Chapter II (3)

_August 22._—The last four days have been cheered by the society of my friend Mr. S——. How delightful to meet a friend and countryman in a foreign land. He travels with his eldest son, who has passed near a year at M. de Mounier’s academy in Weimar. He went there merely a pretty-looking, insignificant young man, devoted to fashion, full of vanity, and anxious to think on all subjects with those who lead in the _ton_. Mounier has enlarged, refined, and liberalized his ideas, given him just notions of politics, a general taste in literature, and cleared his mind of the prejudices acquired in the round of fashionable life in London.—Conversed with the Count O’Kelly, who confirmed all I have heard of the Empress’s unbounded influence over her husband, her devotion to her mother, and her dislike of the Archduke Charles, which has produced fatal effects—whole troops at the battle of Marengo having surrendered without firing a shot, saying, ‘Why should we suffer ourselves to be massacred for those who have taken our father from us?’

* * * * *

_Aug. 24._—To-morrow I leave Töplitz. There is one point in which it differs materially from an English water-drinking place; the expense may be rated at about one-seventh. I am in a wretchedly comfortless, but not disgraceful lodging, for which I pay but two florins a night, and had I taken it by the week or month, it would have been still cheaper.—Yesterday evening I saw a play represented in the open air. The piece, _Graf von Walthron_, is military, and founded on a true story. An inferior officer, who insults his colonel, is condemned to die, and receives a pardon at the place of execution. Nothing, as far as what I saw of the pantomime enabled me to judge—for it was a play only to the eye, as it was impossible to hear a word—appeared new in the details. A wife, who arrives in great spirits to see her husband in camp, receives the news of his condemnation with a fainting fit, who kneels, implores, weeps, embraces, attempts to shoot herself, and, according to custom, suffers the pistol to be forced from her with great facility, is what we have all seen a thousand times. I was chiefly employed in reflecting what astonishing art the ancients must have possessed to give effect to a piece in the open air. Here nothing could be worse. I sat in one of the best places, yet heard not a word; and the mere spectacle did not strike the eye, as I expected an exact reality would have done. At one moment only the representation appeared to gain by its perfect truth; it was when a number of horsemen gallop forward with repeated cries, and produce the pardon of Graf Walthron. Extreme haste to further a benevolent purpose has always a good stage effect. Count Waldstein’s horses were the performers. Among the spectators was Mad. de Cachet, who commanded 22,000 men in the war of La Vendée, was wounded in several engagements, wishes to be thought daughter to Louis the Sixteenth, and is really not unlike the portraits of the family. She also resembles the Margravine of Anspach. I think her about forty, rather well-looking, her hair _d’une couleur un peu hardie_, and very long; her complexion good, and not tanned; her throat well-turned, and very white, and her manner of carrying her head beautiful. She is of a middle height, rather fat and massy, her dress without taste, but not without pretention—a black gown, with a white muslin chemise thrown over it, fancifully made and trimmed, a white muslin on her head, and a great display of hair, one tress of which hung down from the top of her head, where it was puffed, to the bottom of her waist in front. Her _confidante_ abused the privilege which _confidantes_ possess of being hideous. Some one proposed to remove her chair a little further back, and she turned to Mad. de Cachet, saying, ‘_Je dirai comme vous, je ne suis pas faite pour reculer_.’ Her friend smiled at this citation with great complacence.[21]

* * * * *

_August 27, Dresden._—I have just seen Mr. Elliot, agreeable as ever. His conversation—‘The Emperor of Russia is a wild beast. I consider him a greater Jacobin than Robespierre. He has made more Jacobins. A person of whose veracity I have no reason to doubt, told me the following story. “I was travelling lately in Russia, and saw one of the carriages used in transporting prisoners, and sealed, according to custom, with the Emperor’s seal. I heard a faint voice call for water, and I asked who was within. The guide desired me to look through a small grated window. I did, and saw two human figures fastened together by a chain passed through their cheeks, and secured by a padlock. One of them implored the conductor, in accents faint and indistinct, for God’s sake to release him from his fellow-prisoner, who was become a corpse. The guide said that it was contrary to the Emperor’s orders, and that he dared not open the carriage till it arrived at the destined spot.” One would willingly go to Petersburg, for the sake of shooting such a monster,’ In the evening I met Lord and Lady Holland at Mr. Elliot’s. Her manner is pleasing; she is tall and _embonpoint_, with fine eyes, and an agreeable countenance, rather well-looking than handsome. Her husband is agreeable, and they both possess that vivacity of conversation and mildness of manner, the union of which forms the _cachet_ of the Devonshire society.

* * * * *

_Aug. 31._—Dined with Lady Holland. Mr. Marsh, Dr. Drew, and Lord Dungannon formed the circle. The latter is a very promising young man, natural, civil, conversible, and good humoured.

* * * * *

_Sept. 1._—An assembly at Mad. ——’s. On attempting to return home, fell into a strange perplexity. I removed this day from the inn to a lodging, but did not know the name of the street; yet having more dread of _ennui_ than fear of losing my way, would not wait at the assembly for my footman, but got into a chair, and desired the men in bad German to take me to a lodging opposite the Golden Angel—rather an indefinite direction, as it might apply to a dozen other as well as mine. However, I trusted to the good luck which follows me in trifles, and depended on chance for leading me to the right one. Alas! I find myself on a staircase quite different from mine, and the chairmen do not comprehend they have made a mistake. A stranger (Count Romanzow, as I afterwards learned) politely asks if he can be of service, and desires to know where I wish to go. ‘Indeed, sir, I cannot tell.’ He wishes to know at length whence I came. That I cannot tell either, as Mrs. Elliot’s carriage brought me, and I never asked the name of my hostess. He must have thought me mad. At last, as my most natural resource, he ordered the chair, at my desire, to Mr. Elliot’s house in town, where Lord and Lady Holland are lodged. I there supped with them. Mr. Elliot remarkably amusing; no one has so much small talk, or parries better by a jest an opinion he disapproves, but does not choose to refute. He has so much wit, originality, and knowledge of the world, his caprice rather increases than diminishes his powers of pleasing. He says the Princess Radziwill (_mère_) is like a high priest in an Italian opera. Those who have seen her will appreciate the comparison.

