Chapter II (1)

1799-1801.

A large part of the chapter which follows was printed last
year, under the title of _A Visit to Germany in 1799, 1800_, of
which a good many copies were privately circulated. It excited
more attention and remark than I was prepared to expect; and I
am glad that it should be now placed within the reach of all.
A few additional entries, but all of secondary interest, which
were then passed over, have now found a place in the text.

_Oct. 20, 1799, Yarmouth._—I left London on the 16th, with the consolation of feeling that all my friends parted from me as from a beloved child, mixing with their affection a degree of care that proved they quite forgot I was more than fifteen. I have been detained here since last Friday, waiting for a fair wind, and my imprisonment would have been comfortless enough, had it not been for the attentions of Mr. Hudson Gurney, a young man on whom I had no claims, except from a letter of Mr. Sanford’s; who, without knowing or having any connexion with him, recommended me to his care, feeling wretched at the idea of my being unprotected in the first stage of my journey. He has already devoted to me one evening and two mornings, assisted me in money matters, lent me books, and enlivened my confinement to a wretched inn by his pleasant conversation. Mr. Sanford having described me as a person travelling _alone for her health_, he says his old assistant in the bank fancied I was a decrepit elderly lady who might safely be consigned to his youthful partner. His description of his surprise, thus prepared, was conceived in a very good strain of flattery. He is about two and twenty; understands several languages, seems to delight in books, and to be uncommonly well informed.

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_Oct. 27, Cuxhaven._—Arrived yesterday—uncivil captain—wretched passage—a high wind—never able to quit my little miserable bed. I fancied myself a good sailor, because I tolerated my Portuguese voyage, when I had the whole vessel to myself, several attendants, all possible luxuries and accommodations, and every person on board occupied in sparing me the shadow of an inconvenience. I find that travelling under the protection of a husband who deifies one, and is profuse in all expenses that can promote one’s comfort, gives a very faint idea of the _contretems_ of an economical and solitary journey. Saw Mr. Harward, agent for the packets, and Colonel Malcolm—both very kind. The former invited me to his house, and offered to conduct me free of all expense to Hamburg, if I would wait till the boat set off with the Government money. This offer for many trifling reasons I declined. Colonel Malcolm is a Scotchman, devoured by military ardour, who left Canada, where he was happily settled, because, _unfortunately_, it was a quiet country. He now commands a brigade at Tuam.

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_Oct. 28._—Mr. Harward, as I refused to suffer him to accompany me, offered me the society of his daughter, and we sailed up the Elbe for Hamburg in a fishing-boat, worked by two sailors. We were thirty-six hours on the passage. I slept on a bench in a den dignified with the name of cabin, wrapped up in blankets I had the precaution to bring with me.

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_Nov. 4, Ham, near Hamburg._—Arrived at the Stadt Petersburg on the 29th; a pleasant inn, as it looks upon a public walk. Here you have a regular dinner of several dishes for the same price that a chicken costs at a London hotel; but the beds and attendants are nearly as expensive as in Pall Mall. Baron Breteuil[9] called next morning, and overcame all my objections to making him a visit by proving it was as much the wish of his daughter as himself. She also called and reiterated the invitation. The Baron is rich as an _émigré_, having near 4000_l._ a-year. He has a delightful house, and entertains in a very comfortable way, without any pretension to keeping up his ancient style of magnificence. He sees not only his friends, but a various and extensive acquaintance. His daughter, Mad. de Matignon, has a certain share of wit, great pleasantry, the best manners possible, and unalterable cheerfulness, amounting indeed to what may be called uncommon high spirits. His grand-daughter, the Duchess of Montmorenci, is pleasing, lively, and well-bred, less clever than her mother in conversation, and excessively occupied with her toilette, but in so unaffected a way it rather diverts than fatigues you. The whole time of my visit she has employed herself in taking patterns of everything I possessed, and making up similar dresses with the ingenuity of a milliner or mantua-maker. The whole family vie with each other in proofs of civility to me, and in solicitations that I would prolong my stay. Last evening they accompanied me to the play, and in spite of the law which commands the gates of Hamburg to be closed at half-past five, we returned to Ham at ten. This is done by a little manœuvre, and crossing the river where it is shallow and narrow, an operation of about fifteen minutes. I saw it was an expedition which did not delight the Baron, though he undertook it on my account; and I am not surprised at his repugnance, as certainly in the month of November it was a party only suited to five and twenty. I met at his house Lady Edward Fitzgerald and her lovely little daughter, whose eyes and eyelashes are celestial.

