Chapter II: The Man at the Helm (2)

I wished to-day, on the last day of summer, to write you a
very comfortable and reasonable letter, and full of this idea
lay down on the sofa three hours ago, but only woke a quarter
of an hour before dinner, which is about six. At seven I had
gone out to ride until half-past one, in the capacity of “Herr
Oberstwachtmeister,” to see our brave soldiers burn powder
and form attacks. I first joined Fritz, who commanded three
regiments of cavalry, then went over to the Garde du Corps,
stormed like a man over stock and block, and for a long time
have had no pleasanter day. I am living next to the King, and
two adjutants in a nice old house of Count Hemming’s; it is
a pretty neighborhood, with hillocks, lakes, and woods, and,
above all, there is nothing to do, after finishing my business
with —— yesterday. To-morrow, I am sorry to say, I must go on
the treadmill again: and now to dinner, having slept myself
quite stupid, and wrenched my neck on the steep sofa. We
had twenty persons at table, all sorts of foreign officers,
Englishmen, Russians, besides the whole Federation in the
house. I have no mufti clothes with me, so for forty-eight
hours am wholly a major.

* * * * *

Berlin, 29th September, 1863.

I was so far ready on Saturday that I had only an interview
with the King before me, and hoped to be with you on Sunday
at noon. But the interview led to my having four hours of
autograph work, and the necessity of seeing the King before
his departure for Baden. There was just time for one day at
Kröchlendorff, whither I repaired on Saturday evening, after
writing myself crooked and lame, to reach there at midnight.
Yesterday morning drove to Passow, reached the King by five,
and at a quarter to eight attended him to the railroad.
To-day I accompany Moritz and Roon to Freienwalde, must see
Bernhard about Kniephof, and hope to come to you the day after
to-morrow, if there should remain time enough to make it worth
while. I am to follow the King to Baden; the “when” will be
first known from our correspondence and the business in hand.
If there should be time enough for me to remain two or three
days at Reinfeld, I will come; if not, the harness-makers will
preponderate over my rest, and I shall see you again here in
Berlin. On the 17th I then shall probably return with the King
from Cologne. M. is sitting opposite, and is working out at my
table a joint matter.

* * * * *

Berlin, 27th October, 1863.

It is bitterly cold, but I am quite well. Are you also making
fires up at Reinfeld? I hope so; we have been doing so here
for more than a week. Yesterday, after dinner, I sat with K.
in the blue saloon, and he was playing when I received your
letter of Sunday. Indeed, the letter you wrote was written in
quite a holiday humor. Believe in God, my heart, and on the
proverb that barking dogs do not bite. I did not accompany the
King to Stralsund, it being a tiring journey, and would retard
my work for two days. This evening His Majesty has returned:
the threats against his life are far more menacing than those
directed against me; but this, too, is in the hands of God. Do
not allow the last few fine days to be dimmed by care; and if
you are coming, send some feminine being in advance to arrange
every thing as you wish it. I must go to work. Farewell! This
morning, at nine, only three degrees,[48] and a hot sun. The
inclosed[49] I have twice received this morning from two
different quarters.

* * * * *

Babelsberg, 1st November, 1863.

I employ a moment in which I am awaiting the King, who is
dining at Sans-Souci, to write a line as if from Zarskoe or
Peterhof, only to say that I am well, and am heartily rejoiced
that I shall soon see you ruling again in the empty apartments
at Berlin. On the 9th comes the Diet, with all its worry; but I
think, on the day of the opening, I shall go with His Majesty
to Letzlingen, and pass two days in the woods. During that time
you will, I hope, have done with the hammering and dragging,
the necessary accompaniment of your beloved advent, and on my
return I shall then find every thing in the right place.

For the last few days I have been living alone, and
industrious, have generally dined alone, and, except for a
ride, have not left the house; have been quiet and bored;
occasionally there has been a Council of Ministers. This week
we shall probably have them daily in the matter of our dear
Chambers; and as the King has been a week in Stralsund and
Blankenburg, plenty of work has accumulated. I just hear his
carriage-wheels, and close with hearty greetings.

* * * * *

Carlsbad, Tuesday, 1864.

God be thanked that you are all well; so am I, but more than
ever engaged. At Zwickau on the Perron I met Rechberg; we came
on together in one coupé and carriage to this place; thus we
talked politics for six hours, and for the first time here.
Yesterday evening at tea with the Grand Duchess, King Otho,
Archduke Charles Frederick, many diplomatists, and much work
with R.

