Chapter LVII: Letter XLVIII: Paris, January 12th, 1829 (1)

DEAREST JULIA,

It certainly is a fine thing to have such a walk as the Louvre daily at one's command, and to take refuge from snow and rain in the hall of gods, and among the creations of genius.--'Vive le roi!' for this liberality at least.

I spent my forenoon in the magnificent gallery, and also visited the Egyptian Museum, of which I shall tell you more anon. At dinner, I found an interesting companion in a Général de l'Empire, whom I accidentally met, and whose conversation I preferred to the theatre. He related a number of incidents of which he had been eye and ear-witness:--they give a more vivid picture and a deeper view of all the bearings and relations of things at that time, than are to be gathered from memoirs, in which the truth can never be revealed wholly without concealment or colouring. It would occupy too much time to repeat them all to you now; and besides, they would lose much of their vivacity: I therefore reserve the greater part for oral relations.--Only one or two.

It is not to be denied, said my informant, that many vulgarities were observable in the interior of Napoleon's family, which betrayed 'roture.' (By this he did not mean inferior birth, but a defective and ignoble education.) The greatest hatred and the most pitiful mutual intrigues reigned between the Bonaparte family and the Empress Josephine, who at length fell their victim. At first, Napoleon took the part of his wife, and was often reproached for it by his mother, who called him tyrant, Tiberius, Nero, and other considerably less classical names, to his face. The General assured me, that Madame had frequently told him that Napoleon, from his earliest infancy, had always tried to rule despotically, and had never shown the slightest regard for any one but himself and those immediately belonging to him. He had tyrannized over all his brothers, with the exception of Lucien, who never suffered the least offence or injury to go unrevenged. She had often, she said, observed with astonishment how perfectly the brothers had retained their relative characters. The General affirmed, that Madame Letitia had the firmest persuasion that Napoleon would end ill; and made no secret of it, that she hoarded only against that catastrophe. Lucien shared in this persuasion; and as early as the year 1811, used the following remarkable words in speaking to the General: "L'ambition de cet homme est insatiable, et vous vivrez peut-être pour voir sa carcasse et toute sa famille jettées dans les égouts de Paris."

At Napoleon's coronation, the Empress-mother, in whose household the General held some office after he had quitted the military service (what, he did not tell me,) gave him strict charge to observe how many arm-chairs, chairs, and stools, had been placed for the imperial family, and to make his report to her unobserved as soon as she entered. The General, who had but little experience in court etiquette, wondered at this strange commission, executed it, however, punctually, and informed her there were but two 'fauteuils,' one chair, and so many 'tabourets.' "Ah! je le pensais bien," cried Madame Mère, red with rage, "la chaise est pour moi--mais ils se trompent dans leur calcul!" Walking quickly up to the ominous chair, she asked the chamberlain on duty, with lips quivering with passion, 'Where was her seat?' He motioned, with a deep bow, to the chair. The queens had already seated themselves on the 'tabourets.' To snatch hold of the chair, throw it down on the feet of the unfortunate chamberlain, who nearly screamed with pain, and to rush into the closet where the Emperor and Josephine were waiting, was the affair of a moment to the exasperated mother. The most indecent scene followed, during which the Empress-mother declared in the most vehement terms, that if a 'fauteuil,' were not instantly given her, she would leave the Salle, after explaining aloud the reason for her conduct. Napoleon, although furiously exasperated, was obliged to make 'bonne mine à mauvais jeu,' and got out of the scrape by throwing the whole blame on poor Count Ségur; "et l'on vit bientôt," added the General, "le digne Comte arriver tout effaré, et apporter lui-même un fauteuil à sa Majesté l'Empératrice Mère." It is characteristic, and a proof that the thing originated in no respect with Josephine, but entirely with the Emperor himself, that at the marriage of Maria Louisa the very same incident was repeated,--only that the humbled and intimidated mother had no longer courage to resist.

Napoleon was brought up a bigot; and although too acute to remain so, or indeed perhaps ever to have been so sincerely, habit--which exercises so strong an influence over us all--rendered it impossible for him ever to divest himself entirely of first impressions. When any thing suddenly struck him, he sometimes involuntarily made the sign of the Cross,--a gesture which appeared most extraordinary to the sceptical children of the revolution.

Now for one amiable trait of Charles the Fourth, whom the world would be so little apt to suspect of any delicate attention. Those who knew him intimately, however, know that he was liberal and kind, though weak and ignorant; and much better as a man than as a king.

When Lucien went to Spain as ambassador from the Republic, the General, my informant, accompanied him as secretary of legation. Lucien's predecessor had 'affiché' all the coarseness of republican manners, to the infinite scandal of the most formal and stately court in the world; and the Spaniards dreaded still greater rudeness and arrogance from the brother of the First Consul. Lucien, however, had the good taste to take the completely opposite course; appeared at court in shoes and bag-wig, and fulfilled all the duties of ceremony and etiquette with such punctuality, that the whole court was in a perfect ecstacy of delight and gratitude. Lucien was not only extremely popular, but the perfect idol of the whole royal family. He returned their friendship, the General affirmed, sincerely, and often earnestly warned the King against the Prince of the Peace, as well as against the insatiable ambition of his own brother, of whom he spoke on every occasion without the slightest reserve. The confidence, however, of the old King in his 'grand ami,' as he called Napoleon, remained unshaken to the last.

