_London, Oct. 5th, 1826._
I have had a most disastrous passage. A squall, constant sea-sickness,
forty hours instead of twenty,--and, to crown the whole, striking on a
sandbank in the Thames, where we had to lie six hours, till the tide set
us afloat again;--such were the disagreeable incidents of our voyage.
It is ten years since I quitted England; and I know not whether I saw
all things before with beautifying eyes, or whether my imagination had
unconsciously brightened the colouring of the distant picture; but the
views on the banks of the Thames appeared to me neither so fresh nor so
picturesque as formerly, though superb groups of trees and cheerful
pretty villas were frequently in sight. But here, as in North Germany,
the lopping of the trees often spoils the landscape; only that the
quantity of them in the numerous hedges which enclose the fields, and
the preservation of at least the topmost branches, render the effect
less melancholy here than in the otherwise so beautiful Silesia.
Among the passengers was an Englishman who had just returned from
Herrnhut, and had also visited the baths of M----. It diverted me
highly, unknown to him as I was, to hear his opinions of the plantations
there. How much tastes differ, and how little, therefore, anybody needs
to despair, you may conclude from this,--that he expressed the highest
admiration for that gloomy district, solely on account of the immensity
of the 'evergreen woods,' as he called the endless monotonous
pine-forests, which appear to us so insufferable, but which are a rarity
in England, where fir-trees are carefully planted in parks, and commonly
thrive but ill.
An American was extremely incensed at being sea-sick during this
trumpery passage, after having crossed the Atlantic to Rotterdam without
being at all so; and a planter from Demarara, who was in a continual
shiver, complained even more of the "impolitic" abolition of the
slave-trade than of the cold. He thought that this measure would
speedily bring about the total ruin of the colonies; for, said he, a
slave or a native never works unless he is forced; and he does not need
to work, because the magnificent country and climate afford him food and
shelter sufficient. Europeans _cannot_ work in the heat, so that nothing
remains but the alternative,--colonies with slaves, or no
colonies;--that people knew this well enough, but had very different
ends in view from those which they put forward with such a parade of
philanthropy. He maintained that the slaves were, even for their owners'
interest, far better treated than the Irish peasants,--far better than
he had often seen servants treated in Europe:--an exception might be
found here and there; but this was not worth considering in a view of
the whole subject.
I tried to turn the conversation from a subject so distressing to every
friend of humanity, and got him to describe to me the mode of life in
Guiana, and the majesty of its primeval woods. His descriptions filled
me with a sort of longing after these wonders of nature, in a country
where all is nobler, and man alone is baser, than with us.
The ridiculous element of the voyage was an English lady, who with
unusual volubility seized every occasion of entering into conversation
in French. Though no longer in the bloom of youth, she carefully
concealed this defect even on ship-board, by the most studied toilet. At
a late hour in the morning, when we all crawled on deck more or less
wretched, we found her already seated there in an elegant 'negligée.'
In the middle of the second night we anchored just below London Bridge,
the most unfortunate circumstance that can happen to a man. In
consequence of the severity of the Custom-house, he is not permitted to
take his things on shore before they are inspected; and the office is
not opened till ten in the morning. As I did not choose to leave my
German servants alone with my carriage and effects, I was compelled to
pass the night, almost dressed as I was, in a miserable sailors' tavern
close to the river. In the morning, however, when I was present at the
examination, I found that the golden key, which rarely fails, had not
lost its efficacy here, and saved me from long and tedious delays. Even
a few dozen French gloves, which lay in all innocence open upon my
linen, seemed to be rendered invisible;--nobody took any notice of them.
I hastened as quickly as possible out of the dirty city, swarming like
an ant-hill, but had half a stage to travel with post-horses before I
reached the 'West end of the town,' where I put up at my old quarters,
the Clarendon Hotel. My former host, a Swiss, had exchanged England for
a yet unknown country. His son, however, occupied his place, and
received me with all that respectful attention which distinguishes
English innkeepers, and indeed all here who live by the money of others.