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_Nov. 6, Soltau._—Left Ham yesterday, penetrated with Baron Breteuil’s unaltered friendship, which time and absence have had no power to diminish. Travelled but one post, crossed the Elbe, and slept in a small inn on its banks. You are not to expect any luxuries on a German road; small rooms, with sanded floors, no carpet or curtains, dark little beds in corners, and wooden chairs, were all I found here. I supped well on eggs and milk. “I must give you an idea of this day’s journey, not by way of _complaint_, but of _narrative_. Without delay, dispute, accident, or ever quitting the carriage, I have travelled from Hopen here, exactly at the rate of two English miles an hour, in a post chaise, but moderately loaded, and drawn by four horses. It is two posts, one of four, the other of three German miles, each of which you know is some four English. The roads are dreadfully bad, but from the flatness of the country, and the absence of either wall or ditch, not dangerous. Going so slow, in an occasional journey, does not signify, but I should be sorry to _live_ where the difficulty of communication is so great. It would be a sad thing to think that if your child or best friend was in the most urgent distress at a hundred miles’ distance, you would be fifty hours getting to them even if you travelled night and day, which on these roads few constitutions could bear. The sterility and uninhabited appearance of the country is melancholy to excess. Imagine a dead flat, either absolutely naked, or slightly covered with a little starved heath, and sometimes extending three or four miles without an appearance of life, or trace of the hand of man. After driving for a couple of hours through a desert of this sort, you cannot imagine the pleasure with which I saw and heard three or four geese, which formed in my eye a most interesting group.”[10]

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_Nov. 8, Zell._—The second post of yesterday’s journey was more tolerable to the eye than any I have yet seen, as a river in one place, and here and there a few trees, broke the general appearance of sterility. Many of them were firs, whose deep green contrasted agreeably with the withered leaves of bright brown and yellow that were intermixed. This is a very small town, without trade or manufactures, and possesses no attractions of any kind; yet I remained here to-day, partly to rest, and partly to view at my leisure the castle where Matilda, Queen of Denmark, died in the bloom of her youth, after having expiated by three years’ confinement either her indiscretion or her crime, for history seems at a loss to decide whether she was guilty or only imprudent. It is a quadrangle surrounded by a moat, has once been whitewashed, but is now very dirty, and the outside has a gloomy appearance, increased perhaps by our associating with it ideas of banishment and a prison. The apartment once inhabited by Matilda is a suite of five rooms, terminating in her bed-chamber. They are all hung with tapestry, and her bed is of green damask. Though unsuitable to a youthful Queen, they are yet spacious, convenient, and have a certain air of dignity. Her mattrass and quilt, the one of white, the other of dark green satin, have been preserved untouched since her death. I also went to see the church, which is ornamented with painting and sculpture. A nervous person would have been startled at seeing in the floor of the chancel a large open space, discovering a flight of steps leading down to a vault, and on each side a man in black with a lighted taper. I was soon given to understand that the burying-place was here the chief object of curiosity. The coffin of the Queen of Denmark is the most ornamented, and not far from it stood that of Dorothea, wife of George the First. It was impossible to see their dust repose so near, and not reflect on the similarity of their fates. Both were accused of infidelity to their husbands; both ended their days in banishment and obscurity; no accusation was ever clearly proved of either; and the presumed lovers of each perished by a violent death.

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_Nov. 9, Hanover._—Another day of fatigue and two tedious posts have brought me here. The country has improved during this last day’s journey. There is a road edged with trees, instead of the miserable track, scarce discernible, through sand or heath; and here and there the eye is refreshed with a cultivated field and distant wood. I am not out of humour with German travelling, slow as it is. I have found all the people I employed, obliging, though not _empressé_, and there is a quietness in their manner that pleases. The postilions neither swear, nor beat their horses, and are satisfied with a very small gratuity, as are also the maids at the inns. Sixteen good groschen to the first, and eight or ten to the last, contents them. Two groschen is 3½_d._ of our money.

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_Nov. 11, 12._—So uneasy at not having received any letters either from my beloved Charles, or my other friends in England or Ireland, that these two days were a complete blank.

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_Nov. 13._—Received a visit from Mr. Tatler, one of Prince Adolphus’ household. Soon after he sent me a civil note and several books. He is about thirty; pleasing in his manners and appearance.

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_Nov. 15._—Prince Adolphus, who arrived last night, called on me this morning. His exterior is highly prepossessing. He is extremely handsome, tall, and finely formed. His complexion fair, yet manly; his features regular, yet expressive. His manners bear that stamp of real goodness, which no art can imitate, no other charm replace; and though he presents himself with suitable dignity, his address immediately inspires ease and confidence. His conversation is fluent, various, and entertaining.

* * * * *

_Nov. 16._—Prince Adolphus called on me about twelve, introducing to me Mad. de Büssche, whose husband has a place at Court, and whom he has fixed on to accompany me in my round of visits. She is a beautiful grandmother, with irresistible manners. At six Mad. de Büssche called to take me to pay my visits; we only dropped tickets, and afterwards she introduced me, according to an arrangement of the Prince’s, at Mad. de Wallmöden’s. The Maréchal de Wallmöden is son to George the Second and the beautiful Lady Yarmouth. Our company only consisted of our host and hostess, the two Princes, an officer who played on the violin, some musicians, and Mr. Tatler, who educated the Princes Augustus and Adolphus, and now lives with the latter as a friend. It was a delightful evening, and Prince Adolphus sang with very good taste and a charming voice. He is extremely animated, and there is a frankness and goodness in his manner that pleases even more than his graces and his talents.

* * * * *

_Nov. 18._—The Prince, who regularly sends me the newspapers, was so kind as to call on me at five in the evening with a French gazette; and afterwards Mr. Tatler, whose adoration of him is truly interesting, sat with me the rest of the evening. He enlarged much on his goodness, saying he never had done, and never would do, anything to give the King, his father, a moment’s uneasiness. He cannot speak of his father without tears in his eyes. He rises at six, and takes four lessons daily in different branches of study and science.

