the first woman singer at Berlin. She has a very powerful expression, too
powerful, perhaps, except for the stage, and a very brilliant execution,
too much ornamented, perhaps, for the generality of her hearers. Her
voice has, upon the whole, more strength than sweetness, though it is
said some of her low tones resemble Marchesi. Supped with the Princess
de Lorraine, once the most beautiful woman of her time. She retains,
though past sixty, very splendid remains, and has an uncommon share of
grace and dignity. From the pension of 12,000 florins allowed her by
the Emperor, she supports several of her friends, relations, and even
acquaintances. She gives suppers four times a week, composed of the
best society among the emigrants, intermingled with a few Germans and
foreigners.
* * * * *
_June 6._—I passed this morning with Mad. de la Gardie, wife to the
Swedish Minister. She is very kind to me, and I have at her house that
easy ingress and egress which I prefer to formal invitations. We went
together to see Füger’s paintings.[20] He is a fine artist, and a
sincere enthusiast. I believe he ranks very high in the first class of
historical painters. His ‘Death of Virginia’ is a beautiful performance.
Her father has just stabbed her; Appius, who is elevated on the tribune
from which he had given sentence, remains petrified in the posture
into which he had thrown himself from the involuntary motion by which
we mechanically attempt to save an object in danger, even when we know
and feel our help comes too late. The expression, _ordonnance_, and
colouring of this picture are all charming. I also saw his drawings from
Klopstock’s _Messiah_—wild, fanciful, expressive. The dream of Judas,
suggested by Satan, who appears with his hand on the culprit’s heart,
while his guardian angel mournfully retires, particularly struck me;
as did the restoration of one of the fallen angels, who has repented,
is forgiven, and recovers his pristine dignity and beauty. Füger is
a tall, well-looking man, about forty, his countenance is placid,
his eye is open, clear, and _attractive_—I mean, invites you to look
into it, and to repose your soul on his. I have seen this in but few
eyes, and they generally belonged to persons who combined genius with
simplicity. After he had explained to me the subjects of his drawings
from Klopstock, and regretted I could not understand him in German, he
took down an Italian translation of a few favourite cantos, and began
to read it to me. Mad. de la Gardie became impatient to go; however he
went on. At last she tore me away; but not till Füger put the book into
my hand, exclaiming, ‘_Lisez, lisez; cela vous tournera la tête, et
vous échauffera le sang_.’ In the evening went to Lady Minto’s and Mad.
Arnstein’s.—It is said Cesario, the resident _Chargé d’Affaires_ here
from Berlin, had orders from Haugwitz to carry on a negotiation with
Thugut without the participation of Keller. Cesario had borrowed from
the latter some maps; in returning which he sent him by mistake a letter
from Thugut, that discovered their secret intercourse. Keller, enraged,
wrote a remonstrance to Haugwitz, which, it is also said, has procured
his recall. This story is denied by La Gardie, the friend of Keller, who
affirms that Cesario, a confirmed Jacobin, attempted to intrigue, without
being authorized by his Court, and is to be himself recalled. Keller, La
Gardie, and La Vallaise live much together; Lord Minto extremely apart
from all the foreign Ministers. Query, if this is good policy in his
Lordship?
* * * * *
_June 7._—On coming home last night from Mad. Arnstein’s, I saw by the
light of the moon a poor female peasant with a load of wood at her back,
praying before a crucifix, placed on one side of the road under a few
trees, with a lighted taper before it. It was a pleasing picture. There
labour and poverty forget their care, and there only exists a momentary,
but a real and consoling, equality. What can those _soi-disant_
philosophers, who endeavour to extirpate religion from the hearts of men,
offer to the poor and the wretched in its place?—Supped at the Prince de
Ligne’s.
* * * * *
_June 11._—Various symptoms of peace are observed to-day. Thugut is
_rayonnant_ with delight. He has always, it is said, been favourable
in his heart to the French, and his estates in France have never been
confiscated. The Emperor is supposed to be wholly guided by him. The
Empress is averse to this Minister, but, spite of her influence in
politics, cannot displace him. The Emperor has done everything within the
bounds of decent respect to prevent the Queen of Naples from coming; but
cannot succeed.
* * * * *
_June 12._—I forgot to mention having dined in the course of last month
with Count Cobenzl, who desired me to make my own party, and devoted a
day to showing me his delightful grounds. He is a farmer as well as an
embellisher of nature, and has such a cowhouse, &c., as I have never
seen in any country. I also dined last month at Dornbach, and saw the
villa of Maréchal Lacy, where nature has performed her part in the most
exquisite manner, but where art has been impertinently busy. Great are
the beauties of both these places; Count Cobenzl’s, however, displays
a purity of taste which is not to be found at the Maréchal’s.—Saw this
day from the windows of Baroness Spielman the public adoration of
the Host by the Emperor and Empress. The procession which appears in
honour of this day, the _Fête Dieu_, is the most splendid and brilliant
Vienna ever displays. The Emperor and Empress, Grand Duke of Tuscany,
Palatine, ladies of the Court in gala dresses, friars of the different
Orders, children maintained by charitable institutions, vicars of all
the churches with painted banners, German and Hungarian Guards, officers
of those regiments who rose _en masse_ to oppose the French, &c. &c.,
all proceed to church. The Emperor, Empress, &c., go in state coaches,
but return on foot, preceded by the Host, to which they kneel for some
minutes in different streets. He was dressed in uniform, with the Order
of Maria Theresa; she in a silver muslin gown, her hair dressed somewhat
_à l’antique_, powdered and ornamented with roses and festoons of pearls.
The ceremony would, in my opinion, have been much more impressive with a
mixture of martial and religious music.
* * * * *
_June 15-17._—Three days at Baden, a small town two posts from Vienna,
celebrated for its warm sulphureous baths. They appear convenient and
well attended. In the largest, men and women of the best society bathe
together, and appear very much to enjoy the amusement. The gentlemen
are in shirts and trousers; the ladies in their usual white morning
dresses, and on their heads caps, handkerchiefs, laces, and ribbons,
fancifully and becomingly disposed. It is the triumph of real beauty and
freshness, as no rouge can be worn or paint of any kind. The bath opens
a vast field for coquetry. A becoming dishabille, graceful attitudes,
timidity, languor, and an affectionate confidence in your conductor, may
here all be displayed to advantage. The lover leads his mistress, and
has perhaps a secret satisfaction in finding himself with her in a new
element; for Mad. de Genlis observes, I think with truth, that to those
who really love every new situation in company with the beloved has a
certain charm. Many of those who have no lovers obtain, however, half
a conductor, as every man who is not devoted generally gives each arm
to a different lady. The old, the plain, and the neglected sit round on
benches, as it is dangerous for women to walk about in the bath without a
guide. Spectators are admitted, who view the scene from a little gallery.
To them the heat and sulphureous smell is very unpleasant. The situation
of this village is agreeable, among hills, which, though minute, are of
a romantic character. An _écluse_, in a very wild spot, at about ten
minutes’ distance, has been made to receive the wood which has floated on
the river from the mountains. It mingles ideas of industry and ingenuity
with those of peace and retirement, a contrast that always pleases.
* * * * *
_June 19._—Dined yesterday at Prince Staremberg’s, where I saw Count
——, just returned from Russia, who told a thousand strange stories of
the Emperor’s frivolity, punctilio, and pride. He now fears he shall
see the ghost of Catherine (a sublime apparition!); and one night under
the influence of this apprehension leaped out of bed, and threw down
the chairs and tables in his haste to take shelter in the chimney. The
Empress, who slept near his room, terrified at the noise, arose, and not
finding the Emperor, called his attendants. They examined the apartments,
and discovered the place of his retreat. He was so ashamed of the
ridicule he felt conscious of having incurred, that he put the Empress
under arrest, with strict orders never to come uncalled into his chamber.
Count —— also said it was not allowed to invite half a dozen people to
dinner without permission from the police; and if this permission was too
often asked, the person became suspected. I mentioned the conversation
of yesterday at the Count de la Gardie’s, where I dined to-day. ‘_Ce
Monsieur_,’ said he, ‘_fera fortune à Vienne, où c’est la mode de médire
de l’Empereur de Russie_.’
* * * * *
_June 27._—Dined at Maréchal Lacy’s—a large party—his invitation was
in the spirit of ancient chivalry, begging ‘_l’honneur de me servir à
diner_.’ This delightful old man does the honours of his house perfectly.
