YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

TOUR

A GERMAN PRINCE.

NOTICES OF FOREIGN JOURNALS.

" The writer appears a perfect and experienced man of the world, en
dowed with talents, and with a quick apprehension ; formed by a varied
social existence, by travel and extensive connexions ; likewise a thorough,
liberal-minded German, versed in literature and art."
" His descriptions are equally good in the various regions for which
talents of such different kinds are required. The wildest and the loveliest
scenes of nature; buildings and works of art; incidents of every kind ;
individual character and social groups are all treated with the same clear
perception, the same easy unaffected grace. * * * *
" The peculiarities of English manners and habits are drawn vividly
and distinctly, and without exaggeration. We acquire a lively idea' of
that wonderful combination, that luxuriant growth, — of that insular life
which is based in boundless wealth and civil freedom, in universal mono
tony and manifold diversity; formal and capricious, .active and torpid,
energetic and dull, comfortable and tedious, the envy and the derision of
the world."
" The journey was undertaken very recently, and brings us the latest
intelligence from the countries which he viewed with an acute, clear, and
comprehensive eye."— Extract from Gothe's Critique of the German
Edition. "The Tour of a German Prince is a work of deep interest to English
men, since it tells, with truth and without ceremony, what an individual
capable of judging really thinksff our country and its people. The wri
ter indeed appears to have carefully committed to paper the events of
every day at.its close ; hence the impressions are more distinct, striking,
and lively ; so graphic and true indeed are his pictures, that we feel as if
we were the companions of his journey and the partakers of his adven-
tures."— Edinburgh Scotsman, llth January, 1832.
"In closing the volumes of this writer, we feel as if we were bidding
adieu to a friend of some standing in our esteem. He expresses himself
on all occasions, with so much fearlessness, sincerity, and benevolence'
that we become attached to him from the moment we begin to know his
character. We have seldom met with an author better calculated in every
respect for a tourist than this German Vvmee." -London Monthly Re-
view. *
"We do not remember to have perused a book of travels in this coun
try in every respect so pleasingly written, so interesting and so amusing
zsihe present-London Morning Advertiser, 10th December 1831

TOUR

ENGLAND, IRELAND, AND FRANCE,

THE YEARS 1828 AND 1829;

WITH H.EMAME9

T

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OP THE INHABITANT^, AND ANECDOTES
OF DISTINGUISHED^ PUUMC, JC**A$,AiDTERS.
:i' * . * ^ . l"- '
'* *
'*.
IN A SERIES OF*lfE'TTERS.

A GERMAN PRINCE.

PHILADELPHIA :
CAREY & LEA, CHESTNUT STREET.
1833.

C. SHERMAN & CO. PRINTERS,
No. 19 St. James Street, Philad.

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE

FIRST AND SECOND VOLS. OF THE LONDON EDITION.

The following work being the genuine expression of the thoughts
and feelings excited by this country in the mind of a foreigner whose
station, education, and intelligence se,em to promise no common de
gree of aptitude for the difficult task of appreciating England, it has
been thought worth while to give it to the English public. Tho
Translator is perfectly aware that the author has been led, or has
fallen, into some errors both of fact and inference. These he has not
thought it expedient to correct. Every candid traveller will pro
nounce such errors inevitable; for from what class in any country is
perfectly accurate and impartial information to be obtained? And in
a country so divided by party and sectarian hostilities and prejudices
as England, how must this difficulty be increased! The book is there
fore given unaltered; except that some few omissions h$ve>' been
made of facts and anecdotes, either familiar to us, though new to
Germans, or trivial in themselves.
Opinions have been retained throughout, without the least attempt
at change or colouring. That on some important subjects they are
not those of the mass of Englishmen, will, it is presumed, astonish
no reflecting man. They bear strong marks of that individuality
which characterizes modes of thinking in Germany, where men are
no more accustomed to claim the right of thinking for others, than
to renounce that of thinking for themselves. This characteristic of
the German mind stands. in strong contrast to the sectarian division
of opinion in England. The sentiments of the author are therefore
to be regarded simply as his own, and not as a sample of those of any
sect or class in- Germany: still less are they proposed for adoption
or imitation here. The opinion he pronounces on French and Ger-
B

man philosophy is, for example by no means in accordance with the
popular sentiment of his country.
The Letters, as will be seen from the Preface, were published as
the work of a deceased person. They have excited great attention
in Germany; and rumour has ascribed them to Prince Piickler-
Muskau, a subject of Prussia, who is known to have travelled in
England and Ireland about the period at which these Letters were
written. He has even been mentioned as the author in the Berlin
newspapers. As, however, he has not thought fit to accept the au
thorship, we have no right to fix it upon him; though the public
voice of Germany has perhaps sufficiently established his claim to it.
At all events, the Letters contain allusions to his rank, which fully
justify us in ascribing them to a German Prince. They likewise
furnish internal evidence of his being a man not only accustomed to
the society of his equals, but conversant with the world under va
rious aspects, and with literature and art: of fertile imagination; of
unfettered and intrepid understanding; and accustomed to consider
every subject in a large, tolerant, and original manner.
The author of the ' Briefe eines Verstorbenen,' be he who he
may, has had the honour and happiness of drawing forth a critique
from the pen of Gothe. None but those incapable of estimating the
unapproachable literary merits of that illustrious man, will be sur
prised that the Translator should be desirous of giving the autho
rity of so potential a voice to the book which it has been his difficult
task to render into English.
The following extracts from Gothe's article in the Berliner Jahr
buch will do more to recommend the work than all that could be
added here: —
" The writer appears a perfect and experienced man of the world, en
dowed with talents, and with a quick apprehension ; formed by a varied
social existence, by travel and extensive connections ; likewise a tho
rough, liberal-minded German, versed in literature and art.
* "He is also a good companion even in not the best
company, and yet without ever losing his own dignity. * * <-
"Descriptions of natural scenery form the chief part of the Letters ; but
of these materials he avails himself with admirable skill. England, Wales,
and especially Ireland, are drawn in a masterly manner. We can hardly
believe but that he wrote the description with the object immediately be
fore his eyes. As he carefully committed to paper the events of every
day at its close, the impressions are most distinct and lively. His vivacity
and quick sense of enjoyment enable him to depict the most monotonous
scenery with perfect individual variety. It is only from his pictorial talent

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. vii
that the ruined abbeys and castles, the bare rocks and scarcely pervious
moors of Ireland, become remarkable or endurable : — poverty and careless
gaiety, opulence and absurdity, would repel us at every step. The hunting
parties, the drinking-bouts, which succeed each other in an unbroken series,
are tolerable because he can tolerate them. We feel, as with a beloved
travelling companion, that we cannot bear to leave him, even where the
surrounding circumstances are least inviting ; for he has the art of amus
ing and exhilarating himself and us. Before it sets, the sun once more
breaks through the parted clouds, and gives to our astonished view an un
expected world of light and shadow, colour and contrast.
"His remarks on natural scenery, which he views with the eye of an
artist, and his successive and yet cursive description of his route, are
truly admirable.
" After leading us as patient companions of his pilgrimage, he intro
duces us into distinguished society. He visits the famous O'Connell in
his remote and scarcely accessible residence, and works out the picture
which we had formed to ourselves from previous descriptions of this won
derful man. He next attends popular meetings, and hears speeches from
O'Connell, Shiel, and other remarkable persons. He takes the interest
of a man of humanity and sense in the great question whicli agitates Ire
land ; but has too clear an insight into all the complicated considerations
it involves to be carried away by exaggerated hopes. *
* ¦* •*- * *- ¦*- * * x-
" The great charm, however, which attaches us to his side, consists in
the moral manifestations of his nature which run through the book ; his
clear understanding and simple natural manners render him highly inte
resting. We are agreeably affected by the sight of a right-minded and
kind-hearted man, who describes with charming frankness the conflict
between will and accomplishment.
" We represent him to ourselves as of dignified and prepossessing ex
terior. He knows how instantly to place himself on an equality with
high and low, and to be welcome to all. That he excites the attention of
women is natural enough, — he attracts and is attracted ; but his experi
ence of the world enables him to terminate any little affaires du cceur
without violence or indecorum.
" The journey was undertaken very recently, and brings us the latest
intelligence from the countries which he viewed with an acute, clear, and
comprehensive eye. He gradually affords us a clue to his own character.
We see before us a finely constituted being, endowed with great capacity ;
born to great external advantages and felicities ; but in whom a lively
spirit of enterprise is not united to constancy and perseverance ; whence he
experiences frequent failure and disappointment. But this very defect
gives him that peculiar genial aimlessness, which to the reader is the
charm of his travels. * * » * * * *

Vlll TRANSLATOR S PREFACE.
" His descriptions are equally good in the various regions for which
talents of such different kinds are required. The wildest and the loveliest
scenes of nature; buildings, and works of art; incidents of every kind;
individual character and social groups, — are all treated with the same
•clear perception, the same easy unaffected grace. * * *
# -is * * * x- * * *
" The peculiarities of English manners and habits are drawn vividly
and distinctly, and without exaggeration. We acquire a lively idea of
that wonderful combination, that luxuriant growth, — of that insular life
which is based in boundless wealth and civil freedom, in universal mono
tony and manifold diversity ; formal and capricious, active and torpid, en
ergetic and dull, comfortable and tedious, the envy and the derision of the
world. "Like other unprejudiced travellers of modern times, our author is not
very much enchanted with the English form of existence : his cordial and
sincere admiration are often accompanied by unsparing censure. *
* * * * * * * * *
" He is by:.no means inclined to favour the faults and weaknesses of
the English ; and in these cases he has the greatest and best among them
— those whose reputation is universal — on his side."— Gothe.

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE

TO THE

THIRD AND FOURTH VOLS. OF THE LONDON EDITION.

Since it has been suggested that I ought not to suffer several
glaring, though (as I think) unimportant, errors to pass unnoticed,
as if I were not aware of them, I mention the most conspicuous.
The Author says the Royal Exchange was built by Charles II. ; —
that the piece of water at Blenheim covers eight hundred acres,
whereas I am told it covers only two hundred and fifty; — he calls
the great Warwick, Beauchamp, and not Neville: — alluding to Sir
Walter Scott's ' Kenilworth,' he calls Varney, Vernon; and he lays
the scene of Varney's murder of his wife at Kenilworth, instead of
at Cumnor. — There may be more such mistakes for aught I know.
Such are to be found in every account of a foreign country I have
ever seen, with the exception of some two or three works of faultless
correctness and veracity, which nobody reads. Of these Carsten
Niebuhr's may be taken as a representative. Whoever has had the
good fortune to see a work on Germany, which was considerably
accredited here, commented with marginal notes by an intelligent
and veracious German, may have had a fair opportunity of compar.
ing the sum of misstatements between the two countries. Of our
' natural enemies' I say nothing, nor of our irritable child, whom so
much has been done to irritate, across the Atlantic. Of Italian tra
vellers, Eustace is given up as nearly a romance-writer; Englishmen
believe Forsyth to be extremely correct, but instructed Italians point
out errors grosser than any of those here noticed. After all, errors
of the kind are (except to tourists) comparatively unimportant, when
they relate to countries which are not explored with a view to science,
but merely for the purpose of giving the general aspect, moral and
physical, of the country. Whoever succeeds in doing that with any-

X TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
thing like fairness, may be regarded as having effected as much as
the extreme difficulty of obtaining accurate information, even on the
spot, will admit; and, in a work like the present, which makes no
pretension to any higher character than that of chit-chat letters to an
intimate friend, will have accomplished all that it is fair to lo'ok for.
It has also been suggested that I ought to have given the names of
the persons alluded to at length, instead of merely copying the ini
tials given in the original. To this I can only reply, that had I the
inclination, I am totally without the power. I know nothing of any
of the persons or incidents recorded; nor have I any means, which
are not equally at the command of all my readers, of guessing to
whom the Author alludes in any case. Inquiries of the kind are as
foreign to my tastes and pursuits as the society in question is from
my station in life. I have regarded these incidents solely in the
light of illustrations of national manners; and the applying them to
individuals is a matter in which I should take not the slightest inte
rest. But since it is obvious that this is not the common taste, I
have rather thought to obscure than to elucidate those parts of the
book which are objectionably personal. If I could have done this
still more, without entirely changing the character of the work, I
should have done it. But by any such material change I should
have made myself, in some sort, responsible for its contents: which,
as a mere translator, I can in no way be held to be. Whenever I
find that the English public are likely to receive, with any degree
of favour, such a German work as it would be my greatest pride and
pleasure to render into my native tongue to the best of my ability,
I shall be too happy fo share with the illustrious and humanizing
poets and philosophers of Germany any censure, as I should feel it
the highest honour to partake in the minutest portion of their glory.
Hitherto I have found no encouragement to hope that any
such work as I should care to identify myself with, would find
readers. The Reviews and other Journals (which, for the most part, have
been divided between excessive praise, and censure equally exces
sive, of this slight but clever work) have, of course, not been sparing
in allusions to the personal character of the Author. Of that, and of
all that concerns his residence here, I am utterly ignorant. When I
projected the translation of the book, I believed it to be, what the title
announces. The Letters of a deceased Person. All that I now know

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. XI
of the Author's personal history while in England, (if information
from such sources may be called knowledge,) is gained from the
writings of his reviewers. Whether their representations be true or
false I have not the slightest interest in discussing. Even if every
several anecdote related by him were a lie, it would remain to be
considered, whether or not his remarks on England arid English so
ciety tallied in the main with those of other instructed foreigners,
and with those of the more impartial and enlightened portion of
Englishmen.

PREFACE OF THE EDITOR.

The Letters which we now lay before the public have this pecu
liarity, — that, with very few and unimportant exceptions, they were
actually written at the moment as they appear in these pages.
It may, therefore, easily be imagined that they were written with
out the most distant view to publicity. The writer, however, is now
numbered with the departed. Many scruples are thus removed:
and as his Letters contain not only many interesting details, but
more especially internal evidence of a real individuality; as they
are written with no less uncoloured freedom than perfect impartiali
ty, — we thought that these elements are not so abundant in our lite
rature as to render such a work a superfluity.
It was, I must confess, an infelicity which attended the deceased
author during life, that he set about everything in a manner differ
ent from that pursued by other men ; from which cause few things
succeeded with him. Many of his acquaintances thought that he
affected originality. In that they did him injustice. No man was
ever more sincere and genuine in his singularities; none, perhaps,
had less the appearance of being so. No man was more natural, in
cases where everybody thought they saw design.
This untoward fate still, in a certain degree, pursues the appear
ance of his Letters. Various circumstances, which cannot be ex
plained here, compel us, contrary to all usage, to begin with the last
two volumes, which the public must accept as the first. Should these
meet with approbation, we hope soon to be able to publish that pre
ceding sequel which will be found no less independent than these.
For the convenience of the reader, we have annexed a short table of
contents, as well as occasional notes, ad modum Minellii; for
which we beg pardon and indulgence.
B  October 30, 1829.

CONTENTS.

LETTER I.
Departure. Madame de Sevigne. Dresden. Homoeopathic disposition. The art
of travelling comfortably. Reminiscences of youth. Weimar. Grand Duke's
library. The Court. The park. Dinner at Court. Duke Bernhard. Anec
dote. Visit to Gothe. A day in the Belvidere. Late Queen of Wurtemberg.
Granby. Enghsh abroad and at home. - - ' 1
LETTER II.
Gotha. Old Friends. Eisenach. The wedding. Hasty flights. The banks of the
Ruhr. Wesel. Fatherlandish sandbanks. Beautiful garden of Holland. Foreign
air of the country. Culture. Utrecht. The cathedral at Gouda. Houses built
aslant. Fantastic windmills. Rotterdam. The civil banker. Pasteboard roofs.
The golden gondola. JEtna. The lovely girl. L'adieu de Voltaire. 10
LETTER m.
The passage. The planter. The English custom-house. The lost -purse. Mac
adamized roads. Improvements of London. Specimens of bad taste. National
taste. The Regent's Park. Waterloo Bridge. London Hotels. The bazaars.
-Walks in the streets. Shops. Dinner at the  Ambassador's. Johannisberg.
Chiswick. Decline of taste in the science of gardening. Favourable chmate.
The menagerie. Life in the City. The universal genius. The Exchange and
Bank. The gold cellar. Court of justice of the Lord Mayor. Garroway's
Coffee-house. Rothschild. Nero. Exeter 'Change. Wurtemberg diplomacy.
- Theatre in the Strand. The ingenious man. Too much for money. Hampton
Court. Dangerous fumigation. - 16
LETTER IV.
Climate. British Museum. Its guards, Strange Mischmasch. Journey to New
market. English scenery. Life there. The races. The betting-post. Visit
in the country. English hospitality. The dandy. Englishmen on the Continent.
National customs. Order of dinner. Hot-houses. Audley End. The aviary.
Short Grove. Sale of land in England. ' - 28
LETTER V.
Advice to travellers. Clubs. Virtue and umbrellas. Arrangement of maps.
English wine. How an Englishmen sits. Comfortable customs. Rules of be
haviour. Treatment of servants. The higher classes. Rules of play. Pious
wishes for Germany. Good-breeding of a Viscount. The actor Liston. Ma
dame Vestris. ' Manger et digerer.' Sentimental effusion. Inconvenient news
papers. Drury Lane. Braham the everlasting Jew. Miss Paton. Vulgarity of
the theatre. Coarseness of an English audience. 40
LETTER VI.
Barrel organs. Punch.. His biography. Ruined houses. The King in Parlia
ment. Contrast. George the Fourth. The Opera. Figaro without singers.
Enghsh melodies. Charles Kemble. Costume of old times. Prince E  . A
diplomatic 'bon mot.' Sir L  M  . Practical philosophy. Falstaffashe
is and as he should be. The King in Hamlet The intelligent actor from New
foundland. Little circle in the great world. How the day passes here. Learn
ing languages. The author of Anastasius. His antique furniture. Oberon.
The chorus of rocks. Presentation to the King. Incidents at the levee. Din
ner with Mi-. R  . Real piety. His fashionable friends. State carnage of
the King of the Birmans. Mathews at Home. - 52
C

XIV CONTENTS.
LETTER VII.
The auctioneer. The Napoleonist. French theatre. A rout. Lady Charlotte
B  . Politics and conversation. English Aristocracy. The foggy sun of
England. Extraordinary testamentary dispositions. Modern knights of St. John.
Sion House. Richmond. Adelphi. Admirable drunkard. Alexander von
Humboldt. King of Prussia. The Diorama. - 69
LETTER VHI.
Journey of business. Gothic and Italian villa. Stanmore priory. English country
inns. Breakfast. Cashiobury Park. Tasteful magnificence. Drawings by
Denon. Flower-gardens. Ashridge. Modern Gothic. Woburn Abbey. 76
LETTER IX.
Warwick Castle. Feudal grandeur. The baronial hall. Portraits. Joan of Ar-
ragon. Machiavelli. Leamington. Guy's Cliff. His cave. Gaveston's cross.
Tombs of Warwick and Leicester. The ruins of Kenilworth. Elizabeth's bal
cony. The past. Birmingham. Mr. Thomasson's manufactory. Aston Hall.
Cromwell. Chester. The town prison. The rogue's fete. - - 84
LETTER X.
Hawkestone Park. Uncommonly beautiful scenery. The red castle and New
Zealander's hut. More manufactories. Dangerous employment. The room in
which Shakspeare was born. His grave. Various parks. The Judith of Cigoli.
Blenheim. Vandalism. Pictures. Oxford. Its Gothic aspect. The Sovereigns
as Doctors. The Museum. Tradescant and his bird Dodo. The blue dung-
beetle in the character of a knight. Elizabeth's riding gaiters, and her lovers'
locks of hair. The library. Manuscripts. Stowe. Overloading. Louis the
Eighteenth's lime-trees. Valuables behind a grating. Decoration for Don Juan.
Portrait of Shakspeai-c. Ninon de l'Enclos. Balustrade. Christmas panto
mimes. - - - 96
LETTER XI.
Conversational talents of the French. Death of the Duke of York. Adventure at
his house. English mourning. Excerpts from my journal. Lady Morgan's
Salvator Rosa. ' What is Conscience'' Cosmorama. Skating on the Serpentine.
The blacking-manufacturer's ' sporting match.' Visit to C  * Hall. Life
there. Lord D  's recollections of M  . Pictures. The most beautiful
woman. The Park. - - - 116
LETTER XII.
Brighton. Sunset. Oriental baths. ' Gourmandise' and heroism. Count F  .
Ride on the sea-shore. Almack's ball. English notions of precedence. The
romantic Scot. Sermon and priests. Duties of a clergy. The windmill. Party
at Count F  's. Highland costume. Private balls. Wanderings of the gar
den Odysseus. Innocent politics. - 127
LETTER Xin.
Beggar's eloquence. Tea-kettle pantomime and jugglers. Dream. Superstition.
The fancy ball. Miss F  . Mrs. F  . Remarks on society. ' Nobodies.'
Pleasures of a ball. Pictures in the clouds. The French physician. Amateur
Concerts. Chinese feet. Italian Opera. Hyde Park. Enghsh horseman
ship. - . 139
LETTER XIV.
Technicalities of Enghsh society. ' Bonne chere.' Captain Parry and his ship.
The Guards' mess. Play. ' Le moyen age.' Monkeys and Poneys. 'Le Grand
Seigneur dentiste.' Lady Hester Stanhope in Syria. Adam still alive. Tippoo
Saib's shawl. Homeward flight. Lord Mayor's dinner. Lord H  's and the
Banker's houses. Inaccessibleness of Englishmen. Persian Charge d'affaires.
Courtesy of the Enghsh princes. Ride in the suburbs. - 146
LETTER XV.
Correspondence. Lord Mayor's feast. Speeches. Caricatures. Dangers of a
fog. English society. Middle classes. Critical position of the Aristocracy.
Freedom of the press. Newspaper extracts. ' Dinner at Ml-. Canning's. Con
cert. Easy manners. Listen. The Areopagus. Rev. R. Taylor. Almack's