* * * * *

_Sept. 2._—At Mad. Divoff’s. Her husband amused by assuring me how often the painters who worked here at the Gallery, profited by _his_ advice. All the artists I have heard speak on the subject, laugh at him; and the taste he has shown in his collection of prints is execrable. But riches, omnipotent riches, procure to their possessor all the pleasures attendant on the consciousness of taste and talents. Every one fancies he possesses them, and the rich man ever finds that deference paid to his opinion, which tends to maintain so pleasing an error.

* * * * *

_Sept. 3._—Drank tea with Mad. de Hoenthal, a very small party, made for the reigning, or rather the _ci-devant_, Princess Tour and Taxis, who was forced to quit Ratisbon on the arrival of the French. She has travelled four nights, yet is as fresh as possible, and betrays not a symptom of languor or weariness. She is a woman of about thirty, tall, well-made and graceful, her face agreeable, though her features irregular. Her deportment and countenance bear some resemblance to those of our Queen, her aunt. She is on her way to visit her sister, the Queen of Prussia. Her address is pleasing, and the character I have heard of her is amiable. Her anxiety to see every work of art worth observation, which has been strongly marked since her arrival, speaks in her favour. She is attended by her brother, the Prince of Mecklenburg. His features are good, and with expression might even be called handsome.

* * * * *

_Sept. 4._—Breakfasted with Mad. d’Ahlefeld at a public garden called The Little Osterwiese. It was a very small party given to the Princess Tour and Taxis. Afterwards we saw the palace of Prince Max,—very mediocre; and his garden, where the ornament that we were desired most to observe, because it contributed most to the Prince’s amusement, was a _pipée_, or contrivance for catching birds in a net. I cannot describe it. There was a building, several walks, and a great deal of apparatus connected with it. It is the Prince’s principal occupation. Poor man! We then went to the Gallery, where the picture that most struck me was a Raphael representing the Virgin standing on a cloud, with the infant Jesus in her arms, the saints on either side in the act of adoration, and at the bottom of the picture two of the loveliest heads of cherubs I ever saw. The Virgin’s face is divine. The Child, who appears about a year old, has more the expression of the King, than Saviour of the world. There is a beautiful haughtiness, mixed with disdain, in his features. Mad. Wissenberg passed the evening with me, and oppressed me with her tenderness. She has been educated in a convent in France, which I should have guessed, had she not told it to me.

* * * * *

_Sept. 6._—Saw by torchlight Mengs’ selection of casts in plaster of Paris, from the _chef-d’œuvres_ of Italy. They are lighted by a single torch carried by the Director, and are supposed to appear more soft, yet more _prononcée_, more dignified and less glaringly white, than by the light of day. In some measure _cela les vivifie_.

* * * * *

_Sept. 7._—Dined at Mr. Elliot’s with the Hollands. Her Ladyship’s manner to her husband is too imperious; it is not the tyranny of a mistress or a wife, but of a governess to her trembling pupil.

* * * * *

_Sept. 8._—Dined with the Hollands. She has a mixture of imperiousness and caprice very amusing to the mere spectators. Her indolence is also remarkable, and she lies in a very easy posture on a sofa, with screens between the lights and her eyes, in all the dignity of idleness, employing every individual who travels in her party, without apology or intermission. Her husband has the honour of being fag-in-chief, but she likewise entirely occupies a humorous clergyman, a peevish physician, and a young lord. There is besides a boy (Mr. Dickens) who comes occasionally, like those who attend servants in great families, to do jobs; but he has found out that she dislikes the trouble of repeating her orders, and often evades them by affecting not to hear.

* * * * *

_Sept. 9._—This was a busy day to me. At ten I saw the magnificent Picture Gallery. Pictures which struck me most were an Abraham preparing to offer up Isaac, imitated from the Laocoon—the finest painting on this subject I have seen, and the only one that ever pleased me;—a Magdalen renouncing the pomps and vanities of the world, a discipline in her hand. She is perfectly beautiful, pale, _touchante_, and in an attitude expressive of the most perfect abstraction and _abandon_; the soul which informs that lovely form seems to dwell wholly in the eyes; the rest of the person has already ceased to exist. The Princess Dolgorouki has ordered a copy of the Joseph and Potiphar’s Wife—a strange choice!

Supped at the Princess Dolgorouki’s—her egotism and vanity excessive. ‘_J’ai donné une fête au Roi de Pologne, qui l’a presque rendu fou. Madame de Brune avoit arrangé des groupes que nous répresentions sur un petit théâtre derrière une gaze—entr’autres la famille de Darius—moi, j’étois Statire aux pieds d’Alexandre. Après, la toilette de Vénus; trois des plus jolies femmes répresentoient les Graces; moi, j’étois Vénus, et il avoit un petit Amour en tricot qui me chaussoit._’

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_Sept. 18._—Arrived at Count Münster’s. He lives at Königsbruck, where he possesses a large and convenient château, which he has rendered cheerful by his taste in the disposition and furniture of the apartments. The family do not assemble at breakfast here as in England. Countess Münster rises at six, and does not establish herself in her drawing-room till about twelve. Their life is extremely retired; and I believe it is not so much the custom to receive company in a German château as in an English country-house. We dine at two, sup at half-past nine, and retire long before eleven.

