1799-1801.
A large part of the chapter which follows was printed last
year, under the title of _A Visit to Germany in 1799, 1800_, of
which a good many copies were privately circulated. It excited
more attention and remark than I was prepared to expect; and I
am glad that it should be now placed within the reach of all.
A few additional entries, but all of secondary interest, which
were then passed over, have now found a place in the text.
_Oct. 20, 1799, Yarmouth._—I left London on the 16th, with the
consolation of feeling that all my friends parted from me as from a
beloved child, mixing with their affection a degree of care that proved
they quite forgot I was more than fifteen. I have been detained here
since last Friday, waiting for a fair wind, and my imprisonment would
have been comfortless enough, had it not been for the attentions of Mr.
Hudson Gurney, a young man on whom I had no claims, except from a letter
of Mr. Sanford’s; who, without knowing or having any connexion with him,
recommended me to his care, feeling wretched at the idea of my being
unprotected in the first stage of my journey. He has already devoted to
me one evening and two mornings, assisted me in money matters, lent me
books, and enlivened my confinement to a wretched inn by his pleasant
conversation. Mr. Sanford having described me as a person travelling
_alone for her health_, he says his old assistant in the bank fancied I
was a decrepit elderly lady who might safely be consigned to his youthful
partner. His description of his surprise, thus prepared, was conceived in
a very good strain of flattery. He is about two and twenty; understands
several languages, seems to delight in books, and to be uncommonly well
informed.
* * * * *
_Oct. 27, Cuxhaven._—Arrived yesterday—uncivil captain—wretched passage—a
high wind—never able to quit my little miserable bed. I fancied myself
a good sailor, because I tolerated my Portuguese voyage, when I had the
whole vessel to myself, several attendants, all possible luxuries and
accommodations, and every person on board occupied in sparing me the
shadow of an inconvenience. I find that travelling under the protection
of a husband who deifies one, and is profuse in all expenses that can
promote one’s comfort, gives a very faint idea of the _contretems_ of an
economical and solitary journey. Saw Mr. Harward, agent for the packets,
and Colonel Malcolm—both very kind. The former invited me to his house,
and offered to conduct me free of all expense to Hamburg, if I would wait
till the boat set off with the Government money. This offer for many
trifling reasons I declined. Colonel Malcolm is a Scotchman, devoured by
military ardour, who left Canada, where he was happily settled, because,
_unfortunately_, it was a quiet country. He now commands a brigade at
Tuam.
* * * * *
_Oct. 28._—Mr. Harward, as I refused to suffer him to accompany me,
offered me the society of his daughter, and we sailed up the Elbe for
Hamburg in a fishing-boat, worked by two sailors. We were thirty-six
hours on the passage. I slept on a bench in a den dignified with the name
of cabin, wrapped up in blankets I had the precaution to bring with me.
* * * * *
_Nov. 4, Ham, near Hamburg._—Arrived at the Stadt Petersburg on the 29th;
a pleasant inn, as it looks upon a public walk. Here you have a regular
dinner of several dishes for the same price that a chicken costs at a
London hotel; but the beds and attendants are nearly as expensive as in
Pall Mall. Baron Breteuil[9] called next morning, and overcame all my
objections to making him a visit by proving it was as much the wish of
his daughter as himself. She also called and reiterated the invitation.
The Baron is rich as an _émigré_, having near 4000_l._ a-year. He has a
delightful house, and entertains in a very comfortable way, without any
pretension to keeping up his ancient style of magnificence. He sees not
only his friends, but a various and extensive acquaintance. His daughter,
Mad. de Matignon, has a certain share of wit, great pleasantry, the best
manners possible, and unalterable cheerfulness, amounting indeed to what
may be called uncommon high spirits. His grand-daughter, the Duchess
of Montmorenci, is pleasing, lively, and well-bred, less clever than
her mother in conversation, and excessively occupied with her toilette,
but in so unaffected a way it rather diverts than fatigues you. The
whole time of my visit she has employed herself in taking patterns of
everything I possessed, and making up similar dresses with the ingenuity
of a milliner or mantua-maker. The whole family vie with each other in
proofs of civility to me, and in solicitations that I would prolong my
stay. Last evening they accompanied me to the play, and in spite of
the law which commands the gates of Hamburg to be closed at half-past
five, we returned to Ham at ten. This is done by a little manœuvre, and
crossing the river where it is shallow and narrow, an operation of about
fifteen minutes. I saw it was an expedition which did not delight the
Baron, though he undertook it on my account; and I am not surprised at
his repugnance, as certainly in the month of November it was a party only
suited to five and twenty. I met at his house Lady Edward Fitzgerald and
her lovely little daughter, whose eyes and eyelashes are celestial.
* * * * *
_Nov. 6, Soltau._—Left Ham yesterday, penetrated with Baron Breteuil’s
unaltered friendship, which time and absence have had no power to
diminish. Travelled but one post, crossed the Elbe, and slept in a small
inn on its banks. You are not to expect any luxuries on a German road;
small rooms, with sanded floors, no carpet or curtains, dark little beds
in corners, and wooden chairs, were all I found here. I supped well on
eggs and milk. “I must give you an idea of this day’s journey, not by way
of _complaint_, but of _narrative_. Without delay, dispute, accident, or
ever quitting the carriage, I have travelled from Hopen here, exactly at
the rate of two English miles an hour, in a post chaise, but moderately
loaded, and drawn by four horses. It is two posts, one of four, the other
of three German miles, each of which you know is some four English. The
roads are dreadfully bad, but from the flatness of the country, and the
absence of either wall or ditch, not dangerous. Going so slow, in an
occasional journey, does not signify, but I should be sorry to _live_
where the difficulty of communication is so great. It would be a sad
thing to think that if your child or best friend was in the most urgent
distress at a hundred miles’ distance, you would be fifty hours getting
to them even if you travelled night and day, which on these roads few
constitutions could bear. The sterility and uninhabited appearance of the
country is melancholy to excess. Imagine a dead flat, either absolutely
naked, or slightly covered with a little starved heath, and sometimes
extending three or four miles without an appearance of life, or trace of
the hand of man. After driving for a couple of hours through a desert of
this sort, you cannot imagine the pleasure with which I saw and heard
three or four geese, which formed in my eye a most interesting group.”[10]
* * * * *
_Nov. 8, Zell._—The second post of yesterday’s journey was more tolerable
to the eye than any I have yet seen, as a river in one place, and here
and there a few trees, broke the general appearance of sterility.
Many of them were firs, whose deep green contrasted agreeably with the
withered leaves of bright brown and yellow that were intermixed. This
is a very small town, without trade or manufactures, and possesses no
attractions of any kind; yet I remained here to-day, partly to rest, and
partly to view at my leisure the castle where Matilda, Queen of Denmark,
died in the bloom of her youth, after having expiated by three years’
confinement either her indiscretion or her crime, for history seems
at a loss to decide whether she was guilty or only imprudent. It is a
quadrangle surrounded by a moat, has once been whitewashed, but is now
very dirty, and the outside has a gloomy appearance, increased perhaps by
our associating with it ideas of banishment and a prison. The apartment
once inhabited by Matilda is a suite of five rooms, terminating in her
bed-chamber. They are all hung with tapestry, and her bed is of green
damask. Though unsuitable to a youthful Queen, they are yet spacious,
convenient, and have a certain air of dignity. Her mattrass and quilt,
the one of white, the other of dark green satin, have been preserved
untouched since her death. I also went to see the church, which is
ornamented with painting and sculpture. A nervous person would have
been startled at seeing in the floor of the chancel a large open space,
discovering a flight of steps leading down to a vault, and on each side
a man in black with a lighted taper. I was soon given to understand that
the burying-place was here the chief object of curiosity. The coffin of
the Queen of Denmark is the most ornamented, and not far from it stood
that of Dorothea, wife of George the First. It was impossible to see
their dust repose so near, and not reflect on the similarity of their
fates. Both were accused of infidelity to their husbands; both ended
their days in banishment and obscurity; no accusation was ever clearly
proved of either; and the presumed lovers of each perished by a violent
death.
* * * * *
_Nov. 9, Hanover._—Another day of fatigue and two tedious posts have
brought me here. The country has improved during this last day’s journey.