He seemed quite grieved at parting from me, and pressed my hand most
affectionately as he put me into the carriage. In the evening went to
see a firework in the Prater. The _emplacement_ is perfectly convenient,
the view beautiful, and the representation extremely amusing. Those
spectators who choose to pay a florin are seated on a stage, exactly
opposite, where there is no crowd, and where they are perfectly at their
ease. The difference of colour in the fire, some being perfectly white,
and some bright yellow, has a good effect, and there is a degree of
perspective obtained, beyond what I thought possible. The performance
represented the taking of Genoa, and at one moment displayed a warrior,
who waved his sword, and had a noble yet satanic appearance, which
reminded one of Milton’s fallen archangel. At the close were a range of
trophies, surmounted by a long wreath of laurel, suspended at intervals
and formed into festoons by eagles in different postures, who held it in
their beaks.
* * * * *
_June 30._—Dined with Count Erclädy, and in the evening went to a concert
at Dr. Franc’s. He is a physician, who is supposed to have great skill
in his profession. His son’s wife sings remarkably well, and with some
other amateurs performed the opera of _The Horatii and Curiatii_—the
words Metastasio’s, the music Cimarosa’s—the former very poetical and
affecting, the latter brilliant, pathetic, and expressive. Paer also sung
charmingly; he is a _maître de chapelle_, and a very agreeable composer.
I find the _noblesse_ can sometimes wave etiquette, and sacrifice their
dignity to their amusement, for the auditors were chiefly of the first
class.
* * * * *
_July 1._—Breakfasted with the incomparable Duchess of Giovine, who gave
me in the most graceful manner a pair of opal ear-rings and a cross
to match. She hoped their colour might be emblematic of the unspotted
felicity I should enjoy during the remainder of my life. Dined with Mad.
de la Gardie.
* * * * *
_July 2._—Mrs. —— made many inquiries whether I saw Mad. de la Gardie
frequently, and ended by assuring me she was extremely jealous. I am
certain she is as far removed from jealousy as he is from giving her
cause. Accompanied her this morning to the gallery of Count Truchsess,
a valuable collection. There are above eleven hundred pictures, chiefly
by Flemish and Dutch masters, some by Germans; among which Füger’s are
conspicuous, particularly one of Stratonice and Antiochus, a charming
subject, exquisitely treated.
* * * * *
_July 3-7._—Dined one day at Prince Staremberg’s, whose garden is much
admired here, and would be thought very tasteless in England. He is, I
see, delighted with a little muddy rivulet, flowing a very short but
serpentine way through two heaps of stones piled on each side, and
ending to the left in a small pool, with an island in it, about the size
and shape of a plate, and to the right in a cascade that falls about
ten feet down five or six regular steps. ‘_Cela va toujours_,’ said he
triumphantly, ‘_et cela m’a couté trente mille florins_.’ I dined also
again with the Arnsteins, who I see hate the Austrian government. She is
a Prussian, and, according to the late cant phrase, ‘that accounts for
it.’
* * * * *
_July 8._—Went to see Prince Lichtenstein’s collection of pictures, which
fills fourteen rooms. We have no idea of such numerous collections in
England. His pictures are chiefly Flemish and Dutch. In these consist
the riches of most of the Vienna collections. Pictures by Italian masters
are comparatively rare. Van Huysum’s flowers, and Sebold’s extraordinary
representations of nature, in which not a hair or pore but is distinct,
were to me the greatest novelties. The latter in the course of a long
life painted but twelve pictures, all, I believe, heads. His own
portrait and that of his daughter, who is still living, are in Prince
Lichtenstein’s gallery.
* * * * *
_July 10._—The nobility here do not disdain any branch of commerce or
mercantile speculation, not even usury. Prince Staremberg, Maréchal
Kinski, and the Prince de Paer are the chief usurers. The Duchess of
Giovine was employed by the Queen of Naples to negotiate a loan of four
millions, and had recourse to the latter, who modestly asked twenty
per cent. interest, saying to her, ‘_Madame, quant à l’argent, je vous
déclare je ne suis pas délicat; je suis tout à fait marchand. Je suis
accoutumé à prêter mon argent à 20 pour 100, et je ne puis le faire à
moins._’ The great people here also make a practice of selling wine in as
small a quantity as five bottles, or a florin’s worth, at a time. Prince
Staremberg will even consent to sell a single tree out of his favourite
garden, if any one offers a sufficient price for it.
* * * * *
_July 11._—A ball at Mödling, a water-drinking place, about four miles
from Vienna. Went with the Count and Countess Wickenburg. He is Minister
for Bavaria, and a friend to peace, as are La Gardie, Keller, and La
Vallaise; all, indeed, except Lord Minto. Danced with Ferdinand Count
Palffy, director of the mines, an excellent dancer and an agreeable
little man, but of too finical and foppish an exterior. Supped with
the two Princes of Wurtemburg, _beaux frères_ of our Princess Royal.
Conversed much with him who is tall, of a dark complexion, and about five
and twenty.
* * * * *
_July 12._—Received a visit from Count Truchsess. He is averse to peace.
He proposes sending his collection to England next year, in order to sell
it. Every one at present is anxious to turn a capital of that sort into
money, having the fear of the French before their eyes.
* * * * *
_July 14._—Was presented at Duke Albert’s, where I thought myself in
England; his looks and manners so much resemble those of an Englishman of
high fashion. He is son to the late King of Poland. Mad. de Menée, a lady
who is not related to him, was _grande maîtresse_ to his late wife, lives
in his house, and presides at his parties. This is not thought singular
here. At the Duke’s, which appears incontestably the pleasantest house at
Vienna, saw the Duchess of Riario, his niece—a fine woman, between twenty
and thirty, extremely advantageously dressed, with a tolerably handsome
face, and great ease, nay, even confidence, of manner.
* * * * *
_July 18._—Dined at La Gardie’s—read _Les Mères Rivales_ aloud, while she
made a _couvre-pied_ for her approaching confinement; her mother worked
a cap for the babe, and he sat down to his netting; it was a black
shawl for his wife. A fine tall man, a soldier, too, with a very martial
appearance, netting a shawl for his wife, amused me—Hercules and Omphale!
I leave Vienna to-morrow.
* * * * *
_Desultory Remarks._—Upon the whole, Vienna is no place of gay
dissipation, except in the Carnival. The spectacles are but indifferent,
the assemblies but little frequented, there are few concerts and no
balls. Married women, or if one happens to be a _chanoinesse_, which
confers the same privileges, go about to all places without a companion
of their own sex. Those who are of notorious bad character are received
in all societies with as much _empressement_ as those of the very best
conduct. The few really virtuous women do not make a class apart, but
associate indiscriminately, and even form friendships, with those who
are most notoriously otherwise. Yet a certain respect is shown to a good
character; for, though gallantry is never blamed, a uniform life of
virtue is often praised. Attentions are reciprocal between the sexes. The
women do not exact homage, and therefore do not receive it. I was seldom
more surprised than on being congratulated by a lady on the attentions
of a young Pole, who distinguished me particularly on the evening of
my first appearance, as in general such congratulations are offered to
the man whose homage is suffered, and not to the woman who receives
it. Scandal is a vice totally unknown; its most general object among
women is here not disgraceful, so hardly ever made a topic, and, when
mentioned, spoken of without censure or enlargement. The best feature
in the character of the society at Vienna is a universal appearance of
good nature. The young Germans do not associate much with women, and,
as the various subjects of political information which are necessary
to an Englishman are merely matters of speculation under a despotic
government, one great motive to study which exists among us is here cut
off. Classical knowledge is not thought essential to the education of
a gentleman; study, in general, not a favourite pursuit; and reading
scarcely considered as an amusement. Consequently the young Austrians do
not excel in the art of conversation, nor do they even possess what we
call small talk, from mixing so little with women of fashion. They dance
and ride, but I believe the variety of sports and exercises which give a
graceful exterior, is quite unknown to them. They have little grace, and
scarcely any beauty.
Upon the whole, however, I love the German character. Calmness and
mildness are its most prominent features. Cruelty is a vice here totally
unknown, with all its attendants, roughness, brutality, oaths, loud
speech, &c. As to importunity and servility, they are alike banished
from the land. The begger asks charity without whining or clamour, and
if not immediately relieved, desists without reproach. There arises from
this universal calmness of soul a certain dignity more easily felt than
described. I would advise every one who has irritable nerves to reside
in this country. He will see none of those melancholy objects who awake
pity, and hear none of those atrocities which excite horror. Safe under
the guardianship of a mild but vigilant police, he may travel over
unfrequented heaths at all hours of the night, and may lie down and
sleep in full security, without even the precaution of locking his door.