Before his departure, Lucien crowned his popularity by a magnificent fête, the like of which had never been seen in Spain, and which cost nearly four hundred thousand francs. The highest persons about the court, a number of grandees, and the whole royal family honoured it with their presence; and the latter seemed not to know how sufficiently to express their attachment to the ambassador. A few days afterwards, all the members of the legation received splendid presents; the ambassador alone was omitted; and republican familiarity permitted many jokes upon him in the palace of the embassy. Meanwhile the audience of leave was over, Lucien's departure fixed for the following day, and all hopes of the expected present at an end, when an officer of the Walloon guard came with an escort to the hotel, bringing a large picture in a packing-case, as a present from the King to Napoleon. When Lucien was informed of this, he said, it was doubtless Titian's Venus, which he had often admired in the King's presence, and which was certainly a very valuable picture, but that the carriage of it was inconvenient to him, and he must confess he had rather the King had not sent it. However, the officer was most politely thanked, and dismissed; and Lucien, taking out a valuable shirt-pin from his breast, begged him to accept it. The ambassador now ordered the case to be unpacked, the picture taken out of its frame (which could be left behind), and rolled so that it could be carried on the imperial of a carriage. The secretary did as he desired:--scarcely was the wrapping-cloth raised, when, instead of the admired Venus, a face anything but beautiful--that of the King himself smiled upon him. He was just flying off in mischievous delight to inform the ambassador of the comical mistake, when on entirely removing the cloth, a yet greater surprise detained him:--the whole picture was set round like a miniature with large diamonds, which Lucien afterwards sold in Paris for four millions of francs. This was truly a royal surprise, and the ambassador speedily recalled his order for leaving the frame.

The General asserted that Lucien was very intimate with the Queen of Portugal, who gave him a political rendezvous at Badajoz. He thought D---- M---- was the result of this meeting. Certain it is, as you may remember I wrote you from London, that that prince is strikingly like Napoleon.

_January 13th._

The turn of the Gaiété came to-day in my inspection of theatres, and I make bold to declare that I was very much amused. These little melodrames and vaudevilles are now--the French may be as grand about it as they please--their real and proper national drama; and perhaps they are not altogether innocent of the striking defection of the public to the romantic banner. People were heartily tired of the meagre fare of the

"--------------------------- pathos tragique
Qui longtems ennuya en termes magnifiques."

There was one evening on which I gave you no theatrical intelligence. The cause of this was the horrible ennui I had suffered at the Théatre Français. Mademoiselle Mars did not play, and I found the parts of the great and matchless Talma and Fleury sunk into the most deplorable hands. In full contrast with this classical dulness, was the excellence of the melodrame of the Gaiété; and in spite of all the long litany that may be repeated by classicists as to coarse colouring, 'coups de théatre,' improbabilities, and so forth, I am persuaded that no unprejudiced fresh mind could see it without lively interest.--Let us now go back to the Théatre Français.

After a Greco-French tragedy, in which antique dresses vainly strove to convert Frenchmen into Greeks, in which the provincial hero Joanny vainly tried to exhibit a faint copy of the godlike Talma, and Duchesnois, who is now really 'au delà de la permission' ugly, with whining, antiquated and stony manner, vainly quivered out the end of every sentence with her hands in the air (also à la Talma,) while all the rest exhibited a truly hopeless picture of mediocrity, the 'Mercure galant' was given as a conclusion. The faded embroidered silk clothes, as well as the awkwardness with which they were worn by the modern actors, spoke of the remote date of this piece. The ladies, on the other hand, had dressed according to their own taste, and were in the newest fashion. The comedy is utterly without plot, and the wit flat and coarse.

Setting aside 'que tous les genres sont bons hors le genre ennuyeux,' the contents of this latter piece were really better fitted to a booth in a fair. What appears still more extraordinary is, that this stately, classical, national theatre, has itself been driven to give melodrames, (as to their contents at least,) though without music; and that these are the only representations which draw audiences. The only profitable modern piece, L'Espion, is a sufficient proof of this.

Thus does one theatre after another plant the romantic standard with more or less success; and tragedies and plays 'a la Shakspeare,' as the French call them, daily make their appearance, in which all the time-honoured unities are thrown over the shoulder without any more qualms of conscience on the part of authors or the public.

The revolution has regenerated France in every respect,--even their poetry is new; and ungrudging, never-envying Germany calls out joyfully to her, "Glück auf."

_January 14th._

To-day I visited some new buildings; among others the Bourse. It is surrounded with a stately colonnade, whose magnitude and total effect is imposing; but the long narrow-arched windows behind the pillars are in very bad taste. Modern necessities harmonize ill with ancient architecture. The interior is grand, and the illusion produced by the painting on the roof complete: you would swear they were bas-reliefs,--and very bad ones.

I remarked to-day for the first time how much the Boulevards are improved by the removal of several houses: the Portes St. Martin and St Dénis are seen to much greater advantage than before. Louis the Fourteenth deserves these monuments; for in truth, all that is grand and beautiful in Paris may be ascribed to him or to Napoleon. The rows of trees have been carefully preserved; and not, as on the Dönhofsplatz in Berlin, large trees cut down and little miserable sticks planted in their stead. The numerous 'Dames blanches' and Omnibuses have a most singular appearance. These are carriages containing twenty or thirty persons: they traverse the Boulevards incessantly, and convey the weary foot-passenger at a very moderate price. These ponderous machines are drawn by three unfortunate horses. In the present slippery state of the pavement I have several times seen all three fall together. It is said that England is the hell of horses: if, however, the metempsychosis should be realized, I beg leave to be an English horse rather than a French one. It rouses one's indignation to see how these unhappy animals are often treated, and it were to be wished that the police would here, as in England, take them under its protection. I remember once to have seen a poor hackney-coach horse maltreated by a coachman in London. "Come with me," said the Englishman with whom I was walking; "you shall soon see that fellow punished." He very coolly called the man and ordered him to drive to the nearest police office. He alighted, and accused the coachman of having wantonly maltreated and tortured his horse. I was called on to give evidence to the same effect; and the fellow was sentenced to pay a considerable fine; after which we made him drive us back:--you may imagine his good humour.