* * * * *

_Sept. 28._—Left Königsbruck, where I had passed a few very pleasant and retired days. Countess Münster is a warm partizan of the philosophy of Kant, who says perfectibility, and not happiness, should be the object of human researches. Mad. Münster has adopted this idea, and considers all revealed religion as priestcraft, and Christianity as depraving our hearts, because it founds our virtues on a selfish hope of future bliss, and contracting our understandings, because it substitutes faith for reason. She thinks truth unattainable, but that there is a degree of relative truth to which each understanding may arrive, in proportion to its strength and efforts. She is not the most formidable opponent to the Christian religion it has yet encountered; and I doubt if she perfectly understands herself on these subjects, which she seeks with an eagerness that denotes a perfect conviction of her own strength. A lofty contempt of those who do believe, and great bigotry to her own system, render her conversation on such topics unpleasing. She has some imagination, extensive reading, but little tact, and a great deal of vanity; yet she is altogether superior to the general class of females, and neither wants sensibility nor elevation.

* * * * *

_Sept. 30._—From the Museum went to the collection of porcelain under the same roof—eighteen chambers full of the finest specimens of every kind of Japan, Chinese, and Saxon porcelain. The value of this collection is incalculable. I saw the Saxon dragon china, which is only permitted to be manufactured for the Electoral family—the dragons are in shades of crimson; perfect imitations of the brown and gold, or black and gold, japan; exquisite biscuit, in imitation of the antique; heaps of valuable, but by me unvalued, mandarins; a whole room full of Egyptian idols; all sorts of old-fashioned figures in glazed and coloured china; fine dressed ladies with hats on one side and crooks in their hands, shepherds with pink ribbons and yellow feathers kneeling at their feet, the dog and the sheep partaking in the general smirk; coloured bouquets, insipid, but curiously accurate; hundreds of such jars as have singly formed the happiness of many a respectable dowager; the coarse pottery painted by Raphael when he was in love with the potter’s daughter; and, in short, a profusion which I had never expected to behold. I then went to Graff’s, an excellent portrait painter. He is famous for catching the expression of the countenance, but he leaves nature pretty much as he finds her, without attempting to obtain as much ideal beauty as is consistent with the resemblance.[22]

* * * * *

_Oct. 2._—Dined at the Elliots’. While I was playing at chess with Mr. Elliot, the news arrived of Lord Nelson’s arrival, with Sir William and Lady Hamilton, Mrs. Cadogan, mother of the latter, and Miss Cornelia Knight, famous for her _Continuation of Rasselas_,[23] and _Private Life of the Romans_.[24]

* * * * *

_Oct. 3._—Dined at Mr. Elliot’s with only the Nelson party. It is plain that Lord Nelson thinks of nothing but Lady Hamilton, who is totally occupied by the same object. She is bold, forward, coarse, assuming, and vain. Her figure is colossal, but, excepting her feet, which are hideous, well shaped. Her bones are large, and she is exceedingly _embonpoint_. She resembles the bust of Ariadne; the shape of all her features is fine, as is the form of her head, and particularly her ears; her teeth are a little irregular, but tolerably white; her eyes light blue, with a brown spot in one, which, though a defect, takes nothing away from her beauty or expression. Her eyebrows and hair are dark, and her complexion coarse. Her expression is strongly marked, variable, and interesting; her movements in common life ungraceful; her voice loud, yet not disagreeable. Lord Nelson is a little man, without any dignity; who, I suppose, must resemble what Suwarrow was in his youth, as he is like all the pictures I have seen of that General. Lady Hamilton takes possession of him, and he is a willing captive, the most submissive and devoted I have seen. Sir William is old, infirm, all admiration of his wife, and never spoke to-day but to applaud her. Miss Cornelia Knight seems the decided flatterer of the two, and never opens her mouth but to show forth their praise; and Mrs. Cadogan, Lady Hamilton’s mother, is—what one might expect. After dinner we had several songs in honour of Lord Nelson, written by Miss Knight, and sung by Lady Hamilton.[25] She puffs the incense full in his face; but he receives it with pleasure, and snuffs it up very cordially. The songs all ended in the sailor’s way, with ‘Hip, hip, hip, hurra,’ and a bumper with the last drop on the nail, a ceremony I had never heard of or seen before.

* * * * *

_Oct 4._—Accompanied the Nelson party to Mr. Elliot’s box at the opera. Lady Hamilton paid me those kinds of compliments which prove she thinks mere exterior alone of any consequence. She and Lord Nelson were wrapped up in each other’s conversation during the chief part of the evening.

* * * * *

_Oct. 5._—Went by Lady Hamilton’s invitation to see Lord Nelson dressed for Court. On his hat he wore the large diamond feather, or ensign of sovereignty, given him by the Grand Signior; on his breast the Order of the Bath, the Order he received as Duke of Bronte, the diamond star, including the sun or crescent given him by the Grand Signior, three gold medals obtained by three different victories, and a beautiful present from the King of Naples. On one side is his Majesty’s picture, richly set and surrounded with laurels, which spring from two united anchors at bottom, and support the Neapolitan crown at top; on the other is the Queen’s cypher, which turns so as to appear within the same laurels, and is formed of diamonds on green enamel.[26] In short, Lord Nelson was a perfect constellation of stars and Orders. Marcolini visited him while I was there.