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_Nov. 20._—Dined at Court; an invitation dinner of about thirty persons. Prince Adolphus of course represents our King; but there is no ceremony, and the dinner does not differ from that at the house of any private gentleman, except in the number of attendants and the circumstance of every person’s being placed at table according to their rank. They rise from table in about two hours and a half, drink coffee, and separate between five and six. There is no particular court dress. When I least expected it the band played ‘God save the King.’ It was the first time I had heard it since I left England, and in addition to the feelings it usually excites, it awakened ten thousand fond ideas of home and all the dear friends I had left behind. It was a painfully-pleasing moment.

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_Nov. 24._—An assembly at Mad. Bielwhal’s. Instead of the constant ingress and egress from ten till one, as at a London assembly, every one assembles at about half-past six and goes away about nine. I like this better; you are sure of meeting your acquaintances by going to the same place, which does not follow in London. The play here is so very low it really deserves its name, and no one can possibly make it a business.

* * * * *

_Nov. 27._—At a supper at Mad. de Wallmöden’s met a countryman, Lord B——, whom I had always seen with great indifference at home, but whose appearance in a foreign country gave me great pleasure.

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_Nov. 30._—Went to Prince Ernest’s assembly. He has a pleasant house, belonging to our King, and has so furnished as to give it a very cheerful appearance. I am much pleased with Count Münster,[11] one of my new acquaintances, who appears to have information, taste, and talents.

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_Dec. 3._—A ball at Prince Adolphus’. He was good enough to begin it with me. His house is very beautiful, both as to taste and magnificence, and the former predominates just enough. The rooms are chiefly hung and furnished with Lyons silks, in compartments, and the ceilings, floors, doors, windows, &c., are painted in the most exquisite Italian style. The hall is lofty and well-proportioned, the apartments perfectly distributed, and there is a marble saloon and a boudoir lined with looking-glass, which more resemble a description in the _Arabian Nights_ than anything one has seen in real life. The ball was gay and brilliant; many more men than women, which still surprises me, after having been accustomed to see seven women to one man in London. I never saw anything like the good-nature of the Hanoverian ladies—no malicious shrugs or whispers, no sarcasms under the mask of compliments, no satirical glances from top to bottom at one’s dress, no sign of displeasure at the Prince’s goodness to a stranger.

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_Dec. 4-11._—Our amusements have been varied by the arrival of Mad. de Wally, who gives herself out as an _emigrée_ of distinction, and who supports herself by singing in public. She has infinite taste, skill, and knowledge of music. I have been fortunate enough to render her some slight services, of which she seems deeply sensible. She sung very well at a little concert which I gave to my most intimate acquaintance.

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_Dec. 18._—I have had a little cold, and have not been out in an evening since the concert at Court on the 9th, except once _en famille_ to Count Münster’s. Count Münster has a charming collection of pictures, which he chose himself at Rome, when he was there with Prince Augustus. He paints himself in oils extremely well for an amateur. At his house I met Mad. Zimmerman, widow of the writer _On Solitude_. She seems a very intelligent and is a very pleasing woman. She is not admitted to any of the great assemblies of any of the first class, but may visit them in private. The distinction between the _noblesse_ and the other classes is here kept up with a rigorous exactitude. At first it provoked me. On reflexion, I believe it contributes more to happiness than the mixture of ranks in London. Here every one moves contentedly in their own class; there all are struggling to associate with those above them; whence proceeds a vast share of envy, expense, and dissipation. Much of these evils is cut up by the roots, when it is impossible by any exertion to quit the society of equals for that of superiors; and as this rule only extends to large societies, it does not break asunder any endearing ties; for who would not rather see their friend in a society of six than of sixty persons? Charlotte, in _Werther_, is a character drawn from life, and passed some time here. She was likewise of the second class, but not remarkable for beauty.

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_Dec. 21._—An assembly given by Prince Adolphus to the Duke of Altenburg, who came here to beg his Royal Highness and General Wallmöden would use their influence with the English Minister to obtain his release from the obligation of furnishing troops and money towards the present Continental war. They declined to interfere.

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_Dec. 24._—I this day saw the little _fête_ of Christmas-Eve, so interestingly alluded to in _Werther_. Mad. de Wallmöden knew it was a scene that would please me. On that evening all the children and young people in a family receive from their friends a variety of presents, called _les étrennes_. They are arranged with taste upon tables highly illuminated, ornamented with boughs and shrubs, natural and artificial. Here you see, in agreeable and studied confusion, shawls, ribbons, flowers, pelisses, ornaments, toys, sweetmeats, books—everything, in short. One table was spread for the Countesses de la Lippe, two wards of the Field-Marshal, and one for each of his children and grandchildren. When all is arranged the young people are admitted, and nothing can form a greater variety of pleasing pictures than the delight of the children, their unstudied expressions of gratitude, and the pleasure of the parents in witnessing the delicious sensations of that bewitching age. I was sensibly affected by this scene, and equally interested by Mad. de Wallmöden’s deep but unobtrusive sensibility, and the lively expression of happiness in the looks and gestures of Mad. de Kielmansegge, a beautiful little woman, whose animation in the embraces of her children is contrasted by a certain indifferent _nonchalance_ on other occasions. The Field-Marshal retained his usual appearance of strong sense, and conscious, but not unpleasing, superiority, which gives him rather the aspect of an observer than an actor in every passing scene. I sung several English songs, which pleased by their novelty those who had never heard them before; and the Prince de la Lippe’s tutor observed that he was quite surprised at finding the English language could be so well adapted to music. As it is much softer than German, the remark added to the long list I have made in proof that nothing English is appreciated by foreigners. They willingly overrate the individual, but almost always underrate the nation.