Omnibuses are to be found in other parts of the city, and the longest 'course' costs only a few sous.--I know few things more amusing than to ride about in them in an evening, without any definite aim, and only for the sake of the rich caricatures one meets with, and the odd conversations one hears. I was often tempted to believe that I was at the Variétés; and I recognised the originals of many of Brunets and Odry's faithful portraits. You know how much I like to wander about the world thus, an observer of men and manners; especially of the middle classes, among whom alone any characteristic peculiarities are now-a-days to be found, and who are also the happiest,--for the medal is completely reversed. The middle classes, down to the artisan, are now the _really privileged_, by the character of the times and of public opinion. The higher classes find themselves, with their privileges and pretensions, condemned to a state of incessant opposition and humiliation. If their claims be adequately supported by wealth, their condition is tolerable; though even then, from ostentation,--the hereditary vice of those among the rich who are not slaves to avarice,--their money procures them far less substantial enjoyment than it does to those a step or two below them. If their rank is not upheld by property, they are of all classes in society,--except criminals and those who suffer from actual hunger,--the most pitiable.

Every man ought therefore maturely to estimate his position in the world, and to sacrifice nothing to vanity or ambition; for no epoch of the world was ever less fertile in rewards for such deference to the bad and frivolous part of public opinion. I do not mean, of course, the ambition of true merit, which is rewarded by its own results, and can be adequately rewarded by them alone. We nobles are now cheaply instructed in wise forbearance and practical philosophy of every kind;--and Heaven be thanked!

With such thoughts I arrived in a 'Dame blanche' at Franconi's theatre, to which a blind man might find his way by the scent. The performances are certainly in odiously bad taste, and a public which had no better amusements must end by becoming but one degree above the animals they look at. I speak of the senseless dramatic pieces acted here;--the mere feats of activity and skill are often very interesting. I was particularly delighted with the slack rope-dancer called Il Diavolo, who outdoes all his competitors as completely as Vestris surpasses his. A finer form, greater agility and steadiness and more finished grace, are hardly conceivable. He is the flying Mercury descended again on earth in human shape; the air appears his natural element, and the rope a mere superfluity, with which he enwreathes himself as with a garland. You see him at an enormous height lie along perfectly at his ease when the rope is in full swing; then float close to the boxes with the classic grace of an antique; then, with his head hanging down and his legs upwards, execute an 'entrechat' in the clouds of the stage-heaven. You may suppose that he is perfect master of all the ordinary _tours de force_ of his art. He really deserves his name; 'Il Diavolo non può far' meglio.'

_Jan. 14th._

As appendix to my yesterday's letter, I bought you a 'Dame blanche' filled with bonbons; and, as a present for Mademoiselle H---- next Christmas, a bronze pendule with a running fountain at its foot, and a real working telegraph on the top. Tell her she may use the latter to keep up conversations which none but the initiated can understand. Paris is inexhaustible in such knicknacks: they are generally destined for foreigners; the French seldom buy them, and think them, justly enough, 'de mauvais goût.'

To have done with theatres I visited three this evening. First I saw two acts of the new and most miserable tragedy, Isabelle de Bavière, at the Théatre Français. My previous impressions were confirmed; and not only were the performers (with the exception of Joanny, who acted the part of Charles the Sixth pretty well) mediocrity itself, but the costumes, scenery, and all the appointments were below those of the smallest theatre on the Boulevards. The populace of Paris was represented by seven men and two women; the 'Pairs de France' by three or four wretched sticks, literally in rags, with gold paper crowns on their heads, like those in a puppet-show. The house was empty, and the cold insufferable. I drove as quickly as I could to the 'Ambigu Comique,' where I found a pretty new house with very fresh decorations. As interlude, a sort of ballet was performed, which contained not a bad parody on the German Landwehr, and at any rate was not tiresome. I could not help wondering, however, that the French do not feel about the Landwehr and the Prussian horns, as the Burgundians did about the Alp horns of the Swiss, whose tones they were not particularly fond of recalling; for, as the Chronicle says, 'à Granson les avoient trop ouis.'

My evening closed with the Italian Opera. Here you find the most select audience; it is the fashionable house. The theatre is prettily decorated, the lighting brilliant, and the singing exceeds expectation. Still it is curious, that even with a company composed entirely of Italians the singing is never the same,--there is never that complete and inimitable whole, which you find in Italy: their fire seems chilled in these colder regions,--their humour dried up; they know that they shall be applauded, but that they no longer form one family with the audience; the buffo, as well as the first tragic singer, feels that he is but half understood, and, even musically speaking, but half felt. In Italy the Opera is nature, necessity; in Germany, England, and France, an enjoyment of art, or a way of killing time.

