It is not uninteresting to attend the auctions here; first, on account
of the multitude of extremely rare and valuable things, which form the
wonderful activity of life and the constant vicissitudes of fortune are
daily brought into the market, and often sold very cheap; and secondly,
for the ingenuity and eloquence of the auctioneers, of which I have
already made honourable mention. They embroider their orations with more
wit gratis, than ours would be willing to furnish for ready money.
This morning I saw the sale of an Indian cabinet, the property of a
bankrupt Nabob, which contained some curious and beautiful works of art.
"The possessor of these treasures," said the orator, "has taken much
trouble for nothing; for nothing to himself, I mean, but a great deal to
you, gentlemen. He had once doubtless more money than wit, but has now,
as certainly, more wit than money." "Modesty and merit," observed he
afterwards, "go together only thus far,--both begin with an _m_." And in
this style, and with such 'jeus de mots,' he continued. "What enables
the poor to live?" concluded he. "Charity or liberality do but little
towards it. Vanity, vanity is the thing,--not theirs, poor devils, but
that of the rich. If you then, gentlemen, will but display a little of
this praiseworthy vanity, and buy, you will earn a blessing even without
meaning it."
Yes, truly, thought I, there you are right, old jester, for so admirably
is the world contrived, that good must ever arise out of evil; and the
existence of evil only serves to render the good which succeeds it more
conspicuous.
One must moralize everywhere.
I dined at the house of a lady of distinction, who talked to me the
whole time we were at table about Napoleon, and, with true English
exaggeration, was so enamoured of him, that she thought the execution of
the Duke d'Enghien, and the betrayal of Spain, laudable acts.
Though I do not go quite so far, I am, as you know, an admirer of this
man's colossal greatness, and delighted my neighbour highly by
describing to her Napoleon's former magnificence, of which I was an
eyewitness,--those brilliant days in which Cæsar himself stood amazed at
his splendour;
"Quand les ambassadeurs de tant de rois divers
Vinrent le reconnoître au nom de l'univers."
_For his own fame_, I do not wish otherwise any of his later
misfortunes; nor for _the tragic interest_, any of his errors and
faults. He bore 'coups d'épées' and 'coups d'épingles' with equal
fortitude and dignity; and left an epitaph worthy of his life in the
words, 'Je lègue l'opprobre de ma mort à l'Angleterre.'
Thus much is certain, he is still too near us for impartial judgment;
and experience has amply taught us that it was less his despotic
principles than his personal aggrandisement which provoked such
inveterate hostility. The principles exist still; but, God be praised,
the energy with which he put them in practice, is utterly wanting, and
that is a great gain for human nature.[32]
There is now a French theatre here, which is attained only by the best
company, and nevertheless is like a dark little private theatre. Perlet
and Laporte are its great supports, and play admirably. The latter also,
with true French assurance, acts on the English stage, and thinks, when
the audience laughs at his accent and French manners, that it is merely
a tribute to his 'vis comica.'
I went to the theatre with Mrs. ----, wife of the well-known minister and
member of parliament, and accompanied her after the play to the first
genuine rout I have attended this time of my being in England,--what is
more, too, in a house in which I was entirely a stranger. It is the
custom here to take your friends to parties of this sort, and to present
them, then and there, to the mistress of the house, who never thinks you
can bring enough to fill her small rooms to suffocation: the more the
better; and for the full satisfaction of her vanity, a 'bagarre' must
arise among the carriages below; some must be broken to pieces, and a
few men and horses killed or hurt, so that the 'Morning Post' of the
following day may parade a long article on the extremely 'fashionable
soirée' given by 'Lady Vain,' or 'Lady Foolish.'
In the course of the evening I made a more interesting acquaintance than
I expected on the staircase, (I could get no further,) in Lady C----
B----, who has some reputation as an authoress. She is the sister of a
Duke, and was a celebrated beauty.
The next morning I called on her, and found everything in her house
brown, in every possible shade;--furniture, curtains, carpets, her own
and her children's dresses, presented no other colour. The room was
without looking-glasses or pictures; and its only ornaments were casts
from the antique.