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_Dec. 26._—On the day of _les étrennes_ I laid these lines on the table of Mad. de Büssche, with some muslin worked with white flowers (I must observe that the custom of giving presents is not confined to parents; it is a day for a general exchange of _souvenirs_):—

While friends long loved, long tried, entwine
Fresh garlands for Louisa’s shrine,
Trembling, a timid stranger dares
To blend her little gift with theirs;
Framed in her lonely pensive hours,
These colourless, insipid flowers
By no bright hues attract the eye,
No radiant tints of Tyrian dye.
Thus simple, unadorned, and plain,
Louisa might the gift disdain,
If art could add a single grace
To all the wonders of her face.

_Dec. 27._—A day of leave-taking. The Prince gave me a map of Germany for my tour, and sent me a kind note, enclosing a letter of recommendation to the Duchess of Brunswick.

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_Dec. 28._—At five o’clock bade adieu to Hanover. My host, hostess, children, and family, were all up to see me depart; had prepared spiced wine, and showed me every little mark of attention. It was of course quite dark when I set out, and the day seemed to dawn from earth instead of heaven, in consequence of the ground being covered with snow. I travelled eight German, or thirty-eight English, miles with the same horses, rested an hour, and arrived about six at Brunswick.

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_Dec. 29, Brunswick._—This evening saw Mr. Loftus, eldest son to the General. As I did not think of staying here, even for a day, or being presented, I brought no letter except that I received from Prince Adolphus, which I did not know the etiquette of sending. Fortunately, Mr. Loftus, whose father and mother I am well acquainted with, can assist me in this and other particulars.

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_Dec. 30._—Sent to inform the Duchess’ maid of honour I had a letter for her Royal Highness. The reply was an invitation to wait on her at six to-morrow evening.

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_Dec. 31._—At six went to the Duchess’s _casino_, so they call an undress ball and supper. She received me with the most winning condescension. It is impossible not to be delighted with the ease, good humour, and familiarity of her deportment. She has great fluency in her own conversation, and is very attentive to that of others, evidently showing her approbation when anything is said that strikes or pleases her. There are few ways in which a great person can encourage or gratify more than this, and yet it is not common in the very highest class. She is a fair, well-looking woman, with what we call a very good countenance, and I think when young must have been handsome. She is now a great deal too large, and her dress made her appear more so, being a thick buff-coloured satin chemise, with long sleeves entirely lined, as she told me, with fleecy hosiery. The Duchess invited me to sup at her table with a party of about ten, and placed me by her. I should have enjoyed the conversation and her civility much more if she had not, after many other inquiries, extracted from me my age, which I had determined to keep secret while here, as people have thought me much younger than I am; and as so few tell truth on that subject, those that do are always given a few years more than they really have. Her exclamations of surprise and declarations that twenty-four was the utmost any one could give me, did not console me for having been brought to confession. The Duke of Brunswick is a tall military-looking man, with a fine penetrating countenance; his manners polite, but imposing and dignified even to a degree of stateliness.

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_Jan. 1, 1800._—Dined and supped with the Duchess, and sat by the Hereditary Prince each time. At dinner he was wonderfully affectionate, considering we had not been acquainted twenty-four hours. At supper, when time had improved our knowledge of each other sufficiently for such a confidence, he assured me I was the most interesting person he had ever met, and that nothing could make him so happy as being able to prevail on me to stay at Brunswick. This was accompanied with many sighs, _doux yeux_, and exclamations, to all which I answered with low bows and _audible_ expressions of gratitude. I could not refrain from this _malice_, as everything of the soft kind was said in so very low a whisper that I saw nothing could be more unwelcome, or more likely to stop such declarations, than thus making them public. In the course of the evening I was presented to the Dowager Duchess, a wonderful woman of eighty-five. She is grand-daughter to George the First, whom she says she remembers seeing when she was eight years old, and grandmother to the Princess of Wales, so is doubly connected with England. She is sister to the great Frederick, whose pictures she resembles, has great sharpness in her eyes, and peculiar animation in her remarkably small features. Her address is pleasing, and there is a neatness, a purity, if I may so express myself, in her whole appearance, that one contemplates with satisfaction.[12] I played Commerce at her table, putting a florin in the pool, a strong contrast to the high play of London. I had been presented the night before to the Hereditary Princess, a lively little woman, about twenty-nine. She has a remarkably good carriage and address, walks and dances well, and has a certain quickness in her looks, speech, and motions, that gives an idea of great natural vivacity.