The Opera was La Cenerentola. Madame Malibran Garcia does not, in my opinion, equal Sontag in this part: she has, however, her own 'genre,' which is the more attractive the longer one hears her; and I do not doubt that she too has parts in which she would bear away the palm from all competitors. She has married an American; and her style of singing appeared to me quite American,--that is, free, daring, and republican: whilst Pasta, like an aristocrat, or rather like an autocrat, hurries one despotically away with her; and Sontag warbles forth melting and 'mezza-voce' tones, as if from the heavenly regions. Bordogni, the tenore, had the difficult task of singing without a voice, and did all that was possible under such circumstances: Zuchelli was, as ever, admirable; and Santini his worthy rival. Both acting and singing had throughout more of life, power and grace, than on any other Italian stage out of Italy.

On my return to my hotel, I was surprised by one of those Parisian 'agrémens' which are really a disgrace to such a city. Though my hotel is one of the most respectable, and in the most frequented part of the town, I thought I was alighting at a 'cloaque.' They were clearing certain excavations, an operation by which the houses here are poisoned twice a year.

I have already burned a dozen pastiles, but can create no radical reaction.

_Jan 15th._

I seated myself in a cabriolet early this morning, to make a wider excursion than usual. I directed the driver first to Nôtre Dame, and regretted as I passed the Pont Neuf that this spot had been assigned to the statue of Henry the Fourth. It stands most disproportionately on the naked base of the obelisk which Napoleon had projected, and for which the spot was chosen with great sagacity; whereas now, surrounded by the broad and high masses of building which form the back-ground of the little statue and enclose it in a colossal triangle, the prancing horse looks like a skipping insect. While I was following this train of observations, and thinking what Paris would have become had Napoleon's reign been prolonged, my driver suddenly cried out "Voilà la Morgue!" I told him to stop ('car j'aime les émotions lugubres),' and entered this house of death, which I had never before seen. Behind a lattice is a clean little room with eight wooden biers painted black, placed in a row, the heads turned to the wall, the feet towards the spectator. Upon these the dead bodies are laid naked, and the clothes and effects of each hung upon the white wall behind him, so that they can easily be recognised. There was only one; an old man with a genuine French physiognomy, rings in his ears and on his fingers. He lay with a smile on his face and open eyes like a wax figure, and with exactly such a mien as if he were about to offer his neighbour a pinch of snuff, when death surprised him. His clothes were good,--"superbes," as a ragged fellow near me said, while he looked at them with longing eyes. There were no marks of violence visible on the body; so that the stroke of death had probably surprised the old man in some remote part of the city, and was still unknown to his relatives: misery seemed to have no share in his fate.

One of the guardians of the place told me a curious fact;--in winter, the number of deaths by drowning, which is now the fashionable mode of self-destruction in Paris, is less by two-thirds than in summer. The cause of this can be no other, however ridiculous it may sound, than that the water is too cold, for the Seine is scarcely ever frozen. But as trifles and every-day things govern the great events of life much more than we are apt to think, so they appear to exercise their power even in death, and despair itself is still 'douillet,' and enthralled by the senses.

You remember the three portals of Nôtre Dame, with the oaken doors ornamented with beautiful designs and arabesques in bronze, and how striking is the whole façade, how interesting its details. Unfortunately, like the temple at Jerusalem, the interior is defaced by stalls and booths. This interior, always so unworthy of the exterior, is rendered still more mean by a new coat of paint.

Continuing my drive, I alighted for a minute at the Panthéon. It is a pity that the situation and _entourage_ of this building are so unfavourable. The interior appeared to me almost too simple and bare of ornament, which does not suit this style; and Girodet's new ceiling is hardly visible without a telescope. The opening of the cupola is too small and too high to enable one to see anything of the painting distinctly. I saw a piece of carpet hanging to one of the pillars, and asked what it meant: I was told that it was the work of the unhappy Marie Antoinette, and presented to the church by Madame. Over the side altar was written 'Autel privilégié.'

The association of ideas which this inscription suggested, led me to the neighbouring ménagerie, and I drove to the Jardin des Plantes. It was too cold for the animals, and almost all, living and dead, were shut up, so that I could only visit a Polar bear. I found him patiently and quietly clearing out his den with his fore paws. He did not suffer my presence to interrupt him in the least, but went on working like a labourer. He used his paws as brooms, then brought the straw and snow into his hole to make himself a comfortable bed, and at length with a sort of grumble of satisfaction slowly stretched himself out upon it. His neighbour Martin, the brown bear who once on a time ate a sentinel, is quite well, but not visible to-day. On my way back I visited a third church, St. Eustache. The interior is grander than that of the Panthéon or Nôtre Dame, and is enlivened by a few painted windows and pictures. There was indeed a sort of exhibition of the latter, on occasion of some festival: I cannot say that much good taste was conspicuous in it. A more agreeable thing was the fine music, in which the trumpets produced an overpowering effect. Why is not this sublime instrument oftener introduced into church music?

As I drove across the Place des Victoires, I sent up a sigh to Heaven over the nothingness of fame and its monuments. On this place, as you well remember, stood Désaix's statue, which he had really deserved of France. Now it is thrown aside, and a Louis the Fourteenth in Roman armour, with a long wig, and mounted on a horse which looks like a wooden one, occupies its place. I had some difficulty in silencing the melancholy moralizings which this sight excited in me, by the more sensual impressions I received in the 'salon des Frères Provençaux,' from excellent truffles, and the perusal of a somewhat less praiseworthy fashionable novel. I was even forced to drink a whole bottle of champagne before I could exclaim with Solomon, "All is vanity!" and add, "Therefore enjoy the present moment without thinking too much about it." In this good frame of mind I passed through, for the last time, the Palais Royal, where so many gay 'colifichets' and new inventions sparkled upon me from the well-lighted shops, that I almost took the full moon, which hung small and yellow over one of the opposite chimneys, for a new toy; and should not have been much surprised if the man in the moon or Mademoiselle Garnerin had stepped out of it, and vanished again down one of Véry's chimneys. But as nothing of this sort happened, I followed the brilliant front of the Variétés, which eclipsed the dim oil lamps around, and entered, 'pour y faire ma digestion en riant.' This end was perfectly attained; for though the little theatre has lost Potier, it still retains its power over the risible muscles. It has gained--for the eyes at least--an extremely pretty little actress, Mademoiselle Valérie, and a much better and fresher exterior than formerly. Among the agreeable novelties is a drop curtain of real cloth, instead of the usual painted draperies. The rich folds of dark blue contrasted well with the crimson, gold, and white, of the theatre. It is not rolled up stiffly and awkwardly like the others, but draws back gracefully to either side. The great theatres would do well to imitate this.