He very soon rendered me a real service; for I had hardly rested an hour
before I discovered that, in the confusion of the night, I had left a
purse with eighty sovereigns in a drawer in my bed-room. Monsieur
Jaquier, 'qui connoissait le terrain,' shrugged his shoulders, but
instantly sent off a confidential person to the spot, to recover the
lost purse if possible. The disorder which reigned in the miserable inn,
stood me in good stead. Our messenger found the room uncleared; and to
the, perhaps disagreeable, surprise of the people, the purse where I
left it.
London is now so utterly dead as to elegance and fashion, that one
hardly meets an equipage; and nothing remains of the 'beau monde' but a
few ambassadors. The huge city is, at the same time, full of fog and
dirt, and the macadamized streets are like well-worn roads; the old
pavement has been torn up, and replaced by small pieces of granite, the
interstices between which are filled with gravel; this renders the
riding more easy, and diminishes the noise; but, on the other hand,
changes the town into a sort of quagmire. Were it not for the admirable
'trottoirs,' people must go on stilts, as they do in the Landes near
Bourdeaux. Englishwomen of the lower classes do indeed wear an iron
machine of the kind on their large feet.
London is, however, extremely improved in the direction of Regent
Street, Portland Place, and the Regent's Park. Now, for the first time,
it has the air of a seat of Government (Residenz), and not of an
immeasurable metropolis of 'shopkeepers,' to use Napoleon's expression.
Although poor Mr. Nash (an architect who has great influence over the
King, and is the chief originator of these improvements) has fared so
ill at the hands of connoisseurs,--and it cannot be denied that his
buildings are a jumble of every sort of style, the result of which is
rather 'baroque' than original,--yet the country is, in my opinion, much
indebted to him for conceiving and executing such gigantic designs for
the improvement of the metropolis. The greater part too is still 'in
petto,' but will doubtless soon be called into existence by English
opulence and the universal rage for building. It's true, one must not
look too nicely into the details. The church, for instance, which serves
as 'point de vue' to Regent Street, ends in a ridiculous spire, while
every part seems at variance with every other. It is a strange
architectural monster. There is an admirable caricature, in which Mr.
Nash, a very small shrivelled man, is represented booted and spurred,
riding spitted on the point of the spire. Below is the inscription
"_National_ (sounded _nashional_) _taste_."
Many such monstrosities might be mentioned. Among others, on a balcony
which adorns the largest mansion in the Regent's Park, there are four
figures squeezed flat against the wall, whose purpose or import is
extremely mysterious. They are clad in a sort of dressing-gown, whence
we gather that they are at least designed for human figures. Perhaps
they are emblems of an hospital; for these apparent palaces, like that
at Potsdam, have unity and grandeur in their façade alone. They are
often, in fact, only a conglomeration of small houses dedicated to the
purposes of trade, manufacture, or what not.
Faultless, on the other hand, is the landscape-gardening part of the
park, which also originates with Mr. Nash, especially in the disposition
of the water. Art has here completely solved the difficult problem of
concealing her operations under an appearance of unrestrained nature.
You imagine you see a broad river flowing on through luxuriant banks,
and going off in the distance in several arms; while in fact you are
looking upon a small piece of standing, though clear, water, created by
art and labour. So beautiful a landscape as this, with hills in the
distance, and surrounded by an enclosure of magnificent houses a league
in circuit, is certainly a design worthy of one of the capitals of the
world; and when the young trees are grown into majestic giants, will
scarcely find a rival. In the execution of Mr. Nash's plan many old
streets have been pulled down, and during the last ten years more than
sixty thousand new houses built in this part of the town. It is, in my
opinion, a peculiar beauty of the new streets, that, though broad, they
do not run in straight lines, but make occasional curves which break
their uniformity.
If ever London has quays, and St. Paul's Church is laid open, according
to the ingenious project of Colonel Trench, she will excel all other
cities in magnificence, as much as she now does in magnitude.
Among the new bridges, Waterloo Bridge holds the first rank. The
proprietors are said to have lost 300,000_l._ feet in length, and
enclosed between solid balustrades of granite, it affords an agreeable
and almost solitary walk, and commands the finest river view, in so far
as the fog will permit it to be seen,--in which palaces, bridges,
churches, and vessels, are proudly blended.