* * * * *

_Oct. 6._—Dined with Lord Nelson at the Hôtel de Pologne. Went in the evening to a concert given to him by Count Marcolini. Paris sung—a fine bass, with the lowest tones I ever heard; and Ciciarelli, a soprano, who has lost his voice, but declaims well. From thence went to a party at Countess Richtenstein’s, Lady Hamilton loading me with all marks of friendship at first sight, which I always think more extraordinary than love of the same kind.

* * * * *

_Oct. 7._—Breakfasted with Lady Hamilton, and saw her represent in succession the best statues and paintings extant. She assumes their attitude, expression, and drapery with great facility, swiftness, and accuracy. Several Indian shawls, a chair, some antique vases, a wreath of roses, a tambourine, and a few children are her whole apparatus. She stands at one end of the room with a strong light to her left, and every other window closed. Her hair (which by-the-bye is never clean) is short, dressed like an antique, and her gown a simple calico chemise, very easy, with loose sleeves to the wrist. She disposes the shawls so as to form Grecian, Turkish, and other drapery, as well as a variety of turbans. Her arrangement of the turbans is absolute sleight-of-hand, she does it so quickly, so easily, and so well. It is a beautiful performance, amusing to the most ignorant, and highly interesting to the lovers of art. The chief of her imitations are from the antique. Each representation lasts about ten minutes. It is remarkable that, though coarse and ungraceful in common life, she becomes highly graceful, and even beautiful, during this performance. It is also singular that, in spite of the accuracy of her imitation of the finest ancient draperies, her usual dress is tasteless, vulgar, loaded, and unbecoming. She has borrowed several of my gowns, and much admires my dress; which cannot flatter, as her own is so frightful. Her waist is absolutely between her shoulders. After showing her attitudes, she sang, and I accompanied. Her voice is good, and very strong, but she is frequently out of tune; her expression strongly marked and various; but she has no shake, no flexibility, and no sweetness.[27] She acts her songs, which I think the last degree of bad taste. All imperfect imitations are disagreeable, and to represent passion with the eyes fixed on a book and the person confined to a spot, must always be a poor piece of acting _manqué_. She continues her demonstrations of friendship, pays me many compliments both when I am absent and present, and said many fine things about my accompanying her at sight. Still she does not gain upon me. I think her bold, daring, vain even to folly, and stamped with the manners of her first situation much more strongly than one would suppose, after having represented Majesty, and lived in good company fifteen years. Her ruling passions seem to me vanity, avarice, and love for the pleasures of the table. She shows a great avidity for presents, and has actually obtained some at Dresden by the common artifice of admiring and longing. Mr. Elliot says, ‘She will captivate the Prince of Wales, whose mind is as vulgar as her own, and play a great part in England.’ Dined with the Elliots. He was wonderfully amusing. His wit, his humour, his discontent, his spleen, his happy choice of words, his rapid flow of ideas, and his disposition to playful satire, make one always long to write short-hand, and preserve his conversation.

* * * * *

_Oct. 8._—Dined at Madame de Loss’s, wife to the Prime Minister, with the Nelson party. The Electress will not receive Lady Hamilton, on account of her former dissolute life. She wished to go to Court, on which a pretext was made to avoid receiving company last Sunday, and I understand there will be no Court while she stays. Lord Nelson, understanding the Elector did not wish to see her, said to Mr. Elliot, ‘Sir, if there is any difficulty of that sort, Lady Hamilton will knock the Elector down.’ She was not invited in the beginning to Mad. de Loss’s; upon which Lord Nelson sent his excuse, and then Mr. Elliot persuaded Mad. de Loss to invite her. From Mad. de Loss’s visited Mrs. Neumann, a very obliging woman of the _tiers état_, and thence to sup at Mrs. Rawdon’s. Here I found Lady W—— in the midst of a very animated discourse on precedence, which I soon found took its rise from Mr. Elliot’s having led me in to dinner at Mad. de Loss’s before her and another lady who had place. She politely told me he showed his ignorance and his impertinence, and she was sorry he knew no better. I had been so amused by his conversation at dinner, I had quite forgot this indecorum.

* * * * *

_Oct. 9._—A great breakfast at the Elliots’, given to the Nelson party. Lady Hamilton repeated her attitudes with great effect. All the company, except their party and myself, went away before dinner; after which Lady Hamilton, who declared she was passionately fond of champagne, took such a portion of it as astonished me. Lord Nelson was not behind-hand, called more vociferously than usual for songs in his own praise, and after many bumpers proposed the Queen of Naples, adding, ‘She is _my_ Queen; she is Queen to the backbone.’ Poor Mr. Elliot, who was anxious the party should not expose themselves more than they had done already, and wished to get over the last day as well as he had done the rest, endeavoured to stop the effusion of champagne, and effected it with some difficulty; but not till the Lord and Lady, or, as he calls them, Antony and _Moll_ Cleopatra, were pretty far gone. I was so tired, I returned home soon after dinner, but not till ‘Cleopatra’ had talked to me a great deal of her doubts whether the Queen would receive her, adding, ‘I care little about it. I had much rather she would settle half Sir William’s pension on me.’ After I went, Mr. Elliot told me she acted Nina intolerably ill, and danced the _Tarantola_. During her acting Lord Nelson expressed his admiration by the Irish sound of astonished applause, which no written character can imitate. Lady Hamilton expressed great anxiety to go to Court, and Mrs. Elliot assured her it would not amuse her, and that the Elector never gave dinners or suppers—‘What?’ cried she, ‘no guttling!’ Sir William also this evening performed feats of activity, hopping round the room on his backbone, his arms, legs, star and ribbon all flying about in the air.