_Jan. 16th._

Formerly _Anas_ were the fashion; now it is _Amas_, 'et le change est pour le mieux.' To these _Amas_ I dedicated my morning, and began with the _Ama_ of geography, the Georama. Here you suddenly find yourself in the centre of the globe,--which Dr. Nürnberger has not yet reached with his projected shaft; but in which you find the hypothesis of a sea of light confirmed, for it is so light that the whole crust of the earth is rendered transparent, and you can distinctly see even the political boundaries of countries. The excessive cold somewhat chilled my curiosity, so that I can only tell you that no globe elucidates geography so well as the Georama. It were to be wished that all Lancasterian schools could be thus introduced into the bowels of the earth: such a company too might warm themselves 'mutuellement.' The lakes appear, as in reality, beautifully blue and transparent, the volcanoes little fiery points, and the black chains of mountains are easily followed by the eye. I was amused to see that the great lakes in China had the precise outline of the grotesque and frightful faces of Chinese gods. The largest was really, without any effort of the imagination, the exact copy of the flying dragon so frequent on their porcelain. I hug myself amazingly on this discovery;--who knows if it will not throw some light on Chinese mythology? I was much displeased at seeing no notice taken of the recent discoveries at the North Pole, in Africa, and the Himalaya mountains. The whole affair appeared to me somewhat 'en décadence.' Instead of the pretty woman who generally sits at the bureau of all exhibitions of this sort in Paris, there was a terrific person who might have passed for the Lépreux d'Aosta.

The Diorama, a mile or so further, on the Boulevards, contains views of St. Gothard and of Venice. The former, on the Italian side, which I have seen 'in naturâ,' was well painted and very like; but as there is no change of light and shadow, as in the far superior Diorama in London, there is not the same variety and charm. Venice was a bad painting, and the light so yellow that it looked as if its just indignation at the French, who destroyed its political existence and then did not even keep it, had given it the jaundice.

The Neorama places you in the centre of St. Peter's; the illusion however is but faint, and the crowd of motionless figures, in a thing which pretends to perfect imitation, tends to break it. Only the sleeping or the dead can be appropriately introduced into such a scene. The festival of St. Peter is represented. Pope, cardinals, priests, and the Pope's guard 'en haye,' fill the church; and are so badly painted to boot, that I took His Holiness for an old dressing-gown hung before the Jove-like statue of Peter.

Passing over the well-known Panoramas and Cosmoramas, I bring you at last to the Uranorama in the new Passage Vivienne. This is a very ingenious piece of mechanism, exhibiting the course of the planets and the solar system. I confess that I never had so clear an idea of these matters as after the hour I spent here. I shall tell you more about it by word of mouth. If you like to spend twelve hundred francs, you can have a small model of the whole machine, which every good library ought to possess.

Thus then I began with the central point of the earth, then admired the various glories of its surface, and after a cursory visit to the planets, left off in the sun. There wanted nothing but a final _Ama_ representing the seventh heaven and the houris, to complete my journey: I should have seen more than the Egyptian dervise in the five seconds during which his head was immersed in the pail of water.

It is better that I drop the curtain here over my sayings and doings. When it is drawn up again in your presence, I shall stand before you. After I have refreshed all the powers of my mind there, I shall tell you my further plans;--to dream away a winter amid pomegranates and oleanders; to wander awhile under the palm-trees of Africa, and to look down on the wonders of Egypt from the summit of her pyramids. Till then, no more letters.

Yours most faithfully,

L----.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The words or sentences in single inverted commas are those which occur in the original in any language other than German.--TRANS.

[2] The North Germans are distinguished for energy, activity, acuteness, and high mental culture; the South Germans for easy good-nature, simplicity, contented animal enjoyment, and greater obsequiousness. In Vienna they call every gentleman Euer Gnaden, 'Your Grace,' and he is of course Gnadig, when he is kind or civil. But perhaps the author here alludes rather to a certain ceremonious stiffness of the burghers of Frankfurt, proud people who give their superiors their due, as they expect it of their inferiors.--(_Reichsstadtisches Wesen_). What is clear is, that he means that the inhabitants of the South are not so superior to antiquated distinctions as those of the North. The Prussians have been called the French of the North.--TRANS.

[3] Sir Walter Scott's official declaration, that all the works here alluded to were by him alone, was not then made public.--EDIT.

[4] I have striven to preserve the colouring, as well as the substance of Göthe's conversation. To those who have any conception of his merits, it cannot but be interesting to see, as nearly as possible, the very words which fell from lips so inspired and so venerable--TRANS.

[5] I cannot help almost suspecting that my departed friend has here put his own opinions into the mouth of Göthe.--EDIT.