CONTENTS. XV
Rapid travelling. Prince Schw  . House of Commons; Messrs. Peel, Brou
gham, Canning. House of Lords; Duke of Wellington, Lords Goderich, Holland,
King, Lansdowne, Grey. Value of a ticket for Almack's. Lady politicians.
Indian melodrame. Sir Thomas Lawrence. Portuguese eyes. Prince Polignac.
London season. Duchess of Clarence. Countess L  's ball. English horse
women. Breakfast at the Duke of Devonshire's. The new Venus. Crush of
carriages. Dinner at the Duke of Clarence's. Fitzclarence family. English-
French. Dinner at Mr. R  's. Marchioness of L  -. Marquis of L-  .
Bishops' aprons. Concerts of ancient music. Ambulating advertisements. Mr.
R  . Aristocracy in rehgion. Dream. - - 154
LETTER XVI.
Mr. Hope's collection of pictures and statues. Toilette-necessaries of a Dandy.
Ladies' conference. Style of invitations. Duke of Sussex. Major Keppel.
Ascot races. S  Park. The charming fairy and her country house. Wind
sor Castle. Disaster. Greek boy. British cavalry. Absence of mihtary pe
dantry. Balls. Disenchantments. Horticultural breakfast. Colossal pines.
Tyrolese singers. Northumberland-House. Sir Gore Ousley. Persian anec
dotes. Flower-table. Children's balls. Art and nature. Greenwich. Execu
tion. Contrasts. Party at the Duchess of Kent's. Marie Louise. King of
Rome. Heat. King's-bench and Newgate prisons. The unconscious philoso
pher. Vauxhall. The battle of Waterloo. Ball at Lady L  's. Phrenolo
gy. Mr. Deville's character of myself. Mr. Nash's library. Dinner at the Por
tuguese, Ambassador's. St. Giles's. Exhibition of English pictures. Pounds
andtlialers. 'Excerpts.' Gossip. Visions of the past. The Tunnel. Astley's
Theatre. Parody of the Frelschtttz. Bedlam. The last of the Stuarts. Fune
rals. Omens. Barclay's brewery. West India docks. Amusing charlatanerie.
Westminster Abbey by night. Dinner at Sir L  M  's. Practical Bull.
English Opera. , New organ. Miss Linwood. Solar Microscope. Panoramas.
Death of Canning, 'Vivian Grey.' St. James's Park. Respect for the public.
Propensity to mischief in the people. Exclusiveness of the great. London in
autumn. Newspaper facts. - - ... 192
LETTER XVII.
Descent in a diving-bell. Obliging fire. College of Surgeons. The false mer
maid. The sagacious ourang-outang. Extraordinary recovery. The living
skeleton. Fortune. The desperate lover. Salthill. Stoke Park. Dropmore.
Windsor Castle. Eton. St. Leonard's Hill. Windsor Park. Habits of George
the Fourth. The giraffe. Virginia Water. Lord and Lady H  . Character
of Lord Byron. Windsor Terrace. St. George's Chapel. Daydreams. Eng
lish promptitude. Military men of England. Frogmore. Anecdote of Canning.
Egham races. Dwarf trees. Moonlight walk. Respect for the law. 205
LETTER XVHI.
What a park should be. Horses. Lady  . Hatfield and Burleigh. Doncaster
races. Pomp in the country. Duke of Devonshire's equipage. Madame de
Maintenon. Useless talents. York Minster. Library. Walk in the city. Ske
leton of a Roman lady. Clifford's Tower. The county jail. Thieves' ward
robe. Ascent. Towivhall. Armorial bearings of citizens. Madame de Main-
tenon. Archbishop's palace and kitchen-garden. Singular absence of mind.
Castle Howard. Pictures. The three Marys. Painted memoirs. English ha
bits. Bad climate. Equine sagacity. Scarborough. The rock-bridge. Light
house on Flamborough-head. - - - 217
LETTER XIX.
Whitby. What is remarkable in a Duke' The ruin. The Museum. Alum mines.
Lord Mulgrave's castle and park. Singular accident. Fountain's Abbey. Stud-
ley Park. The Catacombs at Ripon. Harrowgate. The End of the World.
The old General. Aristocratical influence. Harewood park. Kennel. Horses.
Wooden curtains. Lord Harewood. Leeds. Reform in Parhament. Cloth
manufactory. Templenewsome. Rotherham. Disappointment. Wentworth
House. Portraits. Sheffield. Knives and scissars. ¦ Nottingham. Wild beasts.
Lord Middleton's seat. St. Albans Abbey. Duke of Gloucester's tomb. Return
to London. - - 230

xvj CONTENTS.
LETTER XX.
Excursion to Brighton. Arundel Castle. Petworth House. Portraits. Hotspur's
swod Old 'Whalebone.' The fortunate duchess 'Prognostica.' Continua
tion of Don Juan. The year 2200. 'E'tourdene.' Rules of behaviour. Eng-
1 sh politicians. Charles Kemble's Falstaff. License of English actors. Young
as HoTpur. German and English stage Wonders of the age «*ta™™-*
Singular ball. Macready's Macheth. Thoughts on the tragedy of Macbeth.
Der Freischtitz. ' Liaison' with a mouse. Street mysbfiers. Nights in London.
Visit to Woolmers. Ball at Hatfield. Pansanger. Grand Signor. Persian to-
luables. LETTER XXI.
Billy the rat-destroyer. Enghsh amusements. The newest Roscius. Fancy.
Free-will. Original sin. Austrian philosophy. Colours of the days. Friday.
Don Miguel. American anecdote. Enghsh ' tournure.' Unpleasant Christmas-
box. Portuguese etiquette. Ludicrous incident in the theatre. English flints.
Parties in honour of the infant. Baroness F  . The charming aid-de-camp.
Anecdote told by Sir Walter Scott. B  Society. Disadvantages of a sandy
soil. India-House. Tippoo Saib's amusements. Shawls. Ride m the steam-
carriage. Ride in a carriage drawn by kites. Fox-hunt. Clerical fox-hunters.
Thoughts on death. Recommendation of blotting-paper. The atlas of life.
Bellows. Advantages of illness. Instruction. Convalescence. - 258
LETTER XXH.
The Thelluson will. The Dandy in the back settlements of America. Enghsh
justice. A Chancery suit. Dramatic juggler. Fall of the Brunswick theatre.
Party at Mr. Peel's. 'Chapeau de Paille.' Mr. Carr's collection of pictures.
General Lejeune's battle-pieces. The courtier. Mina, Arguelles, and Valdez.
On the acting and translating of Shakspeare. Kean, Young, and Kemble, in
Othello. Character of Iago. .... 274
LETTER XXIII.
Aristocracy and hberalism united in one person. Fete at the Duchess of  's.
Wonderful tale of Mr. H  . Toads. The menagerie in Regent's Park. Mar
shal Beresford. Rural dinner in H  Lodge. Zoological Garden. The pa
tent witling. Uncomfortable customs. Dinner at H  Lodge. Sir Walter
Scott; his appearance and conversation. A chai-ming girl. Tailors, butchers,
and fishmongers. Crockford's. Spring-Festival. Rural pleasures. Musical in
digestion. Strawberry-Hill, the seat of Horace Walpole. German customs in
England. Epsom races. Soiree at the King's. Historical portraits. Paintings
in water-colour. The little paradise. The branch from Birnam Wood. Bonneau
the Second. The Empress Josephine's Fortune-telling book. Introduction to
the Duchess of Sachsen-Meiningen. The Pigeon Club. The aquatic theatre.
The Doomed. The new Ninon de l'Enclos. Another dejeune champetre. The
two Marshals. - - - 284.
LETTER XXIV.
A rout ' par excellence.' English squeeze. Visit to Cobham. Lord D  's
birthday. Mr. Child's speech. Rochester Castle. The most natural camel.
The downfall. The water party. Return to London. The Exhibition of Arts
and Manufactures. The nursery-garden. ' Appercu' of English fashionable so
ciety. - - - . 298
LETTER XXV.
Departure from London. Cheltenham. English comfort. Mineral waters. Pro
menades. Sources of the Thames. Lackington Hill. The village in the wood.
Ancient Roman villa. Tea-garden. Avenues. Master of the Ceremonies. Field
ofTewksbury. Worcester. Cathedral. King John. The Templar. Prince
Arthur's tomb. Enjoyments of travelling. Picture in the mist. Vale of Llan
gollen. Churchyard, and view from it. Mountain breakfast. Celebrated ladies.
Visit to them. Lofty mountains. Comparison with those of Silesia. The road.
The stone bishop. The indefatigable. Jest and Earnest. German titles. Ger
man placemen. German nobles. Romances. Feudal opinions. English do
mestic architecture. Penrhyn Castle. The slate quarry. Operations there.
Reflections of a pious soul of Sandomir, or Sandomich. Conversions. Missions.
Extracts from Berlin journals. . - 310

CONTENTS. XVII
LETTER XXVI.
Bangor. Welsh driving. Lake of Llanberris. Fish-hunting dogs. Storm. Shel
ter in the old castle. Hut, and its inhabitants. Ascent of Snowdon. Mountain
poney and sheep. Veiled summit and my double. Libation. - Rocky path.
View. Region of birds of prey. Return on the lake. Caernarvon Castle.
Edward's birth. King's stratagem. Origin of the English motto. Contrast in
the ruins. Eagle Tower. Sea-bath. Billiard table. Weather and eating. The
Hebe of Caernarvon. Extracts from the " Lammszeitung." Intolerance of
Berlin saints. Church and King sole guides of faith. Duties of rich and poor
contrasted. Promenade round Bangor. Bath at Bangor. Beaumaris. The
castle. Craig y don. Menai Straits. Chain bridge over the sea. - 335
LETTER XXVH.
Plague of flies. Project for a park. Plas Newydd. Cromlechs. Druid's cot
tage. New kaleidescope. Journey into the interior of the mountains. Unwor
thy views of Providence. Protestant Jesuits. Destinies of man. Cars. Lake
of Idwal. Path at the foot of Trivaen. Welsh guide. Wearisome ascent.
Rose-coloured light. Valley of rocks. The eagle. " The bad pass." Bog.
Capel Cerig. Valley of Gwynant. Elysium. Dinas Emris. Merlin's rock.
Dangers. Pleasant inn at Bedgellert. The blind harper and his blind dog. The
Devil's bridge. Tan y Bwlch. Beautiful park. Gigantic dam. Tremadoc.
Reminiscences of sand, dirt, and father-land. Evening fancies. Crumbs of phi
losophy. Possessor of Penrhyn Castle. Road over Penman Mawr. Conway
Castle, with fifty-two towers. " Contentment" villa. The Queen's closet.
Hooke and his forty-one sons. Gothic mania. Truly respectable Englishman.
Fashion-hunting. - - 347
LETTER XXVin.
'Vie de chateau.' Cathedral at St. Asaph. Tabernacle. True faith. Denbigh
Castle. Meeting of harpers. Romantic valley. Pretty Fanny. Her dairy and
aviary. Paradise of fowls. Ride through romantic country. Short stay at Craig
y Don. Newspaper article. Irish dinner. Happy condition of the middle
classes. Opinions on England. The Isle of Anglesea. Paris mines. Copper
smelting. New invention. Holyhead. Light-house. Terrific rocks. Sea-
birds. Hanging bridge. Stormy passage to Ireland. First impression of the
country. Dublin. Exhibition of fruit and flowers. Walk in the city. Sight
seeing. Palace of the Lord-lieutenant, and modern Gothic chapel. University.
My Cicerone. Organ of the Armada. Archimedes' burning-glass. Portraits of
Swift and Burke. Battle'of Navarino. Phoenix Park. - Characteristics of the
people. Lady B  . The meaning of " character" in England. The Liffey.
W-  Park, Charming entrance. "The Three Rocks." Beautiful view.
Irish peasant-women. Wooden Capuchin. The dandy. Comfortable arrange
ments for tlie English aristocracy. Country visit. First interview with Lady
M  . Unfortunate end of a ride. Further particulars concerning the Muse
of Ireland. 365
LETTER XXIX.
Ride on horseback into the county Wicklow. Bray. Student's equipment. Eng
lish piety. Kilruddery. Glen of the Downs. Summer-house. Vale of Dur-
wan. The giant. The Devil's glen. Kuhleborn. Rural repast in Rosanna.
The tourists. Avondale, an Eden by moonlight. Avoca Inn. The Meeting of
the Waters. Castle Howard. Beautiful portrait of Mary Stuart. Bally Arthur.
The ha-ha. My horse at blind-man's buff. Shelton Abbey. The negro porter.
Loss of my pocket-book. What is a gentleman? Valley of Glenmalure. Lead
mines. Mihtary road. The sun behind black masses of clouds. The seven
churches. Mysterious tower without an entrance. The black lake of St. Kevin.
The giant Fian M'Cumhal. The enamoured princess. Her tragical end, and the
saint's excessive rigour. Irish toilet. Walter Scott and Moore in the mouth of
a peasant. Morass and will-o'-the-wisp. A night upon straw. Hedge of mist.
First peep of sun over the lake and valley of Luggelaw. - Romantic solitude.
The statue of rock. P  Park. Intolerance, cant, and abuse of the Sunday.
Sugar-loaf. Rich country. Repose by the brook. Lord Byron. 380
LETTER XXX.
Donnybrook fair. The lovers. Powerscourt. The Dargle and The Lover's Leap.
The waterfall. Galopade, with the guide behind me. Inn at Bray. Sketch of

XV111 CONTENTS,
English manners. Grand Duke of S  W  Advantages of a humble
mode of travelling. Activity of beggars. Kingston. Construction of the har
bour. Machinery. The spectre ship. Tasteless and appropriate monument in
honour of George the Fourth. Fine road to Dublin. Catholic Association.
English horse-riders and admirable clowns. The dance of polypi. 390
LETTER XXXI.
The young parson. Journey with him to the West. Connaught. Singular coun
try. Visit at Capt. B  's. Life of a true Irishman.- They are hot over-fasti
dious. Divine service in Tuam. Service of the Church of England. Galway
races. Resemblance of the Irish people to savages. The town of Galway.
Want of books there. The race. Accident of a rider. Indifference of the
public. The fair African. Athenry, a bathing-place, like a Polish village. King
John's castle. The abbey. Popular escort. Whisky. Castle Hackett. The
fairy queen. She carries off a lover. Splendid sunset. Definition of ' Good
temper.' Cong. Irish wit. The Pigeon-hole. Subterranean river. Meg
Merrilies. Illuminated cavern. Enchanted trout. Lough Corrib, with its three
hundred and sixty-five islands. The monastery. Irish mode of burial. Hearty
kindness of the old captain. - - - 396
LETTER XXXII.
' Hors d'oeuvre.' German Character. Adventure with a gipsy. How we acquire
a soul. State of the Irish peasantry. Stupid rage of an Orangeman. Beautiful
park and disposition of water. Picture gallery at M — B — . St. Peter with a
scarlet wig, by Rubens. Winter landscape, by Ruisdael. Magnificent Asiatic
Jew, by Rembrandt. Irish hunters. Departure by tlie postman's cart. The
obliging Irishman. Desert country. Poverty and light-heartedness of the peo
ple. Sure revelation. "The cross-bones." The Punch-bowl. Lord Gort's
park. Desire of my horse to stay there. Irish posting. Its characteristics. 409
LETTER XXXIII.
Limerick. Antique character of that city. Catholics and Protestants. Deputa
tion, and offer of the Order of the Liberator. O'Connell's cousin. Cathedral.
I am taken for a son of Napoleon. I substitute my valet and make my retreat.
Conversation in the stage. The Shannon. Its magnificent size. New sort of
industry of a beggar iivLisdowel. Twelve rainbows in a day. Killarney. Voy
age on the lake in a storm. The dandy and the manufacturer. Some danger of
drowning. Innisfallen island. O'Donaghue's white horse. His history and ap
parition.' The old boatman and his adventure. Journal des Modes of the infer
nal regions. Mucruss Abbey. The large yew-tree. Influence of the Catholic
priests. O'Sullivan's waterfall. Young Sontag. The wager. Ross Castle.
Two Englishman ' de trop.' Bad taste of quizzing. The Knight of the Gap.
The "madman's rock." Brandon Castle. A bugleman. The eagle's nest.
Coleman's leap. The dinner. Fresh salmon broiled on arbutus sticks. Voyage
back. Melancholy thoughts. Christening with whisky. Julia Island. Journey
to Kenmare. Shillelah battle. Ride to Glengariff by night. Extraordinary
road. The intelligent poney. Beautiful bay of Glengariff. Colonel W  's
park a model. Family of the possessor. Lord B  's hunting seat. Bad wea
ther. Rocks, storm and apparition of  . 420
LETTER XXXIV.
Kenmare. Irish messenger. Road to Derrinane. Bridge of the black water.
Chaos. Terrific coast. Perplexities. Aid from a smuggler. Mountain pass at
night. Derrinane Abbey. O'Connellthe great Agitator; Father L'Estrange, his
confessor. O'Connell as chieftain giving law to his subjects. His intolerance in
matters of religmn. Departure from Derrinane. Danish forts. Leave-taking.
Irish modes of conveyance. Amiable character of the lower Irish. Example of
it. Sorrows of Werther. Opinion of it. Faust. The innkeeper's daughter at
Kenmare. Hungry Hill and its majestic waterfall. O'Rourke's eagll. The
modern Ganymede. Seals under my window. Their love for music. English
tamily worship. Theological discussion on the deluge, the day of judgment, and
the Apocalypse. Extraordinary beauties and advantages of this spot - 436
LETTER XXXV.
Wild honeycomb. Egyptian lotus. Visit to an eagle's nest; their romantic dwell
ing, and wonderful instinct. The wild huntsman of the South of Ireland The

cont.EjSts. xix
caves of the Sugar Loaf. Track of the fairy queen's carriage wheels. Danger
ous hunting in these mountains. The fogs, bogs, and wild bulls. Manner of
taming one. - 451
LETTER XXXVI.
Idolatry of Sunday in England. Wonderful conversion of a Protestant to Catholic
ism. Riding in a car. The Whiteboys. Macroom. The naive mamma and the
spoiled child in the gingle. The strong king of the Danes. Cork. Voyage to
Cove: beautiful entrance from the sea. Folko's sea castle. Monkstown. Re
markable appearance of two perfect rainbows at once. The Amphitheatre of
the town of Cove. Disappointed expectation of fish. Illuminated night scene.
The stars. Departure in the mail. Mitchelstown and castle. Materials for
novels. Lord K  . Extraordinary weather for Ireland. The soldier of
Q'Connell's Militia. The Galtees. Cahir. Another of King John's castles.
Lord Glengall's beautiful park. The Prince's equipage at Cashel. Force of
habit. Secret of all educations. Club dinner. 454
LETTER XXXVII.
The rock of Cashel. One of tlie most curious ruins in Ireland. The Devil's Bite.
Old Saxon architecture. Bell of the Inquisition. The statue of St. Patrick, and
throne at Scone. Hore and Athassil abbeys. Lord L  . Condition of the
Catholics in Tipperary. Church of Ireland. Laughable article in the newspa
per concerning myself. My -speech. - - - 464
LETTER XXXVIII.
The swan. Holy Cross and its monuments. Irish Catholic clergy. Dinner with
eighteen clergymen. Conversation at it. Comparison of the Wendish and the
Irish. List [of the Catholic and Protestant parishes in Cashel. Curious details
and remarks upon them. Well-meant exorcism. Irish breakfast. Breakneck
hunt. The wandering bog. Feats of horses. Country gentleman's life. The
castle in the air. Potheen enthusiasm. Irish gentry. Lord H  . 468
LETTER XXXIX.
The brothers. Animal life. Devils. The pretty hostess. The piper. The rob
bers. The lawyer cheated. The murder of Baker. The motionless cock.
Fitzpatrick and his bagpipe. 477
LETTER XL.
Killough Hill. The fairy garden. Romantic sentry-box. Return to Dublin. Ma
dame de Sevigne. Lord Byron's tempest. Dinner with the Lord Lieutenant.
The Marquis of Anglesea. Catholic worship. Invisible music. St. Christopher.
Comparison of the Cathohc and Protestant divine service. Allegory. Journal
of a London Hfe. Difference between English and German modes of thinking.
Remarks on English women. Malahide. Furniture seven hundred years old.
Duchess of Portsmouth. Charles the First at the court of Spain. Howth Castle.
Ducrow's living statues. - 482
LETTER XLI.
Evening at Lady M;  's. Her nieces. Curious conversation. More theology.
The nightingales. All the corn of Europe. National scene. Domestic pictures.
The authoress's boudoir. The miniature Napoleon. The Catholic Association.
Shiel, Lawless, and others. Artificial resolution. Ride in tlie mountains. Sen
timentality of a dandy. - - 490
LETTER XLII.
B  H  on modern piety. O'Connell in a long-tailed wig. The Don Quix
ote and the Dandy of the Association. Acting charades at Lady M  's.
' Love me, love my dog.' Miss O'Neil. Her acting. - - 501
LETTER XLm.
Dead-letter office. £3000 incognito. The doctor. New surgical instrument.
The bank. Bank-note metal. Gymnastics. Parlour philosophy. Paradoxes. 506
LETTER XLIV.
Favour of Neptune. The dream. Voyage across the channel. The young heir.
Night in the mail. Shrewsbury. The tread-mill. Yellow criminals. Church.