The contrivance for checking the toll-receivers was new to me. The iron
turnstile through which you pass, and which is in the usual form of a
cross, is so contrived that it describes each time only a quarter of the
circle, just as much as is necessary to let one person through; and at
the moment when it stops, a mark falls in an enclosed case under the
bridge. There is a similar contrivance for carriages; and the
proprietors have only to count the marks in an evening, to know
accurately how many foot and horse-passengers cross the bridge daily.
The former pay a penny, the latter three-pence, by which it was expected
that three hundred pounds a day would be taken, instead of which the
receipts seldom exceed fifty.
_October 7th._
What would delight you here is the extreme cleanliness of the houses,
the great convenience of the furniture, and the good manners and
civility of all serving people. It is true that one pays for all that
appertains to luxury (for the strictly necessary is not _much_ dearer
than with us), six times as high; but then one has six times as much
comfort. In the inns everything is far better and more abundant than on
the Continent. The bed, for instance, which consists of several
mattrasses laid one upon another, is large enough to contain two or
three persons; and when the curtains which hang from the square tester
supported on substantial mahogany columns, are drawn around you, you
find yourself as it were in a little cabinet,--a room, which would be a
very comfortable dwelling for a Frenchman. On your washing-table you
find--not one miserable water-bottle, with a single earthen or silver
jug and basin, and a long strip of a towel, such as are given you in all
hotels and many private houses in France and Germany; but positive tubs
of handsome porcelain, in which you may plunge half your body;
half-a-dozen wide towels; a multitude of fine glass bottles and glasses,
great and small; a large standing looking-glass, foot-baths, &c., not to
mention other anonymous conveniences of the toilet, all of equal
elegance.
Everything presents itself before you in so attractive a guise, that as
soon as you wake you are allured by all the charms of the bath. If you
want anything, the sound of your bell brings either a neatly dressed
maid-servant, with a respectful curtesy, or a smart well-dressed waiter,
who receives your orders in the garb and with the air of an adroit
valet; instead of an uncombed lad, in a short jacket and green apron,
who asks you, with a mixture of stupidity and insolence, "Was schaffen's
Ihr Gnoden?" (What is it, your Honour?), or "Haben _Sie_ hier
jeklingelt?" (Was it _you_, here, that rung?), and then runs out again
without understanding properly what is wanted. Good carpets cover the
floors of all the chambers; and in the brightly polished steel grate
burns a cheerful fire, instead of the dirty logs, or the smoky and
ill-smelling stoves to be found in so many of our inns.
If you go out, you never find a dirty staircase, nor one in which the
lighting serves only to make darkness visible. Throughout the house, day
and night, reign the greatest order and decency; and in some hotels
every spacious set of apartments has its own staircase, so that no one
comes in contact with others. At table, the guest is furnished with a
corresponding profusion of white table linen, and brilliantly polished
table utensils; with a well-filled 'plat de ménage,' and an elegance of
setting out which leaves nothing to wish for. The servants are always
there when you want them, and yet are not intrusive: the master of the
house generally makes his appearance with the first dish, and inquires
whether everything is as you desire;--in short, the best inns afford
everything that is to be found in the house of a travelled gentleman,
and the attendance is perhaps more perfect and respectful. It is true
the reckoning is of a piece with the rest, and you must pay the waiters
nearly as much as you would a servant of your own. In the first hotels,
a waiter is not satisfied with less than two pounds a-week for his own
private fees. Such gifts or vales are more the order of the day in
England than in any other country, and are asked with the greatest
shamelessness even in the churches.
I visited the bazaars to-day. These establishments have come very much
into fashion within the last few years, and afford great facilities to
buyers. The so-called horse bazaar is built on a very large scale, and
daily draws together a very motley assemblage. It includes several
extensive buildings, where hundreds of carriages and harness of every
kind, new and old (the latter made to look like new), are exposed to
sale, at all prices, in a very long gallery. In other rooms are
porcelain wares, articles of dress, glass mirrors, 'quincaillerie,'
toys, and even collections of foreign birds and butterflies, all for
sale. At length you reach a coffee-room in the centre of the
establishment, with a glazed gallery running round an open space. Here,
while comfortably seated at breakfast (in rather mixed company it is
true), you see a number of horses led out from the extensive stables
where they are well taken care of, and to which any one who has a horse
to sell may send it for a certain fee. They are then put up to auction.