[6] I do not think that the exalted old man will be offended at the publication of this conversation. Every word--even the most insignificant--which has fallen from _his mouth_, is a precious gift to many. And even should my departed friend in any respect have misunderstood him, or have reported him inaccurately, nothing has been here retained, which, in my opinion, can be called an indiscretion.--EDIT.

[7] German miles.--TRANSL.

[8] A gulden is twenty-pence.--TRANSL.

[9] I remember to have read of a Greek monastery in Wallachia, the four towers of which appeared as if they would every moment fall in; yet this optical deception was produced only by the inclination of the windows, and of the friezes which run round the towers.

[10] Here follows the well-known story of Mrs. Montague's May-day entertainment of the chimney-sweeps, and the incident to which it is usually said to have owed its rise.

After this comes an account of the mad attempt of Mr. Montague, the ci-devant sweep, together with a Mr. Barnett, to descend the falls of Schaffhausen in a boat, where both were of course lost. All this, being both familiar to us, and inaccurately told, has been omitted. The cicerone, who professed to have been a servant of this Mr. Montague, had probably heard the incident related of Mr. Sedley Burdett and Lord Frederick Montague. It only proves how necessary was the author's disclaimer of responsibility.--TRANSL.

[11] English physicians expect a guinea at every visit.--EDITOR.

[12] Let me take this opportunity of advising those of my Berlin friends who mean to run horses, to have them trained by well-recommended English grooms; for it is far from being the fact, that every English groom without exception understands the business, as I have satisfactorily convinced myself. They think they have trained a horse, when by blood-letting, medicine and exercise, they have reduced him to a skeleton, and taken away all his strength, which real training increases tenfold. Both the well and ill trained are equally thin; but in the latter it is the leanness of debility and exhaustion; in the former, the removal of all unnecessary flesh and fat, and the highest power and developement of the muscles.--EDITOR.

[13] The art of carving, which is too much neglected in Germany, forms part of a good English education.

[14] When leaving the presence of the King, ladies are compelled to go out backwards (as one of them assured me.) It is against the laws of etiquette,--the observance of which is, particularly, so extremely rigorous in England,--to turn their backs upon Majesty. This has been reduced to a regular military evolution, sometimes very embarrassing to a new recruit. The ladies take close order with their backs to the door, towards which they retreat in a diagonal line. As soon as the fugel-woman reaches it, she faces to the right about, passes through, and the others follow her. Lady C---- commands.

[15] Probably _Berliners_. This accords with what has been said in the note p. 5, as to the North German acute and satirical character, as contrasted with Southern _bonhommie_.--TRANSL.

[16] A very useful piece of furniture to introduce at Court.--EDITOR.

[17] _Idee des Wildes_:--The double sense of the word _wild_ in German,--which when used substantively, exactly corresponds to our _game_ (feræ naturæ,) though adjectively it is the same as the English adjective,--makes it impossible to render this.--TRANS.

[18] The reader will see that there is great confusion in this account of the state and tenure of landed property in England, which, indeed, it is extremely difficult to make a foreigner understand. It cannot be too often repeated, that no attempt is made to correct the author's impressions or statements. To do so, is not to translate but to forge. The mistakes and misrepresentations are numerous,--almost as numerous as those in English works on Germany, which is saying a good deal.--TRANSL.

[19] Some letters which contain only personal anecdotes are here suppressed. I remark this only to account to my fair readers,--who must have been delighted at the punctuality with which the departed author devoted the close of every day to his absent friend,--for a silence of twenty days.--EDITOR.

[20] I must remark, that ever since Prussia was promised a Charter, (_Charte_,) my departed friend, to be more accurate, made an orthographical distinction, spelling charts, _Carte_, and playing cards, _Karte_.--He hopes this caution will not be thrown away.--EDITOR.

[21] _Rechnung._--Account, reckoning, bill. The reader, if he happen to know the fact, may apply the right word.--TRANSL.

[22] The author's feelings towards Englishmen are evidently so bitter, that his testimony must be received with great allowance. On the other hand, it will be confessed by all who are not blinded by intense self-complacency and insular conceit, that it is extremely rare to find a foreigner of any country, who has encountered English people either abroad or at home, without having his most honest allowable self-love wounded in a hundred ways.--TRANSL.

[23] Let me here remark, that those who judge of England only by their visit to it in 1814, form extremely erroneous notions. That was a moment of enthusiasm, a boundless joy of the whole nation at its deliverance from its most dreaded enemy, which rendered it peculiarly kind and amiable towards those who had contributed to its destruction.

[24] English-German readers will probably find the original of these lines without difficulty.--TRANSL.

[25] The traditional personage whom we call the Wandering Jew, the Germans call _der ewige Jude_, the eternal or everlasting Jew.--TRANSL.

[26] It is true that our charming Sontag, the queen of song, has lately done nearly the same thing, having contracted a left-handed marriage with Count R----. EDITOR.

[27] As the biography of Punch seems becoming rather diffuse, and is tolerably well known here (though not so well as might be imagined), this is omitted.--TRANSL.

[28] My deceased friend executed a singular idea, and left a relic which his survivors preserve with melancholy pleasure. He had filled several large folio volumes with drawings, prints, autographs, and even small pamphlets; not as is commonly the case with 'scrap-books,' all sorts of things 'pèle mèle;'--he inserted only those things which he had himself seen and witnessed, in the same order in which he had seen them. Every sketch or engraving was accompanied by a note, the sum of which notes gives a consecutive sketch of his whole career in this world; a perfect _atlas of his life_, as he often called it.--EDIT.