* * * * *
After I had been there some time, the celebrated bookseller C----
entered. This man has made a fortune by Walter Scott's novels, though,
as I was told, he refused his first and best, Waverly, and at last gave
but a small sum for it. I hope the charming Lady C---- B---- had better
cause to be satisfied with him. I thought it discreet to leave her with
her man of business, and made my bow.
_December 10th._
The affairs of Portugal are now much discussed in all circles; and the
Marquis P---- read us the just printed English Declaration to-night, in
a box at the French theatre. Politics are here a main ingredient of
social intercourse; as they begin to be in Paris, and will in time
become in our sleepy Germany; for the whole world has now that tendency.
The lighter and more frivolous pleasures suffer by this change; and the
art of conversation as it once flourished in France, will perhaps soon
be entirely lost. In this country I should rather think it never
existed, unless perhaps in Charles the Second's time. And, indeed,
people here are too slavishly subject to established usages; too
systematic in all their enjoyments; too incredibly kneaded up with
prejudices; in a word, too little vivacious, to attain to that
unfettered spring and freedom of spirit, which must ever be the sole
basis of agreeable society. I must confess that I know none more
monotonous, nor more persuaded of its own pre-excellence, than the
highest society of this country,--with but few exceptions, and those
chiefly among foreigners, or persons who have resided a good deal on the
Continent. A stony, marble-cold spirit of caste and fashion rules all
classes, and makes the highest tedious, the lower ridiculous. True
politeness of the heart and cheerful 'bonhommie' are rarely to be met
with in what is called society; nor, if we look for foreign ingredients,
do we find either French grace and vivacity, or Italian naturalness; but
at most, German stiffness and awkwardness concealed under an iron mask
of arrogance and 'hauteur.'
In spite of this, the 'nimbus' of a firmly anchored aristocracy and vast
wealth, (combined with admirable taste in spending it, which no one can
deny them,) has stamped the Great World of this country as that 'par
excellence,' of Europe, to which all other nations must more or less
give way. But that foreigners individually and personally do not find it
agreeable, is evident by their rarity in England, and by the still
greater rarity of their desire to stay long. Every one of them at the
bottom of his heart thanks God when he is out of English society; though
personal vanity afterwards, leads him to extol that uninspiring foggy
sun, whose beams assuredly gave him but little 'comfort' when he lived
in them.
Far more loveable, because far more loving, do the English appear in
their domestic and most intimate relations; though even here some
'baroque' customs;--for instance, that sons in the highest ranks, as
soon as they are fledged, leave the paternal roof and live alone; nay
actually do not present themselves at their fathers' dinner-table
without a formal invitation. I lately read a moving instance of conjugal
affection in the newspaper: The Marquis of Hastings died in Malta;
shortly before his death he ordered that his right hand should be cut
off immediately after his death, and sent to his wife. A gentleman of my
acquaintance, out of real tenderness, and with her previously obtained
permission, cut off his mother's head, that he might keep the skull as
long as he lived; while other Englishmen, I really believe, would
rather endure eternal torments than permit the scalpel to come near
their bodies. The laws enjoin the most scrupulous fulfilment of such
dispositions of a deceased person; however extravagant they may be, they
must be executed. I am told there is a country-house in England where a
corpse, fully dressed, has been standing at a window for the last
half-century, and still overlooks its former property.
Just as I was going to entertain you with more English originalities, my
long-desired head-gardener entered my room, bringing your letters. What
a pity that you could not put yourself into the large packet, (of course
in all your 'fraicheur,' and not like Lord Hastings' hand,) or inhabit a
pretty box, like Göthe's delightful Gnome, so that I might call you out
and share with you every enjoyment, fresh as it arises, without this
long interval! As it is, you are melancholy, because I was so a
fortnight before; or your sympathizing answer to a cheerful letter of
mine arrives just as I am labouring under a fresh attack of 'spleen.' As
you say, such an old letter is often like a dead body which, after being
forgotten, is fished up out of the sea.