When a horse is warranted sound by the auctioneer, you may buy it with
tolerable safety, since the proprietor of the establishment is
responsible for the warranty. The best are certainly not to be found
here, but the cheapest are; and to many this is a great recommendation:
perhaps a still greater is the being able to get all one wants in the
same place. There are already, as I said, several of these bazaars, and
they are worth a visit. The convenient walking on the excellent
'trottoirs,' the gay and ever-changing groups, and the numerous splendid
shops, make the streets of London, especially in the evening, a very
agreeable walk to a foreigner.
Besides the brilliant gas-lights, there are large globes of glass in the
druggists' shops, filled with liquid of a deep red, blue, or green
colour, the splendid light of which is visible for miles, and often
serves as a beacon, though sometimes as an 'ignis fatuus,' if you are
unlucky enough to mistake one for another.
Of all the shops, the most attractive are those in which the beautiful
English crystal is sold. Real diamonds can scarcely glitter more
dazzlingly than the far-gleaming collections of some manufacturers. I
observed too some articles of rose or other coloured glass, but I was
surprised to see how little the forms were changed. The crown lustres,
for instance, are just the same as ever; and yet I should think that
they might be made in the form of suns with diverging rays, or of
bouquets of flowers, instead of this eternal crown; or that small
lustres of gay colours, set like 'bijous' of various gems, and fixed
against the walls of rooms of appropriate, perhaps oriental,
decorations, would produce a new and striking effect.
Other very interesting shops contain all the newest implements of
agriculture and the mechanic arts, from huge drilling machines and an
apparatus for uprooting old trees, to small delicate garden shears, all
set out in extensive premises, all arranged with a certain elegance,
which is universal, even among the dealers in meat, fish and vegetables.
The shops of ironmongers and dealers in lamps well deserve a visit;
affording, as they do, a display of the new and the useful, which it
would not be easy to find on the whole Continent, either to the same
extent or in the same exact perfection. The traveller, however, who
confines himself to the 'salons' and the like, and who wants to see only
_genteel sights_, had better stay at home.
I closed the day with a walk to Chelsea, the hospital for invalid
soldiers, where one rejoices to see the old warriors well taken care of,
inhabiting a palace, and enjoying gardens with the most beautiful
smooth-mowed 'bowling-green' and lofty avenues of horse-chestnut trees,
of which a little sovereign might be proud.
I dined at the ---- ambassador's at eight o'clock. The dinner was
remarkable not only for the amiability of the host, but for genuine
Metternich-Johannisberg; for which nectar, even the most inveterate
liberal must allow justice to be done to the great minister. At table I
found friend B----, the youth of forty, who charged me with abundance of
compliments to you. He is the same as ever, and entertained me with a
long conversation about his toilet; he declared that he had grown
dreadfully thin in England from ennui.
I must here give you notice that I can say nothing about London society
till a longer residence and 'the season' have enabled me to speak with
more confidence on the subject. So long as London remains desert as
Palmyra, as to the fashionable world, I shall confine myself to a
description of places.
_October 10th._
A few days ago I took advantage of rather brighter weather to visit
Chiswick, a villa of the Duke of Devonshire's, which is esteemed the
most elegant specimen of garden decoration, of its kind, in England. I
had seen it some years ago at a fête given by the Duke but only
superficially. I could not, even now, see the pictures, as the house was
inhabited by a visitor.
I found the garden much altered, but not I think for the better; for
there is now a mixture of the regular and the irregular which has a very
unpleasant effect. The ugly fashion now prevalent in England, of
planting the 'pleasure-ground' with single trees or shrubs placed at a
considerable distance almost in rows, has been introduced in several
parts of these grounds. This gives the grass-plats the air of
nursery-grounds. The shrubs are trimmed round, so as not to touch each
other, the earth carefully cleared about them every day, and the edges
of the turf cut into stiff lines, so that you see more of black earth
than of green foliage, and the free beauty of nature is quite checked.
Mr. Nash, however, adheres to a very different principle, and the new
gardens of Buckingham Palace are models to all planters.