* * * * *

_Oct. 10._—Mr. Elliot saw them on board to-day. He heard by chance from a King’s Messenger that a frigate waited for them at Hamburg, and ventured to announce it formally.[28] He says:—‘The moment they were on board, there was an end of the fine arts, of the attitudes, of the acting, the dancing, and the singing. Lady Hamilton’s maid began to scold in French about some provisions which had been forgot, in language quite impossible to repeat, using certain French words, which were never spoken but by _men_ of the lowest class, and roaring them out from one boat to another. Lady Hamilton began bawling for an Irish stew, and her old mother set about washing the potatoes, which she did as cleverly as possible. They were exactly like Hogarth’s actresses dressing in the barn.’ In the evening I went to congratulate the Elliots on their deliverance, and found them very sensible of it. Mr. Elliot would not allow his wife to speak above her breath, and said every now and then, ‘Now don’t let us laugh to-night; let us all speak in our turn; and be very, very quiet.’[29]

* * * * *

_Oct. 11._—Dined at the Elliots’, to meet Colonel and Mrs. Clinton, formerly Miss Chartres (daughter of Lord Elcho). They are pleasing, quiet people, and seem to like one another very much. Mr. Elliot says I shall not like Berlin. This is the summary of his sentiments on the subject:—‘The King is a fool, and the Queen a doll. Madame de Brühl an unpleasant, conceited, proud woman. Her husband ought to have been the woman, and she the man. The Browns a most uninteresting society, the Doctor pompous, and the wife tiresome. Beware of the Bishopswerders, an intriguing, dangerous set. Make no friendships. The Berlin people are false and unprincipled. You will lose a winter, and probably repent your journey.’

* * * * *

_Oct. 15._—After three days’ and a half journey through the most tiresome, flat, and sandy country I have ever seen in so long a continuity, arrived at Berlin.

* * * * *

_Oct. 20, Berlin._—I have been here since Wednesday, and am now settled in the apartments last inhabited by Prince Augustus; I pay ten _louis d’or_ a month for the rooms he occupied, but of course have not hired any of those that were occupied by his suite. I have as yet made no new acquaintance except that of Lord and Lady Carysfort; an excellent and an amiable pair. She is made for her situation, having both the desire and the power of pleasing, appears to possess quick parts and strong feelings, has great pleasantry and a graceful flowing elocution. I have been there thrice by appointment, and have received a general invitation for every evening.

* * * * *

_Oct. 21._—Went to a supper at Prince Ferdinand’s. He is almost unintelligible from his manner of speaking, and it is difficult to persuade oneself he was brother to the great Frederick, to the lively and highly intelligent Dowager Duchess of Brunswick. The Princess played cards with the gentleman whom Mirabeau speaks of as ‘_le père de ses enfants_.’ She is good-looking, civil, and gentlewomanlike. The style of these suppers is _triste_ and ceremonious.

* * * * *

_Oct. 25._—Passed most of the evening with Mad. de Solms, a beautiful little widow, who is just going to make a second choice, and is evidently enchanted at the idea. Finished the evening with Mrs. Hunter and Miss Jones, with whom I have always found the same French gentleman. She took the unnecessary trouble of accounting for this, by saying he came to thread their needles.

* * * * *

_Oct. 26._—Supped at Princess Henry’s—a very agreeable evening. The Princess talked much to me across the table, as her _grande maitresse_ desired me to take the place opposite to her. I was a little embarrassed at hearing my own voice in that way; but received some compliments on what _they were pleased to call_ (to use the Clarissa phrase) my _charmante organe_. Made the acquaintance of the Countess ——, who has married five husbands, and despatched four of these—by divorces. This she has done, it is said, for the sake of the jewels, which, except in cases of infidelity, remain with the wife; and which the German _noblesse_ are not allowed to sell without going through some troublesome forms, that render it difficult, and, unless in cases of evident necessity, disgraceful.

* * * * *

_Oct. 30._—Went to the Exhibition, or as some call it, Exposition. It really _exposes_ the melancholy state of the arts at Berlin. The head of Herod, formed entirely of little children, whose bodies, artificially placed, represented his features without the assistance of any other object, was a curious specimen of misplaced ingenuity, and false taste of the most odious kind.—Supped at Prince Ferdinand’s; saw Prince Henry, who desired I should be presented to him. He looks like a little fiend of the minor class, not Belial, or any of the _noblesse_ of hell. We conversed so little, I can speak but of his exterior. He appears as if he had just crept out of the embers, and was half-singed. He has two pretty women in his suite. They say Rheinsberg, his country house, is a scene of extraordinary wickedness and depravity.[30]

* * * * *

_Nov. 1._—At a party at Mad. Podewitz’ conversed with Lord Carysfort, Mr. Adams the American Envoy, and _Citoyen_ Beurnonville the French Minister.[31] The latter looks like a Newmarket bullying swindler, but was full of flourishing civility. Buonaparte, the Consul’s brother, and Envoy Extraordinary to this country, is short, very dark, and remarkably serious. His whiskers cover half of each cheek, and add to the dinginess of his appearance. He is going with Beurnonville’s aide-de-camp to Warsaw, in order, as he says, to inspect the forts—of which, wherever he has been, he takes the most exact plans and dimensions—in hope, I suppose, they will soon belong to his own country. People are astonished at the imprudence of the Court of Prussia in suffering this journey, as Warsaw is already filled with discontented minds, and has been half, some say quite, organized for revolution by the Abbé Sièyes. On the whole, the favourable manner in which this French mission has been received by the Court and the Ministers is so strongly marked, it cannot escape the most inattentive eye. Their preference of French politics and French principles to those of England appears a degree of infatuation in a monarchical state not to be accounted for by any of the common motives of action.