He may walk about the streets in any costume without being insulted, and
he may carry his whole fortune about him without any danger of losing
it by the dishonesty of others. _C’est défendu_ acts in this country
with the force the most violent penal laws do not possess in England.
At the play a lady said to me, ‘_On ne siffle plus au spectacle; c’est
défendu_.’ The general wish for peace is strongly expressed; and as the
Emperor has neither men nor money to carry on the war, he must desire it
as much as his subjects. Gold is scarcely ever seen. I did not see one
piece of coined gold during the four months of my residence at Vienna.
Upon the whole, the facility which strangers who are highly recommended
find in establishing themselves in good society, the variety created by
the concourse of people from all parts of the world, those points of
national character I have already stated, and the extreme beauty of the
country, make Vienna a delightful residence. It is also, when compared
to London, extremely cheap. A person may live in the same manner as in
London, as nearly as the difference of each town will permit, for about
one-third of the expense.
* * * * *
_July 20, Prague._—The road from Vienna here is very agreeably
diversified with hills, vineyards, hop grounds, and abundance of
corn-fields; but, alas! literally the harvest is plenteous and the
labourers few. I scarcely saw a peasant, and in one field reckoned
thirteen women at work, with only two men.
* * * * *
_July 22, Carlsbad._—Two fatiguing days have brought me here. The
situation of these baths is charming. A variety of hills, covered to the
very top with different species of fir, sweep around and play into one
another in every direction. A small river runs at the bottom, and an
appearance of dignity, repose, and seclusion is the general expression of
the scene.
* * * * *
_July 23._—Became acquainted with the Countess Brühl, a woman whose
character seems to command universal respect, and whose manners please
me extremely. I preferred seeing a beautiful country with her to dancing
with the gayer part of the society, and was well rewarded for my choice
by her conversation. Though I had no recommendation to her, she has
offered to introduce me here, and presented me in the same evening to the
Princess Radziwill and Duchess of Courland. The former very graciously
told me that I was still regretted at Brunswick.
* * * * *
_July 25-28._—Lived chiefly with an English society composed of Colonel
and Mrs. ——, Sir Thomas and Lady ——. Early tea drinking and late
supping consumed the evenings; and the mornings were wasted in visits
and shopping, with all their tiresome accompaniments. The conversation
ran chiefly on the decided superiority of England in all points, and
comparisons of different places abroad in point of cheapness, and stale
anecdotes of ourselves and of the English world. The improvement small,
and the amusement less.
* * * * *
_August 4, Töplitz._—Remained at Carlsbad till the second. The situation
is charming, the _ton_ perfectly easy, the lodgings tolerable, the hours
convenient, and the manner of living extremely agreeable. Two days have
brought me here. The situation has not the divine romantic beauty of
Carlsbad. I have seen no part of it so agreeable as the _Wiese_ where I
there lodged, and I much regret the change. Went with the Princess Clary
to a _thé_ given in that part of her garden open to the public by the
Princess Dolgorouki, a Russian. The _locale_ made it a pleasing fête,
but somehow or other I was not amused. In the evening was admitted to
the Princess Dolgorouki. As she rose at my entrance I did not perceive
her previous situation; and was a little surprised when I saw her throw
herself upon a mattress, covered with the same calico as her sofas. There
she lay along, dressed in a very dirty, huddled _dishabille_, and wrapped
up in a Turkish shawl. The room was small, low, and mean, like most of
the lodgings here; but was ornamented with pieces of chintz, calico, and
muslin hung round in festoons; the like were suspended from the ceiling;
prints, unframed, were hung about in various places; orange-trees were in
the four corners, and the stove was veiled with drapery of various kinds.
The lady and the room gave me an idea of Bedlam, yet every one admired,
and cried out how enchanting her taste. In Germany be extraordinary,
grotesque or absurd in a new way, and you will surely be applauded.
Conversed chiefly with a wounded officer, the Prince Tour and Taxis, who
gave me a horrid account of the fatigues and sufferings of the Austrian
army during the last campaign. He was left ten hours on the field of
battle, ‘_où je serois mort_,’ added he, ‘_si le caporal de mon régiment
n’avoit bouché les trous de mes plaies avec de la terre. J’aurois été
heureux de mourir, car cela m’auroit épargné bien des souffrances._’ All
seem dissatisfied with the conduct of the war, particularly since Prince
Charles resigned the command.
* * * * *
_August 11._—Long airings with the Princess Clary (to whom Töplitz
belongs) fill up my evenings very agreeably. I have been in two of the
carriages of the country. The first holds four, of whom two only can be
defended from the weather. The second holds eight; it is a long plank
covered with a cushion, with a footboard on each side, and on one a sort
of narrow resting-place, which at will may serve for your back or arms,
as you can turn yourself either way. It has four wheels covered with
cases of strong leather to prevent the branches from entangling in them,
and is excellent for going through woods and narrow roads. It is heavy to
the horses, and requires six in a long drive.
* * * * *
_August 13._—Went to a _thé_ given by Vicomte Anadia, the Portuguese
Minister, and afterwards saw _Le Sauvage_, a very ugly dance, which I
mean to take to England, where novelty sometimes supplies the want of
every other charm.
* * * * *
_August 22._—The last four days have been cheered by the society of
my friend Mr. S——. How delightful to meet a friend and countryman in
a foreign land. He travels with his eldest son, who has passed near
a year at M. de Mounier’s academy in Weimar. He went there merely a
pretty-looking, insignificant young man, devoted to fashion, full of
vanity, and anxious to think on all subjects with those who lead in the
_ton_. Mounier has enlarged, refined, and liberalized his ideas, given
him just notions of politics, a general taste in literature, and cleared
his mind of the prejudices acquired in the round of fashionable life in
London.—Conversed with the Count O’Kelly, who confirmed all I have heard
of the Empress’s unbounded influence over her husband, her devotion to
her mother, and her dislike of the Archduke Charles, which has produced
fatal effects—whole troops at the battle of Marengo having surrendered
without firing a shot, saying, ‘Why should we suffer ourselves to be
massacred for those who have taken our father from us?’
* * * * *
_Aug. 24._—To-morrow I leave Töplitz. There is one point in which it
differs materially from an English water-drinking place; the expense
may be rated at about one-seventh. I am in a wretchedly comfortless,
but not disgraceful lodging, for which I pay but two florins a night,
and had I taken it by the week or month, it would have been still
cheaper.—Yesterday evening I saw a play represented in the open air. The
piece, _Graf von Walthron_, is military, and founded on a true story.
An inferior officer, who insults his colonel, is condemned to die, and
receives a pardon at the place of execution. Nothing, as far as what I
saw of the pantomime enabled me to judge—for it was a play only to the
eye, as it was impossible to hear a word—appeared new in the details. A
wife, who arrives in great spirits to see her husband in camp, receives
the news of his condemnation with a fainting fit, who kneels, implores,
weeps, embraces, attempts to shoot herself, and, according to custom,
suffers the pistol to be forced from her with great facility, is what
we have all seen a thousand times. I was chiefly employed in reflecting
what astonishing art the ancients must have possessed to give effect to
a piece in the open air. Here nothing could be worse. I sat in one of
the best places, yet heard not a word; and the mere spectacle did not
strike the eye, as I expected an exact reality would have done. At one
moment only the representation appeared to gain by its perfect truth;
it was when a number of horsemen gallop forward with repeated cries,
and produce the pardon of Graf Walthron. Extreme haste to further a
benevolent purpose has always a good stage effect. Count Waldstein’s
horses were the performers. Among the spectators was Mad. de Cachet, who
commanded 22,000 men in the war of La Vendée, was wounded in several
engagements, wishes to be thought daughter to Louis the Sixteenth, and
is really not unlike the portraits of the family. She also resembles the
Margravine of Anspach. I think her about forty, rather well-looking, her
hair _d’une couleur un peu hardie_, and very long; her complexion good,
and not tanned; her throat well-turned, and very white, and her manner of
carrying her head beautiful. She is of a middle height, rather fat and
massy, her dress without taste, but not without pretention—a black gown,
with a white muslin chemise thrown over it, fancifully made and trimmed,
a white muslin on her head, and a great display of hair, one tress of
which hung down from the top of her head, where it was puffed, to the
bottom of her waist in front. Her _confidante_ abused the privilege which
_confidantes_ possess of being hideous. Some one proposed to remove her
chair a little further back, and she turned to Mad. de Cachet, saying,
‘_Je dirai comme vous, je ne suis pas faite pour reculer_.’ Her friend
smiled at this citation with great complacence.[21]
* * * * *
_August 27, Dresden._—I have just seen Mr. Elliot, agreeable as ever.
