The amount of art lavished on the whole region of Potsdam is
marvellous; some of the tops of the palaces were like forests of
statues, and they were all over the gardens, set on pedestals. In fact,
the two principles of Berlin architecture appear to me to be these. On
the house-tops, wherever there is a convenient place, put up the figure
of a man; he is best placed standing on one leg. Wherever there is
room on the ground, put either a circular group of busts on pedestals,
in consultation, all looking inwards--or else the colossal figure of
a man killing, about to kill, or having killed (the present tense is
preferred) a beast; the more pricks the beast has, the better--in fact,
a dragon is the correct thing, but if that is beyond the artist, he may
content himself with a lion or a pig. The beast-killing principle has
been carried out everywhere with a relentless monotony, which makes
some parts of Berlin look like a fossil slaughter-house.
[44] This extract from Lewis Carroll’s diary, written during his
Continental tour with Dr. Liddon in 1867, although obviously not coming
within the category of “Nonsense,” is so sprightly and so whimsically
apposite that the editor has ventured to include it in this volume as
a characteristic fragment of Lewis Carroll’s humour that ought to be
preserved.