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_Jan. 2._—Dined with the Hereditary Princess—no other woman but Lady Findlater, who appears sensible, lively, and talkative. In the evening went to a concert at the reigning Duchess’s. I do not find an atom of that form I was taught to expect in all German Courts. Not only the Duchess, but the ladies who played _raco_ with her, worked in the intervals of the game. At another table there was a large party employed in knotting, netting, embroidery, and even the homely occupation of knitting stockings; while the Hereditary Princess, and those idlers who had no regular work, were busy making lint for the hospital. The Duchess was extremely kind to me, and I again supped at her table, and she obligingly desired me to dine with her next day, if I was invited nowhere else.

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_Jan. 3._—After dinner the Duchess pressed me to stay some time at Brunswick, at least till the arrival of Lady Minto, to whom she said she would introduce me. She dwelt on the inconvenience of my going to Vienna a perfect stranger; and said that a woman of my age and appearance, who travelled in that way, had ‘_tous les préjugés contre elle_.’ We were alone, and she enlarged most affectionately on the subject, ending by kissing my cheek, and assuring me that, despite of this disadvantage, every one in Brunswick was excessively partial to me, which she kindly said gave her great pleasure. I supped with the Dowager Duchess. She conversed with me after she rose from supper: ‘_Vous n’aimez pas beaucoup en Angleterre le Roi de Prusse?_’ I frankly owned to her we did not. ‘But,’ said she, ‘_il n’est pas assez riche pour faire face aux dépenses d’une guerre contre les François, et d’ailleurs il ne pourroit pas s’unir avec l’Empéreur. Les François ont bien voulu lui donner Hanovre, mais il l’a refusé._’ She expressed great regret at not having learned English. ‘_Vous avez de grandes écrivains en Angleterre; j’aime infiniment Pope; je le trouve au dessus de Voltaire._’ She then reverted to politics, extolled Mr. Pitt, and said every Englishman should wear him in his heart.

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_Jan. 4-9._—Every morning has brought me a regular invitation from the reigning Duchess to dine and sup at Court, except when she knew I was engaged to the Hereditary Princess or the Dowager. She has behaved to me with real affection, and once said to me with the utmost kindness, ‘I think you will love me at last.’ Indeed I should be very ungrateful if I did not. The only day on which she went out to a private party she took me with her, and presented me to the lady of the house, Mad. Munichhausen, a pleasing little woman, but in a bad state of health. The ceremonial of the dinner at Court on the ordinary days is as follows:—you go about three, dressed as you like, except that you must not appear in a hat, bonnet, shawl, or muff. You find the Duchess standing at the door of an inner apartment, her maids of honour being in the next. The whole company stand till dinner time (the Duke and Duchess never sit except when their company can do so too). The chamberlain announces to the Duchess that it is on the table, and hands her out. She makes a low curtsey to the Duke and the company. The ladies follow, also curtseying to the Duke, according to their rank; except foreigners, who, even when untitled, take place of all others, going in and out of the rooms, and also at table. At dinner the Duchess sits at the middle of one side, and the Duke opposite to her. This situation, as far as I have seen, answers to the head and foot in England. The ladies are all ranged on one side, and the gentlemen on the other, excepting princes, who are allowed to mix with the ladies. The Prince de Salm generally fell to my lot, and once Prince George. The Prince de Salm is rather above par in address, appearance, and understanding. At dinner there are every day forty people, and the conversation, of course, is seldom general. Once only it turned on politics. Some of the company expressed their expectations that monarchy would be re-established in France. ‘_Je le désire_,’ said the Duke, ‘_plus que je ne l’espère_.’ He speaks well, in the subdued voice of good sense, and has a stoop which takes nothing away from the dignity of his appearance. I have never seen him converse with a woman. There is an apparent coldness in his manner to the Duchess, and in hers to him a degree of constraint which it is evident she tries to conceal. (Her rival, a woman of birth and fashion, is lodged in the palace, and he dines with her on a fixed day in every week.) Some time after dinner the company all remove to the drawing-room, where tea and coffee occupy a few minutes; no one sits down. The Duchess takes leave of her company about half-past five; the ladies curtsey to the Duke, and return home, even though they may be engaged for the evening party which begins at a little after six. The Duchess one evening invited me to retire with her at this time to her private apartment, which is a particular favour. She spoke with great gratitude of the affection the English had shown to her daughter, and with great delicacy of the Prince of Wales, yet in a manner which showed she felt his conduct. I dined twice with the Hereditary Prince. There the dinners are more cheerful, about ten people at a round table, and men and women are intermixed. _On n’y fait pas trop bonne chère_, but that is to me of no consequence whatever. The Duchess Dowager’s dinners are more in the style of her son’s; she has near thirty people every day, so that the three Courts, except when the family happen to dine together, entertain daily near eighty persons. This dear little old woman is just like a mummy; she is mere skin and bone in the highest preserve. On the 9th I had a private audience to take leave, and she gave me a letter of recommendation, with some very kind expressions. She has the talent of accommodating her conversation to the age, situation, and country of those she speaks to in a high degree. Indeed, her address is pre-eminently good. I supped with the reigning Duchess the last evening. She kissed me with the utmost sensibility at parting, and the whole family took leave of me as if I were an old friend. The Princess Abbess is _most_ caressing. She is easy, lively, and clever; but I hear she is very false, extremely gallant, and that she entirely governs the Duke, which I should think difficult.[13]

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_Jan. 10._—Left Brunswick for Berlin, 127 English miles; engaged four horses for ten louis. Just before I set out, the dear Duchess sent me a letter of introduction to Prince Augustus at Berlin. Travelled twenty-five miles through an unvaried expanse of snow, bounded at a great distance by a few rows of trees, which looked like dark lines across the horizon. It appeared as if one was in the midst of a wide sea of snow. Slept at Helmstedt, still in the Duke of Brunswick’s dominions. It is said to be one of the oldest towns in Germany; and I saw nothing in its appearance to contradict the assertion. After a journey in England, where all is busy and populous and animated, one through this country conveys a strange idea of privation and non-existence.