* * * * *

Carlsbad, 20th July, 1864.

The King has just set out for Marienbad, through espaliers of
beautiful ladies, with giant bouquets, which more than filled
his carriage. R. with “_Vivats_,” “hurrah!” great excitement.
For me there is now some leisure, all my acquaintances being
gone. To-morrow morning early for Vienna; we shall sleep at
Prague. Perhaps in a week we shall have peace with the Danes;
perhaps this winter again war. I shall make my stay in Vienna
as short as possible, to lose as few baths as possible at
Gastein. After that, I shall probably accompany the King again
to Vienna, then to Baden; then the Emperor of Russia is coming
to Berlin in the beginning of September. Before that time there
is no prospect of rest—if then.

* * * * *

Vienna, 22d July, 1864.

Yesterday morning I came with —— and —— and two others, who
lend me their calligraphic aid, from Carlsbad, in a carriage as
far as Prague; thence by railway hither to-day; unfortunately
this time not to go by water to Linz, especially to worry
myself and others. I am living with —— for the present; have
seen nobody but R. I was rain-bound for two hours in the
Volksgarten, and listened to music. Stared at by the people
as if I was a new hippopotamus for the Zoological Gardens, for
which I consoled myself with some very good beer. How long
I shall remain here I can not tell; to-morrow I have many
visits to pay; dine with R. in the country; then, if possible,
conclude peace with Denmark, and fly as swiftly as possible, to
the mountain in Gastein. I wish it were all over. The two days
of journeying have somewhat mentally rested me, but in body I
am very tired, and say good-night to you.

* * * * *

Vienna, 27th July, 1864.

I have received one letter from you here, and long for the
second. I lead an industrious life—four hours a day with tough
Danes, and am not at the end yet. By Sunday it must be settled
whether we are to have peace or war. Yesterday I dined with
M——; a very agreeable wife, and pretty daughters. We drank a
good deal, were very merry, which is not often the case in
their sorrow, of which you are aware. He has grown gray and
has cut his hair short. Yesterday, after the conference, I
dined with the Emperor at Schönbrunn, took a walk with R—— and
W——, and thought of our moonlight expedition. I have just been
for an hour in the Volksgarten, unfortunately not incognito,
as I was seventeen years ago—stared at by all the world. This
existence on the stage is very unpleasant when one wishes to
drink a glass of beer in peace. On Saturday I hope to leave for
Gastein, whether it is peace or no. It is too hot for me here,
particularly at night.

* * * * *

Gastein, 6th August, 1864.

Work gets continually worse; and here, where I can do nothing
in the morning after the bath, I do not know when to get time
for any thing. Since my arrival on the 2d, in a storm with
hailstones as hard as bullets, I have just been able, in
magnificent weather, for the first time, to go out by rule. On
my return, I wish to employ the half-hour at my disposal in
writing to you. A—— was, however, here immediately, with plans
and telegrams, and I must be off to the King. I am, however,
by the blessing of God, quite well. I have had four baths, but
shall hardly get more than eleven, as the King sets out on the
15th. Since yesterday I have been very comfortably lodged, as
a large cool corner room, with a magnificent landscape, was
vacant; until then I had-been living in a sun-blinding oven,
at least by day. The nights are pleasantly fresh. The King
probably goes hence to Vienna in short day journeys, by way
of Ischl, and thence to Baden. Whether I shall accompany him
to the latter place is uncertain. I still hope to get away
for a few days to my quiet Pomerania; but what is the use of
plans?—something always comes in between. I have not a gun with
me, and every day there is a chamois-hunt; certainly, I have
also had no time. To-day seventeen were shot, and I was not
there; it is a life like that of Leporello:—

“Neither rest by day or night,
Naught to make my comfort right.”

* * * * *

7th August.

Just now I had the whole room full of ladies, flying from the
rain, which relieves guard with the sun to-day. Fr—— from R——,
with, two cousins, Frau von P——, a Norwegian. I have long since
heard no feminine voice, not since Carlsbad. Farewell!

* * * * *

Schönbrunn, 20th August, 1864.