His conversation—‘The Emperor of Russia is a wild beast. I consider him
a greater Jacobin than Robespierre. He has made more Jacobins. A person
of whose veracity I have no reason to doubt, told me the following story.
“I was travelling lately in Russia, and saw one of the carriages used
in transporting prisoners, and sealed, according to custom, with the
Emperor’s seal. I heard a faint voice call for water, and I asked who
was within. The guide desired me to look through a small grated window.
I did, and saw two human figures fastened together by a chain passed
through their cheeks, and secured by a padlock. One of them implored the
conductor, in accents faint and indistinct, for God’s sake to release him
from his fellow-prisoner, who was become a corpse. The guide said that
it was contrary to the Emperor’s orders, and that he dared not open the
carriage till it arrived at the destined spot.” One would willingly go
to Petersburg, for the sake of shooting such a monster,’ In the evening
I met Lord and Lady Holland at Mr. Elliot’s. Her manner is pleasing; she
is tall and _embonpoint_, with fine eyes, and an agreeable countenance,
rather well-looking than handsome. Her husband is agreeable, and they
both possess that vivacity of conversation and mildness of manner, the
union of which forms the _cachet_ of the Devonshire society.
* * * * *
_Aug. 31._—Dined with Lady Holland. Mr. Marsh, Dr. Drew, and Lord
Dungannon formed the circle. The latter is a very promising young man,
natural, civil, conversible, and good humoured.
* * * * *
_Sept. 1._—An assembly at Mad. ——’s. On attempting to return home, fell
into a strange perplexity. I removed this day from the inn to a lodging,
but did not know the name of the street; yet having more dread of _ennui_
than fear of losing my way, would not wait at the assembly for my
footman, but got into a chair, and desired the men in bad German to take
me to a lodging opposite the Golden Angel—rather an indefinite direction,
as it might apply to a dozen other as well as mine. However, I trusted
to the good luck which follows me in trifles, and depended on chance for
leading me to the right one. Alas! I find myself on a staircase quite
different from mine, and the chairmen do not comprehend they have made a
mistake. A stranger (Count Romanzow, as I afterwards learned) politely
asks if he can be of service, and desires to know where I wish to go.
‘Indeed, sir, I cannot tell.’ He wishes to know at length whence I came.
That I cannot tell either, as Mrs. Elliot’s carriage brought me, and I
never asked the name of my hostess. He must have thought me mad. At last,
as my most natural resource, he ordered the chair, at my desire, to Mr.
Elliot’s house in town, where Lord and Lady Holland are lodged. I there
supped with them. Mr. Elliot remarkably amusing; no one has so much small
talk, or parries better by a jest an opinion he disapproves, but does
not choose to refute. He has so much wit, originality, and knowledge
of the world, his caprice rather increases than diminishes his powers
of pleasing. He says the Princess Radziwill (_mère_) is like a high
priest in an Italian opera. Those who have seen her will appreciate the
comparison.
* * * * *
_Sept. 2._—At Mad. Divoff’s. Her husband amused by assuring me how often
the painters who worked here at the Gallery, profited by _his_ advice.
All the artists I have heard speak on the subject, laugh at him; and the
taste he has shown in his collection of prints is execrable. But riches,
omnipotent riches, procure to their possessor all the pleasures attendant
on the consciousness of taste and talents. Every one fancies he possesses
them, and the rich man ever finds that deference paid to his opinion,
which tends to maintain so pleasing an error.
* * * * *
_Sept. 3._—Drank tea with Mad. de Hoenthal, a very small party, made for
the reigning, or rather the _ci-devant_, Princess Tour and Taxis, who was
forced to quit Ratisbon on the arrival of the French. She has travelled
four nights, yet is as fresh as possible, and betrays not a symptom of
languor or weariness. She is a woman of about thirty, tall, well-made
and graceful, her face agreeable, though her features irregular. Her
deportment and countenance bear some resemblance to those of our Queen,
her aunt. She is on her way to visit her sister, the Queen of Prussia.
Her address is pleasing, and the character I have heard of her is
amiable. Her anxiety to see every work of art worth observation, which
has been strongly marked since her arrival, speaks in her favour. She
is attended by her brother, the Prince of Mecklenburg. His features are
good, and with expression might even be called handsome.
* * * * *
_Sept. 4._—Breakfasted with Mad. d’Ahlefeld at a public garden called The
Little Osterwiese. It was a very small party given to the Princess Tour
and Taxis. Afterwards we saw the palace of Prince Max,—very mediocre;
and his garden, where the ornament that we were desired most to observe,
because it contributed most to the Prince’s amusement, was a _pipée_,
or contrivance for catching birds in a net. I cannot describe it. There
was a building, several walks, and a great deal of apparatus connected
with it. It is the Prince’s principal occupation. Poor man! We then went
to the Gallery, where the picture that most struck me was a Raphael
representing the Virgin standing on a cloud, with the infant Jesus in
her arms, the saints on either side in the act of adoration, and at
the bottom of the picture two of the loveliest heads of cherubs I ever
saw. The Virgin’s face is divine. The Child, who appears about a year
old, has more the expression of the King, than Saviour of the world.
There is a beautiful haughtiness, mixed with disdain, in his features.
Mad. Wissenberg passed the evening with me, and oppressed me with her
tenderness. She has been educated in a convent in France, which I should
have guessed, had she not told it to me.
* * * * *
_Sept. 6._—Saw by torchlight Mengs’ selection of casts in plaster of
Paris, from the _chef-d’œuvres_ of Italy. They are lighted by a single
torch carried by the Director, and are supposed to appear more soft, yet
more _prononcée_, more dignified and less glaringly white, than by the
light of day. In some measure _cela les vivifie_.
* * * * *
_Sept. 7._—Dined at Mr. Elliot’s with the Hollands. Her Ladyship’s manner
to her husband is too imperious; it is not the tyranny of a mistress or a
wife, but of a governess to her trembling pupil.
* * * * *
_Sept. 8._—Dined with the Hollands. She has a mixture of imperiousness
and caprice very amusing to the mere spectators. Her indolence is
also remarkable, and she lies in a very easy posture on a sofa, with
screens between the lights and her eyes, in all the dignity of idleness,
employing every individual who travels in her party, without apology or
intermission. Her husband has the honour of being fag-in-chief, but she
likewise entirely occupies a humorous clergyman, a peevish physician,
and a young lord. There is besides a boy (Mr. Dickens) who comes
occasionally, like those who attend servants in great families, to do
jobs; but he has found out that she dislikes the trouble of repeating
her orders, and often evades them by affecting not to hear.
* * * * *
_Sept. 9._—This was a busy day to me. At ten I saw the magnificent
Picture Gallery. Pictures which struck me most were an Abraham preparing
to offer up Isaac, imitated from the Laocoon—the finest painting on this
subject I have seen, and the only one that ever pleased me;—a Magdalen
renouncing the pomps and vanities of the world, a discipline in her
hand. She is perfectly beautiful, pale, _touchante_, and in an attitude
expressive of the most perfect abstraction and _abandon_; the soul which
informs that lovely form seems to dwell wholly in the eyes; the rest
of the person has already ceased to exist. The Princess Dolgorouki has
ordered a copy of the Joseph and Potiphar’s Wife—a strange choice!
Supped at the Princess Dolgorouki’s—her egotism and vanity excessive.
‘_J’ai donné une fête au Roi de Pologne, qui l’a presque rendu fou.
Madame de Brune avoit arrangé des groupes que nous répresentions sur un
petit théâtre derrière une gaze—entr’autres la famille de Darius—moi,
j’étois Statire aux pieds d’Alexandre. Après, la toilette de Vénus; trois
des plus jolies femmes répresentoient les Graces; moi, j’étois Vénus, et
il avoit un petit Amour en tricot qui me chaussoit._’
* * * * *
_Sept. 18._—Arrived at Count Münster’s. He lives at Königsbruck, where he
possesses a large and convenient château, which he has rendered cheerful
by his taste in the disposition and furniture of the apartments. The
family do not assemble at breakfast here as in England. Countess Münster
rises at six, and does not establish herself in her drawing-room till
about twelve. Their life is extremely retired; and I believe it is not so
much the custom to receive company in a German château as in an English
country-house. We dine at two, sup at half-past nine, and retire long
before eleven.
