
influence on my plans. I have just seen some autographs of Ziska and
John Huss. Considering that they were heretics, they wrote very well
indeed.