xx CONTENTS.
Curious old houses. Street curiosity. The little scholar. Ross. The river
Wye. Goderich Castle. Varied prospects. Three counties at once. Child
hood of Henry the Fifth. Grotesque rocks. Unfortunate tourist. The Druid's
Head. Monmouth. Birth-place of Henry the Fifth; A poultry-yard. The
bookseller and his family. Theft. Kind, simple-hearted people. Tmtern ab
bey. The ivy avenue. The Wind Cliff. Sublime view. Chepstow Castle.
Cromwell and Hemy the Eighth improvers of the picturesque. Discovery. Pe
nitence.  - 518
LETTER XLV.
Chepstow. Marten the Regicide. The girl's explanation. Taxes imposed by
English lords and gentlemen on travellers. The possessor of Piercefield. Cross
ing the Bristol Channel. Men and horses pele mele. Recapitulation. Natural
pictures. The most beautiful building. Bristol. The feudal churches. Disin
terested piety of Enghsh clergymen. The mayor's equipage. Cook's Folly.
Lord de Clifford's park. Russian fleet. The model of a village. Clifton. The
black-and-white house. Sensibility of surgeons. Bath. The king of Bath. The
Abbey church. Singular decoration. King James the Second's heroic feat.
The eccentric Beckford. The tower. Strange cortege. The visit over the wall.
Gothic architecture. Christmas-eve market. Walks by day and night. The 528

LETTER XLVI.
The widow. Love of the English for horrors. More agreeable travelling compa
nion. Examinations, and learned examiners. Stonehenge. Sinister meeting
and accident. Salisbury Cathedral. Monuments. The spire. Frightful ascent.
The hawk on the cross, and the bishop's pigeons. His Lordship's functions.
Pious wish for my country. Mirror of the past and the future. Wilton castle.
The Chatelaine antiques. Pictures. Temple built by Holbein. Talent and
taste of English ladies. Entrance by stratagem. Langford PaI'k- . Fine Pic"
tures. Egmonf. Alba. Orange. Emperor Rudolph's throne. Boxing-match.
The betting coachman. Modern English aristocratic morality. March of intel
lect. Military school. Fox-chace. National duty. The new year. London.
Canterbury cathedral. The Black Prince. Splendour of colouring. The arch
bishop. The damaged boiler. Dover fortress. Short passage. The air of
France.. The jetty. English children. Unequal contest between a French
bonne and a resolute little English girl. The chief and father of dandies. Anec
dotes. - - - 537
LETTER XLVH.
French diligence. The conducteur. An old soldier of Napoleon's garde. Ger
man Plinzen, La ' m6chanique.' Value of freedom. Paris. Revision of the
old acquaintance. Bad new one. Theatre de Madame Leontine Fay. Virtuous
uncle Martin. ' La charte pour les caffes.' Rossini the tamer of wild beasts.
Cheapness of Paris. Burlesque exhibition of the death of prince Poniatowski.
Praiseworthy ' ensemble' of French acting. Gleanings in the Louvre. The
sphinx out of place. The Mephistopheles Waltz. Heaven and Hell. 549
LETTER XLVm.
Ascetic walk. Anecdotes of the Buonaparte family. Spanish courtesy. Theatre
Franjais. Omnibus. Thoughts in a Dame blanche. II Diavolo. Singers.
Mgrimens of Paris. La Morne. Polar bear. Desaix's monument. Disappoint
ed hope. The Amos. Departure. - - 561

LETTERS

GERMANY, HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND.

LETTER I.
Dresden, Sept. 8th, 1826.
Mr DEAR FRIEND,
The love you showed me at our parting in B  made me so hap
py and so miserable, that I cannot yet recover from it. Your sad
image is ever before me; I still read deep sorrow in your looks and
in your tears, and my own heart tells me too well what yours suffered.
May God grant us a meeting as joyful as our parting was sorrowful!
I can now only repeat what I have so often told you : that if I felt
myself without you, my dearest friend, in the world, I could enjoy
none of its pleasures without an alloy of sadness; that if you love
me, you will therefore above all things watch over your health,
and amuse yourself as much as you can by varied occupation.
As I resolved to combat the melancholy which gives so dark a
colouring to all objects, I sought a kind of aid from your Sevigne,
whose connexion with her daughter has, in fact, many points of re
semblance to that which subsists between us, only with the excep
tion, 'que j'ai plus de votre sang,'* than Madame de Grignan had
of her mother's. But your resemblance to the charming Sevigne is
like the hereditary likeness to the portrait of an ancestor. The
advantages which she possesses over you are those of her time and
education; you have others over her; and what in her appears more
finished and definite — classic, — in you assumes a romanticcharacter;
it becomes richer, and blends with the infinite. — I opened the book
at random: it was pleasant enough that I lighted upon this passage —
" N'aimons jamais, ou n'aimons gueres,
II est d'angereux d'aimer tant. "
On which she remarks with great feeling, " Pour moi, j'aime encore
mieux le mal que le remede, et je trouve plus doux d'avoir de la
peine a quitter les gens que j'aime, que de les aimer mediocrement."
It is a real consolation to me to have already written a few lines
to you: since I have conversed with you, I feel as if I were nearer to
you. I have no adventures to relate as yet. I was so entirely en
grossed by my own thoughts and feelings, that I scarcely knew through
what places my road lay.
* The words or sentences in single inverted commas are those which occur in the
original in any language otlier than German. — Tkaksl.
1

2 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Dresden appeared to me less cheerful than usual, and I was thank
ful when I found myself quietly established in my room at the inn.
The storm which blew in my face during the whole day, has heat
ed and fatigued me; and as I am, you know, otherwise unwell, I
want rest.
Heaven send you also a tranquil night, and affectionate dreams of
your friend ! Sept. 10th. — Morning.
'Vous avez sans doute cuit toutes sortes de bouillons amers, ainsi
que moi.' Nevertheless I rose in better health and spirits than
yesterday, and immediately set to work making all the little arrange
ments necessary at the beginning of a long journey. In the evening
I felt extremely depressed, and as I dreaded an attack of my nervous
hypochondriacal disorder, which you christened my ' maladie imagi-
naire,' I sent for Hofrath (Court-counsellor) W  , the favourite
physician of the strangers who pass through Dresden, because, in
dependently of his skill, he is an amusing arid merry companion.
You know the use I make of physicians. Nobody can be of a more
homoeopathic nature than I am; for the mere conversing with a
medical man on my complaint and its remedies, generally half cures
me; and if I take any of his prescriptions, it is only in thousandth
parts. This was the case to da)r; and after some hours, which
W  passed by my bedside, and seasoned with many a piquant
anecdote, I supped with better appetite, and slept tolerably till
morning. On opening my eyes, they lighted on a letter from you,
which the honest B  had laid upon my bed, well knowing that
I could not begin the day so joyfully. Indeed, after the pleasure
of hearing from you, I have only one other — that of writing to you.
Do but continue thus unrestrainedly to give utterance to all your
feelings, and fear not to wound mine. I well know that your let
ters must long resemble a sad and dreary landscape. I shall be
tranquil, if I do but see an occasional gleam of sunlight throw its'
rays across it. Leipsig, Sept. 11th.
In a very pretty room, with well waxed parquet, elegant furniture,
and silken curtains, all in their first ' fraicheur,' the waiter is now
laying the table for my dinner, while I employ these few minutes in
writing to you.
I left Dresden at ten o'clock this morning, in tolerably good spir
its, — that is, painting fancy pictures for the future. But my linger
ing regrets at leaving you, dear Julia, and the comparison of my
insipid and joyless solitude with the exquisite pleasure I should have
had in taking this journey under more happy circumstances, with
you, fell heavily upon my heart.
Of the road hither, there is not much to be said ; it is not roman
tic, — not even the vineyards, which extend to Meissen, and which
present to the eye more sand than verdure. Yet the country, though
too open, sometimes excites agreeable feelings by its freshness and

jhui.jl.AiSD AS'i) ENGLAND.

fertility: this is the case at Oschatz, where the pretty bushy Culm-
berg looks down upon the plain, like the rich-locked head of youth.
The 'chaussee' is good, and it appears that the post is improving even
in Saxony, since the excellent Nagler created a new post-era in Prus
sia. Nothing amuses me more than the energetic zeal with which
B  drives on the willing as well as the phlegmatic: he behaves
to them as if he had already made the tour of the globe with me,
and had — of course — found things better every where than at home.
In the delicate state of my health, the comfortable English carriage
is a real blessing. I rather hug myself on understanding the art of
travelling better than my neighbours; particularly as far as the max
imizing of comfort is concerned: in this I include the taking the
greatest possible number of things (often dear, accustomed memori
als) with the least possible ' embarras' and loss of time, — a problem
which I have now perfectly solved. In Dresden, before I packed
up, you would have taken my room for a broker's shop. Now all
my wares have vanished in the numerous receptacles of the carriage:
yet without giving it that heavy, overloaded look, at which our
postillions so readily take fright; and which marks a man, to the dis
criminating eye of innkeepers, as one embarked on the grand tour.
Every article is at hand, and yet perfectly distinct, so that when I
reach my nightly quarters, my domestic relations are quickly re
established in a strange place. On the road, the transparent crystal
windows of the largest dimensions obstructed by no luggage or coach
box, afford me as free a view of the country as an open ' caleche,'
while they leave me lord of the temperature.
The men on their lofty seat behind overlook the luggage and the
horses, without the power of casting curious glances into the interior,
or of listening to the conversation which may be passing there; if,
perchance, on our arrival in the country of the Lilliputs or the
Brobdignags, secrets of state should come under discussion. I could
deliver a course of lectures on this subject, — one by no means unim
portant to travellers; but I have been thus diffuse here only for the
sake of furnishing you with a complete picture of myself as you are
to think of me, wandering over the face of the earth, while my
nomadic dwelling and the ever changing post-horses daily bear me
further from your sight.
The host of the Hotel de Saxe, unquestionably one of the best inns
in Germany, is an old acquaintance of mine, and established many
strong claims on my gratitude when I was a student at Leipsig.
Many a joyous and sometimes rather riotous repast was given at his
house; and I now invited him to partake of my solitary one, that he
might talk to me of the past, and of the wild days of my youth.
The present times are, alas! become more serious everywhere.
Formerly, pleasure was almost raised into a business,— men thought
of nothing else — studied nothing else; and feet, so ready to dance,
were lightly set in motion. Now-a-days, people find their pleasure
only in business, and stronger excitements are required to make us
merry — if that ever be the end proposed.

4. LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Weimar, Sept. 13th — Evening.
I will not weary you with any 'tirades' on the battle-fields of
Leipzig and Liitzen, nor with a description of the ' chetif ' monument
to Gustavus Adolphus, or of the meagre beauties of the environs of
Schulpforte. In Weissenfels, where I wanted to buy a book, I was
surprised to learn that not a bookseller was to be found in the resi
dence of the great Miillner. They were most likely afraid that he
would saddle them with a law-suit, at first hand.
I trod the plains of Jena and Auerstadt with just such feelings as
a Frenchman of the ' grande armee' might have had in the years
1806 and 1812, when he marched across the field of Rossbach; — •
for the last victory, like the last laugh, is always the best. And as
the seat of the Muses, the cheerful Weimer, received me in its bosom
after all these battle reminiscences, I blessed the noble prince who has
here erected a monument of peace; and has helped to light up a
beacon in the domain of literature, which has so long illumined
Germany with its many-coloured flames.
Next day I presented myself to this my old commander, and to
the rest of the illustrious family, whom I found little altered. The
Court had, however, received the agreeable addition of two amiable
princesses, who, had they been born in the humblest sphere, would
have been distinguished for their external charms and their admirable
education. A stranger is received here with a politeness and atten
tion now completely out of fashion in other places. Scarcely was I
announced, when a 'laquais de cour' waited upon me to place him
self and a court equipage at my disposal during the time of my stay,
and to give me a general invitation to the Grand Duke's table.
In the morning, the Grand Duke had the kindness to show me his
private library, which is elegantly arranged, and remarkably rich in
splendid English engravings. He laughed heartily when I told him
that I had lately read in a Paris journal that Schiller had been disin
terred by his order, and that the skeleton of the illustrious poet was
to be placed in the Grand Ducal library. The truth is, that his bust,
with some others, decorates the room, but that his skull, if I was
rightly informed, is enclosed in the pedestal; — certainly a somewhat
singular token of respect.
I visited the park with renewed pleasure. The ground is not,
indeed, rich in picturesque beauty, but the laying out is so skilful,
the several parts are so well imagined and executed, that they leave
on the mind a feeling of satisfaction which such combinations, even
under more favourable natural circumstances, seldom produce in an
equal degree.
Among the new improvements I found a small botanic garden, laid
out in a circular plot of ground, in the centre of which stands a
majestic old tree. The garden is arranged according to the Linnsean
system, and exhibits a single specimen of every tree, shrub, and plant
which will stand abroad, and is to be found in the park and gardens.
It is impossible to conceive a more agreeable spot for the living study
of botany than the seat under this tree, which, like a venerable pa
triarch, looks down upon the surrounding youthful generations of

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 5
every form, foliage, blossom, and colour. Continuing my walk, I
saw a model farm of the Grand Duke's, where gigantic Swiss cows
give little milk, — for transplantations of this sort seldom answer.
Further on, I found the pretty pheasantry, which is rich in gold and
silver pheasants and white roes. The great ladder on which from
seventy to eighty heavy turkeys are drilled by the gamekeeper to
climb in company is curious enough ; and the old lime-tree, complete
ly loaded with such fruit, has a strange exotic aspect.
As the Court dines at a very early hour, I had scarcely time to put
myself into costume, and arriving late found a large company already
assembled. Among them I remarked several Englishmen, who
very wisely study German here, instead of first learning, with great
trouble, the ungraceful dialect of Dresden: they are most hospitably
received here. The conversation at table was very animated. You
know the jovialty of the Grand Duke, who in this respect completely
resembles his friend, the never-to-be-forgotten King of Bavaria.
We recapitulated many a laughable story of the time when I had the
honour of being his adjutant; after which I was compelled to ride
my grand ' cheval de bataille' — my expedition in the air-balloon.
Much more interesting were Duke Bernard's descriptions of his
travels in North and South America, which I understand we shall
soon have an opportunity of reading in print, with remarks by Gothe.
This prince, whom the accident of birth has placed in a high station,
occupies a still higher as man : no one could be better fitted to give
the free Americans a favourable idea of a German prince than he,
uniting, as he does, frank dignity of deportment with genuine
liberality of thought, and unpretending kindness and courtesy.
In the evening there was a grand assembly, which, in virtue of its
nature and quality, was not particularly rich in enjoyment. Every
agreeable feeling however revived within me, when I found myself
seated at cards opposite to the Grand Duchess. Who has not heard
of this noble and truly excellent German woman, before whose serene
and clear spirit Napoleon himself, in the plenitude of his power,
stood awed, and who is beloved by every one who is permitted to
enjoy her gentle and heart-cheering society? We sat indeed at the
card-table, but gave little heed to the laws of whist; while time fled
amid animated and delightful conversation.
In a court like this, visited by so many foreigners, there cannot
fail to be originals who afford matter for piquant anecdotes, even to
those least given to scandal. Some very diverting stories were re
lated to me when, on rising from table, I mingled again in the crowd.
Among other things a visiting card, 'in natura,' was showed to me
which apparently owed its existence to a well-known anecdote con
cerning an Englishman. This example suggested to the mad-cap
Baron J  the thought of re-acting the affair with one of his table
companions, a ci-devant captain, who was tolerably ignorant of the
world and its usages. With this view, he hinted to the poor man,
who had been leading a secluded life in D  , that politeness re
quired of him to make a round of visits in the town; to which the
unsuspecting captain patiently replied, that he was not conversant in

6 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
these matters, but would willingly put himself under J  's guid
ance. " Well then," said he, " I will provide the cards, which must
be written in French, and in three days I will call you in my car
riage. You must put, on your uniform, and your cards must express
to what service you formerly belonged." All was done according
to agreement ; but you may imagine what laughing faces greeted our
visitors, when you learn that the following ' carte de visite' was sent
up before them in every house: —
"Le Baron de J  , pour presenter feu Monsieur le Capitaine
de M  , jadis au service de plusieurs membres de la Confederation
du Rhin." Sejitember, 14th.
This evening I paid my visit to Gothe. He received me in a
dimly lighted room, whose ' clair obscure' was arranged with some
' coquetterie' ; and truly, the aspect of the beautiful old man, with
his Jove-like countenance, was most stately. Age has changed, but
scarcely enfeebled him: he is perhaps somewhat less vivacious than
formerly, but so much the more equable and mild; and his conversa
tion is rather pervaded by a sublime serenity, than by that dazzling
fire which used occasionally to surprise him, even in the midst of
his highest 'grandezza.' I rejoiced heartily at the good health in
which I found him, and said with a smile, how happy it made me to
find our spiritual King in undiminished majesty and vigour. " Oh,
you are too gracious," said he, (with the yet uneffaced traces of his
South German manner, accompanied by the satirical smile of a North
German,*) "to give me such a title." "No," replied I, truly from
my very heart, " not only king, but despot, for you have subjugated
all Europe." He bowed courteously, and questioned me concerning
things which related to my former visit to Weimar; then expressed
himself very kindly with regard to M  , and my efforts to im
prove it, gently remarking, how meritorious he ever thought it to
awaken a sense of beauty, be it of what kind it may, since the Good
and the Noble unfolded themselves in manifold ways out of the
Beautiful. Lastly, he gave me some gleam of hope that he might
comply with my earnest request that he' would visit us there. Ima
gine, dearest, with what ' empressement' I caught at this, though
perhaps but a ' facon de parler.'
In the course of our conversation we came to Sir Walter Scott.
Gothe was not very enthusiastic about the Great Unknown. He
said he doubted not that he wrote his novels in thet same sort of
* The North Germans are distinguished for energy, activity, acuteness, and high
mental culture; the South Germans for easy good-nature, simplicity, contented ani
mal 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 — {Reichsstadtisch.es 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.—
Tbansl. f Sir Walter Scott's official declaration, that all the works here alluded to were
by him alone, was not then made public. — Edit.