* * * * *
_Sept. 28._—Left Königsbruck, where I had passed a few very pleasant and
retired days. Countess Münster is a warm partizan of the philosophy of
Kant, who says perfectibility, and not happiness, should be the object
of human researches. Mad. Münster has adopted this idea, and considers
all revealed religion as priestcraft, and Christianity as depraving our
hearts, because it founds our virtues on a selfish hope of future bliss,
and contracting our understandings, because it substitutes faith for
reason. She thinks truth unattainable, but that there is a degree of
relative truth to which each understanding may arrive, in proportion to
its strength and efforts. She is not the most formidable opponent to the
Christian religion it has yet encountered; and I doubt if she perfectly
understands herself on these subjects, which she seeks with an eagerness
that denotes a perfect conviction of her own strength. A lofty contempt
of those who do believe, and great bigotry to her own system, render
her conversation on such topics unpleasing. She has some imagination,
extensive reading, but little tact, and a great deal of vanity; yet she
is altogether superior to the general class of females, and neither wants
sensibility nor elevation.
* * * * *
_Sept. 30._—From the Museum went to the collection of porcelain under the
same roof—eighteen chambers full of the finest specimens of every kind
of Japan, Chinese, and Saxon porcelain. The value of this collection is
incalculable. I saw the Saxon dragon china, which is only permitted to
be manufactured for the Electoral family—the dragons are in shades of
crimson; perfect imitations of the brown and gold, or black and gold,
japan; exquisite biscuit, in imitation of the antique; heaps of valuable,
but by me unvalued, mandarins; a whole room full of Egyptian idols; all
sorts of old-fashioned figures in glazed and coloured china; fine dressed
ladies with hats on one side and crooks in their hands, shepherds with
pink ribbons and yellow feathers kneeling at their feet, the dog and
the sheep partaking in the general smirk; coloured bouquets, insipid,
but curiously accurate; hundreds of such jars as have singly formed the
happiness of many a respectable dowager; the coarse pottery painted by
Raphael when he was in love with the potter’s daughter; and, in short, a
profusion which I had never expected to behold. I then went to Graff’s,
an excellent portrait painter. He is famous for catching the expression
of the countenance, but he leaves nature pretty much as he finds her,
without attempting to obtain as much ideal beauty as is consistent with
the resemblance.[22]
* * * * *
_Oct. 2._—Dined at the Elliots’. While I was playing at chess with Mr.
Elliot, the news arrived of Lord Nelson’s arrival, with Sir William and
Lady Hamilton, Mrs. Cadogan, mother of the latter, and Miss Cornelia
Knight, famous for her _Continuation of Rasselas_,[23] and _Private Life
of the Romans_.[24]
* * * * *
_Oct. 3._—Dined at Mr. Elliot’s with only the Nelson party. It is plain
that Lord Nelson thinks of nothing but Lady Hamilton, who is totally
occupied by the same object. She is bold, forward, coarse, assuming, and
vain. Her figure is colossal, but, excepting her feet, which are hideous,
well shaped. Her bones are large, and she is exceedingly _embonpoint_.
She resembles the bust of Ariadne; the shape of all her features is
fine, as is the form of her head, and particularly her ears; her teeth
are a little irregular, but tolerably white; her eyes light blue, with a
brown spot in one, which, though a defect, takes nothing away from her
beauty or expression. Her eyebrows and hair are dark, and her complexion
coarse. Her expression is strongly marked, variable, and interesting;
her movements in common life ungraceful; her voice loud, yet not
disagreeable. Lord Nelson is a little man, without any dignity; who, I
suppose, must resemble what Suwarrow was in his youth, as he is like all
the pictures I have seen of that General. Lady Hamilton takes possession
of him, and he is a willing captive, the most submissive and devoted I
have seen. Sir William is old, infirm, all admiration of his wife, and
never spoke to-day but to applaud her. Miss Cornelia Knight seems the
decided flatterer of the two, and never opens her mouth but to show
forth their praise; and Mrs. Cadogan, Lady Hamilton’s mother, is—what one
might expect. After dinner we had several songs in honour of Lord Nelson,
written by Miss Knight, and sung by Lady Hamilton.[25] She puffs the
incense full in his face; but he receives it with pleasure, and snuffs it
up very cordially. The songs all ended in the sailor’s way, with ‘Hip,
hip, hip, hurra,’ and a bumper with the last drop on the nail, a ceremony
I had never heard of or seen before.
* * * * *
_Oct 4._—Accompanied the Nelson party to Mr. Elliot’s box at the opera.
Lady Hamilton paid me those kinds of compliments which prove she thinks
mere exterior alone of any consequence. She and Lord Nelson were wrapped
up in each other’s conversation during the chief part of the evening.
* * * * *
_Oct. 5._—Went by Lady Hamilton’s invitation to see Lord Nelson dressed
for Court. On his hat he wore the large diamond feather, or ensign of
sovereignty, given him by the Grand Signior; on his breast the Order of
the Bath, the Order he received as Duke of Bronte, the diamond star,
including the sun or crescent given him by the Grand Signior, three gold
medals obtained by three different victories, and a beautiful present
from the King of Naples. On one side is his Majesty’s picture, richly
set and surrounded with laurels, which spring from two united anchors at
bottom, and support the Neapolitan crown at top; on the other is the
Queen’s cypher, which turns so as to appear within the same laurels, and
is formed of diamonds on green enamel.[26] In short, Lord Nelson was a
perfect constellation of stars and Orders. Marcolini visited him while I
was there.
* * * * *
_Oct. 6._—Dined with Lord Nelson at the Hôtel de Pologne. Went in the
evening to a concert given to him by Count Marcolini. Paris sung—a fine
bass, with the lowest tones I ever heard; and Ciciarelli, a soprano,
who has lost his voice, but declaims well. From thence went to a party
at Countess Richtenstein’s, Lady Hamilton loading me with all marks of
friendship at first sight, which I always think more extraordinary than
love of the same kind.
* * * * *
_Oct. 7._—Breakfasted with Lady Hamilton, and saw her represent in
succession the best statues and paintings extant. She assumes their
attitude, expression, and drapery with great facility, swiftness, and
accuracy. Several Indian shawls, a chair, some antique vases, a wreath
of roses, a tambourine, and a few children are her whole apparatus.
She stands at one end of the room with a strong light to her left, and
every other window closed. Her hair (which by-the-bye is never clean) is
short, dressed like an antique, and her gown a simple calico chemise,
very easy, with loose sleeves to the wrist. She disposes the shawls so
as to form Grecian, Turkish, and other drapery, as well as a variety of
turbans. Her arrangement of the turbans is absolute sleight-of-hand,
she does it so quickly, so easily, and so well. It is a beautiful
performance, amusing to the most ignorant, and highly interesting to the
lovers of art. The chief of her imitations are from the antique. Each
representation lasts about ten minutes. It is remarkable that, though
coarse and ungraceful in common life, she becomes highly graceful, and
even beautiful, during this performance. It is also singular that, in
spite of the accuracy of her imitation of the finest ancient draperies,
her usual dress is tasteless, vulgar, loaded, and unbecoming. She has
borrowed several of my gowns, and much admires my dress; which cannot
flatter, as her own is so frightful. Her waist is absolutely between her
shoulders. After showing her attitudes, she sang, and I accompanied.
Her voice is good, and very strong, but she is frequently out of tune;
her expression strongly marked and various; but she has no shake, no
flexibility, and no sweetness.[27] She acts her songs, which I think the
last degree of bad taste. All imperfect imitations are disagreeable,
and to represent passion with the eyes fixed on a book and the person
confined to a spot, must always be a poor piece of acting _manqué_. She
continues her demonstrations of friendship, pays me many compliments
both when I am absent and present, and said many fine things about my
accompanying her at sight. Still she does not gain upon me. I think her
bold, daring, vain even to folly, and stamped with the manners of her
first situation much more strongly than one would suppose, after having
represented Majesty, and lived in good company fifteen years. Her ruling
passions seem to me vanity, avarice, and love for the pleasures of the
table. She shows a great avidity for presents, and has actually obtained
some at Dresden by the common artifice of admiring and longing. Mr.
Elliot says, ‘She will captivate the Prince of Wales, whose mind is as
vulgar as her own, and play a great part in England.’ Dined with the
Elliots. He was wonderfully amusing. His wit, his humour, his discontent,
his spleen, his happy choice of words, his rapid flow of ideas, and his
disposition to playful satire, make one always long to write short-hand,
and preserve his conversation.
* * * * *
_Oct. 8._—Dined at Madame de Loss’s, wife to the Prime Minister, with the
Nelson party. The Electress will not receive Lady Hamilton, on account
of her former dissolute life. She wished to go to Court, on which a
pretext was made to avoid receiving company last Sunday, and I understand
there will be no Court while she stays. Lord Nelson, understanding the
Elector did not wish to see her, said to Mr. Elliot, ‘Sir, if there is
any difficulty of that sort, Lady Hamilton will knock the Elector down.’