TO H. ELLIOT, ESQ., DRESDEN.

Berlin, Nov., 1800.

It is always my fate to begin my letters to you and Mrs. Elliot with acknowledgments for past civilities, or, to speak more justly, acts of kindness. The last I received from you has been of infinite use, and promises to contribute very much to the _agrément_ of my visit to Berlin; as nothing could be more flattering than the reception your letter procured me from Lady Carysfort; and the manner in which she lives makes her house a great resource to those who love a little quiet private society. She is always at home, except when upon duty with some of the Princesses; and has desired me to pass every evening with her in which I have not some other engagement. I have passed my time chiefly at her house, since my arrival. She seems to have all that strong desire to please, so necessary in her situation, and great powers of attraction in private society; I have not yet seen her in public.

We have been expecting you these five days. I will still hope you may come; and that, from being in the same house, I may now and then have the chance of a little conversation with you; which I would tell you with truth _I know how to appreciate_, if I had not read the phrase in nine out of ten of the notes I have received since my arrival here; and if, alas! I had not often used it in a sense very contrary to that in which it is usually understood. I will therefore banish it from my intercourse with those to whom I wish to express my real feelings; and of whom it seems a sort of profanation to express my ideas in the common jargon of worldly intercourse.

Is Buonaparte dead or not? This is the first question asked in every society. If you can answer it, pray do; and give me a new speculation as to the probable consequences of his death. I will pass it off as my own; and from your political stores you will not miss it.

* * * * *

_Nov. 18-23._—It is unnecessary to endeavour to discriminate every day in my journal, when all are so much alike in my life. I pass it entirely at Lord Carysfort’s. I have been at a great supper at Count Schulenberg’s, which did not vary the scene, as I sat by Lord Carysfort at supper in a very large company instead of sitting by him at dinner in a very small one. As usual, I saw Beurnonville, who was very attentive. He looks like an immense cart-horse put by mistake in the finest caparisons; for his figure is colossal and ungainly; and his uniform of blue and gold, which appears too large even for his large person, is half covered with the broadest gold lace. His _ton_ is that of a _corps-de-garde_ (he was really a corporal), but when he addresses himself to women, he affects a softness and _légèrete_, which reminds one exactly of the Ass and the Spaniel, and his compliments are very much in the style of M. Jourdain. It is said, however, he is benevolent and well meaning.

* * * * *

_Nov. 28._—I have not, according to Mr. Elliot’s phrase, found a Paradise at Berlin, but it is quite as pleasant as I expected. However, apart from the impression it has made on me, which always depends on trifling circumstances, I conceive it to be less agreeable, less various, less polished, than Vienna. Both are infinitely more inferior to London than I had supposed before I saw them.

* * * * *

_Nov. 29._—Dined to-day with Madame Divoff, saw several curious contrasts in the entertainment—a dinner dressed by a French cook, and dirty napkins, &c.—the servants in magnificent liveries of scarlet and gold, with dirty shirts—the mistress of the house in a point-lace cap, and a dirty silk pelisse. For two hours after dinner we sang with Righini, an excellent _maître de chapelle_, who, to prove he was at his ease, came in his boots, and made love to Madame Divoff. Supped at the Princess Wyzimska’s; sang duets with Righini, and heard him sing charmingly—without a voice, but with a variety, taste, and suitableness to the expression of the air in his _manière de broder_, which I think unequalled.

* * * * *

_Nov. 30._—Supped at Mad. Angeström’s, wife to the Swedish Minister, who is perfectly indifferent as to all the interests of Europe, provided nothing interrupts her reception of the Paris fashions, for which she has an uncommon avidity. ‘_N’est ce pas, ma chère, que ceci est charmant; c’est copié fidèlement d’un journal de Paris, et quel journal, délicieux!_’ She wears very little covering on her person, and none on her arms of any kind (shifts being long exploded) except sleeves of the finest cambric, unlined, and _travaillé au jour_, which reach only half way from the shoulder to the elbow. She seems to consider it a duty to shiver in this thin attire, for she said to Lady Carysfort, ‘_Ah, Miledi, que vous êtes heureuse, vous portez des poches et des jupes_.’ I conversed chiefly with Beurnonville and Pignatelli. Beurnonville says, ‘_Mon sécrétaire est pour les affaires, mon aide-de-camp pour les dames, et moi pour la réprésentation_.’ The people about him are conscious he is _peu de chose_, but say, ‘_Qu’importe? on est si bon en Prusse, et si bien disposé pour nous_.’ A person asked Vaudreuil, aide-de-camp to Beurnonville, if the latter was a _ci-devant_. ‘_Non,’ dit-il, ‘mais il voudroit l’être_’—a reply of a good deal of _finesse_, and plainly proving how unconquerable the respect for rank, and wish among those who have destroyed the substance, to possess the shadow. On my return I found an immense inhabitant of the hair on my tucker. My suspicions turned for a moment on Pignatelli, but on reflection I am sure he belonged to the French mission.