It is too strange that I should be living in the rooms on the
ground-floor, abutting on the private reserved garden where,
very nearly seventeen years ago, we intruded in the moonlight.
If I look over my right shoulder I can see, through a glass
door, the dark beech clump-hedge by which we wandered, in
the secret delight of the forbidden, up to the glass window
behind which I am living. It was then inhabited by the
Empress, and I now repeat our walk by moonlight at greater
ease. The day before the day before yesterday I left Gastein;
slept at Radstedt. The day before yesterday went, in misty
weather, to Aussee—a charmingly situated place; a beautiful
lake, half Traunsee and half Königssee; at sunset reached the
Hallstädtersee; thence, by boat, in the night, to Hallstadt,
where we slept. Next morning was pleasant and sunny; at noon we
reached the King at Ischl, and so, with His Majesty, over the
Traunsee to Gmunden, where we passed the night, and I thought a
great deal of L——, H——, and B——, and all those times. To-day,
by steamer, hither, arriving about six, passing two hours
with R——, after convincing myself that —— is one of the most
beautiful women, of whom all pictures give a false idea. We
stay here three days; what follows, whether Baden or Pomerania,
I cam not yet foresee. I am now heartily tired, so wish you and
all of ours good-night.

Schönbrunn, Thursday.

The King went early this morning to Salzburg; I follow him
to-morrow. This morning I killed fifty-three pheasants, fifteen
hares, and one karinckel; and yesterday eight stags and two
moufflons. I am quite lame in hand and cheek from shooting.
To-morrow evening it will be decided whether I am to go to
Baden, but now I go to bed. Good-night all, for I am very tired.

* * * * *

Baden, 1st September, 1864.

The King arrived this morning from Mainau, well and cheerful,
having been through the rain with the Queen to the races.
A.’s busy hand continually shakes over me new blessings of
projects, as soon as I have worked through the old ones. I do
not know whence I wrote to you last; I have hardly come to my
senses since Vienna; slept one night in Salzburg, the second
at Munich; conferred much and lengthily with N. N., who has
grown thin. I then slept at Augsburg, and thence came, by way
of Stuttgart, to this place, in the hope of passing two days
in lazy rest, but only had two hours’ intermission in the
forest yesterday morning. Couriers, ink, audiences, and visits,
constantly buzz round me without interruption. —— is also here.
I dare not show myself on the promenade; no one leaves me at
peace.

* * * * *

Frankfurt, 11th September, 1864.

It is long since I have written to you hence, and never from
the Zeil. We alighted at the Russian Embassy; the King has
driven to the Emperor Alexander at Jugenheim; thence he visits
the Empress Eugénie at Schwalbach, and I have got myself free
for a day, which I spend with K. at Heidelberg. I accompany
her to Heidelberg, shall be back here about two or three—time
enough to devote myself to the Diet; to-morrow morning early to
Berlin, whence, after the necessary cavilling, I shall start
for Pomerania.

* * * * *

Bordeaux, 6th October, 1864.

Excuse this scrawl, but I have no paper at hand, and only
wish to apprise you that I have reached this place safely. It
seems almost like a dream to be here again. Yesterday morning
I started from Baden, slept very well at Paris, set out this
morning about eleven, and now at eleven P.M. am here. I think
of leaving for Bayonne to-morrow morning at eight, to reach
Biarritz by two. In Paris it was still cold; in Baden yesterday
there was an early frost; on this side of the Loire things grew
better; here it is decidedly warm—warmer than any night this
year. I am, in fact, already quite well, and would be _quite_
cheerful if I only knew that all was well with you. At Paris I
felt very much inclined to live there again; he had arranged
the house there very well, and the life I lead in Berlin is
a kind of penal servitude when I think of my independent life
abroad. If it agree with me, I think I shall take about fifteen
baths, so that on the 21st or 22d I shall set out on my return
journey; if God wills, you will then be—or perhaps somewhat
earlier—at Berlin. In his care, Engel has locked me in; there
is no bell, and this letter will lose a day, as it can not be
sent to the post to-night. It is so warm that I have the window
open.

* * * * *

Biarritz, 9th October, 1864.

When I remember how assiduously we lighted fires in Baden, and
even in Paris, and that here the sun graciously requests me
to take off my paletot and drawers, that we sat till ten by
the sea in the moonlight, and this morning breakfast in the
open air, and that I am writing to you at the open window,
looking at the blue and sunny sea, and on bathing folks who are
wandering about in very slight costumes, paddling with naked
feet in the water, I can not help saying that southern nations
possess a peculiar grace of God in their climate. I shall not
yet bathe more than once, but shall soon venture upon two, if
not, _à la_ ——, upon more. The only comfort I require is to
hear from you. If we were free people, I should propose to you
to come with child and baggage to this place, and remain here
the whole winter, as many of the English do, from reasons of
economy, which prevails here in the winter season.