There is a road edged with trees, instead of the miserable track,
scarce discernible, through sand or heath; and here and there the eye
is refreshed with a cultivated field and distant wood. I am not out of
humour with German travelling, slow as it is. I have found all the people
I employed, obliging, though not _empressé_, and there is a quietness in
their manner that pleases. The postilions neither swear, nor beat their
horses, and are satisfied with a very small gratuity, as are also the
maids at the inns. Sixteen good groschen to the first, and eight or ten
to the last, contents them. Two groschen is 3½_d._ of our money.
* * * * *
_Nov. 11, 12._—So uneasy at not having received any letters either from
my beloved Charles, or my other friends in England or Ireland, that these
two days were a complete blank.
* * * * *
_Nov. 13._—Received a visit from Mr. Tatler, one of Prince Adolphus’
household. Soon after he sent me a civil note and several books. He is
about thirty; pleasing in his manners and appearance.
* * * * *
_Nov. 15._—Prince Adolphus, who arrived last night, called on me this
morning. His exterior is highly prepossessing. He is extremely handsome,
tall, and finely formed. His complexion fair, yet manly; his features
regular, yet expressive. His manners bear that stamp of real goodness,
which no art can imitate, no other charm replace; and though he presents
himself with suitable dignity, his address immediately inspires ease and
confidence. His conversation is fluent, various, and entertaining.
* * * * *
_Nov. 16._—Prince Adolphus called on me about twelve, introducing to
me Mad. de Büssche, whose husband has a place at Court, and whom he
has fixed on to accompany me in my round of visits. She is a beautiful
grandmother, with irresistible manners. At six Mad. de Büssche called
to take me to pay my visits; we only dropped tickets, and afterwards
she introduced me, according to an arrangement of the Prince’s, at Mad.
de Wallmöden’s. The Maréchal de Wallmöden is son to George the Second
and the beautiful Lady Yarmouth. Our company only consisted of our host
and hostess, the two Princes, an officer who played on the violin,
some musicians, and Mr. Tatler, who educated the Princes Augustus and
Adolphus, and now lives with the latter as a friend. It was a delightful
evening, and Prince Adolphus sang with very good taste and a charming
voice. He is extremely animated, and there is a frankness and goodness in
his manner that pleases even more than his graces and his talents.
* * * * *
_Nov. 18._—The Prince, who regularly sends me the newspapers, was so
kind as to call on me at five in the evening with a French gazette; and
afterwards Mr. Tatler, whose adoration of him is truly interesting, sat
with me the rest of the evening. He enlarged much on his goodness, saying
he never had done, and never would do, anything to give the King, his
father, a moment’s uneasiness. He cannot speak of his father without
tears in his eyes. He rises at six, and takes four lessons daily in
different branches of study and science.
* * * * *
_Nov. 20._—Dined at Court; an invitation dinner of about thirty persons.
Prince Adolphus of course represents our King; but there is no ceremony,
and the dinner does not differ from that at the house of any private
gentleman, except in the number of attendants and the circumstance of
every person’s being placed at table according to their rank. They rise
from table in about two hours and a half, drink coffee, and separate
between five and six. There is no particular court dress. When I least
expected it the band played ‘God save the King.’ It was the first time
I had heard it since I left England, and in addition to the feelings it
usually excites, it awakened ten thousand fond ideas of home and all the
dear friends I had left behind. It was a painfully-pleasing moment.
* * * * *
_Nov. 24._—An assembly at Mad. Bielwhal’s. Instead of the constant
ingress and egress from ten till one, as at a London assembly, every one
assembles at about half-past six and goes away about nine. I like this
better; you are sure of meeting your acquaintances by going to the same
place, which does not follow in London. The play here is so very low it
really deserves its name, and no one can possibly make it a business.
* * * * *
_Nov. 27._—At a supper at Mad. de Wallmöden’s met a countryman, Lord
B——, whom I had always seen with great indifference at home, but whose
appearance in a foreign country gave me great pleasure.
* * * * *
_Nov. 30._—Went to Prince Ernest’s assembly. He has a pleasant house,
belonging to our King, and has so furnished as to give it a very cheerful
appearance. I am much pleased with Count Münster,[11] one of my new
acquaintances, who appears to have information, taste, and talents.
* * * * *
_Dec. 3._—A ball at Prince Adolphus’. He was good enough to begin it
with me. His house is very beautiful, both as to taste and magnificence,
and the former predominates just enough. The rooms are chiefly hung and
furnished with Lyons silks, in compartments, and the ceilings, floors,
doors, windows, &c., are painted in the most exquisite Italian style.
The hall is lofty and well-proportioned, the apartments perfectly
distributed, and there is a marble saloon and a boudoir lined with
looking-glass, which more resemble a description in the _Arabian Nights_
than anything one has seen in real life. The ball was gay and brilliant;
many more men than women, which still surprises me, after having been
accustomed to see seven women to one man in London. I never saw anything
like the good-nature of the Hanoverian ladies—no malicious shrugs or
whispers, no sarcasms under the mask of compliments, no satirical glances
from top to bottom at one’s dress, no sign of displeasure at the Prince’s
goodness to a stranger.
* * * * *
_Dec. 4-11._—Our amusements have been varied by the arrival of Mad. de
Wally, who gives herself out as an _emigrée_ of distinction, and who
supports herself by singing in public. She has infinite taste, skill,
and knowledge of music. I have been fortunate enough to render her some
slight services, of which she seems deeply sensible. She sung very well
at a little concert which I gave to my most intimate acquaintance.
* * * * *
_Dec. 18._—I have had a little cold, and have not been out in an evening
since the concert at Court on the 9th, except once _en famille_ to Count
Münster’s. Count Münster has a charming collection of pictures, which
he chose himself at Rome, when he was there with Prince Augustus. He
paints himself in oils extremely well for an amateur. At his house I
met Mad. Zimmerman, widow of the writer _On Solitude_. She seems a very
intelligent and is a very pleasing woman. She is not admitted to any of
the great assemblies of any of the first class, but may visit them in
private. The distinction between the _noblesse_ and the other classes
is here kept up with a rigorous exactitude. At first it provoked me. On
reflexion, I believe it contributes more to happiness than the mixture
of ranks in London. Here every one moves contentedly in their own class;
there all are struggling to associate with those above them; whence
proceeds a vast share of envy, expense, and dissipation. Much of these
evils is cut up by the roots, when it is impossible by any exertion to
quit the society of equals for that of superiors; and as this rule only
extends to large societies, it does not break asunder any endearing ties;
for who would not rather see their friend in a society of six than of
sixty persons? Charlotte, in _Werther_, is a character drawn from life,
and passed some time here. She was likewise of the second class, but not
remarkable for beauty.
* * * * *
_Dec. 21._—An assembly given by Prince Adolphus to the Duke of Altenburg,
who came here to beg his Royal Highness and General Wallmöden would use
their influence with the English Minister to obtain his release from the
obligation of furnishing troops and money towards the present Continental
war. They declined to interfere.
* * * * *
_Dec. 24._—I this day saw the little _fête_ of Christmas-Eve, so
interestingly alluded to in _Werther_. Mad. de Wallmöden knew it was a
scene that would please me. On that evening all the children and young
people in a family receive from their friends a variety of presents,
called _les étrennes_. They are arranged with taste upon tables highly
illuminated, ornamented with boughs and shrubs, natural and artificial.
Here you see, in agreeable and studied confusion, shawls, ribbons,
flowers, pelisses, ornaments, toys, sweetmeats, books—everything, in
short. One table was spread for the Countesses de la Lippe, two wards of
the Field-Marshal, and one for each of his children and grandchildren.
When all is arranged the young people are admitted, and nothing can form
a greater variety of pleasing pictures than the delight of the children,
their unstudied expressions of gratitude, and the pleasure of the parents
in witnessing the delicious sensations of that bewitching age. I was
sensibly affected by this scene, and equally interested by Mad. de
Wallmöden’s deep but unobtrusive sensibility, and the lively expression
of happiness in the looks and gestures of Mad. de Kielmansegge, a
beautiful little woman, whose animation in the embraces of her children
is contrasted by a certain indifferent _nonchalance_ on other occasions.