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 7
partnership as existed between the old painters and their scholars;
that he furnished the plot, the leading thoughts, and the skeleton of
the scenes, that he then let his pupils fill them up, and retouched
them at the last. It seemed almost to be his opinion, that it was not
worth the while of a man of Sir Walter Scott's eminence to give
himself up to such a number of minute and tedious details. " Had
I," added he, "been able to lend myself to the idea of mere gain,
I could formerly have sent such things anonymously into the world,
with the aid of Lenz and others — nay, I could still — as would aston
ish people not a little, and make them puzzle their brains to find out
the author; but after all they would be but manufactured wares." I
afterwards observed, that it was gratifying to Germans to see what
victories our literature was achieving in other countries; "And,"
added I, "our Napoleon has no Waterloo to dread."
"Certainly," replied he, disregarding my 'fade' compliment,
" setting aside all our original productions, we now stand on a very
high step of culture, by the adoption and complete appropriation of
those of foreign growth. Other nations will soon learn German, from
the conviction that they may thus, to a certain extent, dispense with
the learning of all other languages; for of which do we not possess
all the most valuable works in admirable translations ?— The ancient
classics, the master-works of modern Europe, the literature of India
and other eastern lands, — have not the richness and the many-sided
ness* of the German tongue, the sincere, faithful German industry,
and the deep-searching German genius, reproduced them all more
perfectly than is the case in any other language?"
"France," continued he, "owed much of her former preponder
ance in literature to the circumstance of her being the first to give
to the world tolerable versions from the Greek and Latin: but how
entirely has Germany since surpassed her!"
On the field of politics, he did not appear to me to give into the
favourite constitutional theories very heartily. I defended my own
opinions with some warmth. He reverted to his darling idea, which
he several times repeated; — that every man should trouble himself
only thus far, — in his own peculiar sphere, be it great or small, to la
bour on faithfully, honestly, and lovingly ; and that thus under no form
of government would universal well-being and felicity long be want
ing; — that, for his own part he had followed no other course; and
that I had also adopted it in M  (as he kindly added), untroubled
as to what other interests might demand. I replied frankly, but in
all humility, that however true and noble this principle were, I must
yet think that a constitutional form of government was first neces
sary to call it fully into life, since it afforded to every individual the
conviction of greater security for his person and property, and con
sequently gave rise to the most cheerful energy, and the most steady
trust-worthy patriotism, and that a far more solid universal basis
* I have striven to preserve the colouring, as well as the substance of Gothe'3
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 in
spired and so venerable, — Tbansi.

LETTERS ON GERMANY,

would thus be laid for the quiet activity of each individual in his own
circle: I concluded by adducing,— perhaps unwisely,— England in
support of my argument. He immediately replied, that the choice
of the example was not happy, for that in no country was selfishness
more omnipotent; that no people were perhaps essentially less hu
mane in their political or in their private relations;* that salvation
came not from without, by means of forms of government, out from
within, by the wise moderation and humble activity of each man in
his own circle; that this must ever be the main thing for human feli
city, while it was the easiest and the simplest to attain.
He afterwards spoke of Lord Byron with great affection, almost
as a father would of a son, which was extremely grateful to my
enthusiastic feelings for this great poet. He contradicted the silly
assertion that Manfred was only an echo of his Faust. He confessed,
however, that it was interesting to him to see that Byron had un
consciously employed the same mask of Mephistophiles as he him
self had used, although, indeed, Byron had produced a totally
different effect with it. He extremely regretted that he had never
become personally acquainted with Lord Byron, and severely and
justly reproached the English nation for having judged their illus
trious countryman so pettily, and understood him so ill. But, on
this subject, Gothe has spoken so satisfactorily and so beautifully in
print, that I can add nothing to it. I mentioned the representation
of Faust in a private theatre at Berlin, with music by Prince Rad-
zivil, and spoke with admiration of the powerful effect of some
parts of the performance.—" Well," said Gothe gravely, " it is a
strange undertaking; but all endeavours and experiments are to be
honoured." I am angry with my vile memory that I cannot now recollect more
of our conversation, which was very animated. With sentiments
of the highest veneration and love, I took my leave of the great
man, — the third in the great triumvirate with Homer and Shakspeare,
— whose name will beam with immortal glory as long as the German
tongue endures; and had I had anything of Mephistophiles in me, I
should certainly have exclaimed on the step of his door,
" Est ist doch schon von einem grossen Herrn
Mit einem armen Teufel so human zu sprechen."-j-
I was invited to dine with the Grand Duke to-day at the Belve
dere, and at two o'clock set out on the pleasant road thither. Ever
since I have been here the weather has been wonderful: — days of
crystal, as your Sevigne says, in which one feels neither heat nor
cold, and which only spring and autumn can give.
The Hereditary Grand Duke and his wife live at the Belvedere
* I cannot help almost suspecting that my departed friend has here put his own
opinions into the mouth of Gothe  Edit.
f I do not think that the exalted old man will be offended at tire 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  Edtt.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 9
quite like private people, and receive their guests without etiquette,
though with the most perfect politeness. The Grand Princess
(Grossfiirstin) appeared still much depressed iu consequence of the
Emperor's death, but when the conversation grew animated, she
gave us a very affecting description of the floods at St. Petersburg,
of which she had been an eyewitness. I have always admired the
excellent education and the various attainments which distinguish
the Russian princesses. The late Queen of Wurtemberg was even
learned. I had once to deliver a letter to her in Frankfurt, and re
mained by her desire standing in the circle after I had given it to
her, till the other persons of whom it was composed were dismiss
ed. A professor of a Pestalozzian school was the first in turn, and
appeared to know less about his system than the Queen, then Grand
Princess (Grossfiirstin) Katharine, who several times corrected his
diffuse and inaccurate answers with singular acuteness. A ' diplo
mate' followed, and he also, in his sphere, received the most dex
trous and well-turned replies. She next entered into a scientific
discussion with a celebrated economist from A  ; and lastly,
profound and brilliant reflections, in a lively controversy with a
well-known philosopher, closed this remarkable audience.
After dinner, the Hereditary Grand Duke took us into his conser
vatories, which, next to Schonbrunn, are the richest in Germany.
You know, dear Julia, that I lay little stress on mere rarity, and, in
plants, as in other things, delight only in the beautiful. Many
treasures were therefore thrown away upon me; and I could not
share in the raptures into which several connoisseurs fell at the sight
of a stalk, which was indeed only six inches high, and had not
above five leaves, and no flowers, but, on the other hand, had cost
sixty guineas, and is as yet the solitary specimen of its kind in Ger
many. I was, however, greatly delighted by a Cactus grandiflorus
in full flower, and many other splendid plants. I looked with great
reverence at a magnificent large Bread-fruit tree, and pleased myself
with dyeing my fingers crimson from the cochineal insects which
inhabited a Cactus. The varieties of plants exceed sixty thousand.
The orangery is beautiful, and contains a veteran with a trunk of an
ell and a half in circumference, which has safely weathered five hun
dred and fifty northern summers.
I spent the evening at Herr v. G  's, a clever man, and an old
friend of Madame Schoppenhauer, who is also a kind patroness of
mine. Frau v. G  e came in afterwards, and was a very agree
able addition to our company. She is a lively, original, and clever
woman, on whom the incense strewed upon her with so much justice
by her father-in-law, has not been entirely without its influence.
She evinced great pleasure at the arrival of a first copy of Granby,
which she had just received from the author, who had studied Ger
man in Weimar. The offering did not strike me as anything very
considerable; and I told her I could only wish the author might be
more interesting than his work. Perhaps I said this from 'depit,'
for here, as all over the Continent, it is the fashion to flatter the
English inordinately, and God knows how ' mal a propos.'
2

10 LETTERS ON GERMAN Y, September 16th.
After taking my leave this morning of all the illustrious family, I
devoted the rest of the day to my friend Sp  , who, together with
his family, affords a proof that a life at court and in the great world
is perfectly compatible with the simplest domestic habits and the
most attaching kindness of heart. A young Englishman, secretary
to Mr. Canning, who spoke German like a native, entertained us
with some humorous descriptions of English society, and was ex
ceedingly bitter upon the discourtesy and want of good-nature which
characterize it. This gave him, at the same time, a good opportu
nity of saying handsome things of the Germans, particularly those
present. // is only while they are abroad that Englishmen judge
thus: when, they return, they quickly resume their accustomed
coldness and haughty indifference, treat a foreigner as an inferior
being, and laugh at the German 'bonhommie,' which they praised
so long as they were the objects of it; while they regard the truly
laughable veneration which we cherish for the very name of English
man, as the rightful tribute to their superiority.
This is the last letter, dear Julia, which you will receive from
hence. Early in the morning, — not at cock-crow, that is, but according
to my calendar, — at about twelve o'clock, — I intend to set out, and
not to stop till I reach London.
Take care of your health, I beseech you, for my sake, and tran
quillize your mind as much as you can by the aid of that wondrous
self-controling strength with which the Creator has endowed it.
Love me nevertheless — for my strength is in your love.
Your faithful L  .

LETTER II.
Wesel, Sept. 20th, 1826.
Beloved friend,
After taking leave of Gothe and his family, and paying a last
visit to a distinguished and charming artist in her ' atelier,' 1 quitted
the German Athens, stored with pleasant recollections.
I staid only just so long in Gotha as was necessary to visit an old
friend and comrade, the minister and astronomer (heaven and earth
in strange conjunction) Baron von L  . I found him still suffer
ing from the consequences of his unfortunate duel in Paris, but bear
ing, this calamity with the calmness of a sage, which he has displayed
in every circumstance of his life.
It was dark when I reached Eisenach, where I had a message to
deliver to another old comrade from the Grand Duke. I saw his
house brilliantly lighted up, heard the music of the dance, and was
ushered into the midst of a large company, who looked astonished

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 11
at my travelling costume. It was the wedding-day of my friend's
daughter, and heartily did he welcome me as soon as he recognized
me. I apologized to the bride for my unbridal garments, drank a
glass of iced punch to her health, another to that of her father,
danced a Polonaise, and disappeared, 'a la Francaise.' Very shortly
afterwards I made my night toilet, and laid myself comfortably to
rest in my carriage.
When I awoke, I found myself a stage from Cassel, at the very
place where, ten years ago, we made our strange 'entree,' with the pole
of our carriage standing erect, and the postilion apparently mounted
upon it. I breakfasted here, and thought over many circumstances
of that journey; drove through the pretty, melancholy little capital
without stopping; then through a noble beech wood, which gleamed
in the sunshine with a gold-green lustre; made romantic observa
tions on a curious hill covered with the moss-grown ruins; and hur
rying on through this monotonous district, reached the ancient See
of Osnabruck at dinner-time.
One always sleeps better in a carriage the second night than the
first; the motion acts upon one like that of a cradle upon children.
I felt well and in good spirits next morning, and remarked that the
whole face of the country began to assume a Dutch character. An
tique houses, with numerous gables and windows; an unintelligible
Platt Deutsch, which nowise yields in harmony to the Dutch; a
more phlegmatic people; better furnished rooms, though still with
out Dutch cleanliness; tea instead of coffee; excellent fresh butter
and cream; increased extortions of innkeepers; — all presented a
new shade of this many-coloured world.
The country through which my road lay had a more agreeable and
softer character, especially at Stehlen on the Ruhr, a place made for
a man who wishes to retire from the tumult of the world to cheerful
seclusion. I could not gaze my fill on the fresh succulent vegeta
tion, the magnificent oak and beech woods which crowned the hills
on the right and left, sometimes growing down to the very road,
sometimes going off into the distance; everywhere skirting the
most fruitful fields, shaded with red and brown where they had been
newly ploughed, clothed in deep or tender green where they were
covered by the young winter crops or the fresh clover. Every vil
lage is surrounded by a belt of beautiful trees, and nothing can ex
ceed the luxuriance of the meadows through which the Ruhr winds
in fantastic meanderings. Towards evening, as I was comparing
this smiling landscape with our gloomy pine forests, a tongue of
homelike land suddenly appeared as if by enchantmeut, with its
sand, shingle, and arid stunted birch-trees, stretching across the road
as far as the eye could reach. In ten minutes the green meadows
and proud beeches greeted us again. What revolution was it that
threw this tract of sand here ?
A few miles from Wesel, however, the whole country becomes
' tout de bon ' fatherlandish, and, as the ' chaussee ' ends here, one
wades once more through Berlin loose sand. I arrived unfortunately
a day too late to sail from hence by the steamboat, otherwise I might

12 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
have.reached London from Weimar in four days and a half. Now
I must travel by land to Rotterdam, and there wait the departure of
the first vessel. Rotterdam, Sept. 25th.
My journey from Wesel to Arnheim was tedious enough. The
horses toiled slowly on, through a dull country, amid endless sands.
There was nothing interesting to be seen but the great brick-kilns by
the roadside, which I looked at attentively on account of their supe-
-riority to ours. The more agreeable, and really magical in its effect,
is the contrast of the extensive garden which lies between Arnheim
and Rotterdam. On a 'chaussee' constructed of clinkers, (very
hard-baked tiles,) and covered with a surface of fine sand— a road
which nothing can excel, and which never takes the slightest trace
of a rut— the carriage rolled on with that soft unvarying murmur of
the wheels so inviting to the play of the fancy.
Although there is neither rock nor mountain in the endless park
I traversed, yet the lofty clams along whieh the road sometimes runs,
,the multitude of country-seats, buildings and churches grouped into
masses, and the many colossal clumps of trees rising from meadows
and plains, or on the banks of clear lakes, gave to the landscape as
much diversity of surface as of picturesque objects of the most varied
character; indeed its greatest peculiarity consists in this rapid suc
cession of objects which incessantly attract the attention. Towns,
villages, country-seats, surrounded by their rich enclosures; villas of
every style of architecture, with the prettiest flower-gardens ; inter
minable grassy plains, with thousands of grazing cattle; lakes which
have gradually grown merely from turf-digging to an extent of
twenty miles; countless islands, where the long reed, carefully culti
vated for thatch, serves as a dwelling-place for myriads of water-
birds; — all join in a gladsome dance, through which one is borne
along as if by winged horses; while still new palaces and other
towns appear in the horizon, and the towers of their high Gothic
churches melt into the clouds in the misty distance.
And even in the near-ground the continually changing and often
grotesque figures leave no room for monotony. Now it is a strange
carriage, decorated with carved work and gilding, without a pole,
and driven by a coachman in a blue jacket, short black breeches,
black stockings, and shoes with enormous silver buckles, who sits
perched on a narrow board; or women walking under the load of
gold or silver ear-rings six inches long, and Chinese hats like roofs
upon their heads : then yew-trees cut into dragons and all sorts of
fabulous monsters; or lime-trees with trunks painted white, or many-
coloured; chimneys decorated in an Oriental style, with numbers of
little towers or pinnacles; houses built slanting for the nonce; gar
dens with marble statues as large as life, in the dress of the old
French Court, peeping through the bushes; or a number of brass bot
tles or cans, polished like mirrors, standing on the grass by the
roadside, glittering like pure gold, yet destined to the humble pur
pose of receiving the milk with which the lads and lasses are busily

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 13
filling them. In short, a multitude of strange, unwonted and fantastic
objects every moment present to the eye a fresh scene, and stamp
the whole with a perfectly foreign character. Imagine such pic
tures set in the golden frame of the brightest sunshine, adorned with
the richest vegetation, from giant oaks, elms, ashes, and beeches, to
the rarest hot-house plant, and you will have a tolerably perfect and
by no means exaggerated idea of this magnificent part of Holland,
and of the high enjoyment of my day's ride.
There was only a part of it which, as to vegetation and variety,
formed an exception; but in another point of view was, if not so
pleasant, equally interesting. Between Arnheim and Utrecht you
come upon a tract, four miles long,* of the sand of the Luneberg
heath, as bad as the worst plains of the Mark; nevertheless — such is
the power of intelligent cultivation — the finest plantations of oak,
white and red beech, birch, poplar, &c. , flourish by the side of the
stunted thorns and heather, which are the only natural productions
of the soil. Where the ground has too little strength to grow trees,
it is planted with brushwood, which is lopped every five or six
years. The magnificent road is skirted the whole way on each side
with rows of well-kept flourishing trees; and to my surprise I found
that, spite of the arid sand, oaks and beeches seemed to thrive better
than birches and poplars. A number of the exquisitely neat Dutch
houses and villas were built in the midst of the dreary heath: many
were only begun, as well as the laying-out of pleasure-grounds
around them. I could not understand how people could have pitched
upon this inhospitable soil upon which to found expensive establish
ments; but learned that the Government had been wise enough to
grant out the whole of this hitherto unprofitable tract of land to the
neighbouring proprietors and other opulent persons, free of all
charges for fifty years, with the sole condition that they must imme
diately either plant or otherwise cultivate it. Their heirs or succes
sors are to pay a very moderate rent. I am persuaded, from what
I here saw, that the greater part of our hungry heaths might in a
century be converted by a similar process, and by continued cultiva
tion, into thriving fields and woods, and the whole district thus
change its character.
Utrecht is prettily built, and, like all Dutch towns, a model of
cleanliness. The painted exterior of the houses and their various
forms, the narrow winding streets, and the old-fashioned 'ensemble,'
are much more pleasing to my eye than the so-called handsome towns,
the streets of which, like mathematical figures, invariably inter
sect at right angles, and the whole weary line of each street is to be
seen at a glance. The environs are charming, the air very healthful,
Utrecht being the highest town in Holland, and, as I was assured, the
society in winter and spring very lively and agreeable, as all the
wealthiest nobles of the country make it their residence. The trade
is inconsiderable, and the whole air of the town and its inhabitants
rather aristocratical than commercial.
* German miles. — Thaksl.

14 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
From thence I proceeded to Gouda, the cathedral of which place
is celebrated for its painted glass. Eighty thousand gulden* was
lately bidden in vain by an Englishman for one of these windows.
In execution it is equal to a miniature picture, and the splendour of
the colours is indescribable;— the gems and pearls in the garments
of the priests emulate real ones. Another, half of which was lately
shattered by lightning, was presented to the church by Philip II.
There is a portrait of him in it, dressed in a mantle of genuine pur
ple; not the usual reddish colour, but a lustrous violet, between the
deepest blue and crimson, more beautiful than anything I ever saw
in glass. A third contains a portrait of the Duke of Alva. All the
windows are of extraordinary dimensions, and with few exceptions
in exquisite preservation. They are all of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries except one, which was not painted till the seventeenth,
and which betrays the decline of the art, both by the inferiority of
the colours and of the conception and drawing.
He who has seen Gouda may spare himself the trouble of a jour
ney to the leaning tower of Pisa, for here the whole town seems to
have been built on the same principle. Though the Dutch, who
have been on many accounts not inappropriately called the Chinese
of Europe, might very fairly be believed capable of preferring so
extraordinary a style of architecture, yet it is probable that the really
alarming aspect of the buildings here is to be attributed chiefly to the
unsteady boggy soil.t
Almost all the houses stand with their gable ends to the street,
every one of which is differently ornamented. In very narrow
lanes they almost meet, and form a triangle, under which one walks
with some solicitude.
As it was Sunday I found the town extremely lively, though with
a quiet and decent gaiety. Most of the people stood idle, gazing
about. They took off their hats very politely as I passed.
Before you reach Rotterdam you ride through a long series of
country-houses with flower-gardens, separated from the road on either
side by a narrow canal. The entrance to each of the houses is
over a mighty drawbridge, which contrasts oddly enough with the
insignificance of the water, over which a good leap would carry you.
Just as ' baroque' are the tower-like windmills outside the town:
they are gilded, and ornamented with the wildest carvings, besides
which, the walls of many of them are so finely covered with thick
rushes that at a distance they look like fur; others resemble the skin
of a crocodile; some are like Chinese pagodas; but, in spite of all
this extravagance, the whole group produces a very striking effect.
Interspersed among them are seen the rising masts of the vessels in
the harbour, and the great glass roof under which the ships of war
are built} announcing a maritime and commercial city.
* A gulden is twenty-pence. — Trattsl.
f 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 decep
tion was produced only by the inclination of the windows, and of the friezes which
run round the towers.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 15
I soon entered a long street thronged with people, at the end of
which a high black clock tower, with flaming red figures and hands,
served as ' point de vue;' and it was a good quarter of an hour be
fore I reached the Hotel des Bains, on the quay, where I am now
very well and comfortably lodged. From my window I look down
upon a broad expanse of water, and the four steam-vessels, one of
which is to convey me the day after to-morrow to England. Boats
row swiftly to and fro, and the busy crowd hurry along the quay,
the edge of which is adorned with lofty elms, probably cotempora-
ries of Erasmus. After a little walk under these trees, I ate a good
dinner, and then added to this ell-long letter, which alas, will cost
more than it is worth. My health is not entirely as I wish it,
though daily improving. Perhaps the sea will cure me.
September, 26th.
The manner of living here approaches to that of England. They
rise late, dine at 'table d'hote,' at four o'clock, and drink tea in the
evening. ' Au reste,' there is little amusement or variety for stran
gers, in this great city: there is not even a stationary theatre; the
company from the Hague give occasional performances in a misera
ble house. Everybody seems occupied with trade, and finds his re
creation after it only in domestic pleasures, which are indeed the
most appropriate and the best, but in which a traveller can have no
share. I went into the counting-house of a Jewish banker to change
some English money: notwithstanding the insignificance of the sum,
he behaved in the most respectful manner, and after carefully count
ing out the money for me, accompanied' me to the door himself. I
was not a little astonished to learn from my ' laquais de place' that
this man's fortune was estimated at two millions of guilders (gulden).
It seems, therefore, that wealth has not yet made bankers so haughty
and insolent here as at other places. I visited the arsenal, which,
compared with English establishments of the like kind, appeared to
me insignificant. Many of the large buildings are covered with
pasteboard, which is said to be very lasting, and looks very well.
Square sheets of pasteboard, of an ordinary thickness, are dipped
several times into a cauldron of boiling tar, till they are thoroughly
saturated with it: they are then hung up to dry in the sun. They
are laid on a very flat roof, like sheets of copper, one over another,
and nailed to planks underneath, which they thus preserve from the
wet for many years. The officers of the yard assured me that a roof
of this kind would last much longer than shingle, or than the best
tarpauling. I was much interested by a very detailed model of a
ship of war, which could be entirely taken to pieces. It was made
for the naval school at Delft, and gives a perfect illustration of the in
struction they receive. The King's golden barge, or gondola, though
probably not quite equal in magnificence to that of Cleopatra, was
shown to me with great self-satisfaction by the Dutchmen. It is
rotting away on dry land, being very seldom used.
The country round Rotterdam is famous for its pretty girls and
excellent fruit, which (the latter I mean) forms a considerable article

16 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
of export to England. Nowhere are such enormous grapes to be
found. I saw some exposed to sale in the market, which had the
appearance and the size of plums. Sauntering idly [about, I saw an
advertisement of a panorama of iEtna, — entered, in the train of a
party of ladies, — and alas! lost my heart. The loveliest girl I ever
saw, smiled upon me from the foot of the volcano, with eyes which
must have borrowed their glow from its eternal fires, while her lips
smiled archly with a bloom equal to that of the oleander at her side.
The prettiest foot, and most exquisite symmetry of person, — all
were combined to form an ideal, if not of heavenly, at least of the
most seductive earthly beauty. Was this a Dutch woman ? Oh no,
a true Sicilian; but alas, alas ! only painted. The glances she cast
at me from her viny bower as I went out, were therefore those of
triumphant mockery; for since Pygmalion's days are over, there is
no hope for me.
To-morrow, instead of the glowing sun and subterranean heat of
Sicily, the cold wet sea will be around me; but I shall not say, with
Voltaire, on quitting pleasant Holland,
'Adieu Canards, Canaux, Canailles.'
I shall not write again till I reach London. I will tell you
whether I determine to make a long stay there, which I shall de
cide on the spot. 'En attendant,' I send you a lithographic print
of the steam-boat in which I sail. A t marks, after the fashion in
which the knights of old signed their names, the place where I
stand, and with a little help from your imagination you will see how
I wave my handkerchief, and send you a thousand affectionate greet
ings from afar. Your faithful L  .