[29] It is a very characteristic trait of the gay careless character of this amiable old man, that he let a number of large boxes, containing his effects, stand at Dresden from the time he quitted it. At length he was induced to intrust some one with the charge of overlooking the contents. This person, who knew his very narrow circumstances, was not a little surprised at finding the presents made to him as English ambassador, set with jewels of considerable value, still in their packing cases.

[30] How may this be effected? Only when a man brings himself to acknowledge that religion is entirely and solely an affair of the heart and feelings; to which the head can be profitable only by standing as watchman of the sanctuary, and guarding it with the sword of reason from its two hereditary foes, superstition and intolerance. If he cannot be satisfied with this, if he will insist upon understanding what our nature forbids us to understand, he must fall into one of two difficulties; either he must take refuge in a so-called positive religion, or in a system of speculative philosophy. Both are unsatisfactory, as soon as he seeks to find more in them than an interesting sport of the fancy or of the intellect. While the profound innate sentiment of God, of Love, and of the Good, in every healthy state of the mind, stands with a steady irrefragable security, as clear to the lowest capacity, as to the highest, not merely as a belief, but as the true essence of his being,--his proper individual self. And this, without either reason or understanding being brought into immediate activity;--though both, when reflection is called in, must entirely confirm the sentiment.--EDITOR.

[31] It is very problematical which is the worst in the eyes of the pious,--to have no religion at all, or one different from their own. Louis XIV., who was unquestionably a champion of religion, decided for the latter opinion. The Duke of Orleans proposed to him an ambassador to Spain, whom he accepted, but the next day recalled, because he had heard he was a Jansenist. "By no means, Your Majesty," said the Duke; "for, as far as I know, he does not even believe in a God." "May I depend upon that?" asked the king gravely. "Certainly," replied the Duke, smiling. "Well, then, let him take the post, in God's name."

[32] Bourienne's Memoirs have unfortunately furnished us with fewer materials for forming a judgment on Napoleon's real character than was expected. Bourienne paints Napoleon as Bourienne, and if the dwarf had run around the feet of the giant for a century, he could never have looked in his eyes. In one thing, however, which was quite 'à sa portée,' he was right; namely, that the grand enemy by which Napoleon was overthrown, was the commercial class, so impoliticly driven to extremity; a class now-a-days far more powerful than church or army, and which will yield only to the still stronger power of public opinion, if ever they should come into collision.--EDITOR.

[33] This is no exaggeration, as those who have had any opportunity of observing the strong personal attachment of the Prussian people to their present King can attest.--TRANS.

[34] By 'romantic' the author apparently means the style of the domestic architecture of Elizabeth's and the succeeding reigns, which affected nothing like the air of places of defence--TRANSL.

[35] I know not whether the reader will admit this apology.--EDITOR.

[36] It would have been but an act of justice had the author added, that _under these very circumstances_, not only the head of the family, but those who bear his illustrious name, and are destined to inherit his honours, are singularly free from the _morgue_ and arrogance with which he justly charges the English aristocracy--TRANSL.

[37] There are so many pictures of Henry and Elizabeth in England, that you must forgive my frequent mention of them. There are shades of difference in all.

[38] The description is abridged. It is feared the English reader has already been sated with parks and houses.--TRANSL.

[39] Literally, 'Little rooms to let;' I think we call the game, 'Seats,'--TRANSL.

[40] German for 'Cock-a-doodle-doo.'--TRANSL.

[41] Cases moreover do occur, in which the conscience is, so to speak, right and wrong at the same time. An act may be necessary, which is unquestionably, viewed on one side, culpable, but which is chosen as the lesser of two evils; in which case no reasonable moralist will contend that it is unpardonable. In telling a compulsory lie, for instance, we must ever make a considerable sacrifice of our moral dignity, though by refusing to tell it, we might be guilty of the basest treachery to parents or friends.--EDITOR.

[42] I must explain this exclamation. When Napoleon, after the defeat at Aspern, put off in a frail boat with a few followers for the Island of Lobau, General Tchernicheff, then a very young man, was by his side. He relates, that the Emperor sate profoundly absorbed in thought, spoke to nobody, and only now and then broke into the half-suppressed exclamation, 'O monde, O monde!' He might, perhaps, silently add, 'tu m'échappes'--as a few years more verified.--EDITOR.

[43] And is still.--EDITOR.

[44] It is natural enough that it should be difficult for the English, who trouble themselves so little about anything non-English, to distinguish the respective ranks of German, Russian, and French princes, and that they therefore place them sometimes too high, sometimes too low. In England and France, there are properly no Princes but those of the blood royal. If Englishmen or Frenchmen bear such titles, they are foreign ones, and were given to the younger sons of noble families; for instance, the Prince de Polignac, as second son, bears the Roman title of Prince; the eldest, is Duke de Polignac.

With the exception of a man of very exalted merit, there are no Princes in Germany who are not of old family and high rank, with the appurtenant rights and privileges; therefore Princes have in that country the first rank immediately after the reigning houses. In Russia, on the other hand, the title of Prince is as good as nothing, since the service alone gives rank, privilege or importance; and in Italy, the title is not worth much more. The English mix all this up together, and seldom know what sort of tone to take with a foreigner, or what place to assign to him.

[45] My departed friend was possessed with a sort of fixed idea that a new Church was at hand. What a pity that he did not live to witness what is now forming! I have just read the following consolatory announcement in the _Allgemeine Zeitung_:--

"To the Unknown.