The Field-Marshal retained his usual appearance of strong sense, and
conscious, but not unpleasing, superiority, which gives him rather the
aspect of an observer than an actor in every passing scene. I sung
several English songs, which pleased by their novelty those who had never
heard them before; and the Prince de la Lippe’s tutor observed that he
was quite surprised at finding the English language could be so well
adapted to music. As it is much softer than German, the remark added to
the long list I have made in proof that nothing English is appreciated
by foreigners. They willingly overrate the individual, but almost always
underrate the nation.
* * * * *
_Dec. 26._—On the day of _les étrennes_ I laid these lines on the table
of Mad. de Büssche, with some muslin worked with white flowers (I must
observe that the custom of giving presents is not confined to parents; it
is a day for a general exchange of _souvenirs_):—
While friends long loved, long tried, entwine
Fresh garlands for Louisa’s shrine,
Trembling, a timid stranger dares
To blend her little gift with theirs;
Framed in her lonely pensive hours,
These colourless, insipid flowers
By no bright hues attract the eye,
No radiant tints of Tyrian dye.
Thus simple, unadorned, and plain,
Louisa might the gift disdain,
If art could add a single grace
To all the wonders of her face.
_Dec. 27._—A day of leave-taking. The Prince gave me a map of Germany for
my tour, and sent me a kind note, enclosing a letter of recommendation to
the Duchess of Brunswick.
* * * * *
_Dec. 28._—At five o’clock bade adieu to Hanover. My host, hostess,
children, and family, were all up to see me depart; had prepared spiced
wine, and showed me every little mark of attention. It was of course
quite dark when I set out, and the day seemed to dawn from earth instead
of heaven, in consequence of the ground being covered with snow. I
travelled eight German, or thirty-eight English, miles with the same
horses, rested an hour, and arrived about six at Brunswick.
* * * * *
_Dec. 29, Brunswick._—This evening saw Mr. Loftus, eldest son to the
General. As I did not think of staying here, even for a day, or being
presented, I brought no letter except that I received from Prince
Adolphus, which I did not know the etiquette of sending. Fortunately, Mr.
Loftus, whose father and mother I am well acquainted with, can assist me
in this and other particulars.
* * * * *
_Dec. 30._—Sent to inform the Duchess’ maid of honour I had a letter for
her Royal Highness. The reply was an invitation to wait on her at six
to-morrow evening.
* * * * *
_Dec. 31._—At six went to the Duchess’s _casino_, so they call an undress
ball and supper. She received me with the most winning condescension.
It is impossible not to be delighted with the ease, good humour,
and familiarity of her deportment. She has great fluency in her own
conversation, and is very attentive to that of others, evidently showing
her approbation when anything is said that strikes or pleases her. There
are few ways in which a great person can encourage or gratify more
than this, and yet it is not common in the very highest class. She is
a fair, well-looking woman, with what we call a very good countenance,
and I think when young must have been handsome. She is now a great
deal too large, and her dress made her appear more so, being a thick
buff-coloured satin chemise, with long sleeves entirely lined, as she
told me, with fleecy hosiery. The Duchess invited me to sup at her table
with a party of about ten, and placed me by her. I should have enjoyed
the conversation and her civility much more if she had not, after many
other inquiries, extracted from me my age, which I had determined to keep
secret while here, as people have thought me much younger than I am; and
as so few tell truth on that subject, those that do are always given
a few years more than they really have. Her exclamations of surprise
and declarations that twenty-four was the utmost any one could give
me, did not console me for having been brought to confession. The Duke
of Brunswick is a tall military-looking man, with a fine penetrating
countenance; his manners polite, but imposing and dignified even to a
degree of stateliness.
* * * * *
_Jan. 1, 1800._—Dined and supped with the Duchess, and sat by the
Hereditary Prince each time. At dinner he was wonderfully affectionate,
considering we had not been acquainted twenty-four hours. At supper,
when time had improved our knowledge of each other sufficiently for
such a confidence, he assured me I was the most interesting person he
had ever met, and that nothing could make him so happy as being able
to prevail on me to stay at Brunswick. This was accompanied with many
sighs, _doux yeux_, and exclamations, to all which I answered with low
bows and _audible_ expressions of gratitude. I could not refrain from
this _malice_, as everything of the soft kind was said in so very low a
whisper that I saw nothing could be more unwelcome, or more likely to
stop such declarations, than thus making them public. In the course of
the evening I was presented to the Dowager Duchess, a wonderful woman of
eighty-five. She is grand-daughter to George the First, whom she says she
remembers seeing when she was eight years old, and grandmother to the
Princess of Wales, so is doubly connected with England. She is sister to
the great Frederick, whose pictures she resembles, has great sharpness
in her eyes, and peculiar animation in her remarkably small features.
Her address is pleasing, and there is a neatness, a purity, if I may
so express myself, in her whole appearance, that one contemplates with
satisfaction.[12] I played Commerce at her table, putting a florin in the
pool, a strong contrast to the high play of London. I had been presented
the night before to the Hereditary Princess, a lively little woman,
about twenty-nine. She has a remarkably good carriage and address, walks
and dances well, and has a certain quickness in her looks, speech, and
motions, that gives an idea of great natural vivacity.
* * * * *
_Jan. 2._—Dined with the Hereditary Princess—no other woman but Lady
Findlater, who appears sensible, lively, and talkative. In the evening
went to a concert at the reigning Duchess’s. I do not find an atom
of that form I was taught to expect in all German Courts. Not only
the Duchess, but the ladies who played _raco_ with her, worked in the
intervals of the game. At another table there was a large party employed
in knotting, netting, embroidery, and even the homely occupation of
knitting stockings; while the Hereditary Princess, and those idlers who
had no regular work, were busy making lint for the hospital. The Duchess
was extremely kind to me, and I again supped at her table, and she
obligingly desired me to dine with her next day, if I was invited nowhere
else.
* * * * *
_Jan. 3._—After dinner the Duchess pressed me to stay some time at
Brunswick, at least till the arrival of Lady Minto, to whom she said she
would introduce me. She dwelt on the inconvenience of my going to Vienna
a perfect stranger; and said that a woman of my age and appearance, who
travelled in that way, had ‘_tous les préjugés contre elle_.’ We were
alone, and she enlarged most affectionately on the subject, ending by
kissing my cheek, and assuring me that, despite of this disadvantage,
every one in Brunswick was excessively partial to me, which she kindly
said gave her great pleasure. I supped with the Dowager Duchess. She
conversed with me after she rose from supper: ‘_Vous n’aimez pas beaucoup
en Angleterre le Roi de Prusse?_’ I frankly owned to her we did not.
‘But,’ said she, ‘_il n’est pas assez riche pour faire face aux dépenses
d’une guerre contre les François, et d’ailleurs il ne pourroit pas s’unir
avec l’Empéreur. Les François ont bien voulu lui donner Hanovre, mais il
l’a refusé._’ She expressed great regret at not having learned English.
‘_Vous avez de grandes écrivains en Angleterre; j’aime infiniment Pope;
je le trouve au dessus de Voltaire._’ She then reverted to politics,
extolled Mr. Pitt, and said every Englishman should wear him in his heart.
* * * * *
_Jan. 4-9._—Every morning has brought me a regular invitation from the
reigning Duchess to dine and sup at Court, except when she knew I was
engaged to the Hereditary Princess or the Dowager. She has behaved to
me with real affection, and once said to me with the utmost kindness,
‘I think you will love me at last.’ Indeed I should be very ungrateful
if I did not. The only day on which she went out to a private party
she took me with her, and presented me to the lady of the house, Mad.