I must laugh at you, and scold you for one thing--that you write me, as
is your way, scarcely any details about what is passing at my beloved
M----, and send me, instead, long extracts out of a book of Travels in
Africa, which I have read here ages ago in the original. I will
certainly pay you in your own coin the next time you do so. I am just
studying a very interesting work, _Dass Preussische Exercier-Reglement
von 1805_, out of which, when other matter fails me, I shall send you
the cleverest and most entertaining extracts. O you gentle lamb! you
shall often be 'shorn' with these African novelties of yours; the more
so, as the last shearing took place a long time ago, and you must be
sitting as deeply imbedded in your wool as the Knights of St. John in
B----, when, displaying their double crosses, they await the highest
bidder on their Woolsacks. The seat of the Lord Chancellor here is also
a Woolsack, but of rather a more aristocratical sort, more nearly allied
to the Golden Fleece.
I now make almost daily park-excursions with R----, to render his visit
to England as useful as possible; for a good gardener will learn more
here in his profession during a short stay, than in a study of ten years
at home. There are indeed in the immediate neighbourhood of London a
great number of very interesting seats, all of them situated on very
pleasant and animated roads. Amongst these may particularly be mentioned
a villa of Lord Mansfield's, the decorations of which do much honour to
the taste of his lady. Sion House, belonging to the Duke of
Northumberland, and laid out by Brown, is also extremely worth seeing,
on account of its remarkable green-houses, and the multitude of gigantic
exotic trees in the open air, none of which would bear our climate. Here
are also to be seen whole groves of rhododendrons, camellias, &c., which
are but partially covered in winter; and all kinds of beautiful
evergreens thrive luxuriantly in every season.
The green and hot-houses, which form a front of three hundred feet,
consist only of stone, iron and glass; a style of building which has
here the additional advantage of being cheaper than that with wood.
I was interested by a kind of chain, the links of which consisted of
scythes, for the purpose of clearing the large standing waters (a defect
in most English parks): by merely drawing it, like a drag-net, along the
bottom, it entirely removes the weeds. In the vast pleasure-ground
twelve men are daily mowing from five till nine o'clock. By this means
high grass is never to be seen there, and at the same time the
disagreeable general mowing is avoided, which destroys the neatness of
the garden for some days. It is true that they can do only a part daily;
but it is so managed that they finish a certain allotted portion, and
they come round so often that the difference in the turf is not
perceptible. This short grass is, indeed, quite lost to economy; but
beauty and utility cannot always be combined, and the latter must
certainly be subordinate in a pleasure-ground, or it is better to
relinquish all pretensions to one. Kew, which is on the opposite bank of
the river, unquestionably possesses the most complete collection of
exotic plants in Europe. The park has also a great advantage in its
beautiful situation on the Thames, but is in general rather neglected.
Yew trees are found here of the height of our firs, and very fine
specimens of holly and evergreen oak; in other respects the old Queen's
plantations are not very tasteful.
Wimbledon Park, stretching over several hills and full of beautiful
groups of trees, present fine views, but the effect of the whole is
spoiled by some degree of monotony.
---- House is very near, and almost in the suburbs of London: its
architecture is not without interest.
I tell you nothing of the enchanting valley of Richmond. Every traveller
falls into an ecstacy about it, and with justice; but he does not always
excite a similar feeling in the reader by his descriptions. I therefore
avoid them, and remark only that the excellent aristocratic inn (the
Star and Garter,) from which one overlooks this paradise, whilst one's
corporeal wants are admirably provided for, enhances the pleasure.
Solitude and tranquillity joined to every comfort of life, in a country
beautiful above all expression, powerfully invite to enjoyment.
In the evening I took R---- to the Adelphi Theatre. It is small and
neat, and distinguished for the goodness of its machinery; just now,
too, it possesses several excellent actors. One of them played the
drunkard more naturally than I ever saw it. It is true that he has more
facilities here for the study of that state of mind,--for the same
reason that the ancients represented the naked figure better than our
artists,--namely, because they saw it more frequently. An excellent
trait of real life was, that the drunkard, who cherished a tender
passion for a young and poor girl in the house where he lodged, when
sober formed other projects, but in his drunken fits invariably returned
with tears 'à ses anciennes amours,' and in that state of mind was at
length happily brought to marry her.
