Brunswick.
We have had some masquerade balls here of late.—The Court do not go
in procession to these as at Cassel.—Those who chuse to attend, go
separately when they find it convenient.
There is a gallery in the masquerade room for the reigning family, where
they sometimes sit without masks, and amuse themselves by looking at the
dancers. But in general they go masked, and mix in an easy and familiar
manner with the company.
I am not surprised that the Germans, especially those of high rank, are
fond of masquerades, being so much harassed with ceremony and form, and
cramped by the distance which birth throws between people who may have
a mutual regard for each other. I imagine they are glad to seize every
opportunity of assuming the mask and domino, that they may taste the
pleasures of familiar conversation and social mirth.—— In company with
the D—— of H——, I once had the honour of dining at the house of a general
officer. His sister did the honours of the table; and on the Duke’s
expressing his surprise that he never had seen her at court, he was told
she could not possibly appear there, because she was not noble. This
lady, however, was visited at home by the Sovereign, and every family of
distinction, all of whom regretted, that the established custom of their
country deprived the court of a person whose character they valued so
highly.
The General’s rank in the army was a sufficient passport for him, but was
of no service to his sister; for this etiquette is observed very rigidly
with respect to the natives of Germany, though it is greatly relaxed to
strangers, particularly the English, who they imagine have less regard
for birth and title than any other nation.
Public diversions of every kind are now over for some time, and the Court
is at present very thin.—Duke Ferdinand resides in the country. The
Hereditary Prince went a few days since to Halberstadt, where he will
remain at least a month, to prepare the garrison, and his own regiment
in particular, for the grand reviews which are soon to take place.
Diligence in duty, and application to the disciplining of the forces,
are indispensable in this service. Without these, not all the King’s
partiality to this Prince, or his consanguinity, could secure to him his
uncle’s favour for one day, personal talents and vigorous exertion being
the sole means of acquiring and retaining the favour of this steady and
discerning monarch.
The Hereditary Princess has left Brunswick, and is gone to Zell, and will
remain during the absence of her husband with her sister the Queen of
Denmark.
The young Prince, Leopold, has also left the Court. He goes directly
to Vienna, and it is thought he intends to offer his services to the
Emperor. If proper encouragement be given, he will go entirely into the
Austrian service. In this case, he will probably, when a war happens,
find himself in opposition to his two brothers; a circumstance not much
regarded in Germany, where brothers go into different services, with as
little hesitation as into different regiments with us.
The strictest friendship has always subsisted between this young man and
his sister, who has been crying almost without intermission since he went
away.
His mother bears this with more composure, yet her uneasiness is easily
perceived. Independent of the absence of her son, she is distressed
at the idea of his going into a service, where he may be obliged to
act in opposition to her brother, for whom I find she has the greatest
affection, as well as the highest admiration.
I was not surprised to hear her speak of him as the greatest man alive;
but she extends her eulogium to the qualities of his heart, in which
she is not joined by the opinion of all the world.—She, however, dwells
particularly on this, calling him the worthiest of men, the firmest
friend, and the kindest of brothers:—and as she founds her opinion on her
own experience alone, she has the greatest reason to think as she does;
for, by every account, the King has always behaved with high regard and
undeviating tenderness to her.
The departure of Prince Leopold has revived this Princess’s affliction
for the untimely fate of two of her sons. One died in the Russian camp
at the end of the campaign of 1769, in which he had served with great
distinction as a volunteer; the other was killed in a skirmish towards
the end of the last war; having received a shot in his throat, he died of
the wound fifteen days after, much regretted by the army, who had formed
a high idea of the rising merit of this gallant youth.
He wrote a letter to his mother in the morning of the day on which he
died. In this letter he regrets, that he should be stopped so soon in
the course of honour, and laments that he had not been killed in some
memorable action, which would have saved his name from oblivion, or
in achieving something worthy of the martial spirit of his family. He
expresses satisfaction, however, that his memory would at least be dear
to some friends, and that he was certain of living in his mother’s
affections while she should exist. He then declares his gratitude to her
for all her care and tenderness, and concludes with these expressions,
which I translate as near as I can remember—I wished the Dutchess to
repeat them; but it was with difficulty, and eyes overflowing, that she
pronounced them once:—“My eyes grow dim—I can see no longer—happy to have
employed their last light in expressing my duty to my mother.”