Munichhausen, a pleasing little woman, but in a bad state of health. The
ceremonial of the dinner at Court on the ordinary days is as follows:—you
go about three, dressed as you like, except that you must not appear
in a hat, bonnet, shawl, or muff. You find the Duchess standing at the
door of an inner apartment, her maids of honour being in the next. The
whole company stand till dinner time (the Duke and Duchess never sit
except when their company can do so too). The chamberlain announces to
the Duchess that it is on the table, and hands her out. She makes a low
curtsey to the Duke and the company. The ladies follow, also curtseying
to the Duke, according to their rank; except foreigners, who, even when
untitled, take place of all others, going in and out of the rooms, and
also at table. At dinner the Duchess sits at the middle of one side, and
the Duke opposite to her. This situation, as far as I have seen, answers
to the head and foot in England. The ladies are all ranged on one side,
and the gentlemen on the other, excepting princes, who are allowed to
mix with the ladies. The Prince de Salm generally fell to my lot, and
once Prince George. The Prince de Salm is rather above par in address,
appearance, and understanding. At dinner there are every day forty
people, and the conversation, of course, is seldom general. Once only
it turned on politics. Some of the company expressed their expectations
that monarchy would be re-established in France. ‘_Je le désire_,’ said
the Duke, ‘_plus que je ne l’espère_.’ He speaks well, in the subdued
voice of good sense, and has a stoop which takes nothing away from the
dignity of his appearance. I have never seen him converse with a woman.
There is an apparent coldness in his manner to the Duchess, and in hers
to him a degree of constraint which it is evident she tries to conceal.
(Her rival, a woman of birth and fashion, is lodged in the palace, and
he dines with her on a fixed day in every week.) Some time after dinner
the company all remove to the drawing-room, where tea and coffee occupy
a few minutes; no one sits down. The Duchess takes leave of her company
about half-past five; the ladies curtsey to the Duke, and return home,
even though they may be engaged for the evening party which begins at a
little after six. The Duchess one evening invited me to retire with her
at this time to her private apartment, which is a particular favour.
She spoke with great gratitude of the affection the English had shown
to her daughter, and with great delicacy of the Prince of Wales, yet
in a manner which showed she felt his conduct. I dined twice with the
Hereditary Prince. There the dinners are more cheerful, about ten people
at a round table, and men and women are intermixed. _On n’y fait pas trop
bonne chère_, but that is to me of no consequence whatever. The Duchess
Dowager’s dinners are more in the style of her son’s; she has near thirty
people every day, so that the three Courts, except when the family happen
to dine together, entertain daily near eighty persons. This dear little
old woman is just like a mummy; she is mere skin and bone in the highest
preserve. On the 9th I had a private audience to take leave, and she gave
me a letter of recommendation, with some very kind expressions. She has
the talent of accommodating her conversation to the age, situation, and
country of those she speaks to in a high degree. Indeed, her address is
pre-eminently good. I supped with the reigning Duchess the last evening.
She kissed me with the utmost sensibility at parting, and the whole
family took leave of me as if I were an old friend. The Princess Abbess
is _most_ caressing. She is easy, lively, and clever; but I hear she is
very false, extremely gallant, and that she entirely governs the Duke,
which I should think difficult.[13]
* * * * *
_Jan. 10._—Left Brunswick for Berlin, 127 English miles; engaged four
horses for ten louis. Just before I set out, the dear Duchess sent
me a letter of introduction to Prince Augustus at Berlin. Travelled
twenty-five miles through an unvaried expanse of snow, bounded at a great
distance by a few rows of trees, which looked like dark lines across the
horizon. It appeared as if one was in the midst of a wide sea of snow.
Slept at Helmstedt, still in the Duke of Brunswick’s dominions. It is
said to be one of the oldest towns in Germany; and I saw nothing in its
appearance to contradict the assertion. After a journey in England, where
all is busy and populous and animated, one through this country conveys a
strange idea of privation and non-existence.
* * * * *
_Jan. 11._—To-day’s journey was monotonous and melancholy as that of
yesterday. Slept at Magdeburg. On entering his Prussian Majesty’s
dominions, the precautions at the gates of every city are much increased,
and hurt the pride of an English traveller, who is accustomed to pass
unquestioned and unmolested. You are required to write down your name,
condition, whence you come, where you go; and this paper is afterwards
verified at the inn, where the host makes the same inquiries, and signs a
duplicate.
* * * * *
_Jan. 13._—As well as I can judge while the ground is covered several
feet deep with snow, the prospect improves as one advances to
Brandenburg, a small town, built with more regularity and appearance of
comfort than any I have seen since I left England.
* * * * *
_Jan. 14._—Slept at Potsdam. The gradual improvement of the country
from the moment you enter the King of Prussia’s territories is visible
to the most careless observer. Roads, plantations, neat cottages,
pleasant country seats, well-built towns and good inns, take place of
the appearance of poverty and depopulation so strongly marked in that of
Germany I have hitherto seen.
* * * * *
_Jan. 15._—A dull road to Berlin, where I arrived early, and was settled
immediately in the Russian Hotel. The superiority in cleanliness and
accommodation of the Prussian to the German inns is very great.
* * * * *
_Jan. 16._—Sent to Prince Augustus a letter of introduction given to me
by the Duchess of Brunswick; received a very civil answer, offering to
arrange my presentation at Court, and regretting that his illness did
not allow him to visit me. It is said he is perfectly well, but confines
himself to avoid meeting the French Ambassador.
* * * * *
_Jan. 17._—Drove about this very beautiful town, which abounds in public
buildings of great magnificence, that all seem at their ease, instead of
being crowded up like ours in London.
* * * * *
_Jan. 18._—Saw Mr. Garlike and Dr. Brown, the only English gentlemen to
whom I had brought letters. Received from them every offer of assistance
and civility. Dr. Garlike is Secretary of Legation, Dr. Brown physician
to the King. Had the most polite notes from the Ladies of Honour of the
Princess Ferdinand, and Princess Radziwill. I had been recommended to
the former by the Dowager Duchess, to the latter both by the Hereditary
Princess and the Princess Abbess.
* * * * *
_Jan. 21._—Was persuaded by Mr. Garlike to go to an Italian opera in
order to see the Queen. It was the first of the eight given by the
King to the public at the time of the Carnival. The house is fine, and
properly lighted. The royal box is in front, very wide, and reaches
from the ceiling to the pit. It is also more lighted than the other
boxes, which, added to its size and situation, enables every individual
in the house to have a perfect view of the royal family. To this box
are admitted no women except those of royal blood and their _Grandes
Maîtresses_. But beside the King and Princes, it is open to many
officers of the Court, all strangers, and the foreign Ministers. The
King is a well-looking man, the Queen extremely beautiful. She is
tall, finely-formed, her neck and shoulders particularly well-shaped,
her hair light, and her features small and agreeable. She is about
five-and-twenty. The prominent traits of her character, as I am told,
are the most entire complaisance to every wish of the King, and the most
excessive passion for dress and for dancing, particularly the waltz.
She did not converse, but read the opera book all the evening. She
was dressed in a purple satin round gown, drawn in the front like an
old-fashioned chemise, with a flat back and long sleeves; nothing on her
head but two or three bandeaus, and her hair lightly powdered.
Monsieur de Burrau, Minister from I forget what Court, accompanied me. I
was engaged to go with his wife, but her illness prevented it. Two other
ladies made acquaintance with me. The one was Madame de Grotthaus, a
prettyish, talkative, silly woman, who addressed me in good English, and
whose obligingness was as prompt as the confidence she chose to place
in me; for in about five minutes she offered me, with many compliments,
letters of recommendation to Vienna, and told me her particular fondness
for the English arose in part from her having had ‘an inclination’ for
a young man of that nation: ‘_J’étais toute-prête à l’épouser; il était
fort aimable, très lié avec le Prince de Galles, très riche; il a une
belle terre près de Londres, son nom commence par un G—; mais enfin j’ai
épousé un autre, ce militaire que vous voyez là, bon homme, tout-à-fait,
qui fait tout ce que je veux_.’ The opera is but indifferent; the scenery
alone is to be admired. The singing and dancing are not above mediocrity.
I did not, however, hear Marchetti, the first female singer, who is
indisposed. The music did not do honour to the King’s taste, who is the
person that chooses it. It was the _Semiramide_ of Himmel, a German, and
had been hissed at Naples. To me, who had heard that of Bianchi, it was
particularly tiresome. The frequenters of the opera are doomed to hear
it four times; for there are but two spectacles represented during the
Carnival. There is no Italian opera except during these eight nights, so
music, I suspect, cannot be very highly cultivated at Berlin.
* * * * *
_Jan. 22._—Just as I was going to dinner, Madame de Haugwitz, the wife
of the chief Minister, who introduced herself to me last night by an
encomium on my dress, sent her tailor for the pattern of my gown, begging
that this person, whom, in a note he showed me, she calls _mon ami_,
would engage me to put it on, that he might see what a good effect it
had. I think this intolerably free and easy, considering I am a perfect
stranger.