The most favourable circumstance to English gardeners is the mildness of
the climate. Common and Portuguese laurels, azaleas, and rhododendrons
are not injured by the frost, and afford the most beautiful luxuriant
thickets, summer and winter, and, in their respective seasons, the
richest blossoms and berries.
Magnolias are seldom covered, and even camellias stand abroad in
peculiarly sheltered spots, with only the protection of a matting. The
turf preserves its beautiful freshness all winter; indeed at that season
it is usually thicker and more beautiful than in summer, when I
remember, in dry weather, to have seen it worse than ever I saw it in
the Mark. The present is just the season in which the whole vegetation
is in its utmost magnificence.
A pretty effect is produced at Chiswick by a single lofty tree, the stem
of which has been cleared up to the very top, and from beneath which you
command a view of the whole garden and a part of the park;--a good hint
to landscape gardeners, which I advise you to profit by at M----. The
cedars here (which unfortunately will not thrive with us) are
celebrated, and grow to the size of old fir-trees. Colossal yew hedges
also show how long this estate has been an object of extraordinary care.
The new conservatories do more credit to the taste of the present
possessor than the pleasure-ground. It is strange enough that
orange-trees nowhere reach any great size in England. They are very
'mésquin' here. On the other hand, the flower-gardens are magnificent.
The beds are so thinly planted that each separate plant has room to
spread, excepting in those beds which are entirely filled with one sort
of flower. In them, the chief aim is the perfection of the whole, and
they are consequently by far the most beautiful. In the pinery I saw,
for the first time, the great Providence pines, specimens of which have
been produced of twelve pounds weight.
There is a menagerie attached to the garden, in which a tame elephant
performs all sorts of feats, and very quietly suffers anybody to ride
him about a large grass-plat. His neighbour is a lama, of a much less
gentle nature; his weapon is a most offensive saliva, which he spits out
to a distance of some yards at any one who irritates him; he takes such
good aim, and fires so suddenly at his antagonist, that it is extremely
difficult to avoid his charge.
Chiswick has unfortunately only stagnant slimy water, which is sometimes
so low that the elephant, if he were thirsty, might drink it up at a
draught.
Passing through a continued series of pretty villas and country-houses
of every kind, amid the whirl of horsemen, stage-coaches,
travelling-carriages, and coal-wagons drawn by gigantic horses, with
occasional pretty glimpses of the Thames, I reached Hyde-Park Corner,
after an hour's quick driving, and buried myself anew in the labyrinth
of the huge town.
The next day I visited the City, accompanied by my 'laquais de place,' a
Swiss, who had travelled in Egypt, Syria, Siberia, and America; had
published a Russian Post-book; brought the first intelligence of the
taking of Hamburg, together with an actual specimen of a live Cossack,
to London; bought Napoleon's coronation robes at Paris, and exhibited
them here; and speaks almost all the European languages. I think all
this is not dear at half-a-guinea a day. He may be useful, too, as a
physician, for he has collected so many secrets and recipes in his
travels, that he has a domestic remedy for every disorder, and moreover,
as he maintains, is in possession of a thousand different receipts for
making punch. Under the conduct of this universal genius, I entered the
Royal Exchange for the first time.
In other cities the Exchange has merely a mercantile air--here it has a
completely historical one. The imposing statues of English sovereigns
around, the most remarkable among whom are Henry the Eighth and
Elizabeth, combined with the antique and stately architecture, excite a
poetical feeling, to which the thought of the boundless commerce of
which London is the centre gives a still deeper significancy. The men,
however, who animate the picture soon draw one back into the region of
common-place, for selfishness and avarice gleam but too clearly from
every eye. In this point of view, the place I am describing, and indeed
the whole city, have a repulsive sinister aspect, which almost reminds
one of the restless and comfortless throng of the spirits of the damned.
The great court of the Exchange is surrounded by covered arcades, on
which inscriptions point out to the merchants of every nation their
several places of assembling. In the centre stands a statue of Charles
the Second, who built this edifice. Its port and bearing precisely
express the man whom history describes; not handsome, but somewhat
graceful, and with an inveterate levity of features, composed, as if in
mockery, to seriousness: a levity which nothing could correct, because
it sprang from mediocrity, and which made this king as agreeable and
careless a 'roué' as he was a worthless ruler. In niches above stand the
busts of other English sovereigns. I have already mentioned Henry the
Eighth and Elizabeth. They would be striking, independently of all
associations;--- Henry, fat and contented, and with an expression of
wanton cruelty: Elizabeth, with an air of masculine greatness, and yet
of feminine spite. The busts are doubtless copied from the best
originals by Holbein. On this story is the celebrated Lloyd's Coffee
House, the dirtiest place of the kind in London, which exhibits few
traces of the millions daily exchanged in it.