LETTER III.
London, Oct. 5th, 1826.
I have had a most disastrous passage. A squall, constant sea
sickness, forty hours instead of twenty, — and, to crown the whole,
striking on a sand-bank in the Thames, where we had to lie six
hours, till the tide set us afloat again; — such were the disagreeable
incidents of our voyage.
It is ten years since I quitted England; and I know not whether I
saw all things before with beautifying eyes, or whether my imagina
tion had unconsciously brightened the colouring of the distant pic
ture; but the views on the banks of the Thames appeared to me
neither so fresh nor so picturesque as formerly, though superb groups
of trees and cheerful pretty villas were frequently in sight. But
here, as in North Germany, the lopping of the trees often spoils the
landscape; only that the quantity of them in the numerous hedges
which enclose the fields, and the preservation of at least the topmost

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 17
branches, render the effect less melancholy here than in the other
wise so beautiful Silesia.
Among the passengers was an Englishman who had just returned
from Herrnhut, and had also visited the baths of M  . It divert
ed me highly, unknown to him as I was, to hear his opinion of the
plantations there. How much tastes differ, and how little, therefore,
anybody needs to despair, you may conclude from this, — that he ex
pressed the highest admiration for that gloomy district, solely on
account of the immensity of the 'evergreen woods,' as he called
the endless monotonous pine-forests, which appear to us so insuffer
able, but which are a rarity in England, where fir-trees are carefully
planted in parks, and commonly thrive but ill.
An American was extremely incensed at being sea-sick during
this trumpery passage, after having crossed the Atlantic to Rotter
dam without being at all so; and a planter from Demarara, who was
in a continual shiver, complained even more of the "impolitic"
abolition of the slave-trade than of the cold. He thought that this
measure would speedily bring about the total ruin of the colonies;
for, said he, a slave or a native never works unless he is forced; and
he does not need to work, because the magnificent country and cli
mate afford him food and shelter sufficient. Europeans cannot work
in the heat, so that nothing remains but the alternative, — colonies
with slaves, or no colonies; — that people knew this well enough, but
had very different ends in view from those which they put forward
with such a parade of philanthropy. He maintained that the slaves
were, even for their owners' interest, far better treated than the
Irish peasants, — far better than he had often seen servants treated in
Europe: — an exception might be found here and there; but this was
not worth considering in a view of the whole subject.
I tried to turn the conversation from a subject so distressing to
every friend of humanity, and got him to describe to me the mode
of life in Guiana, and the majesty of its primeval woods. His de
scriptions filled me with a sort of longing after these wonders of
Nature, in a country where all is nobler, and man alone is baser,
than with us.
The ridiculous element of the voyage was an English lady, who
with unusual volubility seized every occasion of entering into con
versation in French. Though no longer in the bloom of youth, she
carefully concealed this defect even on ship-board, by the most
studied toilet. At a late hour in the morning, when we all crawled
on deck more or less wretched, we found her already seated there in
an elegant 'negligee.'
In the middle of the second night we anchored just below London
Bridge, the most unfortunate circumstance that can happen to a man.
In consequence of the severity of the Custom-house, he is not per
mitted to take his things on shore before they are inspected; and the
office is not opened till ten in the morning. As I did not choose to
leave my German servants alone with my carriage and effects, I was
compelled to pass the night, almost dressed as I was, in a miserable
sailors' tavern close to the river. In the morning, however, when
3

18 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
I was present at the examination, I found that the golden key, which
rarely fails, had not lost its efficacy here, and saved me from long
and tedious delays. Even a few dozen French gloves, which lay in
all innocence open upon my linen, seemed to be rendered invisible;
— nobody took any notice of them.
I hastened as quickly as possible out of the dirty City, swarming
like an ant-hill, but had half a stage to travel with post-horses before
I reached the ' West end of the town,' where I put up at my old
quarters, the Clarendon Hotel. My former host, a Swiss, had ex
changed England for a yet unknown country. His son, however,
occupied his place, and received me with all that respectful attention
which distinguishes English innkeepers, and indeed all here who
live by the money of others. He very soon rendered me a real
service; for I had hardly rested an hour before I discovered that, in
the confusion of the night, I had left a purse with eighty sovereigns
in a drawer in my bed-room. Monsieur Jaquier, ' qui connoissait
le terrain,' shrugged his shoulders, but instantly sent off a confiden
tial person to the spot, to recover the lost purse if possible. The
disorder which reigned in the miserable inn, stood me in good stead.
Our messenger found the room uncleared; and to the, perhaps dis
agreeable, surprise of the people, the purse where I left it.
London is now so utterly dead as to elegance and fashion, that one
hardly meets an equipage; and nothing remains of the ' beau monde'
but a few ambassadors. The huge city is, at the same time, full of
fog and dirt, and the macadamized streets are like well-worn roads;
the old pavement has been torn up, and replaced by small pieces of
granite, the interstices between which are filled with gravel; this
renders the riding more easy, and diminishes the noise; but, on the
other hand, changes the town into a sort of quagmire. Were it not
for the admirable ' trottoirs,' people must go on stilts, as they do in
the Landes near Bourdeaux. Englishwomen of the lower classes
do indeed wear an iron machine of the kind on their large feet.
London is, however, extremely improved in the direction of
Regent Street, Portland Place, and the Regent's Park. Now, for
the first time, it has the air of a seat of Government (Residenz), and
not of an immeasurable metropolis of 'shopkeepers,' to use Napo
leon's expression. Although poor Mr. Nash (an architect who has
great influence over the King, and is the chief originator of these
improvements) has fared so ill at the hands of connoisseurs,— and it
cannot be denied that his buildings are a jumble of every sort of
style, the result of which is rather 'baroque' than original, — yet
the country is, in my opinion, much indebted to him for conceiving
and executing such gigantic designs for the improvement of the
metropolis. The greater part too is still ' in petto,' but will doubt
less soon be called into existence by English opulence and the uni
versal rage for building. It's true, one must not look too nicely
into the details. The church, for instance, which serves as ' point
de vue' to Regent Street, ends in a ridiculous spire, while every
part seems at variance with every other. It is a strange architectu
ral monster. There is an admirable caricature, in which Mr. Nash,

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 19
a very small shrivelled man, is represented booted and spurred, riding
spitted on the point of the spire. Below is the inscription " Na
tional (sounded nashional) taste."
Many such monstrosities might be mentioned. Among others,
on a balcony which adorns the largest mansion in the Regent's Park,
there are four figures squeezed flat against the wall, whose purpose
or import is extremely mysterious. They are clad in a sort of
dressing-gown, whence we gather that they are at least designed for
human figures. Perhaps they are emblems of an hospital; for these
apparent palaces, like that at Potsdam, have unity and grandeur in
their facade alone. They are often, in fact, only a conglomeration
of small houses dedicated to the purposes of trade, manufacture, or
what not.
Faultless, on the other hand, isthe landscape-gardening part of
the park, which also originates with Mr. Nash, especially in the
disposition of the water. Art has here completely solved the difficult
problem of concealing her operations under an appearance of unre
strained nature. You imagine you see a broad river flowing on
through luxuriant banks, and going off in the distance in several
arms; while in fact you are looking upon a small piece of standing,
though clear, water, created by art and labour. So beautiful a land
scape as this, with hills in the distance, and surrounded by an enclo
sure of magnificent houses a league in circuit, is certainly a design
worthy of one of the capitals of the world ; and when the young
trees are grown into majestic giants, will scarcely find a rival. In
the execution of Mr. Nash's plan many old streets have been pulled
down, and during the last ten years more than sixty thousand new
houses built in this part of the town. It is, in my opinion, a pecu
liar beauty of the new streetg, that, though broad, they do not run
in straight lines, but make' occasional curves which break their
uniformity. If ever London has quays, and St. Paul's Church is laid open,
according to the ingenious project of Colonel Trench, she will excel
all other cities in magnificence, as much as she now does in mag
nitude. Among the new bridges, Waterloo Bridge holds the first rank.
The proprietors are said to have lost 300,000/. by the undertaking.
Twelve hundred feet in length, and enclosed between solid balustrades
of granite, it affords an agreeable and almost solitary walk, and com
mands the finest river view, in so far as the fog will permit it to be
seen, — in which palaces, bridges, churches, and vessels, are proudly
blended. The contrivance for checking the toll-receivers was new to me.
The iron turnstile through which you pass, and which is in the usual
form of a cross, is so contrived that it describes each time only a
quarter of the circle, just as much as is necessary to let one person
through; and at the moment when it stops, a mark falls in an en
closed case under the bridge. There is a similar contrivance for
carriages; and the proprietors have only to count the marks in an
evening, to know accurately how many foot- and horse-passengers

20 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
cross the bridge daily. The former pay a penny, the latter three
pence, by which it was expected that three hundred pounds a day
would be taken, instead of which the receipts seldom exceed fifty.
October 1th.
What would delight you here is the extreme cleanliness of the
houses, the great convenience of the furniture, and the good manners
and civility of all serving people. It is true that one pays for all
that appertains to luxury (for the strictly necessary is not much
dearer than with us,) six times as high; but then one has six times
as much comfort. In the inns everything is far better and more
abundant than on the Continent. The bed, for instance, which
consists of several mattrasses laid one upon another, is large enough
to contain two or three persons; and when the curtains which hang
from the square tester supported on substantial mahogany columns,
are drawn around you, you find yourself as it were in a little cabi
net, — a room, which would be a very comfortable dwelling for a
Frenchman. On your washing-table you find — not one miserable
water-bottle, with a single earthen or silver jug and basin, and a long
strip of a towel, such as are given you in all hotels and many private
houses in France and German}- ; but positive tubs of handsome porce
lain, in which you may plunge half your body; cocks which in
stantly supply you with streams of water at pleasure; half a dozen
wide towels; a multitude of fine glass bottles and glasses, great and
small; a large standing looking-glass, foot-baths, &c.,not to mention
other anonymous conveniences of the toilet, all of' equal elegance.
Everything presents itself before you in so attractive a guise, that
as soon as you wake you are allured by all the charms of the bath.
If you want anything, the sound of your bell brings either a neatly
dressed maid-servant, with a respectful curtesy, or a smart well-
dressed waiter, who receives your orders in the garb and with the
air of an adroit valet; instead of an uncombed lad, in a short jacket
and green apron, who asks you, with a mixture of stupidity and in
solence, "Was schaffen's Ihr Gnoden?" (What is it, your Honour?),
or " Haben Sie hier jeklingelt?" (Was it you, here, that rung?),
and then runs out again without understanding properly what is
wanted. Good carpets cover the floors of all the chambers; and in
the brightly polished steel grate burns a cheerful fire, instead of the
dirty logs, or the smoky and ill-smelling stoves to be found in so
many of our inns.
If you go out, you never find a dirty staircase, nor one in which
the lighting serves only to make darkness visible. Throughout the
house, day and night, reign the greatest order and decency; and in
some hotels every spacious set of apartments has its own stair
case, so that no one comes in contact with others. At table, the
guest is furnished with a corresponding profusion of white table
linen, and brilliantly polished table utensils; with a well-filled 'plat
de menage,' and an elegance of setting out which leaves nothing to
wish for. The servants are always there when you want them, and
yet are not intrusive: the master of the house generally makes his

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 21
appearance with the first dish, and inquires whether everything is as
you desire; — in short, the best inns afford everything that is to be
found in the house of a travelled gentleman, and the attendance is
perhaps more perfect and respectful. It is true the reckoning is of
a-piece with the rest, and you must pay the waiters nearly as much
as you would a servant of your own. In the first hotels, a waiter is
not satisfied with less than two pounds a-week for his own private
fees. Such gifts or vales are more the order of the day in England
than in any other country, and are asked with the greatest shameless-
ness even in the churches.
I visited the bazaars to-day. These establishments have come very
much into fashion within the last few years, and afford great facilities
to buyers. The so-called horse bazaar is built on a very large scale,
and daily draws together a very motley assemblage. It includes
several extensive buildings, where hundreds of carriages and harness
of every kind, new and old (the latter made to look like new), are
exposed to sale, at all prices, in a very long gallery. In other rooms
are porcelain wares, articles of dress, glass mirrors, ' quincaillerie,'
toys, and even collections of foreign birds and butterflies, all for sale.
At length you reach a coffee-room in the centre of the establishment,
with a glazed gallery running round an open space. Here, while
comfortably seated at breakfast (in rather mixed company it is true),
you see a number of horses led out from the extensive stables, where
they are well taken care of, and to which any one who has a
horse to sell may send it for a certain fee. They are then put up to
auction. When a horse is warranted sound by the auctioneer, you
may buy it with tolerable safety, since the proprietor of the establish
ment is responsible for the warranty. The best are certainly not to
be found here, but the cheapest are; and to many this is a great re
commendation: perhaps a still greater is the being able to get all one
wants in the same place. There are already, as I said, several of
these bazaars, and they are worth a visit. The convenient walking
on the excellent ' trottoirs,' the gay and ever-changing groups, and
the numerous splendid shops, make the streets of London, especially
in the evening, a very agreeable walk to a foreigner.
Besides the brilliant gas-lights, there are large globes of glass in
the druggists' shops, filled with liquid of a deep red, blue, or green
colour, the splendid light of which is visible for miles, and often
serves as a beacon, though sometimes as an ' ignis fatuus,' if you are
unlucky enough to mistake one for another.
Of all the shops, the most attractive are those in which the beauti
ful English crystal is sold. Real diamonds can scarcely glitter more
dazzlingly than the far-gleaming collections of some manufacturers.
I observed too some articles of rose or other coloured glass, but I was
surprised to see how little the forms were changed. The crown lus
tres, for instance, are just the same as ever; and yet I should think
that they might be made in the form of suns with diverging rays, or
of bouquets of flowers, instead of this eternal crown; or that small
lustres of gay colours, set like ' bijous' of various gems, and fixed

22 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
against the walls of rooms of appropriate, perhaps oriental, decora
tions, would produce a new and striking effect.
Other very interesting shops contain all thejiewest implements of
agriculture and the mechanic arts, from huge drilling machines and
an apparatus for uprooting old trees, to small delicate garden shears,
all set out in extensive premises, all arranged with a certain elegance,
which is universal, even among the dealers in meat, fish and vegeta
bles. The shops of ironmongers and dealers in lamps well deserve
a visit; affording, as they do, a display of the new and the useful,
which it would not be easy to find on the whole Continent, either to
the same extent or in the same exact perfection. The traveller, how
ever, who confines himself to the ' salons' and the like, and who
wants to see only genteel sights, had better stay at home.
I closed the day with a walk to Chelsea, the hospital for invalid
soldiers, where one rejoices to see the old warriors well taken care
of, inhabiting a palace, and enjoying gardens with the most beautiful
smooth-mowed 'bowling-green' and lofty avenues of horse-chestnut
trees, of which a little sovereign might be proud.
I dined at the  ambassador's at eight o'clock. The dinner
was remarkable not only for the amiability of the host, but for genu
ine Metternich-Johannisberg; for which nectar, even the most in
veterate liberal must allow justice to be done to the great minister.
At table I found friend B  , the youth of forty, who charged me
with abundance of compliments to you. He is the same as ever, and
entertained me with a long conversation about his toilet; he declared
that he had grown dreadfully thin in England from ennui.
1 must here give you notice that I can say nothing about London
society till a longer residence and ' the season' have enabled me to
speak with more confidence on the subject. So long as London re
mains desert as Palmyra, as to the fashionable world, I shall confine
myself to a description of places. October 10th.
A few days ago I took advantage of rather brighter weather to
visit Chiswick, a villa of the Duke of Devonshire's, which is esteem
ed the most elegant specimen of garden decoration, of its kind, in
England. I had seen it some years ago at a fete given by the Duke
but only superficially. I could not, even now, see the pictures, as
the house was inhabited by a visitor.
I found the garden much altered, but not I think for the better;
for there is now a mixture of the regular and the irregular which
has a very unpleasant effect. The ugly fashion now prevalent in
.England, of planting the ' pleasure-ground' with single trees or shrubs
placed at a considerable distance almost in rows, has been introduced
in several parts of these grounds. This gives the grass-plats the air
of nursery-grounds. The shrubs are trimmed round, so as not to
touch each other, the earth carefully cleared about them every day,
and the edges of the turf cut into stiff lines, so that you see more of
black earth than of green foliage, and the free beauty of nature is
quite checked. Mr. Nash, however, adheres to a very different

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 23
principle, and the new gardens of Buckingham Palace are models to
all planters.
The most favourable circumstance to English gardeners is the
mildness of the climate. Common and Portuguese laurels, azaleas,
and rhododendrons are not injured by the frost, and afford the most
beautiful luxuriant thickets, summer and winter, and, in their re
spective seasons, the richest blossoms and berries.
Magnolias are seldom covered, and even camellias stand abroad in
peculiarly sheltered spots, with only the protection of a matting.
The turf preserves its beautiful freshness all winter ; indeed at that
season it is usually thicker and more beautiful than in summer, when
I remember, in dry weather, to have seen it worse than ever I saw
it in the Mark. The present is just the season in which the whole
vegetation is in its utmost magnificence.
A pretty effect is produced at Chiswick by a single lofty tree, the
stem of which has been cleared up to the very top, and from beneath
which you command a view of the whole garden and a part of the
park; — a good hint to landscape gardeners, which I advise you to
profit by at M  ¦. The cedars here (which unfortunately will not
thrive with us) are celebrated, and grow to the size of old fir-trees.
Colossal yew hedges also show how long this estate has been an ob
ject of extraordinary care. The new conservatories do more credit
to the taste of the present posssessor than the pleasure-ground. It
is strange enough that orange-trees nowhere reach any great size in
England. They are very ' mesquin' here. On the other hand, the
flower-gardens are magnificent. The beds are so thinly planted that
each separate plant has room to spread, excepting in those beds
which are entirely filled with one sort of flower. In them, the chief
aim is the perfection of the whole, and they are consequently by far
the most beautiful. In the pinery I saw, for the first time, the great
Providence pines, specimens of which have been produced of twelve
pounds weight.
There is a menagerie attached to the garden, in which a tame ele
phant performs all sorts of feats, and very quietly suffers anybody
to ride him about a large grass-plat. His neighbour is a lama, of a
much less gentle nature; his weapon is a most offensive saliva, which
he spits out to a distance of some yards at any one who irritates him;
he takes such good aim, and fires so suddenly at his antagonist, that
it is extremely difficult to avoid his charge.
Chiswick has unfortunately only stagnant slimy water, which is
sometimes so low that the elephant, if he were thirsty, might drink
it up at a draught.
Passing through a continued series of pretty villas and country-
houses of every kind, amid the whirl of horsemen, stage-coaches,
travelling-carriages, and coal-wagons drawn by gigantic horses, with
occasional pretty glimpses of the Thames, I reached Hyde-Park Cor
ner, after an hour's quick driving, and buried myself anew in the la
byrinth of the huge town.
The next day I visited the City, accompanied by my ' laquais de
place,' a Swiss, who had travelled in Egypt, Syria, Siberia, and