She was not invited in the beginning to Mad. de Loss’s; upon which Lord
Nelson sent his excuse, and then Mr. Elliot persuaded Mad. de Loss to
invite her. From Mad. de Loss’s visited Mrs. Neumann, a very obliging
woman of the _tiers état_, and thence to sup at Mrs. Rawdon’s. Here I
found Lady W—— in the midst of a very animated discourse on precedence,
which I soon found took its rise from Mr. Elliot’s having led me in to
dinner at Mad. de Loss’s before her and another lady who had place. She
politely told me he showed his ignorance and his impertinence, and she
was sorry he knew no better. I had been so amused by his conversation at
dinner, I had quite forgot this indecorum.
* * * * *
_Oct. 9._—A great breakfast at the Elliots’, given to the Nelson party.
Lady Hamilton repeated her attitudes with great effect. All the company,
except their party and myself, went away before dinner; after which Lady
Hamilton, who declared she was passionately fond of champagne, took such
a portion of it as astonished me. Lord Nelson was not behind-hand, called
more vociferously than usual for songs in his own praise, and after many
bumpers proposed the Queen of Naples, adding, ‘She is _my_ Queen; she
is Queen to the backbone.’ Poor Mr. Elliot, who was anxious the party
should not expose themselves more than they had done already, and wished
to get over the last day as well as he had done the rest, endeavoured to
stop the effusion of champagne, and effected it with some difficulty;
but not till the Lord and Lady, or, as he calls them, Antony and _Moll_
Cleopatra, were pretty far gone. I was so tired, I returned home soon
after dinner, but not till ‘Cleopatra’ had talked to me a great deal of
her doubts whether the Queen would receive her, adding, ‘I care little
about it. I had much rather she would settle half Sir William’s pension
on me.’ After I went, Mr. Elliot told me she acted Nina intolerably ill,
and danced the _Tarantola_. During her acting Lord Nelson expressed his
admiration by the Irish sound of astonished applause, which no written
character can imitate. Lady Hamilton expressed great anxiety to go to
Court, and Mrs. Elliot assured her it would not amuse her, and that the
Elector never gave dinners or suppers—‘What?’ cried she, ‘no guttling!’
Sir William also this evening performed feats of activity, hopping round
the room on his backbone, his arms, legs, star and ribbon all flying
about in the air.
* * * * *
_Oct. 10._—Mr. Elliot saw them on board to-day. He heard by chance
from a King’s Messenger that a frigate waited for them at Hamburg, and
ventured to announce it formally.[28] He says:—‘The moment they were
on board, there was an end of the fine arts, of the attitudes, of the
acting, the dancing, and the singing. Lady Hamilton’s maid began to
scold in French about some provisions which had been forgot, in language
quite impossible to repeat, using certain French words, which were never
spoken but by _men_ of the lowest class, and roaring them out from one
boat to another. Lady Hamilton began bawling for an Irish stew, and her
old mother set about washing the potatoes, which she did as cleverly
as possible. They were exactly like Hogarth’s actresses dressing in
the barn.’ In the evening I went to congratulate the Elliots on their
deliverance, and found them very sensible of it. Mr. Elliot would not
allow his wife to speak above her breath, and said every now and then,
‘Now don’t let us laugh to-night; let us all speak in our turn; and be
very, very quiet.’[29]
* * * * *
_Oct. 11._—Dined at the Elliots’, to meet Colonel and Mrs. Clinton,
formerly Miss Chartres (daughter of Lord Elcho). They are pleasing,
quiet people, and seem to like one another very much. Mr. Elliot says
I shall not like Berlin. This is the summary of his sentiments on the
subject:—‘The King is a fool, and the Queen a doll. Madame de Brühl an
unpleasant, conceited, proud woman. Her husband ought to have been the
woman, and she the man. The Browns a most uninteresting society, the
Doctor pompous, and the wife tiresome. Beware of the Bishopswerders, an
intriguing, dangerous set. Make no friendships. The Berlin people are
false and unprincipled. You will lose a winter, and probably repent your
journey.’
* * * * *
_Oct. 15._—After three days’ and a half journey through the most
tiresome, flat, and sandy country I have ever seen in so long a
continuity, arrived at Berlin.
* * * * *
_Oct. 20, Berlin._—I have been here since Wednesday, and am now settled
in the apartments last inhabited by Prince Augustus; I pay ten _louis
d’or_ a month for the rooms he occupied, but of course have not hired
any of those that were occupied by his suite. I have as yet made no new
acquaintance except that of Lord and Lady Carysfort; an excellent and
an amiable pair. She is made for her situation, having both the desire
and the power of pleasing, appears to possess quick parts and strong
feelings, has great pleasantry and a graceful flowing elocution. I have
been there thrice by appointment, and have received a general invitation
for every evening.
* * * * *
_Oct. 21._—Went to a supper at Prince Ferdinand’s. He is almost
unintelligible from his manner of speaking, and it is difficult to
persuade oneself he was brother to the great Frederick, to the lively
and highly intelligent Dowager Duchess of Brunswick. The Princess played
cards with the gentleman whom Mirabeau speaks of as ‘_le père de ses
enfants_.’ She is good-looking, civil, and gentlewomanlike. The style of
these suppers is _triste_ and ceremonious.
* * * * *
_Oct. 25._—Passed most of the evening with Mad. de Solms, a beautiful
little widow, who is just going to make a second choice, and is evidently
enchanted at the idea. Finished the evening with Mrs. Hunter and Miss
Jones, with whom I have always found the same French gentleman. She took
the unnecessary trouble of accounting for this, by saying he came to
thread their needles.
* * * * *
_Oct. 26._—Supped at Princess Henry’s—a very agreeable evening. The
Princess talked much to me across the table, as her _grande maitresse_
desired me to take the place opposite to her. I was a little embarrassed
at hearing my own voice in that way; but received some compliments
on what _they were pleased to call_ (to use the Clarissa phrase) my
_charmante organe_. Made the acquaintance of the Countess ——, who has
married five husbands, and despatched four of these—by divorces. This she
has done, it is said, for the sake of the jewels, which, except in cases
of infidelity, remain with the wife; and which the German _noblesse_
are not allowed to sell without going through some troublesome forms,
that render it difficult, and, unless in cases of evident necessity,
disgraceful.
* * * * *
_Oct. 30._—Went to the Exhibition, or as some call it, Exposition. It
really _exposes_ the melancholy state of the arts at Berlin. The head of
Herod, formed entirely of little children, whose bodies, artificially
placed, represented his features without the assistance of any other
object, was a curious specimen of misplaced ingenuity, and false taste of
the most odious kind.—Supped at Prince Ferdinand’s; saw Prince Henry, who
desired I should be presented to him. He looks like a little fiend of the
minor class, not Belial, or any of the _noblesse_ of hell. We conversed
so little, I can speak but of his exterior. He appears as if he had just
crept out of the embers, and was half-singed. He has two pretty women
in his suite. They say Rheinsberg, his country house, is a scene of
extraordinary wickedness and depravity.[30]
* * * * *
_Nov. 1._—At a party at Mad. Podewitz’ conversed with Lord Carysfort,
Mr. Adams the American Envoy, and _Citoyen_ Beurnonville the French
Minister.[31] The latter looks like a Newmarket bullying swindler, but
was full of flourishing civility. Buonaparte, the Consul’s brother, and
Envoy Extraordinary to this country, is short, very dark, and remarkably
serious. His whiskers cover half of each cheek, and add to the dinginess
of his appearance. He is going with Beurnonville’s aide-de-camp to
Warsaw, in order, as he says, to inspect the forts—of which, wherever
he has been, he takes the most exact plans and dimensions—in hope, I
suppose, they will soon belong to his own country. People are astonished
at the imprudence of the Court of Prussia in suffering this journey, as
Warsaw is already filled with discontented minds, and has been half, some
say quite, organized for revolution by the Abbé Sièyes. On the whole,
the favourable manner in which this French mission has been received by
the Court and the Ministers is so strongly marked, it cannot escape the
most inattentive eye. Their preference of French politics and French
principles to those of England appears a degree of infatuation in a
monarchical state not to be accounted for by any of the common motives of
action.
TO H. ELLIOT, ESQ., DRESDEN.
Berlin, Nov., 1800.