* * * * *

_Dec. 2._—Accompanied Mr. Headlam, a sensible, well-bred, respectful young man, and the Miss Browns, to the porcelain manufactory, and observed the whole process which transforms a piece of Silesian stone into a beautiful, brilliant, and valuable vase. The operation is begun by a steam-engine, which acts in various ways till the mass is formed. Then the manipulation begins; round forms are turned as in England; other shapes begun and ended in moulds without any assistance from the wheel. Some are painted before they are varnished, but these only receive a dark blue colour, which is black till it passes through the fire. The finest are varnished first, which increases the difficulty of painting them, as the colours used are metallic, the porcelain but an earth: the intervention of a body which has some analogy with both is therefore necessary; and for chymical reasons, which I do not retain, the painters use colours which do not produce effect immediately, so are forced to an exertion of mind and memory as well as of the hand. This china is cheaper than that of Dresden or Vienna. It is said that Berlin china excels in the colours of the painting, Vienna in the gilding, Dresden in the mass. As to general taste in the forms and painting I place Dresden first, and Berlin last.

* * * * *

_Dec. 4._—A ball at Albertleben the Minister’s. No supper, but cakes, ices, lemonade, orgeat, and punch, very warm and strong, of which the ladies drank plentifully. It was very like a Lord Mayor’s ball in London, but the dress and dancing not so good. Lady C. says half the misses were in coarse muslin over pink stuff; a little exaggeration in this, but there was not the elegance displayed which I expected. On the whole, Berlin reminds me of a provincial town with a large garrison, and its manners seem pretty much on a par with its morals. The women are _borné_ to a degree, and do not even possess ornamental accomplishments. I forgive this as a consequence of their bad education; but I cannot excuse their failure in dress and dancing, which are the study of their lives.

* * * * *

_Dec. 5._—Met M. Gentz,[32] a _Berlinois_, at Lord Carysfort’s. He strikes me as possessing more energy than any man I had ever seen. His head seems to be organized in a very superior manner, and his conversation bears the stamp of real genius. He is one of those who seem to impart a portion of their own endowment; for you feel your mind elevated while in his society. In argument he is irresistible; but it seems to be from fair and honest force, unassisted by trick or artifice. His voice rises, and his eye kindles, yet his warmth never becomes displeasing, nor degenerates into either violence or sharpness. In his writings he proposes Burke for his model, and walks boldly beside him, for we cannot say he is a copyist, though a successful imitator.

* * * * *

_Dec. 6._—I have met M. Rivarol,[33] a much-applauded French writer; he also proposes to be the wit and demigod of the Berlin society, and I think may succeed; though his powers would not in my opinion assure him that rank elsewhere.

* * * * *

_Dec. 13._—This morning I went to Lady Carysfort’s. Mr. Proby, Lord Carysfort’s nephew and chaplain, gave us the whole church service. It is interesting in this corrupted town to see a family circle join in prayer, and an inestimable wife and mother surrounded by her lovely innocent daughters, untainted, and as yet unconscious of the infection which surrounds them.

* * * * *

_Dec. 14._—A little dance at my hotel, composed chiefly of English. Gentz was of the party, and his conversation, as usual, delighted me. Rivarol and he are the two men of greatest talent I have seen in Berlin. I perceive this difference in their conversation, that Rivarol is perpetually on the watch to display himself, and catch the approbation of the circle, while Gentz is only anxious to do justice to his topic, and to lead their opinion. Rivarol labours, and sometimes successfully, to produce wit; Gentz lets fall from the plenitude of his ideas such superfluities as he cannot even miss.

* * * * *

_Dec. 18._—Prince George, Righini, and Lord Carysfort passed the morning with me. The former said, upon my observing that Prince Augustus could be amiable, ‘_Oui, mais ses accès d’amabilité deviennent tous les jours plus rares, comme les apparitions du soleil à la fin de l’automne_.’—Prince Radziwill has been engaged in a plot to recover the independence of Poland. A letter of his was intercepted at Vienna, expressive of the wish, and arranging some of the means, adding, ‘_il faut mettre en avant un Prince du sang_,’ words which were supposed to allude to his wife’s brother, Prince Louis, the ‘Duc d’Orléans of Germany.’

* * * * *

_Dec. 25._—Dined at Lord Carysfort’s to celebrate Christmas Day; received the Sacrament there in the morning. The party consisted of all the English in Berlin. In the evening we danced country dances.

* * * * *

_Dec. 27._—Presented to Mad. de Voss, _grande maîtresse_. It is impossible to receive with more dignity and politeness than she displays. Supped at Princess Wyzimska’s, and sung _Giuro che ad altro mai_ with Righini.

* * * * *

_Dec. 28._—Went to Court, which is here an evening assembly. I was presented to the King and Queen. He is a fine tall military man, plain and reserved in his manners and address. She reminded me of Burke’s ‘star, glittering with life, splendour, and joy,’ and realized all the fanciful ideas one forms in one’s infancy, of the young, gay, beautiful, and magnificent queens in the _Arabian Nights_. She is an angel of loveliness, mildness, and grace; tall and _svelte_, yet sufficiently _embonpoint_; her hair is light, her complexion fair and faultless; an inexpressible air of sweetness reigns in her countenance, and forms its predominant character. As perfect beauty in nature is a chimæra, like the philosopher’s stone, and as it is rarely to be found but in the higher works of art, I take nothing from her charms in saying she is not faultless. An ill-shaped mouth, indifferent teeth, a broad forehead and large limbs are the only defects the severest criticism can discover; while her hair, her height, her movements, her shoulders, her waist, are all unexceptionable. These slight faults only prove she is a woman and not a statue, and altogether she is one of the loveliest creatures I have ever seen. Her dress was in the best taste. Her hair was dressed in the fullest and most varied of the Grecian forms, going very far back, and ornamented with a very tall heron’s feather, and a number of immense diamond stars, so placed as to form a bandeau quite round, which came close to her temples. She wore a chemise of crape, richly embroidered in emerald-green foil, and a _moldave_ (simply a body, train, and short sleeves) of pale pink silk, slightly sparkling with gold, and trimmed all round with sable. Her neck was richly ornamented with jewels. She speaks very graciously and politely to every one. I was also presented to the Princess of Orange, a beautiful young woman.