_Ten P.M._—I have just had a visit of two hours from Prince Augustus.
He is taller and larger than Prince Adolphus, and much resembles the
Prince of Wales. His hair is too scientifically and studiously dressed
to be very becoming, but on the whole his exterior is to be admired. He
appears to have a fund of conversation, and great fluency. His vanity is
so undisguised that it wears the form of frankness, and therefore gives
no disgust. I mentioned to him that I had heard of his excellence in
singing, and he agreed that he possessed it without the least hesitation,
adding, ‘I _had_ the most wonderful voice that ever was heard—three
octaves—and I do understand music. I practised eight hours a day in
Italy. One may boast of a voice, as it is a gift of nature.’ Yet his
vanity is so blended with civility and a desire to please, that I defy
any person with a good heart to dislike it.
Mad. de Ritz, mistress to the late King, amassed a fortune of about
eighty thousand louis. She was a woman of very mean birth; but induced
the King, about a year before his death, to ennoble her,[14] and then
appeared at Court, which gave great offence. The King had not been dead a
quarter of an hour, when she was arrested, hurried to a fortress, there
to be confined for life, and all her fortune, except an allowance of
four thousand crowns a-year, confiscated and given to the poor. All this
_without a trial_! I listened, and blessed dear England.
The Lutheran religion, which is that professed here, allows a man to
marry two or more sisters in succession; and of this permission people
often avail themselves, as well as of obtaining a divorce, if either
party complain of _incompatibility_ of temper, a most convenient and
sweeping cause of separation. At this moment a pair, in the very first
circle, are on the point of obtaining a divorce, to enable the lady to
marry a young officer, and the gentleman his wife’s younger sister. A
woman may retain an unimpeached character after an unlimited number of
these separations. Yet the King and Queen give the best example possible.
The King of Prussia is supposed to be remarkably economical. When he came
to the throne in 1797, there was not a guinea in the treasury, and it is
now supposed that in five years it will be as full as at the death of the
great Frederick. In a few years more, according to a calculation made, it
will absorb all the current coin of the country.
Prince Augustus offered me a letter to the Duke of Weimar. He stayed so
long that Mr. Arbuthnot, his gentleman in waiting, came to tell him the
supper he was engaged to was just over.
* * * * *
_Feb. 18, Dresden._—The fatigues of my journey, added to a violent cold,
have left a wide chasm in my diary. Left Berlin for this the 23rd of
last month. In driving to Potsdam I had the opportunity for the first
time of observing that a fine, clear winter’s day in these northern
climates possesses more charms than we usually imagine. Sheets of snow,
strongly reflecting the rays of the sun, often remain undissolved on
the plains, when completely melted under the groves of fir, whose deep
green softens its excessive brilliancy. Under these circumstances the
snow frequently assumes the form of a lake, surrounded by wood; and gives
more beauty than it takes away. The hardships and dangers of this journey
were various. I one night ran a great risk of being lost in the snow,
the postilions having missed the track in an extensive forest of fir
trees. I was forced to keep Fitz from falling asleep from the effects of
intense cold, which I knew to be certain death, by giving him repeated
glasses of brandy out of the carriage windows. A distant light at last
directed us to a cottage, where we obtained a guide. I slept in the
most wretched hovels, once was without a bed, and two days without any
food but eggs and coffee. At one of the post-houses the master thought
it his duty to keep me company while my servants supped. He was a young
man, above six feet high, covered with furs, _l’air fier, et même un peu
farouche_, with something terrific in his whole appearance. He seated
himself opposite to me, smoked his pipe, laid his great paws on my work,
and began a conversation. I tried to hide a vague sort of fear under the
appearance of _insouciance_ and civility, but at last took courage to
say I was sleepy, and would wish him good night. The servant girls at
these wretched inns seem half savage. Undoubtedly cultivation, arts, and
sciences, lead to luxury and its attendant evils; but without them man is
even below the beasts that perish.
Mr. Elliot,[15] our Minister at Dresden, is a very pleasing man,
about forty; his style of conversation and tone of voice are highly
captivating. He has a large family of little cherubs, and a charming
daughter who marries Mr. Paine this week.
* * * * *
_March 10._—The society here possesses many very charming individuals,
but is not what the French call _montée sur un ton agréable_, a phrase
as easy to comprehend as difficult to translate. I think I _see_, and
am sure I _feel_, a certain constraint, which destroys all enjoyment.
I have scarcely ever been less at my ease than in the company I have
frequented since my arrival. Yet I have not wanted that encouragement
which is usually all that is necessary to inspire confidence. Mr. Elliot
in general makes me a daily visit, and when he omits it, apologises as
for a breach of duty. I have constant invitations to his house, where I
always find a small party and a little sociable supper. Mad. Münster, my
most intimate female acquaintance, forgets nothing which can contribute
to my amusement. I have gone with her to morning exhibitions and evening
assemblies. Among the latter, that of Madame de Loss, wife to the first
Minister, was most brilliant—as much so as any I have seen in London.
A numerous suite of rooms, furnished with taste; a very large society,
dressed with more magnificence, though not with as much elegance, as in
England; and a hostess whose address and appearance would dignify any
situation. She is near sixty, but still a very fine woman, her looks
English, her manners French.
I have also been at a concert, where I heard an Italian, Mad. Paravicini,
play delightfully on the violin. She has infinite expression, and
imitates the graces of the voice better than any one I have ever heard.
She manages the instrument well, and avoids all the grotesque which one
annexes to the idea of a _female fiddler_. An assembly at the Hanoverian
Minister’s, with a few evenings passed in very small family circles (to
which it is a great compliment to admit a stranger), have filled up all
my afternoons, except one, which I passed at the opera, where I saw
_Axur_, by Salieri; the music is very pleasing, but the plot absurd, and
the hero kills himself in a moment of pique from causes very inadequate
to the effect. The orchestra is the best I ever heard. That of Munich
alone, in Europe, disputes the palm.
I saw a good collection of pictures at the Comte de Hagendorn’s, where I
breakfasted. A St. Sebastian, by Raphael, was the most remarkable piece.
I did not think a martyrdom could be so pleasing. I forgot the arrow in
his breast because he seemed to have done so himself, and, like him, I
was too much absorbed in the thought of his approaching beatitude not to
be insensible to the idea of mere bodily pain. It is a wonderfully fine
picture. At the first glance you approve, after a moment’s examination
you admire, and from admiration you pass to that state in which the whole
soul is concentrated in the eyes; you cease to approve or admire, you
only _feel_, and, having totally forgot the artist, identify yourself
with the object he has created.
Yesterday I was presented at Court. Here it is an evening assembly
without any form. Women are never invited, but pay their respects on
Sunday evenings, as often as they please. The Electress has the greatest
good humour, ease, and condescension in her manner. Her pearl necklace
is the finest I ever saw. The Elector has something fixed, glassy, and
embarrassing in his eyes. Their only child is a fine young woman, about
seventeen. The whole family, I need not say, receive strangers with the
utmost politeness, for this seems to me so universal in Germany, it
ceases to be the object of a remark. The Elector is said to be a good
and a religious man; even those who seem to dislike him, do not contest
this point. The Electress said she now gave no balls, because the Elector
disapproves of such pleasures while Europe was in its present unhappy
state. The Court never mix in society. When the Elector’s uncle was at
Dresden, dying, for several months, none of his family visited him, as he
was not within the walls of the palace, and it would have been a breach
of etiquette. At Mad. de Loss’s, Alexis Orloff was presented to me, and I
was introduced to his daughter. He does not look like the frontispiece to
his History. His figure is colossal and massy, but his air is not savage,
and his countenance is rather mild than otherwise. The recollection of
the atrocities that he had committed embarrassed me so, that I retain
no very distinct idea of his person and address.[16] He does not speak
French, but we conversed a little in Italian. His daughter has a pleasing
address. She is pale, sallow, and delicate in her appearance, with a
gentle, modest demeanour, and fine expressive dark eyes. She wore no
ornaments except rows of the finest pearls. Her diamonds are valued at
£40,000. Orloff adores her, and declares she shall marry whomsoever
she pleases. She conversed in very good French, and speaks English
wonderfully well in proportion to the time she has learned it. Her father
wears the picture of Catherine the Second covered, instead of crystal,
with a single diamond.