It is always my fate to begin my letters to you and Mrs. Elliot with
acknowledgments for past civilities, or, to speak more justly, acts of
kindness. The last I received from you has been of infinite use, and
promises to contribute very much to the _agrément_ of my visit to Berlin;
as nothing could be more flattering than the reception your letter
procured me from Lady Carysfort; and the manner in which she lives makes
her house a great resource to those who love a little quiet private
society. She is always at home, except when upon duty with some of the
Princesses; and has desired me to pass every evening with her in which
I have not some other engagement. I have passed my time chiefly at her
house, since my arrival. She seems to have all that strong desire to
please, so necessary in her situation, and great powers of attraction in
private society; I have not yet seen her in public.
We have been expecting you these five days. I will still hope you may
come; and that, from being in the same house, I may now and then have the
chance of a little conversation with you; which I would tell you with
truth _I know how to appreciate_, if I had not read the phrase in nine
out of ten of the notes I have received since my arrival here; and if,
alas! I had not often used it in a sense very contrary to that in which
it is usually understood. I will therefore banish it from my intercourse
with those to whom I wish to express my real feelings; and of whom it
seems a sort of profanation to express my ideas in the common jargon of
worldly intercourse.
Is Buonaparte dead or not? This is the first question asked in every
society. If you can answer it, pray do; and give me a new speculation as
to the probable consequences of his death. I will pass it off as my own;
and from your political stores you will not miss it.
* * * * *
_Nov. 18-23._—It is unnecessary to endeavour to discriminate every day in
my journal, when all are so much alike in my life. I pass it entirely at
Lord Carysfort’s. I have been at a great supper at Count Schulenberg’s,
which did not vary the scene, as I sat by Lord Carysfort at supper in a
very large company instead of sitting by him at dinner in a very small
one. As usual, I saw Beurnonville, who was very attentive. He looks like
an immense cart-horse put by mistake in the finest caparisons; for his
figure is colossal and ungainly; and his uniform of blue and gold, which
appears too large even for his large person, is half covered with the
broadest gold lace. His _ton_ is that of a _corps-de-garde_ (he was
really a corporal), but when he addresses himself to women, he affects
a softness and _légèrete_, which reminds one exactly of the Ass and the
Spaniel, and his compliments are very much in the style of M. Jourdain.
It is said, however, he is benevolent and well meaning.
* * * * *
_Nov. 28._—I have not, according to Mr. Elliot’s phrase, found a Paradise
at Berlin, but it is quite as pleasant as I expected. However, apart
from the impression it has made on me, which always depends on trifling
circumstances, I conceive it to be less agreeable, less various, less
polished, than Vienna. Both are infinitely more inferior to London than I
had supposed before I saw them.
* * * * *
_Nov. 29._—Dined to-day with Madame Divoff, saw several curious
contrasts in the entertainment—a dinner dressed by a French cook, and
dirty napkins, &c.—the servants in magnificent liveries of scarlet
and gold, with dirty shirts—the mistress of the house in a point-lace
cap, and a dirty silk pelisse. For two hours after dinner we sang with
Righini, an excellent _maître de chapelle_, who, to prove he was at
his ease, came in his boots, and made love to Madame Divoff. Supped at
the Princess Wyzimska’s; sang duets with Righini, and heard him sing
charmingly—without a voice, but with a variety, taste, and suitableness
to the expression of the air in his _manière de broder_, which I think
unequalled.
* * * * *
_Nov. 30._—Supped at Mad. Angeström’s, wife to the Swedish Minister, who
is perfectly indifferent as to all the interests of Europe, provided
nothing interrupts her reception of the Paris fashions, for which
she has an uncommon avidity. ‘_N’est ce pas, ma chère, que ceci est
charmant; c’est copié fidèlement d’un journal de Paris, et quel journal,
délicieux!_’ She wears very little covering on her person, and none on
her arms of any kind (shifts being long exploded) except sleeves of the
finest cambric, unlined, and _travaillé au jour_, which reach only half
way from the shoulder to the elbow. She seems to consider it a duty
to shiver in this thin attire, for she said to Lady Carysfort, ‘_Ah,
Miledi, que vous êtes heureuse, vous portez des poches et des jupes_.’ I
conversed chiefly with Beurnonville and Pignatelli. Beurnonville says,
‘_Mon sécrétaire est pour les affaires, mon aide-de-camp pour les dames,
et moi pour la réprésentation_.’ The people about him are conscious he
is _peu de chose_, but say, ‘_Qu’importe? on est si bon en Prusse, et
si bien disposé pour nous_.’ A person asked Vaudreuil, aide-de-camp to
Beurnonville, if the latter was a _ci-devant_. ‘_Non,’ dit-il, ‘mais
il voudroit l’être_’—a reply of a good deal of _finesse_, and plainly
proving how unconquerable the respect for rank, and wish among those who
have destroyed the substance, to possess the shadow. On my return I found
an immense inhabitant of the hair on my tucker. My suspicions turned for
a moment on Pignatelli, but on reflection I am sure he belonged to the
French mission.
* * * * *
_Dec. 2._—Accompanied Mr. Headlam, a sensible, well-bred, respectful
young man, and the Miss Browns, to the porcelain manufactory, and
observed the whole process which transforms a piece of Silesian stone
into a beautiful, brilliant, and valuable vase. The operation is begun
by a steam-engine, which acts in various ways till the mass is formed.
Then the manipulation begins; round forms are turned as in England; other
shapes begun and ended in moulds without any assistance from the wheel.
Some are painted before they are varnished, but these only receive a
dark blue colour, which is black till it passes through the fire. The
finest are varnished first, which increases the difficulty of painting
them, as the colours used are metallic, the porcelain but an earth: the
intervention of a body which has some analogy with both is therefore
necessary; and for chymical reasons, which I do not retain, the painters
use colours which do not produce effect immediately, so are forced to an
exertion of mind and memory as well as of the hand. This china is cheaper
than that of Dresden or Vienna. It is said that Berlin china excels in
the colours of the painting, Vienna in the gilding, Dresden in the mass.
As to general taste in the forms and painting I place Dresden first, and
Berlin last.
* * * * *
_Dec. 4._—A ball at Albertleben the Minister’s. No supper, but cakes,
ices, lemonade, orgeat, and punch, very warm and strong, of which the
ladies drank plentifully. It was very like a Lord Mayor’s ball in London,
but the dress and dancing not so good. Lady C. says half the misses were
in coarse muslin over pink stuff; a little exaggeration in this, but
there was not the elegance displayed which I expected. On the whole,
Berlin reminds me of a provincial town with a large garrison, and its
manners seem pretty much on a par with its morals. The women are _borné_
to a degree, and do not even possess ornamental accomplishments. I
forgive this as a consequence of their bad education; but I cannot excuse
their failure in dress and dancing, which are the study of their lives.
* * * * *
_Dec. 5._—Met M. Gentz,[32] a _Berlinois_, at Lord Carysfort’s. He
strikes me as possessing more energy than any man I had ever seen.
His head seems to be organized in a very superior manner, and his
conversation bears the stamp of real genius. He is one of those who
seem to impart a portion of their own endowment; for you feel your mind
elevated while in his society. In argument he is irresistible; but it
seems to be from fair and honest force, unassisted by trick or artifice.
His voice rises, and his eye kindles, yet his warmth never becomes
displeasing, nor degenerates into either violence or sharpness. In his
writings he proposes Burke for his model, and walks boldly beside him,
for we cannot say he is a copyist, though a successful imitator.
* * * * *
_Dec. 6._—I have met M. Rivarol,[33] a much-applauded French writer; he
also proposes to be the wit and demigod of the Berlin society, and I
think may succeed; though his powers would not in my opinion assure him
that rank elsewhere.
* * * * *
_Dec. 13._—This morning I went to Lady Carysfort’s. Mr. Proby, Lord
Carysfort’s nephew and chaplain, gave us the whole church service. It is
interesting in this corrupted town to see a family circle join in prayer,
and an inestimable wife and mother surrounded by her lovely innocent
daughters, untainted, and as yet unconscious of the infection which
surrounds them.
* * * * *
_Dec. 14._—A little dance at my hotel, composed chiefly of English.
Gentz was of the party, and his conversation, as usual, delighted me.
Rivarol and he are the two men of greatest talent I have seen in Berlin.
I perceive this difference in their conversation, that Rivarol is
perpetually on the watch to display himself, and catch the approbation
of the circle, while Gentz is only anxious to do justice to his topic,
and to lead their opinion. Rivarol labours, and sometimes successfully,
to produce wit; Gentz lets fall from the plenitude of his ideas such
superfluities as he cannot even miss.