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_Jan. 11._—To-day’s journey was monotonous and melancholy as that of yesterday. Slept at Magdeburg. On entering his Prussian Majesty’s dominions, the precautions at the gates of every city are much increased, and hurt the pride of an English traveller, who is accustomed to pass unquestioned and unmolested. You are required to write down your name, condition, whence you come, where you go; and this paper is afterwards verified at the inn, where the host makes the same inquiries, and signs a duplicate.

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_Jan. 13._—As well as I can judge while the ground is covered several feet deep with snow, the prospect improves as one advances to Brandenburg, a small town, built with more regularity and appearance of comfort than any I have seen since I left England.

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_Jan. 14._—Slept at Potsdam. The gradual improvement of the country from the moment you enter the King of Prussia’s territories is visible to the most careless observer. Roads, plantations, neat cottages, pleasant country seats, well-built towns and good inns, take place of the appearance of poverty and depopulation so strongly marked in that of Germany I have hitherto seen.

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_Jan. 15._—A dull road to Berlin, where I arrived early, and was settled immediately in the Russian Hotel. The superiority in cleanliness and accommodation of the Prussian to the German inns is very great.

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_Jan. 16._—Sent to Prince Augustus a letter of introduction given to me by the Duchess of Brunswick; received a very civil answer, offering to arrange my presentation at Court, and regretting that his illness did not allow him to visit me. It is said he is perfectly well, but confines himself to avoid meeting the French Ambassador.

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_Jan. 17._—Drove about this very beautiful town, which abounds in public buildings of great magnificence, that all seem at their ease, instead of being crowded up like ours in London.

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_Jan. 18._—Saw Mr. Garlike and Dr. Brown, the only English gentlemen to whom I had brought letters. Received from them every offer of assistance and civility. Dr. Garlike is Secretary of Legation, Dr. Brown physician to the King. Had the most polite notes from the Ladies of Honour of the Princess Ferdinand, and Princess Radziwill. I had been recommended to the former by the Dowager Duchess, to the latter both by the Hereditary Princess and the Princess Abbess.

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_Jan. 21._—Was persuaded by Mr. Garlike to go to an Italian opera in order to see the Queen. It was the first of the eight given by the King to the public at the time of the Carnival. The house is fine, and properly lighted. The royal box is in front, very wide, and reaches from the ceiling to the pit. It is also more lighted than the other boxes, which, added to its size and situation, enables every individual in the house to have a perfect view of the royal family. To this box are admitted no women except those of royal blood and their _Grandes Maîtresses_. But beside the King and Princes, it is open to many officers of the Court, all strangers, and the foreign Ministers. The King is a well-looking man, the Queen extremely beautiful. She is tall, finely-formed, her neck and shoulders particularly well-shaped, her hair light, and her features small and agreeable. She is about five-and-twenty. The prominent traits of her character, as I am told, are the most entire complaisance to every wish of the King, and the most excessive passion for dress and for dancing, particularly the waltz. She did not converse, but read the opera book all the evening. She was dressed in a purple satin round gown, drawn in the front like an old-fashioned chemise, with a flat back and long sleeves; nothing on her head but two or three bandeaus, and her hair lightly powdered.

Monsieur de Burrau, Minister from I forget what Court, accompanied me. I was engaged to go with his wife, but her illness prevented it. Two other ladies made acquaintance with me. The one was Madame de Grotthaus, a prettyish, talkative, silly woman, who addressed me in good English, and whose obligingness was as prompt as the confidence she chose to place in me; for in about five minutes she offered me, with many compliments, letters of recommendation to Vienna, and told me her particular fondness for the English arose in part from her having had ‘an inclination’ for a young man of that nation: ‘_J’étais toute-prête à l’épouser; il était fort aimable, très lié avec le Prince de Galles, très riche; il a une belle terre près de Londres, son nom commence par un G—; mais enfin j’ai épousé un autre, ce militaire que vous voyez là, bon homme, tout-à-fait, qui fait tout ce que je veux_.’ The opera is but indifferent; the scenery alone is to be admired. The singing and dancing are not above mediocrity. I did not, however, hear Marchetti, the first female singer, who is indisposed. The music did not do honour to the King’s taste, who is the person that chooses it. It was the _Semiramide_ of Himmel, a German, and had been hissed at Naples. To me, who had heard that of Bianchi, it was particularly tiresome. The frequenters of the opera are doomed to hear it four times; for there are but two spectacles represented during the Carnival. There is no Italian opera except during these eight nights, so music, I suspect, cannot be very highly cultivated at Berlin.