Close by is the vast and beautiful building, the Bank of England,
containing a number of rooms of various dimensions, generally lighted
from above, and destined to the various offices. Hundreds of clerks are
here at work, and mechanically conduct the gigantic business, at which
the 'nil admirari' becomes a difficult matter to a poor German;
especially when he is admitted into the Bullion Office where the ingots
are kept, and gazes astounded on the heaps of gold and silver which
appear to him to realize the wonders of the Arabian Nights.
From hence I proceeded to the Town-House (Guildhall), where the Lord
Mayor was just in the act of administering the law. The present Lord
Mayor is a bookseller, but cut a very good figure in his blue gown and
gold chain, and assumed a truly monarchical dignity. I do not think that
he acquitted himself at all worse than a regular officer of
justice;--ever since Sancho Panza's time, it is admitted that a sound
understanding often discerns the right more truly than learned subtlety.
The scene of action was a moderate-sized room, half-filled with the
lowest populace. The matter in hand was the most frequent and ordinary
theme in England--a theft; and as the culprit, who appeared equally
indifferent and 'ennuyé', after a little hesitation, confessed the
offence, the drama soon came to a close.
Further still did we wander on in the tumultuous 'City,' where you may
be lost like a flitting atom, if you do not pass on to the right or left
according to rule; where you seem to be in continual danger of being
spitted on the shaft of a cabriolet driving too near the narrow
'trottoir,' or crushed under the weight of an overloaded and tottering
stage-coach edifice. At length we reached an extremely dark and
mean-looking coffee-house, called Garroway's, where estates and houses
of enormous value are daily put up to sale. We took our seat with great
gravity, as if we had been desirous of making some important purchase,
and admired the uncommon suavity of manner and incredible address with
which the auctioneer excited the desire to purchase among his audience.
He was very well dressed in black, with a wig, and stood with all the
dignity of a professor in his chair. He pronounced a charming oration on
every estate, and failed not to season it with various jokes and
witticisms, at the same time eulogizing every object in so irresistible
a manner that one would have sworn that all the property went for an old
song.
How could I leave the city without visiting the true 'Lion,' (the
English expression for anything extraordinary)--the sovereign--in a
word, Rothschild?
I found him, too, in a poor obscure-looking place, (his residence is in
another part of the town,) and making my way with some difficulty
through the little court-yard, blocked up by a wagon laden with bars of
silver, I was introduced into the presence of this Grand Ally of the
Holy Alliance. I found the Russian consul in the act of paying his
court. He is an acute, clever man, perfect in the part he has to play,
and uniting the due respect with a becoming air of dignity. This was the
more difficult, because the very original aristocrat of the city did not
stand much on ceremony. On my presenting my letter of credit, he said
ironically, that we were lucky people who could afford to travel about
so, and take our pleasure; while he, poor man, had such a heavy burthen
to bear. He then broke out into bitter complaints that every poor devil
who came to England had something or other to ask of him. "Yesterday,"
said he, "here was a Russian begging of me" (an episode which threw a
bitter-sweet expression over the consul's face); "and," added he, "the
Germans here don't give me a moment's peace." Now it was my turn to put
a good face upon the matter. After this, the conversation took a
political turn, and we both of course agreed that Europe could not
subsist without him;--he modestly declined our compliment, and said,
smiling, "Oh no, you are only jesting--I am but a servant, who people
are pleased with because he manages their affairs well, and to whom they
let some crumbs fall as an acknowledgment."
All this was said in a language quite peculiar to himself, half English,
half German--the English part with a broad German accent, but with the
imposing confidence of a man who feels such trifles to be beneath his
attention. This truly original language struck me as very characteristic
of a man who is unquestionably a person of genius, and of a certain sort
of greatness of character.