* * * * *
_Dec. 18._—Prince George, Righini, and Lord Carysfort passed the morning
with me. The former said, upon my observing that Prince Augustus could be
amiable, ‘_Oui, mais ses accès d’amabilité deviennent tous les jours plus
rares, comme les apparitions du soleil à la fin de l’automne_.’—Prince
Radziwill has been engaged in a plot to recover the independence of
Poland. A letter of his was intercepted at Vienna, expressive of the
wish, and arranging some of the means, adding, ‘_il faut mettre en avant
un Prince du sang_,’ words which were supposed to allude to his wife’s
brother, Prince Louis, the ‘Duc d’Orléans of Germany.’
* * * * *
_Dec. 25._—Dined at Lord Carysfort’s to celebrate Christmas Day; received
the Sacrament there in the morning. The party consisted of all the
English in Berlin. In the evening we danced country dances.
* * * * *
_Dec. 27._—Presented to Mad. de Voss, _grande maîtresse_. It is
impossible to receive with more dignity and politeness than she displays.
Supped at Princess Wyzimska’s, and sung _Giuro che ad altro mai_ with
Righini.
* * * * *
_Dec. 28._—Went to Court, which is here an evening assembly. I was
presented to the King and Queen. He is a fine tall military man, plain
and reserved in his manners and address. She reminded me of Burke’s
‘star, glittering with life, splendour, and joy,’ and realized all the
fanciful ideas one forms in one’s infancy, of the young, gay, beautiful,
and magnificent queens in the _Arabian Nights_. She is an angel of
loveliness, mildness, and grace; tall and _svelte_, yet sufficiently
_embonpoint_; her hair is light, her complexion fair and faultless; an
inexpressible air of sweetness reigns in her countenance, and forms its
predominant character. As perfect beauty in nature is a chimæra, like
the philosopher’s stone, and as it is rarely to be found but in the
higher works of art, I take nothing from her charms in saying she is not
faultless. An ill-shaped mouth, indifferent teeth, a broad forehead and
large limbs are the only defects the severest criticism can discover;
while her hair, her height, her movements, her shoulders, her waist, are
all unexceptionable. These slight faults only prove she is a woman and
not a statue, and altogether she is one of the loveliest creatures I
have ever seen. Her dress was in the best taste. Her hair was dressed in
the fullest and most varied of the Grecian forms, going very far back,
and ornamented with a very tall heron’s feather, and a number of immense
diamond stars, so placed as to form a bandeau quite round, which came
close to her temples. She wore a chemise of crape, richly embroidered
in emerald-green foil, and a _moldave_ (simply a body, train, and short
sleeves) of pale pink silk, slightly sparkling with gold, and trimmed all
round with sable. Her neck was richly ornamented with jewels. She speaks
very graciously and politely to every one. I was also presented to the
Princess of Orange, a beautiful young woman.
* * * * *
_Dec. 31._—Went to a ball at Mad. Angeström’s, the Swedish Minister’s
wife. Every one seemed to partake in the design of finishing the century
with festivity and cheerfulness. The company was the _élite_ of the
Berlin society, and the ball was unusually animated and brilliant. I had
just danced one dance with Mr. Caulfield, and was resting myself during
the second in an outer room, when I heard that M. d’Orville, a young
officer just one-and-twenty, had fallen down in a fainting fit in the
dance. After some moments he was removed from the ball-room into Mad.
Angeström’s boudoir, where all the common remedies of salts, essences,
cold water, and fresh air were tried without effect. Still no one was
much alarmed. However, a physician and surgeon were called in. They
exhausted in vain all the resources of their art; he was irrecoverably
gone, and afforded an awful example of the uncertainty of human life.
Mad. Angeström, whose nerves had been lately shaken by the death of a
favourite son, was affected in a dreadful way. She fainted, and on her
recovery knew nothing of what had passed, but was impressed with the idea
that something had happened to her children. Her husband went to their
apartment, and brought them to her from their beds, wrapped in large
cloaks. He reminded me of Lewis’s verses—
’Tis the father who holds his young son in his arm,
And close in his mantle has wrapt him up warm.’
At first she did not know her children, and she continued to utter such
incoherent rhapsodies as were both shocking and pathetic. The shrieks,
faintings, tears, and hysterics of every woman who either had really
weak nerves, or who wished to display her feelings, completed the horror
of the scene. I wished to escape. Lord Carysfort and Prince Radziwill
offered me their carriages, but I refused one, and there was a mistake
about the other. At last the contagion of the scene spread to me. I
wept violently, and remember no more than that I was wrapped up by Mr.
Ridley and Mr. Caulfield, who both showed infinite good nature, in a
large cloak, and put into a carriage; that Mr. Ridley accompanied me
home, where Mr. Kinnaird and he remained with me till a few minutes
past twelve, that I might not be left to begin the new century a prey to
melancholy reflections.
With this entry, closing the year 1800, the journal kept in
Germany breaks abruptly off, and all of it which should follow
has been looked for in vain. From one or two letters which
will be found in a later part of this volume, I gather that
the writer was brought, during her later stay at Berlin, into
some nearer personal intercourse with the Queen of Prussia than
a mere formal presentation at Court would imply; and might
have something more to say of one who at a later day awakened
so deep an interest, and in whom the touchstone of sorrow and
adversity brought out so many noble qualities, probably at this
time unknown and unguessed of by herself or by others. The only
document which I have, immediately relating to the remaining
period of my Mother’s sojourn in Germany (some four months, I
believe), is the letter which follows.
TO MRS. ELLIOT, DRESDEN.
Berlin, Feb., 1801.
We are all living here in a very contracted circle, as we are shut out
by politics from the chief part of the houses of strangers, and the
Berliners themselves are more polite and flattering than hospitable. I
do not know whether the Carnival has been here what is comparatively
called very brilliant; but certainly, after having witnessed the varied,
tumultuous, and luxurious dissipation of London, it appears ‘weary,
stale, flat, and unprofitable.’ I sacrificed to it neither my health nor
my time; went everywhere very late, returned very early, and lived in
constant astonishment at having heard so much of an opera much inferior
to ours, and a masquerade where no one appeared in character, and where
_bon ton_ commanded you to appear in deep mourning.
I have no news, except that the Princess Dolgorouki endeavours to put
herself forward on the canvas by every possible means, and appeared
at Krudener’s _fête_ ‘with her very nose in an attitude’—that Miss
Bishopswerder’s match still hangs, neither on nor off—that the Russians
are triumphant beyond all ideas of triumph; but are a little embarrassed
whether they shall make the ‘_husband of the Archduchess_’ (he goes by
no other name) King of Poland, or Elector of Hanover. If Mr. Elliot will
decide this for me, I will impart the opinion to Krudener.
* * * * *
I have found also, belonging to this time, one letter _to_
my Mother from Prince Adolphus, who had shown her so many
kindnesses at Hanover. This also, having permission, I will
insert.
H.R.H. PRINCE ADOLPHUS (DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE), TO MRS. ST. GEORGE.
Hanover, Jan. 31, 1801.
DEAR MADAM,
I cannot let this opportunity pass of acknowledging the receipt of your
very obliging letter of the 8th inst. Baron Rheden has brought me a very
good account of your health, at which I do sincerely rejoice; and I trust
that the fatigues of the Berlin carnival will not hurt you. The shocking
accident of which you were a witness on the 31st of last month will,
I am afraid, have made a deep impression on your mind. It is at least
very difficult for a person of your feelings to forget immediately such
an event, and as it happened at a ball, all dancing parties must for a
time recal that accident to your remembrance. I do sincerely pity M.
d’Orville’s fate, and I wish he may serve as an example for other young
men, that they may not likewise fall victims to their dress. I have
lately heard from Berlin that Lord Carysfort has played with the Queen at
Court, which I look upon in a favourable light; and the exclusion of the
Russian ships from the embargo, makes me hope that the disharmony which
has taken place between the Cabinets of London and Berlin has ceased, and
that matters will be made up. I am perfectly of your opinion that it is
too often the case of Englishmen in the diplomatic line, that they forget
the situation in which they are, and act entirely according to their own
private feelings. This does their character the highest honour, but I
cannot say the same for their judgment; for in the career of a Minister
he must often do and put up with things for the public good which he
never would do as a private man; and none knew this better than the late
Lord Chesterfield.
Your next letter will, I hope, inform me when I shall have the pleasure
of seeing you here. Be assured, dear madam, that I wait with impatience
for that day when I can have the pleasure of renewing the assurance of
the very high esteem with which I have the honour to remain,
Your very devoted servant,
ADOLPHUS FREDERICK.