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_Jan. 22._—Just as I was going to dinner, Madame de Haugwitz, the wife of the chief Minister, who introduced herself to me last night by an encomium on my dress, sent her tailor for the pattern of my gown, begging that this person, whom, in a note he showed me, she calls _mon ami_, would engage me to put it on, that he might see what a good effect it had. I think this intolerably free and easy, considering I am a perfect stranger.

_Ten P.M._—I have just had a visit of two hours from Prince Augustus. He is taller and larger than Prince Adolphus, and much resembles the Prince of Wales. His hair is too scientifically and studiously dressed to be very becoming, but on the whole his exterior is to be admired. He appears to have a fund of conversation, and great fluency. His vanity is so undisguised that it wears the form of frankness, and therefore gives no disgust. I mentioned to him that I had heard of his excellence in singing, and he agreed that he possessed it without the least hesitation, adding, ‘I _had_ the most wonderful voice that ever was heard—three octaves—and I do understand music. I practised eight hours a day in Italy. One may boast of a voice, as it is a gift of nature.’ Yet his vanity is so blended with civility and a desire to please, that I defy any person with a good heart to dislike it.

Mad. de Ritz, mistress to the late King, amassed a fortune of about eighty thousand louis. She was a woman of very mean birth; but induced the King, about a year before his death, to ennoble her,[14] and then appeared at Court, which gave great offence. The King had not been dead a quarter of an hour, when she was arrested, hurried to a fortress, there to be confined for life, and all her fortune, except an allowance of four thousand crowns a-year, confiscated and given to the poor. All this _without a trial_! I listened, and blessed dear England.

The Lutheran religion, which is that professed here, allows a man to marry two or more sisters in succession; and of this permission people often avail themselves, as well as of obtaining a divorce, if either party complain of _incompatibility_ of temper, a most convenient and sweeping cause of separation. At this moment a pair, in the very first circle, are on the point of obtaining a divorce, to enable the lady to marry a young officer, and the gentleman his wife’s younger sister. A woman may retain an unimpeached character after an unlimited number of these separations. Yet the King and Queen give the best example possible.

The King of Prussia is supposed to be remarkably economical. When he came to the throne in 1797, there was not a guinea in the treasury, and it is now supposed that in five years it will be as full as at the death of the great Frederick. In a few years more, according to a calculation made, it will absorb all the current coin of the country.

Prince Augustus offered me a letter to the Duke of Weimar. He stayed so long that Mr. Arbuthnot, his gentleman in waiting, came to tell him the supper he was engaged to was just over.

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_Feb. 18, Dresden._—The fatigues of my journey, added to a violent cold, have left a wide chasm in my diary. Left Berlin for this the 23rd of last month. In driving to Potsdam I had the opportunity for the first time of observing that a fine, clear winter’s day in these northern climates possesses more charms than we usually imagine. Sheets of snow, strongly reflecting the rays of the sun, often remain undissolved on the plains, when completely melted under the groves of fir, whose deep green softens its excessive brilliancy. Under these circumstances the snow frequently assumes the form of a lake, surrounded by wood; and gives more beauty than it takes away. The hardships and dangers of this journey were various. I one night ran a great risk of being lost in the snow, the postilions having missed the track in an extensive forest of fir trees. I was forced to keep Fitz from falling asleep from the effects of intense cold, which I knew to be certain death, by giving him repeated glasses of brandy out of the carriage windows. A distant light at last directed us to a cottage, where we obtained a guide. I slept in the most wretched hovels, once was without a bed, and two days without any food but eggs and coffee. At one of the post-houses the master thought it his duty to keep me company while my servants supped. He was a young man, above six feet high, covered with furs, _l’air fier, et même un peu farouche_, with something terrific in his whole appearance. He seated himself opposite to me, smoked his pipe, laid his great paws on my work, and began a conversation. I tried to hide a vague sort of fear under the appearance of _insouciance_ and civility, but at last took courage to say I was sleepy, and would wish him good night. The servant girls at these wretched inns seem half savage. Undoubtedly cultivation, arts, and sciences, lead to luxury and its attendant evils; but without them man is even below the beasts that perish.

Mr. Elliot,[15] our Minister at Dresden, is a very pleasing man, about forty; his style of conversation and tone of voice are highly captivating. He has a large family of little cherubs, and a charming daughter who marries Mr. Paine this week.

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_March 10._—The society here possesses many very charming individuals, but is not what the French call _montée sur un ton agréable_, a phrase as easy to comprehend as difficult to translate. I think I _see_, and am sure I _feel_, a certain constraint, which destroys all enjoyment. I have scarcely ever been less at my ease than in the company I have frequented since my arrival. Yet I have not wanted that encouragement which is usually all that is necessary to inspire confidence. Mr. Elliot in general makes me a daily visit, and when he omits it, apologises as for a breach of duty. I have constant invitations to his house, where I always find a small party and a little sociable supper. Mad. Münster, my most intimate female acquaintance, forgets nothing which can contribute to my amusement. I have gone with her to morning exhibitions and evening assemblies. Among the latter, that of Madame de Loss, wife to the first Minister, was most brilliant—as much so as any I have seen in London. A numerous suite of rooms, furnished with taste; a very large society, dressed with more magnificence, though not with as much elegance, as in England; and a hostess whose address and appearance would dignify any situation. She is near sixty, but still a very fine woman, her looks English, her manners French.