24 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
America; had published a Russian post-book; brought the first in
telligence of the taking of Hamburg, together with an actual speci
men of a live Cossack, to London; bought Napoleon's coronation
robes at Paris, and exhibited them here; and speaks almost all the
European languages. I think all this is not dear at half-a-guinea a
day. He may be useful, too, as a physician, for he has collected so
many secrets and recipes in his travels, that he has a domestic reme
dy for every disorder, and moreover, as he maintains, is in posses
sion of a thousand different receipts for making punch. Under the
conduct of this universal genius, I entered the Royal Exchange for
the first time.
In other cities the Exchange has merely a mercantile air — here it
has a completely historical one. The imposing statues of English
sovereigns around, the most remarkable among whom are Henry the
Eighth and Elizabeth, combined with the antique and stately archi
tecture, excite a poetical feeling, to which the thought of the bound
less commerce of which London is the centre gives a still deeper
significancy. The men, however, who animate the picture soon
draw one back into the region of common-place, for selfishness and
avarice gleam but too clearly from every eye. In this point of view,
the place 1 am describing, and indeed the whole city, have a repul
sive sinister aspect, which almost reminds one of the restless and
comfortless throng of the spirits of the damned.
The great court of the Exchange is surrounded by covered arcades,
on which inscriptions point out to the merchants of every nation
their several places of assembling. In the centre stands a statue of
Charles the Second, who built this edifice. Its port and bearing pre
cisely express the man whom history describes; not handsome, but
somewhat graceful, and with an inveterate levity of features, com
posed, as if in mockery, to seriousness: a levity which nothing could
correct, because it sprang from mediocrity, and which made this
king as agreeable and careless a ' roue ' as he was a worthless ruler.
In niches above stand the busts of other English sovereigns. I have
already mentioned Henry the Eighth and Elizabeth. They would
be striking, independently of all associations; — Henry, fat and con
tented, and with an expression of wanton cruelty; Elizabeth, with
an air of masculine greatness, and yet of feminine spite. The busts
are doubtless copied from the best originals by Holbein. On this
story is the celebrated Lloyd's Coffee House, the dirtiest place of the
kind in London,-which exhibits few traces of the millions daily ex
changed in it.
Close by is the vast and beautiful building, the Bank of England,
containing a number of rooms of various dimensions, generally light
ed from above, and destined to the various offices. Hundreds of
clerks are here at work, and mechanically conduct the gigantic busi
ness, at which the 'nil admirari' becomes a difficult matter to a
poor German ; especially when he is admitted into the Bullion
Office where the ingots are kept, and gazes astounded on the heaps
of gold and silver which appear to him to realize the wonders of the
Arabian Nights.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 25
From hence I proceeded to the Town-House (Guildhall), where
the Lord Mayor was just in the act of administering the law. The
present Lord Mayor is a bookseller, but cut a very good figure in
his blue gown and gold chain, and assumed a truly monarchical dig
nity. I do not think that he acquitted himself at all worse than a
regular officer of justice; — ever since Sancho Panza's time, it is ad
mitted that a sound understanding often discerns the right more truly
than learned subtlety.
The scene of action was a moderate-sized room, half-filled with the
lowest populace. The matter in hand was the most frequent and
ordinary theme in England— a theft; and as the culprit, who appear
ed equally indifferent and 'ennuye', after a little hesitation con
fessed the offence, the drama soon came to a close.
Further still did we wander on in the tumultuous 'City,' where
you may be lost like a flitting atom, if you do not pass on to the
right or left according to rule ; where you seem to be in continual
danger of being spitted on the shaft of a cabriolet driving too near
the narrow ' trottoir,' or crushed under the weight of an overloaded
and tottering stage-coach edifice. At length we reached an extreme
ly dark and mean-looking coffee-house, called Garroway's, where
estates and houses of enormous value are daily put up to sale. We
took our seat with great gravity, as if we had been desirous of mak
ing some important purchase, and admired the uncommon suavity of
manner and incredible address with which the auctioneer excited the
desire to purchase among his audience. He was very well dressed
in black, with a wig, and stood with all the dignity of a professor in
his chair. He pronounced a charming oration on every estate, and
failed not to season it with various jokes and witticisms, at the same
time eulogizing every object in so irresistible a manner that one
would have sworn all the property went for an old song.
How could I leave the city without visiting the true 'Lion,' (the
English expression for anything extraordinary) — -the sovereign — in
a word, Rothschild?
I found him, too, in a poor obscure-looking place, (his residence
is in another part of the town,) and making my way with some diffi
culty through the little court-yard, blocked up by a wagon laden with
bars of silver, I was introduced into the presence of this Grand Ally
of the Holy Alliance. I found the Russian consul in the act of pay
ing his court. He is an acute, clever man, perfect in the part he has
to play, and uniting the due respect with a becoming air of dignity.
This was the more difficult, because the very original aristocrat of
the city did not stand much on ceremony. On my presenting my
letter of credit, he said ironically, that we were lucky people who
could afford to travel about so, and take our pleasure ; while he, poor
man, had such a heavy burthen to bear. He then broke out into
bitter complaints that every poor devil who came to England had
something or other to ask of him. " Yesterday," said he, " here
was a Russian begging of me" (an episode which threw a bitter
sweet expression over the consul's face) ; " and," added he, " the
Germans here don't give me a moment's peace." Now it was my
4

26 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
turn to put a good face upon the matter. After this, the conversation
took a political turn, and we both of course agreed that Europe
could not subsist without him ; — he modestly declined our compli
ment, and said, smiling, " Oh no, you are only jesting — I am but a
servant, whom people are pleased with because he manages their
affairs well, and to whom they let some crumbs fall as an acknow
ledgement." All this was said in a language quite peculiar to himself, half
English, half German — the English part with a broad German
accent, but with the imposing confidence of a man who feels such
trifles to be beneath his attention. This truly original language
struck me as very characteristic of a man who is unquestionably a
person of genius, and of a certain sort of greatness of character.
I had begun my day, very appropriately for England, with the
Royal Exchange, the. resort of merchants, and ended it with Exeter
'Change, where I saw the representatives of the colonies, — the wild
beasts. Here I found another lion, and this time a genuine one,
called Nero, who, besides his tameness, has the rarer merit in our
northern latitudes of having presented England with six generations
of young lions. He is of enormous size and dignified aspect, but now
rests upon his laurels and sleeps royally nearly all day long. If he
wakes in an ill humour, however, he makes the old wooden house and
all the herd of subject beasts tremble. These consist of elephants,
tigers, leopards, hyaenas, zebras, monkeys, ostriches, condors, parrots,
&c. It is curious that they are not upon the ground floor, but up one
or two pair of stairs, so that one can ride on a tame elephant which
stands always ready saddled, and enjoy a fine' extensive prospect.
The variety is great, and the price moderate. The ambassador of
the late King of Wiirtemburg had, as I well remember, more occu
pation here than in St. James' and Downing Street; and, indeed, I
know that he was for a considerable time in fear of losing his post on
account of a strange enormous dead tortoise.
On the way home to my hotel we passed a house which furnished
my cicerone with an occasion of telling the following interesting
story. If it is ' brode,' I beg of you to blame him and not me.*
October 13th.
Fatigued by my tour the day before yesterday, I passed the fol
lowing morning in my own room. In the evening I visited the
English Opera. The house is neither large nor elegant, but the
actors very good. There was no opera, however, but hideous melo-
* 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 dis
claimer of responsibility. — Tba.xsi.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 27
drames ; first, Frankenstein, where a human being is made by magic,
— a manufacture which answers very ill; and then the Vampire,
after the well-known tale falsely attributed to Lord Byron. The
principal part in both was acted by Mr. Cooke, who is distinguished
for a very handsome person, skilful acting, and a remarkably digni
fied, noble deportment. The acting was, indeed, admirable through
out, but the pieces so stupid and monstrous that it was impossible to
sit out the performance. The heat, the exhalations, and the audi
ence were not the most agreeable. Besides all this, the performance
lasted from seven to half-past twelve, — too long for the best.
The next day I drove to Hampton Court to visit the palace, the
stud, and my old friend Lady  . Of all three I found the first
the least altered, and the celebrated vine laden as usual with grapes.
It had considerably above a thousand bunches, and completely co
vered a hot-house of seventy-five feet long by twenty-five wide. In
a corner stood, like the dim progenitor of a haughty race, its brown
stem, as lost and obscure as if it did not belong to the magnificent
canopy of leaves and fruit which owe their existence to it alone.
Most of the rooms in the palace have still the same furniture as in
the time of William the Third. The torn chairs and curtains are
carefully preserved. The walls are hung with many interesting and
admirable pictures; — above all, the celebrated Cartoons of Raphael,
which, however, are soon to be transferred to the King's new palace.
I must only mention two fine portraits, — that of Wolsey, the haughty
founder of this palace, and that of Henry the Eighth, his treacherous
master. Both are admirable and highly characteristic. You re
member that fat lawyer whom we had such difficulty in getting rid
of; with an animal expression of countenance, sensual, bloodthirsty
as far as the present times render it possible to be so, clever, subtle,
full of talent and of craft, with boundless haughtiness, and yet a re
sistless tendency to the vulgar, and, lastly, utterly and frankly de
void of all conscience; — give the picture of Henry a green frock-
coat and pearl buttons, and you have a most faithful portrait of him.
Nature continually repeats herself in different ' nuances,' — they
vary according to the state of mankind and of the world.
In the night I was very nearly suffocated. The Jocrisse I im
ported, who had probably been too hospitably entertained by some
English acquaintance, thought proper to take the coals out of the
fireplace while I was asleep, and left them standing in my room in
a lackered coal-scuttle. A frightful smoke and infernal smell fortu
nately awoke me just as I was dreaming that I was a courtier of
Henry the Eighth, and was paying my court to a French beauty at
the Champ du Drap d'Or; otherwise I should have gone to meet the
fair one of my dream in heaven.
Almost like that heaven, as distant and as lovely, appears to me
the place where you are dwelling, my truest friend: and thus I send
you the kiss of peace across the sea, and close my first English let
ter, wisiiing jtou health and every blessing. Your devoted L  .

28 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
LETTER IV.
London, Oct. 15th, 1826.
It seems to me that I shall never get accustomed to this climate,
for ever since my landing I have felt perpetually unwell. However,
so long as I am not confined to my chamber, I do not suffer it to
depress me much; I ride a great deal in the lovely cultivated envi
rons of London, and do not abstain from my walks about the town.
The turn of the British Museum came lately, where a strange
" Mischmasch" of works of art, natural curiosities, books, and mo
dels, are preserved in a miserable building.
At the top of the staircase, as you enter, stand two enormous gi
raffes, in the character of stuffed- guards, or emblems of English
taste! There is, doubtless, much that is interesting in the various
apartments. I confess, however, to my shame, that I must bein a
peculiarly favourable state of mind not to have an attack of indiges
tion after such a surfeit of sights. Among the antediluvian remains
I saw an enormous and remarkably perfect pair of stag's antlers, at
least six times as large as the largest of those which friend C 
keeps in the stag-gallery of his castle. In a huge shed are deposited
the noble Elgin Marbles, as they are here called.
A bust of Hippocrates struck me as being so perfect a representa
tion of the physician by profession, that here in England one can
hardly look at it without putting one's hand in one's pocket* I
looked at the celebrated Portland Vase with all the enthusiasm it is
calculated to excite. I send you two little works on the Vase and
the Elgin Marbles, with very tolerable outline engravings. But I
must now quit you to give orders about packing; for to-morrow I
mean to start for Newmarket races. Newmarket, Oct. 19th.
The beauty of the country, and the extraordinary neatness and
elegance of every place through which my road lay to-day, struck
me anew in the most agreeable manner. These fertile and well-cul
tivated fields; these thousands of comfortable and pretty farm-houses
and cottages scattered over every part of the country ; this incessant
stream of elegant carriages, well-mounted horsemen, and well-dress
ed foot passengers, are peculiar to England. The beautiful picture
has but one fault, — it is all too cultivated, too perfect ; thence al
ways and everywhere the same, and consequently, in the long run,
wearisome: — indeed I can even conceive that it must become distaste
ful in time, like a savoury dish of dainties to the stomach of a sated
man. This may explain the great taste of the English for travelling
on the Continent. It is just so in life, — the thing men can the least
bear is undisturbed good fortune, and it may be doubted whether
father Adam would not have died of ennui in paradise.
* English physicians expect a guinea at every visit. — Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 29
To-day, however, a due proportion of shadows was provided for
me. In consequence of the great resort to the races, I found at
every stage only miserable overdriven horses, sometimes none at all,
so that, according to the English standard, I travelled wretchedly,
and did not reach Newmarket till late at night.
There was no room in any of the inns; and I thought myself hap
py at last to get one small room in a private house, for which I paid
five guineas a week. Fortunately I met an old acquaintance in the
same house, — the son of a little Hungarian Magnate, who seems
formed to please himself and others by his unpretending good-nature
and joyous temper. I revere such natures, precisely because they
have all that I want.
Next morning I rode about with him to reconnoitre the ground a
little. One day here is precisely like another. At half-past nine in
the morning you see some hundreds of race-horses, carefully clothed,
taking their morning promenade on a rising ground. The bare,
wide-spread heath is covered with them as with a herd of cattle;
some are walking at a foot pace, others galloping, some slower, some
quicker, but none at full speed. An inspector on a little poney
generally accompanies the horses which belong to the same gentle
man, or which are under the care of the same training-groom. The
horses are all ridden without a saddle by little half-dressed lads, one
of whom is every now and then thrown for the amusement of the
spectators. After this exhibitiqn, certainly a most interesting one
to every amateur of horses, people breakfast, and in half an hour go
to the sale, which takes place almost every day in the open street,
under the auspices of the far-famed Mr. Tattersall. They then ride
or drive to the races.
These begin pretty punctually at twelve o'clock. An intermina
ble grassy plain covered with a thick short turf is the ground, where
various distances, from a full German mile as maximum, to an eighth
or tenth as minimum, are marked for the course in a perfectly
straight line. Near the end, this course is enclosed between ropes,
on the outside of which rows of carriages three and four deep are
drawn up, generally without horses, and covered within and without,
from top to bottom, with spectators. At the goal itself is a wooden
house on wheels, A'ery like those the shepherds have in many parts
of Germany, so that it can be moved about in case the course is
lengthened or shortened: in this sits the judge. Just opposite to
him is a post fixed in the ground, by means of which he determines
which horse's nose first appears exactly on a line with it; for an inch
often decides the race: and it is a very skilful piece of policy and
jockeyship of the riders here, to betray the real speed of their horses
as little as possible, and to display only as much of it as is necessary
to win the race. If they see they have no chance, they immediate^
give up; so that those who contend for victory to the last, are always
very nearly together at the goal. The grotesque spectacle of a ri
der a mile in the rear, belabouring his horse with whip and spur,
like a steam-engine, is exhibited only in France and Germany. If
two horses reach the post exactly at the same moment, (which fre-

30 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
quently happens,) they must run again. The judge is upon oath,
and there is no appeal from his decision. The English jockeys
(who are not, as foreigners think, little boys, but often dwarfish
men of sixty,) form a perfectly distinct class, and are the best prac
tical riders I know of. You remember that I kept race-horses my
self, and had a Newmarket jockey for a time in my service, who won
a considerable bet for me at Vienna. It amused me greatly to see
this fellow ' training' himself. After dosing himself severely, he
would go out in the greatest heat, dressed in three or four great
coats, ride a certain distance at a hard trot, till the sweat streamed
off him in torrents, and he almost sank from exhaustion; 'mais tel
etoit son plaisir', and the more completely good-for-nothing he felt,
the better he was pleased.*
But there are bounds to this : for the man, by excessive training,
may reduce himself below the weight which the horse is bound to
carry, and thus subject himself to the inconvenient necessity of car
rying lead in the girths. At a certain distance from the goal, about
a hundred paces to the side, stands another white post called the bet
ting-post. Here the bettors assemble, after they have seen the horses
saddled in the stables at the beginning of the course, thoroughly ex
amined into all the circumstances of the impending race, or perhaps
given a wink to some devoted jockey. The scene which ensues
would to many appear the most strange that ever was exhibited. In
noise, uproar, and clamour, it resembles a Jews' synagogue, with a
greater display of passion. The persons of the drama are the first
peers of England, livery -servants, the lowest ' sharpers' and ' black
legs;' — in short,all who have money to bet here claim equal rights; nor
is there any marked difference in their external appearance. Most of
them have pocket-books in their hands, each calls aloud his bet, and
when it is taken, each party immediately notes it in his book. Dukes,
lords, grooms, and rogues, shout, scream, and halloo together, and bet
together, with a volubility and in a technical language out of which a
foreigner is puzzled to make anything; till suddenly the cry is heard,
"The horses have started!" In a minute the crowd disperses; but
the bettors soon meet again at the ropes which enclose the course.
You see a multitude of telescopes, opera-glasses and eye-glasses,
levelled from the carriages and by the horsemen, in the direction
whence the jockeys are coming. With the speed of the wind they
are seen approaching; and for a few moments a deep and anxious
silence pervades the motley crowd; while a manager on horseback
keeps the course clear, and applies his whip without ceremonytothe
shoulders of any intruder. The calm endures but a moment; — then
* Let me take this opportunity of advising those of my Berlin friends who mean
to run horses, to have them trained by well-recommended Enghsh grooms; for it is
far from being the fact, that every English groom without exception understands
tlie 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.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 31
once more arises the wildest uproar; shouts and lamentations, curses
and cheers re-echo on every side, from Lords and Ladies, far and
wide. "Ten to four upon the Admiral!" " A hundred to one upon
Madame Vestris!" "Small Beer against the field!" &c. are heard
from the almost frantic bettors: and scarcely do you hear a " Done!"
uttered here and there, when the noble animals are before you —
past you — in the twinkling of an eye; the next moment at the goal,
and luck, or skill, or knavery have decided the victory. The great
losers look blank for a moment; the winners triumph aloud; many
make ' bonne mine a mauvais jeu,' and dart to the spot, where the
horses are unsaddled and the jockeys weighed, to see if some irre
gularity may not yet give them a chance. In a quarter of an hour
the same scene begins anew with other horses, and is repeated six or
seven times. " Voila les courses de Newmarket!"
The first day I was gifted with such a prophetic vision, that twice,
by the mere exercise of my proper observation and judgment, I
betted upon the winner at the saddling, and gained a considerable
sum. But I had the usual fate of*play, — what I won that day I lost
the next, and as much more to boot. Whoever is a permanent win
ner here, is sure of his game beforehand; and it is well known that
the principles of many of the English nobility are remarkably wide
and expansive on this head.
Among the company present, I found several old acquaintances,
who gave me permission to see their running horses in the stable,
which is regarded as a signal favour. They also offered to introduce
me into the Club here; — an honour, however, which I declined. It
is purely a gambling Club, — which a man should beware of in Eng
land, more than in any other country.
It may be regarded as a part of the national costume, and highly
characteristic of the general tradesman-like spirit, that beforehand
all advantages are fair; but that after a bet is once taken, though often
amidst the greatest hurry and confusion, it is scarcely ever disputed.
On the other hand, a man who has lost more than he can pay, before
reckoning-day becomes invisible, that is, commits an act of bank
ruptcy, and betakes himself to the Continent, either for ever, or till
he can pay.
On the first day of my visit to Newmarket, my Hungarian friend
introduced me to the family of a rich merchant of this neighbour
hood, who with his visitors, among whom were some very pretty
girls, came daily to the races, and returned home after them. They
invited us to dine with them the next day, and stay the day after,
which we accepted with much pleasure.
About five o'clock we set out on horseback. A newly planted,
very broad double avenue of beeches marked the beginning of our
host's property, and led us through about half a mile of road to the
entrance of his park, — a sort of triumphal arch between two lodges,
to which the park paling joined. This was however concealed in the
plantation for some distance on either side the lodges, so that they
appeared to stand in the midst of wood, and thus produced a very
good effect. For some time our way led us through a thick planta-