_December 23d._
Many thanks for the news from B----. I am particularly pleased that
Alexander Von Humboldt is employed by Government. It must give pleasure
to every patriot to see a man like him at length fixed in his native
country, which is so justly proud of his fame in all parts of the world.
It must be a happy occurrence too for many circles there, in which the
salt will at length be mingled, the want of which has so long rendered
them quite unpalatable.
How much I lament the accident which has befallen our good and noble
King, (and I had already learned it from L----,) you can easily imagine,
as you know my feelings on that subject; but I hope to God that his
strong constitution, and the help of such skilful men, will remove every
remaining evil. How rare, and how beautiful, to hear a whole nation
exclaim with one heart and mind, "May heaven preserve to us our beloved
Monarch!"[33]
My own state of spirits is, 'au reste,' somewhat of the same melancholy
cast, probably from the everlasting fogs, which are often so bad that
one is obliged to light candles in the middle of the day, and yet cannot
see. 'Le pire est, que je suis tantôt trop, et tantôt trop peu sensible
á l'opinion et aux procédés des autres.' In the former disposition, (and
dispositions unfortunately govern me with despotic power,) they not only
make me sad or cheerful, but, what is worse, wise or foolish. I
sometimes appear to myself like a person who has climbed up a ladder of
ropes, where his hands have grown benumbed; and after hanging for a long
time near the top, and endeavouring to get still higher, is now on the
point of being obliged to let go, and fall down again to the bottom. And
yet, perhaps, when once arrived on the level plain of common-place and
obscurity, he may be more tranquil than in the stormy breezes; and
though his hopes be less, he may be surrounded by a happier, though a
more simple reality. But a truce to such vain speculations. They are
unprofitable, and even fears of a threatening real misfortune ought
always to be forcibly banished; for why torment ourself with anxieties
about that which _may_ come, and yet perhaps never _does_ come; yet, as
a mere dreamy phantom, has embittered so much of a present which might
otherwise have been cheerful?
In all such states of mind, your image is my best comfort; and to you,
my only and unchanging friend, I turn at length with tearful eyes, and
tender gratitude for all your manifold love, kindness and indulgence. In
your faithful bosom I deposit my grief as well as my joy, and all my
hopes; the most brilliant fulfilment of which would, without you, lose
all value for me.
But now I must leave you, as my duty requires, (for otherwise I would
not,) to go to a large party; where I am destined, as in life, to lose
myself in the multitude. It is, I think, my last visit to the gay world,
as I am preparing to set out on a park-and-garden journey with B----,
which probably will take us a month. The present season is indeed just
the best for him who wishes to make landscape-gardening a study, for the
leafless trees afford a clear and free view in all directions; one can
thus see the whole artificial landscape in a single tour, understand the
effects produced, and judge of the whole like a plan on paper; as well
as distinguish the parts of every plantation in their intended order.
Yesterday we visited, 'en attendant,' the parks in town,--Kensington
Gardens;--Regent's park, 'en détail,' &c., on which occasion we did not
omit to look in at the Diorama exhibited there. This far surpassed my
expectations, and all that I had formerly seen of the same kind. It is
certainly impossible to deceive the senses more effectually; even with
the certitude of illusion one can hardly persuade himself it exists. The
picture represented the interior of a large abbey-church, appearing
perfectly in its real dimensions. A side door is open, ivy climbs
through the windows, and the sun occasionally shines through the door,
and lightens with a cheering beam the remains of coloured windows,
glittering through cobwebs. Through the opposite window at the end you
see the neglected garden of the monastery, and above it, single clouds
in the sky, which, flitting stormily across, occasionally obscure the
sunlight, and throw deep shadows over the church--tranquil as death;
where the crumbled but magnificent remains of an ancient knight reposes
in gloomy majesty.
As our departure is fixed for to-morrow, I send off this letter,
although it has not yet grown to the usual corpulence. How slender are
yours in comparison! Certainly, whenever our descendants find the dusty
correspondence of their ancestors in a corner of the old library, they
will be equally astonished at my prodigality and at your avarice, 'A
propos,' do not be too dissipated in B----, and forget not, even for the
shortest time,
The most faithful of your friends, L.