I have also been at a concert, where I heard an Italian, Mad. Paravicini, play delightfully on the violin. She has infinite expression, and imitates the graces of the voice better than any one I have ever heard. She manages the instrument well, and avoids all the grotesque which one annexes to the idea of a _female fiddler_. An assembly at the Hanoverian Minister’s, with a few evenings passed in very small family circles (to which it is a great compliment to admit a stranger), have filled up all my afternoons, except one, which I passed at the opera, where I saw _Axur_, by Salieri; the music is very pleasing, but the plot absurd, and the hero kills himself in a moment of pique from causes very inadequate to the effect. The orchestra is the best I ever heard. That of Munich alone, in Europe, disputes the palm.

I saw a good collection of pictures at the Comte de Hagendorn’s, where I breakfasted. A St. Sebastian, by Raphael, was the most remarkable piece. I did not think a martyrdom could be so pleasing. I forgot the arrow in his breast because he seemed to have done so himself, and, like him, I was too much absorbed in the thought of his approaching beatitude not to be insensible to the idea of mere bodily pain. It is a wonderfully fine picture. At the first glance you approve, after a moment’s examination you admire, and from admiration you pass to that state in which the whole soul is concentrated in the eyes; you cease to approve or admire, you only _feel_, and, having totally forgot the artist, identify yourself with the object he has created.

Yesterday I was presented at Court. Here it is an evening assembly without any form. Women are never invited, but pay their respects on Sunday evenings, as often as they please. The Electress has the greatest good humour, ease, and condescension in her manner. Her pearl necklace is the finest I ever saw. The Elector has something fixed, glassy, and embarrassing in his eyes. Their only child is a fine young woman, about seventeen. The whole family, I need not say, receive strangers with the utmost politeness, for this seems to me so universal in Germany, it ceases to be the object of a remark. The Elector is said to be a good and a religious man; even those who seem to dislike him, do not contest this point. The Electress said she now gave no balls, because the Elector disapproves of such pleasures while Europe was in its present unhappy state. The Court never mix in society. When the Elector’s uncle was at Dresden, dying, for several months, none of his family visited him, as he was not within the walls of the palace, and it would have been a breach of etiquette. At Mad. de Loss’s, Alexis Orloff was presented to me, and I was introduced to his daughter. He does not look like the frontispiece to his History. His figure is colossal and massy, but his air is not savage, and his countenance is rather mild than otherwise. The recollection of the atrocities that he had committed embarrassed me so, that I retain no very distinct idea of his person and address.[16] He does not speak French, but we conversed a little in Italian. His daughter has a pleasing address. She is pale, sallow, and delicate in her appearance, with a gentle, modest demeanour, and fine expressive dark eyes. She wore no ornaments except rows of the finest pearls. Her diamonds are valued at £40,000. Orloff adores her, and declares she shall marry whomsoever she pleases. She conversed in very good French, and speaks English wonderfully well in proportion to the time she has learned it. Her father wears the picture of Catherine the Second covered, instead of crystal, with a single diamond.

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_March 12._—Dresden is filled with foreigners from all parts, chiefly Poles and Russians. Of the latter Mr. Elliot told me two horrid anecdotes. He was invited to dine with a Russian major; and one of his servants, a recruit who had been thought too sickly to serve in the army, laid the cloth rather awkwardly. His master beat him furiously, first with a stick, next with an iron bar. ‘Good heavens,’ cried Mr. Elliot, ‘you will kill the man.’ ‘Why,’ replied the Major, ‘it is very hard that I have killed seven or eight, and never been able to make a good servant yet.’ At another time Mr. Elliot dined with a gentleman who talked of the aversion the Cossacks had to the Jews. ‘Now, I dare say,’ cried he, ‘this little fellow behind me,’ turning to a Cossack of about thirteen, ‘has dispatched them by the score. Come, tell me how many did you ever kill at once.’ ‘The most I ever killed at once was eleven,’ answered the young savage, with a grin. ‘Impossible!’ said Mr. Elliot, ‘that boy could have killed eleven men!’ ‘Oh yes,’ answered he, ‘for my father bound their hands, and I stabbed them.’

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_March 14._—The Princess Fürstenberg and Mad. Münster increase their attentions daily. I have been confined by a cold in consequence of a round of visits paid to the wives of the different Ministers previous to being presented. I did not expect to be admitted, and was not prepared in my dress for going up and down immense flights of stone stairs in frost and snow. My indisposition has given these amiable women an opportunity of showing me unceasing kindness (I wish, however, it did not display itself so much in writing notes). The Princess heard me wish one evening for the translation of a German poem, and sat up till three o’clock next morning to accomplish it, that I might receive it the moment I woke.

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_March 15._—Mr. and Mrs. Greathead and their son are persons whom I regret leaving. They seem to have excellent hearts, and possess many talents and acquirements. He is author of _The Regent_, and said to be extremely well informed. She seems a lively, frank, decided, hasty, clever woman, with a ready flow of ideas and copiousness of diction.

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