* * * * *

Biarritz, 12th October, 1864.

MY DEAR SISTER,—I am so delightfully disengaged that I can
send a few lines in the direction of my thoughts! I am well,
particularly since I have yesterday and to-day at last received
news of Johanna’s gradual recovery. I reached here on the
forenoon of the 7th—in Paris we still had fires, from Bordeaux
an agreeable temperature, and here heat so that summer clothing
was necessary. Since yesterday there has been a north wind,
and it is cooler, but still warmer than I have felt it all
the summer. A very light summer coat was too hot for me on
my evening’s walk by the shore. Until now I have taken seven
baths, and now proceed with two _per diem_. I am writing to you
by the open window, with flickering lights, and the moonlit sea
before me, the plash of which is accompanied by the carriage
bells on the road to Bayonne. The lighthouse in front of me
changes its light from red to white, and I am looking with some
appetite at the clock, to see whether the dinner hour of seven
has not arrived. I have not for a long time found myself in
such comfortable climatic and business conditions, and yet the
evil habit of work has rooted itself so deeply in my nature
that I feel some disquiet of conscience at my laziness—almost
long for the Wilhelm Strasse, at least if my dear ones were
there. “_Monsieur, le diner est servi_,” is the announcement.

_The 13th._—I could not yesterday write any further. After
dinner we took a moonlight walk on the southern shore, from
which we returned, very tired, at about eleven o’clock. I
slept till nine; about ten bathed in water of 14° warmer[50]
than ever I had found the North Sea in August; and now we are
going together to Fuent Arabia, beyond the frontier; shall dine
on our way back at St. Jean de Luz. The weather is heavenly
to-day, the sea quiet and blue; it is almost too hot to walk in
the sun.

* * * * *

Izazu, 17th October, 1864.

Although I have this morning sent you a letter by the courier,
_pour la rareté du fait_, I must write to you from this
remarkable place. We breakfasted here, three miles to the east
of Biarritz, in the mountains, and are seated in charming
summer weather at the edge of a rushing stream, the name of
which we can not learn, as nobody speaks French—nothing but
Basque. There are high narrow rocks before and behind us, with
heather, ferns, and chestnuts all around. The valley is called
Le Pas de Roland, and is the west end of the Pyrenees. Before
we went off we took our baths—the water cold, the air like
July. The courier dispatched, we had a charming drive through
mountains, forests, and meadows. After eating and drinking,
and climbing ourselves tired, our party of five are sitting
down reading to each other, and I am writing myself on the lid
of the box in which were the grapes and figs we brought with
us. At five we shall return with the sunset and moonlight to
Biarritz, and dine about eight. It is too pleasant a life to
last. The 20th, the evening before last, we went to Pau. It was
heavy and sultry there, and at night storm and rain; we were
in the railway, but came from Bayonne hither by carriage; the
sea magnificent. After it had been as smooth as a duck-pond
for some days with the land winds, it now looks like a boiling
caldron, and the wind is warm and moist with it; the sun
alternates with rain—very Atlantic weather.

To-day I take my fourteenth bath; I shall hardly get more than
fifteen, for it seems I must to-morrow leave this warm shore.
I am still striving between duty and taste; but I fear the
first will conquer. I will first take my bath, and then decide
whether it shall be the penultimate one. Anyhow, the fourteen
days I have spent here have done me good, and I only wish I
could transport you, without travelling discomfort, hither or
to Pau.

* * * * *

Paris, 25th October, 1864.

Before going to bed, after a tiring day, I will announce to you
my fortunate arrival here. Yesterday noon I left dear Biarritz;
they were making hay in the meadows when I started in the hot
sun. Friends accompanied me as far as Bayonne; at about 6 A.M.
I arrived here. Plenty of politics, audience at St. Cloud, a
dinner at Drouyn de Lhuys’s, and now I am going to bed tired
out.

* * * * *

Carlsbad, 12th July, 1865.