I had begun my day, very appropriately for England, with the Royal
Exchange, the resort of merchants, and ended it with Exeter 'Change,
where I saw the representatives of the colonies,--the wild beasts. Here
I found another lion, and this time a genuine one, called Nero, who
besides his tameness, has the rarer merit in our northern latitude, of
having presented England with six generations of young lions. He is of
enormous size and dignified aspect, but now rests upon his laurels and
sleeps royally nearly all day long. If he wakes in an ill humour,
however, he makes the old wooden house and all the herd of subject
beasts tremble. These consist of elephants, tigers, leopards, hyænas,
zebras, monkeys, ostriches, condors, parrots, &c. It is curious that
they are not upon the ground floor, but up one or two pair of stairs, so
that one can ride on a tame elephant which stands always ready saddled,
and enjoy a fine extensive prospect. The variety is great, and the price
moderate. The ambassador of the late King of Würtemburg had, as I well
remember, more occupation here than in St. James' and Downing Street;
and, indeed, I know that he was for a considerable time in fear of
losing his post on account of a strange enormous dead tortoise.
On the way home to my hotel we passed a house which furnished my
cicerone with an occasion of telling the following interesting story. If
it is 'brodé,' I beg of you to blame him and not me.[10]
_October 13th._
Fatigued by my tour the day before yesterday, I passed the following
morning in my own room. In the evening I visited the English Opera. The
house is neither large nor elegant, but the actors very good. There was
no opera, however, but hideous melo-drames; first, Frankenstein, where a
human being is made by magic,--a manufacture which answers very ill; and
then the Vampire, after the well-known tale falsely attributed to Lord
Byron. The principal part in both was acted by Mr. Cooke, who is
distinguished for a very handsome person, skilful acting, and a
remarkably dignified, noble deportment. The acting was, indeed,
admirable throughout, but the pieces so stupid and monstrous that it was
impossible to sit out the performance. The heat, the exhalations, and
the audience were not the most agreeable. Besides all this, the
performance lasted from seven to half-past twelve,--too long for the
best.
The next day I drove to Hampton Court to visit the palace, the stud, and
my old friend Lady ----. Of all three I found the first the least
altered, and the celebrated vine laden as usual with grapes. It had
considerably above a thousand bunches, and completely covered a
hot-house of seventy-five feet long by twenty-five wide. In a corner
stood, like the dim progenitor of a haughty race, its brown stem, as
lost and obscure as if it did not belong to the magnificent canopy of
leaves and fruit which owe their existence to it alone.
Most of the rooms in the palace have still the same furniture as in the
time of William the Third. The torn chairs and curtains are carefully
preserved. The walls are hung with many interesting and admirable
pictures;--above all, the celebrated Cartoons of Raphael, which,
however, are soon to be transferred to the King's new palace. I must
only mention two fine portraits,--that of Wolsey, the haughty founder
of this palace, and that of Henry the Eighth, his treacherous master.
Both are admirable and highly characteristic. You remember that fat
lawyer whom we had such difficulty in getting rid of; with an animal
expression of countenance, sensual, bloodthirsty as far as the present
times render it possible to be so, clever, subtle, full of talent and of
craft, with boundless haughtiness, and yet a resistless tendency to the
vulgar, and, lastly, utterly and frankly devoid of all conscience;--give
the picture of Henry a green frock-coat and pearl buttons, and you have
a most faithful portrait of him.
Nature continually repeats herself in different 'nuances,'--they vary
according to the state of mankind and of the world.
In the night I was very nearly suffocated. The Jocrisse I imported, who
had probably been too hospitably entertained by some English
acquaintance, thought proper to take the coals out of the fireplace
while I was asleep, and left them standing in my room in a lackered
coal-scuttle. A frightful smoke and infernal smell fortunately awoke me
just as I was dreaming that I was a courtier of Henry the Eighth, and
was paying my court to a French beauty at the Champ du Drap d'Or;
otherwise I should have gone to meet the fair one of my dream in heaven.
Almost like that heaven, as distant and as lovely, appears to me the
place where you are dwelling, my truest friend: and thus I send you the
kiss of peace across the sea, and close my first English letter, wishing
you health and every blessing.
Your devoted L----.