* * * * *
_March 12._—Dresden is filled with foreigners from all parts, chiefly
Poles and Russians. Of the latter Mr. Elliot told me two horrid
anecdotes. He was invited to dine with a Russian major; and one of his
servants, a recruit who had been thought too sickly to serve in the army,
laid the cloth rather awkwardly. His master beat him furiously, first
with a stick, next with an iron bar. ‘Good heavens,’ cried Mr. Elliot,
‘you will kill the man.’ ‘Why,’ replied the Major, ‘it is very hard that
I have killed seven or eight, and never been able to make a good servant
yet.’ At another time Mr. Elliot dined with a gentleman who talked of the
aversion the Cossacks had to the Jews. ‘Now, I dare say,’ cried he, ‘this
little fellow behind me,’ turning to a Cossack of about thirteen, ‘has
dispatched them by the score. Come, tell me how many did you ever kill at
once.’ ‘The most I ever killed at once was eleven,’ answered the young
savage, with a grin. ‘Impossible!’ said Mr. Elliot, ‘that boy could have
killed eleven men!’ ‘Oh yes,’ answered he, ‘for my father bound their
hands, and I stabbed them.’
* * * * *
_March 14._—The Princess Fürstenberg and Mad. Münster increase their
attentions daily. I have been confined by a cold in consequence of a
round of visits paid to the wives of the different Ministers previous to
being presented. I did not expect to be admitted, and was not prepared in
my dress for going up and down immense flights of stone stairs in frost
and snow. My indisposition has given these amiable women an opportunity
of showing me unceasing kindness (I wish, however, it did not display
itself so much in writing notes). The Princess heard me wish one evening
for the translation of a German poem, and sat up till three o’clock next
morning to accomplish it, that I might receive it the moment I woke.
* * * * *
_March 15._—Mr. and Mrs. Greathead and their son are persons whom I
regret leaving. They seem to have excellent hearts, and possess many
talents and acquirements. He is author of _The Regent_, and said to be
extremely well informed. She seems a lively, frank, decided, hasty,
clever woman, with a ready flow of ideas and copiousness of diction.
* * * * *
_March 16._—Last night I was invited to a supper at the Prussian
Minister’s. The company were chiefly Russians; five English were asked,
and Lavalette, the French Envoy, and his wife, were also of the party.
It has caused great sensation here, as it is said that it was highly
improper for a person in that line to invite either Russians or English
to meet Lavalette. I did not go, but I have seen him and his wife at a
public ball. He is unpowdered, mean, squat, and dirty. She is prettyish,
and very becomingly drest, but without much attention to decency. Her arm
is quite bare, from the bottom of her sleeve, about an inch below her
shoulder, to the top of her glove, about an inch above her elbow. Any
exposure one is unused to, offends.
* * * * *
_March 20, Prague._—Left Dresden for Vienna, and slept last night here.
The road is very interesting in the commencement of this journey,
particularly from Aussig to Leitmaritz, where it winds through a romantic
range of hills by the side of the Elbe. After you part from the river,
the country becomes in general a dull flat. Prague, as you approach it,
has an appearance of grandeur. It is, however, though spacious, a dirty,
ill-built town, with very high houses, and very narrow streets. You
cannot take a step without being reminded you are in a Roman Catholic
country; it is so peopled with Madonnas and saints. I was so fatigued,
I remained to-day at the inn (Rothes Haus) where Suwarrow lived three
months of the last year. He rose every day at two hours after midnight,
dined at eight, and went to bed at three. ‘He is a great bigot and a
great hog,’ the waiter told me, of whom I asked two or three questions
about him, but was soon obliged to desist. He was afraid I did not
understand what was the species of company Suwarrow associated with;
and after long seeking a French word to explain it, found out that of
_coquette_, which he seemed to think a perfect translation of the coarser
expression he had used in German.
* * * * *
_March 22._—Dined and slept at Iglau, a neat-looking town. How much
exaggerated is the account I have heard of the discomforts of a German
journey. The post-boys are civil, and not in the least importunate. They
seldom ask for more than they receive; a simple denial silences them, and
what we call in England grumbling, I have never heard in this country.
Even the beggars (and in Bohemia they abound) ask with mildness, and
desist at the first refusal.
* * * * *
_March 26, Vienna._—Arrived here two days ago, after making in six days
a journey usually very much dreaded, without a single inconvenience or
the smallest fatigue. I travelled about fifty miles daily, after leaving
Prague, and with facility, as the roads are good. I set out usually about
seven, and reached my _gîte_ long before dark. Vienna, I fancy, cannot be
a healthy residence; the houses are so high, the streets so narrow, and
the population so disproportioned to the size of the town. One can walk
round the walls in an hour; yet it contains 53,000 inhabitants. The best
shops are far inferior to those even in the obscure parts of the city in
London. Saw the Comtesse de Wayna, who returned my visit in less than an
hour. She is very polite, _empressée_, and conversible; a very handsome
woman, and still young.
* * * * *
_March 28._—It grieves me to find travelling contribute so little to
the improvement of my mind. A variety of causes operate to prevent
the possibility of a woman reaping _much_ benefit from a journey
through Germany, unless she totally gives up the world. A certain
enlargement of ideas must imperceptibly follow, and she corrects some
erroneous notions; but she finds infinite difficulty in making any new
acquirements. The multiplicity of visits, not confined to leaving a card,
as in London, but real substantial, bodily visits, and the impossibility,
without overstepping all the bounds of custom, of associating with
any but _noblesse_, may be reckoned among the greatest obstacles. To
make travelling subservient to improvement, it must be undertaken on a
different plan from my present journey. I believe there is no undertaking
whatever, in which the first attempt is not condemned to many gross
and obvious imperfections. No foresight, no reflection, no sagacity,
and, I had almost said, no advice, can supply the want of experience,
even in situations where it appears least necessary. It is a melancholy
consideration that we only know how to live, when the chief pleasures of
life, those attendant on youth and youthful spirits, are vanished for
ever.
Last night I went to an assembly at Lord Minto’s; the only difference
between this meeting, and one of the same kind in London, was that here
I saw infinitely less beauty, particularly among the men, less elegance
of dress, and less of those abstractions of different pairs from the rest
of the society, which I must call ‘flirtation,’ spite of the vulgarity
of the term. Steibelt[17] played exquisitely on the pianoforte. So
interesting a performer I never heard. After he had executed a delightful
_capriccio_, he gave some jigs, in which his wife accompanied him on
the tambourine; and these miserable trifles, in which he was quite
subservient to her playing, and sacrificed himself to cover her little
inaccuracies in point of time, were more admired than his scientific
delightful compositions. Accompanying a fine pianoforte player on the
tambourine is like daubing rouge over a Madonna by Raphael; but it shows
a pretty woman to advantage, and suits the frivolous false taste of the
age. The preference of all which is either frivolous or exaggerated to
what is really excellent grieves me. I blush for my cotemporaries even in
the moments when I most profit by their ignorance, and when they mistake
my own superficial attainments for real talents.
The coarseness of the German language, and the patchwork made use of to
conceal its poverty in some instances, displease me. Its beauties are
said to be considerable. More study will lead me to a knowledge of them,
but a little suffices to enable one to discover faults.
* * * * *
_March 29._—I walked and drove in the Prater, that great boast of the
Germans, who think those who have not seen it, have seen nothing. As far
as I went to-day, I was on a straight wide road, shaded with trees, that
led through an extensive plain, moderately wooded, and perfectly flat.
In summer it must be very pleasant, but a complete flat excludes in my
mind all ideas of pre-eminent beauty. I could as soon think in the living
countenance that fine colours or features could be beautiful without
expression, as that any verdure, any trees, or any river could make
amends for the want of inequality of ground.
* * * * *
_April 9._—I must correct my judgment of the Prater. The fashionable
alley there is uninteresting; but when the whole is considered as a wood
of near eight miles in length, commencing almost _in_ a great city, it
acquires respectability.