"In these pages, hard words have, as I hear, been applied to me and to the new Church. Strike, my friends, but hear. Only one word, to warn you of the sin. Again I say, it draws near, raising up the veil more and more,--a glory which the tongue of man cannot express, and the spirit of man can only faintly imagine. If we can scarcely conceive that _all_ will become new, how can we so suddenly conceive a new _All_? But to fall violently on the vanguard, and to insult the banner, before we know the hosts which are approaching, and the mighty men who lead them, is not advisable. Beloved brethren, how were it with you, if, with scoffing still on your lips, you recognized Him? He comes in an hour when ye think not."--EDITOR.

[46] In this case it were, indeed, desirable that our laws should be brought nearer to the comprehension of the people; that instead of a hundred different provincial and local laws, we had _one_ code for the whole monarchy; so that an act should not be legal in one village, which ten miles off is illegal; in short, that the P----Jurists should at length become workers in bronze, and not tinkers.--EDITOR.

[47] 'Art living, dearest, or dead?'

[48] _Jahrzehende_, _Jahrhunderte_, _Jahrtausende_, from _Jahre_. Corresponding to these convenient forms, we have only _centuries_. It is to be remarked, too, that each has its adjectival and adverbial form. The poverty of the English, and still more of the French language makes it impossible to translate adequately into them from the German.--TRANSL.

[49] The account of the intermediate days has been suppressed.--EDITOR.

[50] A note explanatory of this word is omitted, as unnecessary in England.--TRANS.

[51] This is quite contrary to what the author has himself remarked on the picture of Seneca, and contrary I think to the fact.--TRANSL.

[52] As there are quarter, half, three-quarter, and whole blood horses in England, just so, and into even more subtle distinctions, is the fashionable world divided.

[53] The reader may be curious to see this fine passage in its spirited translation. I have not been able to prevail on myself to attempt to translate it back into other English than that of the speaker.--TRANS.

"Nicht um Plätze zu erlangen, nicht um Reichthümer zu erwerben ja nicht einmal um den Catholiken unsres Landes ihr natürliches und menschliches Recht wiedergegeben zu sehen, eine Wohlthat, um die ich seit 25 Jahren Gott und die Nation vergebens anrufe, nicht für alles dieses habe ich mich dem neuen Ministerium angeschlossen, nein, sondern nur, weil, wohin ich mein Auge wende, nach Europa's civilisirten Staaten, oder nach Amerika's ungeheurem Continent, nach dem Orient oder Occident, ich überall die Morgenröthe der _Freiheit_ tagen sehe,--ja, ihr allein habe ich mich angeschlossen, indem ich dem Manne folge, der ihr Vorfechter zu seyn, eben so würdig als willig ist!"

[54] This, we find, was only a figure of speech.--EDIT.

[55] This declaration of the Duke has frequently been alluded to since, even in the Lower House. The following, which I heard from the amiable lady to whom it was addressed, is less known.--In the month of November of this year, (1830,) the Premier was conversing with Princess C---- and the Duchess of D----, on various characteristics of the French and English nations, and their respective advantages. "Ce qui est beau en Angleterre," said the Duke with evident self-complacency, "c'est que ni le rang, ni les richesses, ni la faveur ne sauraient élever un Anglois aux premières places. Le génie seul les obtient et les conserve chez nous." The ladies cast down their eyes; and in a week from that time the Duke of Wellington was out of office.--EDITOR.

[56] How little did my departed friend suspect that this badly organized head was destined to bring such evils upon the world! Good will indeed arise out of that, as out of all evil; but _we_ shall hardly reap the fruits.--EDITOR.

[57] Daughter of the lady to whom these letters are addressed, by her former husband, Count Pappenheim--TRANSL.

[58] _Eine alte Freiheit._--At the great Councils of the Church, the political meetings, such as coronations and the like, and other assemblages in the middle ages, a part of the city or encampment where they were held, was appropriated to the persons of forbidden professions who resorted thither; such as jugglers, gamblers, light women, &c. This part was called the _Freiheit_ or Free Quarter.--TRANSL.

[59] _Mid dem todten Mann_, I believe is Englished as above--TRANSL.

[60] I thought of omitting this part, which certainly belongs too much to confidential correspondence to interest the generality of readers. But as it really paints the departed author with uncommon fidelity, and he often refers to it in subsequent letters, I hope I shall be forgiven for retaining it.--EDITOR.

[61] A word difficult to translate. Foresight (_Vorsichtssinn_) does not express it adequately; it is rather the power of calling to mind in a moment everything that can possibly result from an action; and thus, almost involuntarily, of painting it from every point of view, which often cripples the energy.

[62] The individual in question is Dr. Herschel, of whose head Mr. Deville possesses two casts corresponding to the description above. Mr. Deville bears testimony to the accuracy in the main of the above report, though the language is, he says, considerably more ornate than that which he is likely to have used.--TRANSL.

[63] It is a matter of history that even the true old German knights had contracted the bad habit of occasionally interlarding their discourse with French phrases.--EDITOR.

[64] _Fässer._ _Fass_, a butt, barrel, tun, tub, &c.--_Grosse Quart._ I do not know whether these measures correspond to the English words, or whether I have used the appropriate technical expressions--TRANSL.

[65] Literally, _Das Kind mit dem Bade verschutten_--"To throw out the child with the bath;" a common German proverb.--TRANSL.

[66] Misspelt in the original.--TRANSL.

[67] Here follows a short passage which I have not been able, on a hurried search, to find.--TRANSL.

[68] I do not know the exact equivalent of these titles. _Hofdamen_, literally is Court-ladies.--TRANSL.