I am ashamed that I did not write to you on your birthday; but
there is so much of “must” in my life that I scarcely ever get
to “will.” The treadwheel goes on from day to day, and I seem
as if I were the tired horse in it, pushing it along without
getting any forwarder. One day after the other a courier
arrives, one day after the other another departs—between whiles
come others from Vienna, Munich, or Rome; the burden of papers
increases, ministers are all at odds, and from this centre I am
obliged to write to each of them singly.

The review I hope to stop; as far as I know, the actual return
has not yet reached the King; but I have brought the matter
forward, and His Majesty has promised to examine into the
provision question for man and horse. To-morrow I will inquire
in the military cabinet as to how far the writing has got.

Late in the evening, the 13th.

The whole day I have been writing, dictating, reading, going
down and up the mountain as to the report to the King. The
courier’s bag and my letter are both closing. Across the table
I see the Erzgebirge, along the Tepl by the evening twilight,
very beautiful; but I feel leathery and old. The King starts
from here on the 19th, five days off, for Gastein, whither the
Emperor designs to come. On the road I will see —— somewhere
in Bavaria. “Neither rest by day nor night.” It looks ugly for
peace—it must be settled at Gastein.

* * * * *

Gastein, 4th August, 1865.

I begin to count the days I shall have to sit through in this
fog-chamber. As to what the sun looks like, we have only
dark reminiscences from a better past. Since this morning it
has at least been cold; until then sultry moist heat, with a
change only in the form of rain, and continued uncertainty as
to whether one gets wet with rain or perspiration, when one
stumps up and down the esplanade steps in the mud. How people
with nothing to do can endure it I do not understand. What
with bathing, work, dinner, reports, and tea at His Majesty’s,
I have scarcely time to realize the horrors of the situation.
These last three days there has been a theatre of comedians
here; but one is almost ashamed to go, and most people avoid
the passage through the rain. I am very well through it all,
particularly since we have had Kaltenhäuser beer. —— and ——
are dreadfully cast down from not knowing what to drink. The
landlord gives them bad beer in order to force them to drink
worse wine. Other news than this there is none from this
steam-kitchen, unless I talk politics.

* * * * *

Gastein, 14th August, 1865.

For some days I have had no time to send you any news. Count
Blome is here again, and we are zealously laboring at the
maintenance of peace, and the repair of the fissures in the
buildings. The day before yesterday I devoted a day to the
chase. I think I wrote you word how fruitless the first
was. This time I have at least shot a young chamois, but
saw no others in the three hours during which I abandoned
my motionless self to the experiments of the most various
insects; and the prattling activity of the waterfall beneath
me convinced me of the deep-rooted feeling which caused some
one before my time to express the wish, “Streamlet, let thy
rushing be!” In my room, also, this wish is justified both by
day and by night—one breathes on reaching any place where the
brutal noise of the waterfall can not be heard. In the end,
however, it was a very pretty shot, right across the chasm;
killed first fire, and the brute fell headlong into the brook,
some church-steeple’s height beneath me. My health is good,
and I feel myself much stronger. We start on the 19th—that is
Saturday—for Salzburg. The Emperor will probably make his visit
there, and one or two days will be spent besides at Ischl.
The King then goes to Hohenschwangau. I go to Munich, and
join His Majesty again at Baden. What next may follow depends
upon politics. If you are in Homburg long enough, I hope to
take a trip over to you from Baden—to enjoy the comforts of
domesticity.

* * * * *

Baden, 1st September, 1865.

I reached this place the day before yesterday morning, slept
till half-past twelve, then had much hard work; dinner with
the King—long audience. In the evening a quartette at Count
Flemming’s with Joachim, who really performs on his violin in
a most wonderful way. There were many acquaintances of mine on
the race-course yesterday whom I did not very well remember.

September begins rainy. Two-thirds of the year are gone just
when one has grown accustomed to write 1865. Many princes are
here. At four —— wants to see me; she is said to have grown
very beautiful. The King leaves at five—it is undecided whether
to Coblenz or Coburg, on account of Queen Victoria, whom he
desires to meet. I hope in any case to pass by way of Frankfurt
on the 5th or 6th. Whether, or how long, I can be in Homburg,
will soon be seen—longer than one day in no case, as I must be
with the King in Berlin.

* * * * *

Baden, Sunday.

That you may see what a husband you have, I send you the route.
We go to-morrow morning, at six o’clock, to Coburg, to the
Queen of England. I must go too, and I am sorry to say Spa is
all over for me; but it can not be otherwise.