32 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
tion, till we reached the lawn, studded with groups of trees, which
invariably forms the chief feature of an English park. Here we
caught sight of the house, behind which lay the high trees and
'shrubberies.' Some cows lay on the grass just before the door of the house, so
that we were obliged almost to ride over them— a strange anomaly,
which even Repton animadverts upon. It is the custom here to have
the park, that is the ornamented pasture land, extend on one side, if
not on both, to the very house; but surely it would be in better taste
to have the garden and pleasure-ground around the house. It seems
to me, that however agreeable the distant view of cattle may be,
their immediate vicinity, with all its accompaniments, is not very
pleasant. We found a pretty numerous company, consisting of the master
and mistress of the house, both of middle age, their eldest married
daughter with her husband, two younger daughters, a neighbouring
Baronet with his pretty wife, and her very pleasing but very melan
choly sister, Miss  , a much courted lady who frequently moves
in higher circles, three gentlemen not remarkable for anything, the
son of the house, and lastly, a London beau of the second class, — a
study of an aspiring City dandy.
The Baronet had served in Germany, and had, as he told us, ob
tained the cross of Maria Theresa. He did not wear it, because he
thought the thing very well for a young man, but not at all suitable
to the quiet country gentleman's life he now led. He was a simple,
kind-hearted man, who appeared to have been invited to meet us as
best acquainted with the Continent. We however preferred taking
lessons in English manners of his wife and her sister.
According to this system of manners, as it appeared, a visit from
two 'Noblemen,' (even foreign ones, though these are full fifty per
cent under natives,) wras an honour to a house of the 'volee' of our
host's. We were therefore amazingly 'fetes;' even the dandy was
— as far as the rules of his ' metier' permitted — civil and obliging
to us. It is an almost universal weakness of the unnoble in England,
to parade an acquaintance with the noble: the noble do the same with
regard to the 'fashionable' or 'exclusive;' a peculiar caste, an empe-
rium in imperio, which exercises a still more despotical power in
society, and is not influenced by rank, still less by riches, but finds
the possibility of its maintenance only in this national foible.
It is therefore a great delight to the English of the middle classes
to travel on the Continent, where they easily make acquaintance
with people of rank, of whom they can talk as of intimate friends
when they come home. A merchant's wife once gave me a speci
men of this: "Do you know the Queen of  ?" said she. I
replied that " I had had the honour of being presented to her."
" She is a great friend of mine," added she,— exactly as if she had
been talking of her husband's partner's wife. She immediately ex
hibited, among the numerous trinkets which hung about her, a
portrait of the Queen, which, as she said, Her Majesty had given
her.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 33
It was very likely true, for her daughter produced a letter from
Princess  , a married daughter of the Queen, containing the
most confidential communications concerning her marriage and do
mestic affairs, which has probably been made to serve for some time
as ' cheval de parade' to gratify the vanity of the possessor. Is it
notmost extraordinary that our German great people, many of whom
are by no means wanting in pride and ' morgue' towards their own
countrymen, should treat every little English Squire or Miss, how
ever utterly deficient in intellectual pretensions, almost as an equal,
without in the least inquiring whether this person occupies a station
at home which warrants such a reception?
Nothing lets us down more in the eyes of the English themselves
than this obsequious worship of foreigners; the meanness of which
consists in this, that its true foundation generally lies in the profound
respect which high and low have for English money.
It requires a considerable fortune here to keep up a country-house;
for custom demands many luxuries, and, according to the aspiring
and imitative manners of the country, as much (in the main things)
at the shopkeeper's house, as at the Duke's; — a handsomely fitted-up
house, with elegant furniture, plate, servants in new and handsome
liveries, a profusion of dishes and foreign wines, rare and expensive
dessert, and in all things an appearance of superfluity, — 'plenty' as
the English call it. As long as there are visitors in the house, this
way of life goes on; but many a family atones for it by meagre fare
when alone: for which reason nobody here ventures to pay a visit in
the country without bemg invited, and these invitations usually fix
the day and hour. The acquaintances are generally numerous; and
as both room and the time allotted to the reception of guests are
small, one must give place to another. True hospitality this can
hardly be called; it is rather the display of one's own possessions,
for the purpose of dazzling as many as possible. After a family has
thus kept open house for a month or two, they go for the remainder
of the time they have to spend in the country, to make visits at the
houses of others; but the one hospitable month costs as much as a
wealthy landed proprietor spends in a whole year with us.
As you never were in England, I must say.a few words on the
routine of an English dinner, which, as I have said, is, ' a peu de
chose pres', everywhere alike.
You like the details of daily life, and have often told me that you
feel the want of them in most books of travels, and yet that nothing
gives you a more lively conception of a foreign country. You must
therefore forgive me if I go into trifles.
The gentlemen lead the ladies into the dining-room, not as in
France, by the hand, but by the arm; and here, as there,. are eman
cipated from the necessity of those antiquated bows, which even in
some of the best society in Germany, are exchanged every time one
hands out a lady. On the other hand, there is a most anxious re
gard to rank, in the midst of all which the strangest blunders are
made as to that of foreigners. I execrated mine to-day, as it brought
me to the head of the table; while my friend very cleverly slipped
5

34 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
himself in between the pretty sisters. When you enter, you find
the whole of the first course on the table, as in France.
After the soup is removed, and the covers are taken off, every
man helps the dish before him, and offers some of it to his neighbour;*
if he wishes for anything else, he must ask across the table, or send
a servant for it; — a very troublesome custom, in place of which,
some of the most elegant travelled gentlemen have adopted the more
convenient German fashion of sending the servants round with the
dishes. It is not usual to take wine without drinking to another person.
When you raise your glass, you look fixedly at the one with whom
you are drinking, bow your head, and then drink with great gra
vity. Certainly many of the customs of the South Sea Islanders,
which strike us the most, are less ludicrous. It is esteemed a civi
lity to challenge anybody in this way to drink ; and a messenger is
often sent from one end of the table to the othet to announce to
B  that A  wishes to take wine with him; whereupon each,
sometimes with considerable trouble, catches the other's eye, and
goes through the ceremony of the prescribed nod with great forma
lity, looking at the moment very like a Chinese mandarin. If the
company is small, and a man has drunk with everybody, but bap-
pens to wish for more wine, he must wait for the dessert, if he does
not find in himself courage enough to brave custom.
At the conclusion of the second course comes a sort of interme
diate dessert of cheese, butter, salad, raw celery, and the like; after
which ale, sometimes thirty or forty years old, and so strong that
when thrown on the fire it blazes like spirit, is handed about. The
tablecloth is then removed: under it, at the best tables, is a finer,
upon which the dessert is set. At inferior ones, it is placed on the
bare polished table. It consists of all sorts of hot-house fruits, which
are here of the finest quality, Indian and native preserves, stomachic
ginger, confitures, and the like. Clean glasses are set before every
guest, and, with the dessert plates and knives and forks, small
fringed napkins are laid. Three decanters are usually placed before
the master of the house, generally containing claret, port, and sher
ry, or madeira. The host pushes these in stands, or in a little silver
wagon on wheels, to his neighbour on the left. Every man pours
out his own wine, and if a lady sits next him, also helps her; and so
on till the circuit is made, when the same process begins again. Glass
jugs filled with water happily enable foreigners to temper the bran
dy which forms so large a component part of English wines. After
the dessert is set on, all the servants leave the room: if more is want
ed the bell is rung, and the butler (Haushofmeister) alone brings it
in. The ladies sit a quarter of an hour longer, durino- which time
sweet wines are sometimes served, and then rise from° table. The
men rise at the same time, one opens the door for them, and as soon
as they are gone, draw closer together; the host takes the place of
* The art of carving, which is too much neglected in Germany, forms part of a
good English education. r

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 35
the hostess, and the conversation turns upon subjects of local and
everyday interest, in which the stranger is pretty nearly forgotten,
and must content himself with listening to what he can take very lit
tle part in. Every man is, however, at liberty to follow the ladies
as soon as he likes, — a liberty of which Count B  and I very
quickly availed ourselves. We had the singular satisfaction of learn
ing that this was in accordance with the latest mode, as much drink
ing is now ' unfashionable.' Accordingly the dandy had already
preceded us. We found him with the ladies, who received us in a
' salon,' grouped around a large table on which were tea and coffee.*
When the whole company was re-assembled, all fell off into groups,
according to their pleasure. Some entertained themselves with music;
here and there a couple whispered in the recess of a window; seve
ral talked politics; — the dandy alone remained solitary: sunk into a
large easy chair, he had laid his elegantly shod right foot over his
left knee, and in that attitude became apparently so absorbed in Ma
dame de Stael's ' Allemagne' that he took not the slightest notice of
any one present.
' A tout prendre,' I must do this pretty young fellow the justice
to say that he was not at all a bad copy of higher originals. Perhaps
I was bribed into this favourable opinion by bis talking much at din
ner about the great Gothe, and praising his ' Fostf both of whom
(Gothe and Post) Lord Byron has brought into fashion in England.
i Post seemed to please him, particularly on account of what he con
ceived to be its atheistical tendency, for he had, as he informed us,
spent half his life in Paris, and avowed himself an ' esprit fort'
The following day, after all breakfasting together, we rode with
the ladies in the park, which contained nothing remarkable except a
canal of stagnant and slimy water, which had cost five thousand
pounds in the digging; — an expense better spared; The fruit-gar
dens and hot-houses were admirable: the latter, a hobby of the pro
prietor, were heated by steam on a very ingenious plan of his own,
and the heat increased or diminished at pleasure by simply turning a
eock. Three-and-twenty different sorts of pines, — above which,
pendent from the glass roof, hung gigantic purple grapes, — fill these
spacious, elegant houses ; and in the fruit-garden we admired pears
on the wall seven inches in length, sixteen in circumference, and of
an excellent flavour.
Several of the gentlemen went hunting; but we preferred the so
ciety at home. The gay amusing B  was become the favourite of
the ladies, and was evidently greatly regretted by them when the post-
chaise arrived at one o'clock in the morning to take us back to New
market I must confess that we took rather a laughing review of
* When leaving the presence of the King, ladies are compelled to go out back
wards (as one of them assured me.) It is against the laws of etiquette, — the ob
servance of which is, partially, so extremely rigorous in England, — to turn their
backs upon Majesty. This has been reduced to a regular mihtary evolution, some
times 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-
woroan reaches it, she faces to the right about, passes through, and the others fol
low her. Lady C  commands.

36 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
some things that Struck us as ridiculous, though I was really ashamed
that we were such genuine B  's* as to make ourselves merry at
the expense of our host and his company, instead of feeling hearty
gratitude for our hospitable reception.
But now-a-days the world is spoiled; and besides, hospitality
which springs from ostentation cannot expect the same hearty re
quital as that which is the offspring of the heart. Probably we guests
fared no better in the house we had just quitted.
At the races the next morning we saw the young ladies again,
betted gloves with them till we lost, and delighted them with some
Paris ones. We declined a second invitation, as we were engaged
to a gentleman's dinner, and Count B  was going to a fox-hunt
at Melton. I shall leave Newmarket too, and continue my letter in
London. Epping-place, Oct. 20th.
I have travelled as far as I wished, and must pass the night here,
as the inspection of two parks has fully occupied my day.
My trouble has been richly rewarded. The first, Audley-End,
belonging to Lord Braybrooke, claims a place among the finest in
the country. The road lies through the middle of it, with a deep
ha-ha on each side, which secures the park and yet leaves a full view
into it. You see, at first, an extensive green landscape, in the centre
of which is a broad, river-like, and beautifully formed piece of water,
which unfortunately, however, has too little motion to prevent its
being covered with duckweed. Near to the opposite shore stands
the splendid Gothic castle, which was originally built by the Duke of
Suffolk, and was then three times as large as it is now. The multi
tude of its towers, projecting angles, and lofty many-formed win
dows, still give it a very imposing and picturesque appearance.
Although Lady Braybrooke was at home, I obtained the uncom
mon permission to view it. I entered a wide and very simple hall,
ornamented only with some gigantic stags' horns of great antiquity,
and furnished with a few massive benches and chairs, on which the.
arms of the family were painted; some very old paintings; a Gothic
lamp; a large table, consisting of two pieces of serpentine, of which
only the upper side was polished, the rest quite rough; and a dozen
leather fire-buckets, also painted with the family arms. The ceiling
was of wood, with deeply-carved compartments and old faded paint
ings. One saw at the first glance that it was no house of yesterday
one had entered. A high door of heavy carved oak led from hence
into the barons' hall, a large room whose enormous windows reached
from the ceiling to the floor, and afforded a free view of the land
scape. Several family pictures, as large as life, partly painted by
Vandyck, hung on the opposite wall; and between them rose the
huge marble chimney-piece, with the richly-coloured arms of the
Suffolks executed upon it in stucco. The third side of the room, —
* Probably Berliners. This accords with what has been said in the note p. 6,
as to the North German acute and satirical character, as contrasted with Southern
bonhommie. — Transl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 37
that on which we entered, — was entirely covered with very fine and
highly relieved carvings, figures half the size of life, like those one
sees in the choirs of Gothic churches. Opposite were large folding-
doors which opened into the eating-hall, and on each side an open
staircase leading to the first story, The dining-room contains a por
trait of Suffolk, and one of Queen Elizabeth. Her red hair, ' fade'
complexion and false look, and her over-done finery, gave no advan
tageous idea of the vain and gallant ' Maiden Queen.'
On the first floor is a long narrow gallery full of pretty knick-
knacks and antique curiosities. In the centre is a large chart of the
winds, connected with the weather-cock on the tower, and destined
to show the sportsman every morning which way the wind sets.*
This serves as drawing-room, for most English country-houses and
mansions are judiciously made to contain only one principal enter
taining room ; which is much more convenient for the reception of a
large company.
The chapel is modern, but richly and tastefully ornamented; and
here, if the chaplain is absent, the lord of the house, according to
ancient usage, reads. divine service at ten o'clock every morning, at
which all the family and servants must attend.
The park is of considerable extent, but intersected by a troublesome
number of fences, which serve to allot to the sheep, cows, horses
and deer, their several territories. Of the latter, there are from four
to five hundred head, which generally graze pretty near together
like a herd of tame cattle, and do not answer at all to our idea of
game.t The flesh too has a totally different flavour from that of the
animals which roam free in our woods, just as they say the flesh of
wild oxen differs from that of tame.
The preserves for partridges and hares are also fenced in to pro
tect the low copse from the cattle, in consequence of whose pre
sence, the greater part of an English park consists, as I have already
remarked, only of groups of high trees whose branches the cattle
cannot reach.
These extensive views, grand and striking as they are at first, be
come tiresome in time from their uniformity. Nor can I see that
the numerous enclosures are advantages to the landscape. Almost
every young tree has a fence round it to protect it from the cattle.
Two temples and an obelisk, to which there is no other way than
across the turf, have a very heterogeneous appearance in the midst
of these pasture-grounds. The distant Gothic tower of Walden
church, rearing its head picturesquely over the summits of the oaks,
was in much better keeping.
On the other hand I greatly admired the flower-garden and phea-
santry. The first describes a large oval, surrounded with a thick
natural evergreen wall of yew, laurel, rhododendron, cedar, cypress,
• A very useful piece of furniture to introduce at Court. — Editor.
f Idee des Wildes: — The double sense of the word wild in German, — which when
used substantively, exactly corresponds to our game (fene naturae,) though adjec-
tively it is the same as the Enghsh adjective, — makes it impossible to render this. —
Trass.

38 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
box, holly, &c. ; a brook, adorned with a grotto and water-fall, flows
through the velvet turf, on which the rare and splendid plants and
flower-beds of every form and colour group themselves most beauti
fully. The pheasantry, which is nearly two miles from this spot, is a
thick shady grove of various sorts of trees, of considerable extent,
and surrounded by a high wall. We could only get to it over the
wet grass, as the gravel-walk commenced from the entrance-gate.
This is from economy, for roads are excessively expensive both to
make and to keep up in England. There is generally but one car
riage-road to the house, and even the foot-paths cease with the iron
fences of the pleasure-grounds. The English ladies are not so afraid
of setting their feet on wet grass as ours are.
After many windings, the path brought me, under a most lovely
leafy canopy, unexpectedly before the ivy-covered door of a little
building, adjoining to which, still more buried in the wood, was
the gamekeeper's house. This door opened from within, and most
enchanting was the view that it disclosed to us. We had entered a
little open saloon, the isolated pillars of which were entirely covered
with thick monthly roses; — between them was seen a large aviary
filled with parrots on the right, and on the left an equally extensive
habitation for canaries, goldfinches, and other small birds; before us
lay an open grass-plat dotted with evergreens, and behind this a
back-ground of high woods, through which small peeps at a distant
village and a solitary church-tower had been cut with singular taste
and skill.
On this grass-plat, the keeper now called together perfect clouds
of gold, silver, and pied pheasants, fowls of exotic breeds, tame
rooks, curious pigeons, and other birds that were accustomed to be
fed here, and thronged together in the most gay and motley crowd.
Their various manners and gestures, rendered more lively by their
passionate eagerness, afforded an amusing spectacle. The behaviour
of a gold pheasant who, like a beau of the old school, seemed trying
to make his court to all the assembled hens with the most ludicrous
struts and airs, was so excessively comic that my old B  burst in
to an immoderate fit of laughter ; whereat the English servants, who
are accustomed to observe an exterior of slavish reverence in the
presence of their masters, looked at him with a consternation at his
boldness, which amused me as much as the ' Pantalonnade ' among
the fowls.
There are above five hundred gold and silver pheasants. They
have all one wing cut as soon as they are hatched, which for ever
prevents their flying. They inhabit these woods winter and sum
mer, without wanting even the shelter of a shed,— so mild is this
climate. Not to weary you, I omit the description of the second park, Short
Grove, which had nothing remarkable to boast, and appeared much
neglected. The house, park, hot-houses, &c, the former complete
ly furnished, were to let for the moderate rent of four hundred
a-year,— a very common custom here when the possessors are'tra-
velling.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 39
We should not like to imitate it; while on the other hand, a part
of our town-houses are almost always let, the proprietors inhabiting
only the ' bel etage.' This again appears very strange to the Eng
lish, and certainly is extremely inconvenient, for the presence of
several families in one house is not favourable either to order or
cleanliness. The house-door at S,hort Grove was covered on the outside with
looking-glass, — a very pretty idea: as you enter the house you have
a beautiful picture of the country.
The great wealth of the landholders of England must always strike
people from the Continent, where the landed proprietors are the
poorest class, and the least protected by laws and institutions. Here
everything conspires for their advantage. It is very difficult for the
fundholder to acquire the free and full possession of land. Almost
the whole soil is the property of the aristocracy, who generally let it
only on lease; so that when a great man calls a village his. this does
not mean, as with us, merely that he has the lordship (Oberherr-
schafft) over it, but that every house is his absolute property; and
only granted to the actual inhabitants for a certain time. You may
conceive what enormous and ever increasing revenues this must
bring them, in a country where trade and population are continually
on the increase; and may admire with me the concert and address
with which this aristocracy has contrived for centuries to turn all the
institutions of the country to its own advantage.
The free sale of a portion of land is attended by many difficult
conditions, and at so high a price that it is out of the reach of small
capitalists, who find it more advantageous to hire it on lease. Leases
here are, however, of a very different nature from ours. The piece
of land is let to the tenant for nine-nine years on payment of a cer
tain yearly rent, which varies from a few shillings to five and ten
pounds yearly per foot of the frontage, if it be for building on; in
large portions, it is so much per acre. The tenant now does with
it what he likes, builds where he pleases, lays out gardens, pleasure-
grounds, and so on: but after the lapse of the ninety -nine years, the
whole reverts just as it stands, sound and tight, to the family of the
original lord of the soil: — nay more; the tenant must keep the house
in perfect repair, and paint it every seven "years. During his allot
ted term he may sell or let it to others, but of course only up to that
period when it reverts to the original proprietor. Almost all the
country-houses, villas, &c, that one sees, thus belong to great land
owners; and although the. tenants at the expiration of their term
generally re-establish this sort of precarious property in them, yet
they must double or treble their rent, according to the increased
value of land, or the improvements they themselves have made upon
it. Even the greater part of London belongs, on such terms, to cer
tain noblemen, of whom Lord Grosvenor, for instance, is said to
derive above 100,000/. a year from his ground-rents. Scarcely a
single inhabitant of London, therefore, except a few members of the
high aristocracy, is the real owner of his house. Even Rothschild's
is not his own : and when a man buys one, as it is called, people ask

40 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
him for how long. The price varies according as the house is taken at
first hand, commonly then for a rent; or at second or third, and then
more usually for a sum of money. The greater part of the profits of
industry thus inevitably falls into the hands of the aristocracy, and
necessarily increases the enormous influence which they already ex
ercise over the government of the country.* London, October 21st.
This afternoon I got home safe and well through the incessant
rain, refreshed myself with a good dinner at the Club, and in the
evening, let me tell you, won just six times my travelling expenses.
I am well and in good spirits, and find that I want nothing but you.
Let me finish my letter at so favourable a conjuncture. It is
already swelled to a packet.
Ever your faithfully devoted L  .