* * * * *

_Dec. 31._—Went to a ball at Mad. Angeström’s, the Swedish Minister’s wife. Every one seemed to partake in the design of finishing the century with festivity and cheerfulness. The company was the _élite_ of the Berlin society, and the ball was unusually animated and brilliant. I had just danced one dance with Mr. Caulfield, and was resting myself during the second in an outer room, when I heard that M. d’Orville, a young officer just one-and-twenty, had fallen down in a fainting fit in the dance. After some moments he was removed from the ball-room into Mad. Angeström’s boudoir, where all the common remedies of salts, essences, cold water, and fresh air were tried without effect. Still no one was much alarmed. However, a physician and surgeon were called in. They exhausted in vain all the resources of their art; he was irrecoverably gone, and afforded an awful example of the uncertainty of human life. Mad. Angeström, whose nerves had been lately shaken by the death of a favourite son, was affected in a dreadful way. She fainted, and on her recovery knew nothing of what had passed, but was impressed with the idea that something had happened to her children. Her husband went to their apartment, and brought them to her from their beds, wrapped in large cloaks. He reminded me of Lewis’s verses—

’Tis the father who holds his young son in his arm,
And close in his mantle has wrapt him up warm.’

At first she did not know her children, and she continued to utter such incoherent rhapsodies as were both shocking and pathetic. The shrieks, faintings, tears, and hysterics of every woman who either had really weak nerves, or who wished to display her feelings, completed the horror of the scene. I wished to escape. Lord Carysfort and Prince Radziwill offered me their carriages, but I refused one, and there was a mistake about the other. At last the contagion of the scene spread to me. I wept violently, and remember no more than that I was wrapped up by Mr. Ridley and Mr. Caulfield, who both showed infinite good nature, in a large cloak, and put into a carriage; that Mr. Ridley accompanied me home, where Mr. Kinnaird and he remained with me till a few minutes past twelve, that I might not be left to begin the new century a prey to melancholy reflections.

With this entry, closing the year 1800, the journal kept in
Germany breaks abruptly off, and all of it which should follow
has been looked for in vain. From one or two letters which
will be found in a later part of this volume, I gather that
the writer was brought, during her later stay at Berlin, into
some nearer personal intercourse with the Queen of Prussia than
a mere formal presentation at Court would imply; and might
have something more to say of one who at a later day awakened
so deep an interest, and in whom the touchstone of sorrow and
adversity brought out so many noble qualities, probably at this
time unknown and unguessed of by herself or by others. The only
document which I have, immediately relating to the remaining
period of my Mother’s sojourn in Germany (some four months, I
believe), is the letter which follows.

TO MRS. ELLIOT, DRESDEN.

Berlin, Feb., 1801.

We are all living here in a very contracted circle, as we are shut out by politics from the chief part of the houses of strangers, and the Berliners themselves are more polite and flattering than hospitable. I do not know whether the Carnival has been here what is comparatively called very brilliant; but certainly, after having witnessed the varied, tumultuous, and luxurious dissipation of London, it appears ‘weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable.’ I sacrificed to it neither my health nor my time; went everywhere very late, returned very early, and lived in constant astonishment at having heard so much of an opera much inferior to ours, and a masquerade where no one appeared in character, and where _bon ton_ commanded you to appear in deep mourning.

I have no news, except that the Princess Dolgorouki endeavours to put herself forward on the canvas by every possible means, and appeared at Krudener’s _fête_ ‘with her very nose in an attitude’—that Miss Bishopswerder’s match still hangs, neither on nor off—that the Russians are triumphant beyond all ideas of triumph; but are a little embarrassed whether they shall make the ‘_husband of the Archduchess_’ (he goes by no other name) King of Poland, or Elector of Hanover. If Mr. Elliot will decide this for me, I will impart the opinion to Krudener.

* * * * *

I have found also, belonging to this time, one letter _to_
my Mother from Prince Adolphus, who had shown her so many
kindnesses at Hanover. This also, having permission, I will
insert.

H.R.H. PRINCE ADOLPHUS (DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE), TO MRS. ST. GEORGE.

Hanover, Jan. 31, 1801.

DEAR MADAM,

I cannot let this opportunity pass of acknowledging the receipt of your very obliging letter of the 8th inst. Baron Rheden has brought me a very good account of your health, at which I do sincerely rejoice; and I trust that the fatigues of the Berlin carnival will not hurt you. The shocking accident of which you were a witness on the 31st of last month will, I am afraid, have made a deep impression on your mind. It is at least very difficult for a person of your feelings to forget immediately such an event, and as it happened at a ball, all dancing parties must for a time recal that accident to your remembrance. I do sincerely pity M. d’Orville’s fate, and I wish he may serve as an example for other young men, that they may not likewise fall victims to their dress. I have lately heard from Berlin that Lord Carysfort has played with the Queen at Court, which I look upon in a favourable light; and the exclusion of the Russian ships from the embargo, makes me hope that the disharmony which has taken place between the Cabinets of London and Berlin has ceased, and that matters will be made up. I am perfectly of your opinion that it is too often the case of Englishmen in the diplomatic line, that they forget the situation in which they are, and act entirely according to their own private feelings. This does their character the highest honour, but I cannot say the same for their judgment; for in the career of a Minister he must often do and put up with things for the public good which he never would do as a private man; and none knew this better than the late Lord Chesterfield.