* * * * *
_April 13._—Before I had been a week here, I had so many engagements I
was only embarrassed in the choice of them. The pleasantest hours I have
spent were at Lord Minto’s, Prince Schwarzenberg’s, and the Hanoverian
Minister’s. There I sat by the famous General Bellegarde, to whom it is
said the Archduke Charles is chiefly indebted for his most brilliant
successes.[18] He is highly agreeable in conversation, polite, lively,
pleasing, the best _ton_ possible, and the most rational way of thinking.
They say he is the person most in the confidence of Thugut, the Minister.
He is about fifty, and his appearance gives a favourable impression of
him. Lord Minto is very pleasing, when he _does_ converse; but, like a
ghost, will rarely speak till spoken to, unless to his most intimate
friends. He is criticised here for not representing with sufficient
dignity, and for confining himself to a small circle, composed chiefly
of Poles and French. He is extremely absent. The Empress gives him
audiences, and he forgets the day. He accepts invitations to formal
dinners, invites company for the same day, and thinks no more of his
engagement. A person here painted very happily in one sentence his
absence, and his want of those manners in his own house which ought to
distinguish him as the master of it, by saying, ‘_Il se fera présenter,
quelque jour, chez lui._’ On the whole, he is censured for his conduct
in trifles; and of his political career I have heard no opinion, for
politics are a subject scrupulously avoided. This is commanded by the
laws, and they seem in this point exactly obeyed. Deep regrets for the
loss of Joseph the Second are all that ever escapes, which has the most
remote tendency that way. Yet many here think that he did much harm as
well as good; that his spirit of improvement led him to risk too hasty
innovations, and that he was so ardent in his desire _de faire le bien_,
he did not give himself leisure _de le bien faire_.
At Prince Schwarzenberg’s I heard Haydn’s famous _Creation_, a very
pleasing oratorio, but which I think is applauded here much above its
merits. The Duchess of Giovine, authoress of several estimable works
which display great learning and uncommon application, has distinguished
me in a very gratifying way. I have met likewise with a very amiable
woman to whom the Countess Münster recommended me. She is a _Berlinoise_,
and the widow of Prince Reuss, but is received in very few of the first
circles here, on account of her birth, her father having been a merchant.
She was originally a Jewess. I went to Mad. Arnstein’s with her, which
I fear was a breach of etiquette, Mad. Arnstein being a banker’s wife,
and of the second class of _noblesse_. However, I found there a pleasant
society, and an easier _ton_ than in most houses at Vienna. She keeps
open house every evening to a few women, and all the best company in
Vienna as to men. She is a pretty woman with an excellent address. I
supped once at the Prince de Ligne’s, whom I was prepared to fear
and admire as a most _aimable roué, plein d’esprit, et de talens_. I
have yet seen in him no resemblance to any part of this picture. In
general, conversation at Vienna seems to me but meagre; little events
are magnified, as in a small town; politics never, and literature very
seldom, mentioned.
* * * * *
_April 14._—The Ridotto, a very large fine room, well lighted, most
people in their usual dresses—no brilliancy of dress, or whimsicality,
or variety of character. Those who masque, merely disguise themselves,
without assuming any particular costume.
* * * * *
_April 17._—Breakfasted at Lady Taaffe’s, to see the Emperor pass by
to St. Stephen’s, in honour of the citizens of Vienna, who, on the
anniversary of this day four years ago, rose _en masse_, and took arms to
oppose Buonaparte. The occasion of the fête made it interesting; dazzling
it was not, for the Emperor, who is averse to all unnecessary parade,
was in a plain coach, without guards or any outward sign of royalty. All
the citizens who took arms, marched in a body, with their officers at
their head, and military music. The spectators made a most pleasing part
of the spectacle; not a beggar, or ragged or dirty person to be seen.
All were well clothed, and had the appearance of enjoying habitually the
comforts of life. The Emperor is easy of access, and two days in the week
may be approached by the meanest of his subjects. He is averse to all
pomp, lives in his own family, and is attached to his own wife, which in
Germany is a singular thing, as a mistress is almost considered here a
necessary part of the establishment of a married man. He appears at the
Prater in the plainest carriage, driving the Empress, who scarcely ever
leaves him. She is not beautiful, but possesses, I am told, a thousand
graces; is highly accomplished; mistress both of the theory and practice
of music, and an excellent mineralogist. I dined to-day at Prince
Esterhazy’s, one of the greatest among the Hungarian noblemen. He has a
million florins a-year, but is greatly in debt. He was not at home, but
the Princess is a charming, unaffected, pretty woman about thirty.
* * * * *
_April 20._—Dined at Prince Colloredo’s. His wife, though very civil,
could not conceal her joy that I was soon to go to England, because I was
to be succeeded by a gold muslin, which I have promised to buy for her.
The abundance of pearls and diamonds worn here is absolutely dazzling. I
am told they are all entailed.
* * * * *
_April 21._—Passed the evening with the Duchess of Giovine. The oftener
we meet, the more I admire the extent of her information, the clearness
of her understanding, and the vivacity of her ideas. The learned
languages, history ancient and modern, and the various branches of
natural philosophy, especially mineralogy, seem familiar to her. She has
reflected deeply on education, politics, and manners; and owned to me
that she had hoped to have a place about the Empress, which would enable
her to direct the education of the Archduchesses.[19] No woman could be
more fit for such a situation; but court intrigues, and particularly the
influence of the Marquis di Gallo, the Neapolitan Minister, and of the
present _grande maîtresse_, prevented it. That the first should oppose
her was the more extraordinary, as she is highly favoured by the Queen of
Naples. An unhappy marriage, bad health, and a natural taste for mental
improvement, all co-operated to promote her present retired and studious
life.
* * * * *
_April 25._—A _thé_ at Comtesse Worzell’s, a Polonaise. Lord Douglas, a
late arrival, was of the party. He looks like a public singer, and is
devoted to music, but is easy and well-bred. Saw the real dress of a
Polish nobleman. It is becoming, and is a sort of tunic of two colours,
with sleeves puffed at the top, and a girdle. The colours are blue and
grey.
* * * * *
_April 26._—The opera of _La Virtu in Cimento_, a charming piece on the
canvass of Patient Grizzle; the music by Paer. His wife sings in it
remarkably well.
* * * * *
_May 2._—The public walks about Vienna are delicious, particularly the
Augarten, where no carriages or horses are admitted, and which, if less
a garden _peigné_, would be perfect. I have dined three days this week
at the houses of the Ministers. This is no compliment, being a matter of
course. There are about forty persons present at these entertainments.
The dinners do not appear superlatively good, and would not, I believe,
content an English epicure. They all begin at three, end before five;
coffee and cards succeed; one retires about six, and, if one chooses,
returns at nine to an assembly in the same house.—Among the modes here,
I chiefly dislike the use of running footmen. It is so cruel, and so
unnecessary. These unhappy people always precede the carriage of their
masters in town, and sometimes even to the suburbs. They seldom live
above three or four years, and generally die of consumption. Fatigue
and disease are painted in their pallid and drawn features; but, like
victims, they are crowned with flowers, and adorned with tinsel. Dwarfs
as a piece of pageantry also pain me, though I do not well know why.
* * * * *
_May 4._—Drank tea at a house Mad. de —— possesses in the Prater, a
delicious little spot; and the moving, animated, and varied spectacle
it offers of people of every description and almost of every nation,
apparently happy and entertained, is wonderfully amusing—for a few
moments. The inhabitants of Vienna may certainly be called the Sybarites
of Europe, and their love of diversions proves an obstacle to the
cultivation of intellect, art, or science.
* * * * *
_May 7._—Was presented by the Baroness de la Vallaise to the Emperor
and Empress. He receives quite alone, she with two ladies of honour; so
in fact you merely pay them a morning visit. He has a mild countenance;
she has as much gentleness in her expression, with more animation. Both
are extremely gracious, and it appears nature, and not art. They place
themselves on a level with you, and do not remind you that they descend.
She is not handsome, but very pleasing. She was well dressed, in white
silk; in her hair, which seems very fine and was dressed with powder,
she wore a row of emeralds, each set flat, and surrounded with diamonds.
A trimming on the front of her gown, and her necklace and ear-rings, were
all of the same kind.
* * * * *
_May 11._—Supped with Mad. Divoff. Cardinal Albani accompanied very well
on the pianoforte Mons. ——, a banker, who had passed his youth in Italy,
and who sung charmingly. Madame de Kalitschoff, the Russian embassadress,
a lively pretty woman, was so impatient for the pattern of my combs,
that she pulled them out of my head, without the least reluctance to
discompose my toilette, and put them into her own. The women here possess
little taste in their dress. The manner in which they mix every colour,
not merely in the rainbow, but in all nature, and the variety of showy
ornaments they heap on one another, is incredible.
* * * * *
_May 12._—Saw the Hungarian Guard in gala, a most beautiful sight.
Seventy-two young men, the flower of the Hungarian nobility,
magnificently and tastefully dressed, mounted on white horses, finely
shaped and full of spirit. The costume is rich, yet so well fancied that
it adds to personal dignity, which most splendid dresses diminish. It is
composed of a scarlet vest and trousers, made to the shape, with green
belts, scarfs, and yellow half-boots, all richly trimmed and embroidered
with silver. A tiger’s skin is fancifully disposed on the back, and
covers part of the left arm. A very lofty fur cap, ornamented with green
and silver, is completed with a heron’s feather. Upon the whole it is
rich, yet not heavy; splendid, yet not gaudy; and while every part is
ornamental, none seems to impede the exertion of strength or activity.
* * * * *
_May 13._—Saw Count Lambert’s collection of pictures—an excellent choice.
My favourite, a storm and shipwreck by Loutherbourg, much superior to his
usual style of colouring, very transparent, beautiful, and expressive.
The Etruscan vases are numerous, and he supposes them coeval with the
Creation, as he declares them six thousand years old.
* * * * *
_May 14._—Saw the porcelain manufactory. It is said the mass is not so
fine as that of Dresden, of which the white is beautifully clear and
transparent, somewhat like a plover’s egg. It is, however, eminently
beautiful; but the biscuit figures are not in such good taste, nor
so well proportioned, as those of Dresden. A _plateau_, designed as
a present from the Emperor to the Duchess of York, cannot be enough
admired. The biscuit figures in the middle represent the story of Cupid
and Psyche. It costs twelve thousand florins.
* * * * *
_May 15._—Went to a breakfast at the Prater. I went at one, hoping the
violence of the breakfast would be over, as I do not love sitting long
at table. Unfortunately others do. This social meal had begun at twelve,
and lasted till three, when dancing began. It is the custom to dance
a country-dance and a waltz alternately; but those who only dance the
former are treated unfairly; for, as the waltz is the favourite, and
there is no reason it should ever finish, a vast deal more time is
devoted to it than to the country-dance, which has a stated progress. The
waltz is so passionately beloved by the German women, that numbers of all
ranks fall a sacrifice to it; and every Carnival is usually fatal to one
or two individuals of the first society.
* * * * *
_May 16._—Found the Princess Rosamoffska at home in a delicious
country-house, or, as they call it here, garden—very like Richmond. I
find her extremely pleasing. She is one of the daughters of Madame de
Thune, the Madame de Sévigné of Vienna. Her husband was a _ci-devant_
Russian Minister, and I see she has a large share of the general
antipathy to the Emperor. She asked me if I had seen two excellent
caricatures of him. In the first he writes with one hand _Ordre_, with
the other _Contre-ordre_, while on his forehead is written _Désordre_.
In the second, Peter the Great is represented with a torch he appears to
have just lighted; Catherine the Second has a pair of snuffers to make
it burn still brighter, and poor Paul an—extinguisher. I left Madame
Rosamoffska much pleased with her conversation, and the _prévenante_
vivacity of her manners.
* * * * *
I found the following verses on a loose sheet of paper, quite
separate from the journal, and without any date; but if my
Mother made actually, and not merely in imagination, a visit
to the famous shrine at Mariazell—which is in Styria, and some
seventy miles from Vienna—it must have been during this, her
only residence in that city. I am quite ignorant whether she
is here recording an incident in her own travels, or in those
of another; but the description of the scenery in the earlier
lines appears like that of one drawing on her own experience.
The story is a touching one, and may help to remind that there
are other forms of human life besides that highly artificial
one in which at this time the writer was moving.
MARIAZELL.
I joined the crowd that from Vienna streamed
As pious pilgrims to Mariazell,
Where stands the Virgin Mother’s holy shrine;
And trod with them the steep romantic paths
That wound by rushing waters, and through vales
No sunbeams ever pierced. Full many a dale
Seemed by the lofty mountains sternly closed,
Until the narrow path had reached its base,
And then a sharply sudden turn displayed
O’erhanging rocks, young groves, and rivulets,
That sparkling cheered the wanderer’s weary way,
Till at the last the summit’s airy height,
Crowned with its antique cloister, was disclosed.
Chanting their simple hymn the pilgrims rise.
Then long bright tresses are unbound, to float
Like hers—the Magdalen, by Guido drawn—
Denoting penitence, meek humble prayer,
And recklessness of earthly ornament.
I rested by a fountain near the top,
And saw a father, mother, and their son
Slowly ascend the hill. The boy was fair,
The woman calm, courageous, and resigned;
So in her features did I read her soul.
But he who should have been the guide of both,
With looks of helpless, all-confiding love,
Received support from them—for he was blind.
Around his neck a rosary was hung;
His fingers told the tranquillizing beads,
While in a soft and melancholy chaunt
His wife recited the accustomed prayers,
That fell like balm upon his wounded heart.
For the last time the wonder-working stream
Refreshed his weary lips. The days prescribed,
Three anxious days of prayer and hope, were past,
Each altar visited, each vow fulfilled.
Though poor in worldly treasure, they were rich
In purer wealth—a family of love.
Their distant home in green Bohemia lay,
Where a fair daughter in ripe womanhood
Hung like a mother o’er the little band,
Who watched with longing eyes a sire’s return.
Ere darkness fell on him, he sat and sang,
Plying the shuttle with unwearied skill;
And labour, like a ceaseless fountain, flung
Around his rural home the green delight
Of rustic plenty. But, the light withdrawn
From those sad eyes, by slow degrees his day
Became a sleepless night, and poverty
Assailed him like an armèd man. At last
He formed the difficult resolve to save
A pittance for a journey to these shrines.
Then all was spared that nature did not need,
And while the customary fruits were laid
On the loved father’s board, his faithful wife
And cheerful offspring shared the coarsest food:
He knew it not, nor ever would have known,
But for the prying humour of a neighbour.
She told this simple tale, and rose to go.
No ray of light had visited his eyes,
Yet he was half consoled, and pleased to think
He had fulfilled his duty to his children:
And though he had not found the boon he sought,
He was resigned, and blest the will of Heaven.
* * * * *
_May 28._—Dined with the Count de la Gardie, Swedish Minister. The
Hanoverian and Prussian Ministers were of the party. The gentlemen,
according to the Swedish custom, were called into the ante-room a moment
before dinner to drink brandy and eat bread-and-butter. At dinner, the
conversation turned on Italy. Count Divoff, a Russian, said, ‘_L’été
prochain j’irai en Italie; alors les rois seront tous sur leurs trônes,
et l’ordre rétabli_.’ Count Keller, the Prussian Minister, said with an
air of _persiflage_—at least, I thought it such—‘_Il est vrai que c’est
un espoir auquel il ne faut pas renoncer_.’ One assigned cause for Sir
Charles Whitworth’s disgrace with the Court of Russia is curious. The
Emperor had given orders no empty carriage should pass a certain part of
the palace. Sir Charles, ignorant of this, had left his coach to speak
with a workman, and desired it might drive on and meet him at a distance.
The sentinel stopped the carriage; the servants insisted on driving on;
a scuffle ensued. The Emperor, ever on the watch about trifles, inquired
into the cause of the dispute, and, on learning it, ordered the servants
to be beat, the horses to be beat, and the coach to be beat (Xerxes
lashing the sea!). Sir Charles Whitworth, by way of washing off this
stain, ordered his servants to be discharged, his horses to be shot,
his carriage, after being broken into a thousand pieces, to be thrown
into the river. The Emperor, indignant at this mark of offended pride,
insisted on his recall.
* * * * *