LETTER V.t London, Nov. 20th, 1826.
Beloved Friend, _
I advise travellers never to take servants out of their fatherland
into strange countries, especially if they imagine they shall save by
it, — now-a-days always a prime object. This piece of economy be
longs to the class of those, one of which costs more than four pieces
of extravagance; besides which, one hangs a load round one's neck
which is burthensome in various ways.
These wise reflections are excited in me by my old valet, who
seems inclined to fall into the English spleen because he finds so
many daily difficulties here; — above all, in getting soup for his din
ner, the thought of which beloved aliment of his home calls tears in
to his eyes. He reminds me of the Prussian soldiers, who, amid
streams of Champagne, beat the French peasants for not setting
Stettin beer before them.
True it is that the English of the middle classes, accustomed to
substantial flesh diet, are not acquainted with the Northern broths
and soups: what goes under that name in England is an expensive
extract of all sorts of peppers and spices from both Indies, like that
brevved in a witches' cauldron. The face of my faithful liegeman,
at the first spoonful of this compound he put into his mouth, would
* 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 trans
late but to forge. The mistakes and misrepresentations are numerous, — almost as
numerous as those in Enghsh works on Germany, which is saying a good deal. —
Transi. -(-Some letters which contain only personal anecdotes are here suppressed. I
remark this only to account to my fau- 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.

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 41
have been worthy to figure in Peregrine Pickle's antique repast, and
turned my anger into loud laughter. Yet I see beforehand that his
devotion to me will be wrecked on this rock; for our Germans are,
and ever will be, curious beings; holding longer than any others to
the accustomed, — be it in faith, love or soup.
In the absence of society, the various Clubs, (to which, contrary
to former custom, a stranger can now gain admittance,) are a very
agreeable resource. Our ambassador introduced me into two of
them, — the United Service Club, into which no foreigners are ad
mitted except ambassadors and military men, — the latter of the rank
of staff-officers: and the Travellers' Club, into which every foreigner
of education, who has good introductions, is admitted; though every
three months he is made to undergo the somewhat humiliating cere
mony of requesting a fresh permission, to which he is held with al
most uncivil severity.
In Germany, people have as little notion of the elegance and com
fort of Clubs, as of the rigorous execution of their laws which pre
vail here.
All that luxury and convenience, without magnificence, demand,
is here to be found in as great perfection as in the best private
houses. The stairs and rooms are covered with fresh and hand
some carpets, and rugs (sheep-skins with the wool nicely prepared
and dyed of bright colours) are laid before the doors to prevent
drafts; marble chimney-pieces, handsome looking-glasses (always
of one piece, — a necessary part of solid English luxury), a profusion
of furniture, &c. render every apartment extremely comfortable.
EvenTfcales, by which to ascertain one's weight daily — a strange
taste of the English — are not wanting. The numerous servants are
never seen but in shoes, and in the neatest livery or plain clothes;
and a porter is always at his post to take charge of great-coats and
umbrellas. This latter article in England deserves attention, since
umbrellas, which are unfortunately so indispensable, are stolen in the
most shameless manner, be it where it may, if you do not take par
ticular care of them. This fact is so notorious that I must translate
for your amusement a passage from a newspaper, relating to some
Society for the encouragement of virtue, which was to award a prize
for the most honourable action. "The choice," continues the au
thor, " was become extremely difficult; and it was nearly determined
to give the prize to an individual who had paid his tailor's bill punc
tually for several years; when another was pointed out, who had
twice sent home an umbrella left at his house. At this unheard-of
act," adds the journalist, "the company first fell into mute wonder
that so much virtue was still found in Israel; but at length loud and
enthusiastic applause left the choice no longer doubtful."
In the elegant and well-furnished library there is also a person
always at hand to fetch you the books you want. You find all the
journals in a well-arranged reading-room; and in a small room for
maps and charts,* a choice of the newest and best in their kind.
* I must remark, that ever since Prussia Was promised a Charter, (Charte,) my
departed friend, to be more accurate, made an orthographical distinction, spelling
6

42 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
This is so arranged that all the maps, rolled up, hang one over
another on the wall, thus occupying but a small space; and each
is easily drawn down for use by a little loop in the centre. A pull
at a loop at the side rolls up the map again by a very simple piece
of mechanism. The name of each country is inscribed in such large
letters on the mahogany staff on which the map is rolled, that it may
be read with ease across the room. By this contrivance a great
number of maps may be hung in a very small closet, and when want
ed, may be found and inspected in a moment, without the slightest
trouble, or derangement of the others.
The table, — I mean the eating, — with most men the first thing,
and with me not the last, — is generally prepared by a French cook,
as well and as cheaply as it is possible to have it in London. As
the Club provides the wines, and sells them again to each member,
they are very drinkable and reasonable. But ' gourmands' must
ever miss the finest wines, even at the best tables in London. This
arises from the strange habit of the English (and these people, too,
stick faster to their habits than an oyster to its shell,) of getting their
wines from London wine-merchants, instead of importing them from
the places where they grow, as we do. Now these wine-merchants
adulterate the wine to such a degree, that one who was lately prose
cuted for having some thousand bottles of port and claret in his cel
lars which had not paid duty, proved that all this wine was manu
factured by himself in London, and thus escaped the penalty. You
may imagine, therefore, what sort of brewage you often get under
the high-sounding names of Champagne, Lafitte, &c. The dealers
scarcely ever buy the very best which is to be had in th#tfative
lands of the several wines, for the obvious reason that they could
make little or no profit of it ; at best they only use it to enable them
to get off other wine of inferior quality.
Excuse this wine-digression, which to you, who drink only water,
cannot be very interesting; but you know I write for us both, and
to me the subject is I confess not unimportant. " Gem fuhre ich
Wein im Munde."
But let us back to our Clubs.
The peculiarity of English manners may be much better observed
here, at the first ' abord', than in the great world, which is every
where more or less alike; whereas the same individuals, of whom
it is in part composed, show themselves here with much less restraint.
In the first place, the stranger must admire the refinement of con
venience with which Englishmen sit: it must be confessed that a man
who is ignorant of the ingenious English chairs, of every form, and
adapted to every degree of fatigue, indisposition, or constitutional
peculiarity, really loses a large share of earthly enjoyment. It is
a positive pleasure even to see an Englishman sit, or rather lie, in
one of these couch-like chairs by the fire-side. A contrivance like
a reading-desk attached to the arm, and furnished with a candlestick,
charts, Carte, and playing cards Karte.— He hopes this caution will not be thrown
away. — Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 43
is so placed before him, that with the slightest touch he can bring it
nearer or further, push it to the right or the left, at pleasure. A cu
rious machine, several of which stand around the large fire-place,
receives one or both of his feet ; and the hat on his head completes
this enchanting picture of superlative comfort.
This latter circumstance is the most difficult of imitation to a man
brought up in the old school. Though he can never refrain from a
provincial sort of shudder when he enters the brilliantly lighted
saloon of the Club-house, where dukes, ambassadors and lords, ele
gantly dressed, are sitting at the card-tables, yet if he wishes to be
' fashionable' he must keep on his hat, advance to a party at whist,
nod to one or two of his acquaintances; then carelessly taking up a
newspaper, sink down on a sofa, and, not till after some time, ' non-
chalament' throw down his hat (which perhaps has all the while
been a horrid annoyance to him); or, if he stays but a few minutes,
not take it off at all.
The practice of half lying instead of sitting; sometimes of lying
at full length on the carpet at the feet of ladies; of crossing one leg
over the other in such a manner as to hold the foot in the hand; of
putting the hands in the arm-holes of the waistcoat, and so on, — are
all things which have obtained in the best company and the most
exclusive circles: it is therefore very possible that the keeping on
the hat may arrive at the same honour. In this case it will doubtless
find its way into Paris society, which, after being formerly aped by
all Europe, now disdains not to ape the English, — sometimes gro
tesquely enough, — and, as is usual in such cases, often outdoes its
original. On the other hand, the English take it very ill of foreigners, if
they reprove a waiter who makes them wait, or brings one thing in
stead of another, or if they give their commands in a loud or lordly
tone of voice; though the English themselves often do this in their
own country, and much more in ours, and though the dining-room
of the Club is in fact only a more elegant sort of ' restauration,'
where every man must pay his reckoning after he has dined. It is
regarded not only as improper, but as unpleasant and offensive, if
any one reads during dinner. It is not the fashion in England; and,
as I have this bad habit in a supreme degree, I have sometimes re
marked satirical signs of displeasure on the countenances of a few
Islanders of the old school, who shook their heads as they passed
me. One must be on one's guard, generally, to do things as little as
possible unlike the English, and }^et not to try to imitate them ser
vilely in everything, for no race of men can be more intolerant.
Most of them see with reluctance the introduction of any foreigner
into their more private societies, and all regard it as a distinguished
favour and obligation conferred upon us.
But of all offences against English manners which a man can
commit, the three following are the greatest: — to put his knife to his
mouth instead of his fork; to take up sugar or asparagus with his
fingers; or, above all, to spit anywhere in a room. These are cer
tainly laudable prohibitions, and well-bred people of all countries

44 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
avoid such practices, — though even on these points manners alter
greatly; for Marshal Richelieu detected an adventurer who passed
himself off for a man of rank, by the single circumstance of his
taking up olives with his fork and not with his fingers. The ridi
culous thing is the amazing importance which is here attached to
them. The last-named crime is so pedantically proscribed in Eng
land, that you might seek through all London in vain to find such
a piece of furniture as a spitting-box. A Dutchman, who was very
uncomfortable for the want of one, declared with great indignation,
that an Englishman's only spitting-box was his stomach. These
things are, I repeat, more than trivial, but the most important rules
of behaviour in foreign countries almost always regard trivialities.
Had I, for example, to give a few universal rules to a young travel
ler, I should seriously counsel him thus: — In Naples, treat the people
brutally; in Rome, be natural; in Austria, don't talk politics; in
France, give yourself no airs; in Germany, a great many; and in
England, don't spit. With these rules, the young man would get
on very well. What one must justly admire is the well-adapted ar
rangement of everything belonging to the economy of life and of
all public establishments in England, as well as the systematical
rigour with which what has once been determined on is unalterably
followed up. In Germany, all good institutions soon fall asleep, and
new brooms alone sweep clean; here it is quite otherwise. On the
other hand, everything is not required of the same person, but ex
actly so much, and no more, as falls within his department. The
treatment of servants is as excellent as their performance of their
duties. Each has his prescribed field of activity; in which, how
ever, the strictest and most punctual execution of orders is required
of him, and in any case of neglect the master knows whom he has
to call to account. At the same time, the servants enjoy a reason
able freedom, and have certain portions of time allotted to them,
which their master carefully respects. The whole treatment of the
serving classes is much more decorous, and combined with more
'egards,' than with us; but then they are so entirely excluded from
all familiarity, and such profound respect is exacted from them, that
they appear to be considered rather as machines than as beings of the
same order. This, and their high wages, are no doubt the causes
that the servants really possess more external dignity than any other
class in England, relatively to their station.
In many cases it would be a very pardonable blunder in a foreigner
to take .the valet for the lord, especially if he happened to imagine
that courtesy and a good address were the distinguishing marks of
a man of quality. This test would be by no means applicable in
England, where these advantages are not to be found among the
majority of persons of the higher classes; though there are some
brilliant exceptions, and their absence is often redeemed by admira
ble and solid qualities.
In the men, indeed, their arrogance, often amounting to rudeness,
and their high opinion of themselves, do not sit so ill; but in the

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 45
women, it is as disgusting and repulsive, as, in some other of their
country women, the vain effort to ape continental grace and vivacity.
I once before praised the admirable spirit of adaptation and ar
rangement which pervades all establishments here. As a sample, I
will give you the organization of the card-room in the Travellers'
Club-house. This is not properly a gaming club, but, as its name
denotes, one expressly for travellers. Such only can become actual
members of it as have travelled a certain prescribed number of miles
on the Continent, or have made yet more distant expeditions. In
spite of this, one does not perceive that they are become less En
glish, which, however, I do not quarrel with. At the Travellers'
Club, then, short whist and ecarte are played very high, but no
hazard. In our Casinos, ' Ressources,' and so on, a man who wishes to
play must first laboriously seek out a party; and if the tables are
full, may have to wait hours till one is vacant. Here it is a law that
every one who comes may take his seat at any table at which a rub
ber has just ended, when he who has played two consecutive rubbers
must give up his place. It is pleasant, too, to a man who has lost,
and fancies that the luck goes with the place, to quit it and seek
better fortune in another.
In the centre of the room stands a 'bureau' at which is posted a
clerk, who rings whenever a waiter is wanted; brings the bill;*
and, if any contested point occur, fetches the classical authorities on
whist; for never is the slightest offence against the rules of the game
suffered to pass without the infliction of the annexed punishment.
This is rather annoying to a man who plays only for amusement;
but yet it is a wise plan, and forms good players. The same clerk
distributes the markers to the players. To obviate the great annoy
ance of meeting with a bad payer, the Club is the universal payer.
Actual money does not make its appearance, but every man who sits
down to play receives a little basket of markers of various forms,
the value of which is inscribed upon them, and which the clerk en
ters in his book; as often as he loses, he asks for more. Each player
reckons with the clerk, and either proves his loss, or, if he has won,
delivers up the markers. In either case he receives a card contain
ing a statement of the result, and the duplicate of the reckoning in
the account-book.
As soon as any one is indebted more than a hundred pounds, he
must pay it in the following morning to the clerk; and every man
who has any demands can claim his money at any time.
None but a nation so entirely commercial as the English can be
expected to attain to this perfection of methodizing and arrangement.
In no other country are what are here emphatically called ' habits of
business' carried so extensively into social and domestic life; the
value of time, of order, of despatch, of inflexible routine, nowhere
so well understood. This is the great key to the-most striking na-
* Rechnung. — Account, reckoning, bill. The reader, if he happen to know the
fact, may apply the right word. — Transl.

46 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
tional characteristics. The quantity of material objects produced
and accomplished — the work done — in England, exceeds all that
man ever effected. The causes and the qualities which have pro
duced these results have as certainly given birth to the dullness, the
contracted views, the routine habits of thought as well as of action,
the inveterate prejudices, the unbounded desire for, and deference
to, wealth, which characterize the mass of Englishmen.
It were much to be wished that in our German cities we imitated
the organization of English Clubs, which would be very practicable
as to the essentials, though our poverty would compel us to dispense
with many of their luxuries. In this case we ought to repay the
English like for like, and not prostrate ourselves in puerile slavish
admiration before their money and their name; but while we treated
them with all civility, and even with more courtesy than they show
to us, 3'et let them see that Germans are masters of their own house,
particularly as many of them only come among us either to econo
mize, or to form connexions with people of rank, from which their
own station at home excluded them, or to have the satisfaction of
showing us that in all arrangements for physical comfort we are still
barbarians compared with them.*
It is indeed inconceivable, and a proof that it is only necessary to
treat us contemptuously in order to obtain our reverence, that, as I
have remarked, the mere name of Englishman is, with us, equiva
lent to the highest title. Many a person, who would scarcely get
admission into very inferior circles in England, where the whole of
society, down to the very lowest classes, is so stiffly aristocratical,
in the various states of Germany is received at Court and fete by the
first nobility; every act of coarseness and ill-breeding is set down
as a trait of charming English originality, till perhaps, by some acci
dent, a really respectable Englishman comes to the place, and people
learn with astonishment that they have been doing all this honour to
an ensign ' on half pay,' or a rich tailor or shoemaker. An indivi
dual of this rank is, however, generally, at least civil, but the imper
tinence of some of the higher classes surpasses all belief.
I know that in one of the largest towns of Germany, a prince of
the royal house, distinguished for his frank, chivalrous courtesy,
and his amiable character, invited an English Viscount, who was
but just arrived, and had not yet been presented to him, to a hunting-
party ; to which His Lordship replied, that he could not accept the
invitation, as the prince was perfectly unknown to him.
It is true, that no foreigner will ever have it in his power so to re
quite a similar civility in England, where a grandee considers an
invitation to dinner (they are very liberal of invitations to routs and
soirees, for the sake of filling their rooms) as the most signal honour
_ * The author's feelings towards Englishmen are evidently so bitter, that his tes
timony must be received with great allowance. On the other hand, it will be con
fessed 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 and allow
able self-love wounded in a hundred wavs. — Traijsl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 47
he can confer upon even a distinguished foreigner, — an honour only
to be obtained by long acquaintance, or by very powerful letters of
introduction. But if by any miracle such a ready attention were to
be paid in England, it would be impossible to find a single man of
any pretensions to breeding, on the whole Continent, who would
make such a return as this boorish lord did.* November 21st.
I called yesterday morning on L  to execute your commission,
but did not find him at home. Instead of him, I found to my great
joy a letter from you, which I was so impatient to read, that I set
myself down in his room, and read it attentively two or three times.
Your affection, which strives to spare me everything disagreeable,
and dwells only upon those subjects which can give me pleasure, I
acknowledge most gratefully. But you must not spare me more than
you are convinced you can do without detriment to our common
interests. You estimate my letters far more highly than they de
serve ; but you may imagine that, in my eyes, it is a very amiable
fault in you to overvalue me thus. Love paints the smallest merit
in magic colours. I will, however, do myself the justice to believe
that you, who have had such ample opportunities of knowing me,
may find in me qualities which shrink from the rude touch of the
world. This consoled me, — but your expression "that all you wrote
appeared to you so incoherent, that you thought the grief of parting
had weakened your intellects," gave me great pain. Do I then want
phrases? How much more delightful is that natural, confidential
talk, which flows on without constraint and without effort, and there
fore expresses itself admirably. I am particularly delighted at your
sentiments concerning what I tell you ; they are ever exactly such as
I expect and share.
Accompany your friend to the capital: — it will amuse you, and at
the same time you will find many opportunities of promoting our in
terests. 'Les absensont tort;' never forget that. I must disapprove
B  's levity. He who has no solicitude about his reputation,
though he be in fact an angel of virtue and benevilence; he who
cares not what is said of him, — perhaps even laughs at it, — will soon
find that the malignity of men has left him in the same condition as
to reputation as Peter Schlemil was with regard to his shadovv. At
first he thought it nothing to forego a thing so unsubstantial: but in
the end he could scarcely endure existence without it. Only in the
deepest solitude, far from all the world, striding restlessly with his
seven-league boots from the north pole to the south, and living for
science alone, did he find some tranquillity and peace. At the con
clusion of 3'our letter I see but too clearly that melancholy gains the
upper hand, — and I could say something on that subject too, — ' mais
* 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 his destruction.

48 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
il faut du courage.' In every life there are periods of trial, mo
ments when the bitterest drops in the cup must be drained. If the
sun do but illumine the evening, we will not murmur at the noon
tide heat.
But enough of these serious subjects: let me now turn your atten
tion from them, by leading you to the Haymarket Theatre, which I
lately visited, when the celebrated Liston enchanted the public for
the hundred-and-second time in Paul Pry, a sort of foolish lout.
The actor, who is said to have made a fortune of six thousand a-year,
is one of those whom I should call natural comic actors, of the same
class as were Unzelmann and Wurm in Berlin, and Bosenberg and
Doring in Dresden; men who, without any profound study of their
art, excite laughter by a certain drollery of manner peculiar to them
selves, an inexhaustible humour, 'qui coule de source ;'_ though
frequently in private life they are hypochondriacal,' as is said to be
the case with Liston.
The notorious Madame Vestris, who formerly made 'furore,'
was also there. She is somewhat 'passee,' but still very fascinating
on the stage. She is an excellent singer, and still better actor, and
a greater favourite of the English public even than Liston. Her
great celebrity, however, rests on the beauty of her legs, which are
become a standing article in the theatrical criticisms of the news
papers, and are often displayed by her in man's attire. The grace
and the exhaustless spirit and wit of her acting are also truly
enchanting, though she sometimes disgusts one by her want of
modesty, and coquettes too much with the audience. It may truly
be said in every sense of the words, that Madame Vestris belongs to
all Europe. Her father was an Italian; her mother a German and a
good pianoforte player; her husband, of the illustrious dancing
family of France, and herself an Englishwoman: any chasms in her
connexion with other European nations are more than filled up by
hundreds of the most 'marquant' lovers. She also speaks several
languages with the utmost fluency. In the character of the German
' broom girl ' she sings " Ach, du lieber Augustin"
with a perfect pronunciation, and with a very 'piquant' air of assur
ance. To-day I dined with our ambassador. This prevented my visit
ing the theatre, which I have too much neglected. I have resolved
to attend it with more constancy, in order that I may gradually give
you a tolerably perfect report of it, though in detached descriptions.
We were quite ' en petit comite,' and the company unusually ani
mated and merry. We had a certain great ' gourmand' among us,
who took a great deal of joking, ' sans en perdre un coup de dent'
At last Prince E  told him that whenever he went to purgatory
his punishment would undoubtedly be to see the blessed eat, while
he was kept fasting. * * * * *
Lord  was there too. He treats me in the most friendly man
ner to my face, but, I am told, loses no opportunity of injuring me
in society. * * *

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 49
A man of warmer heart would have spoken to me face to face of
this supposed wrong. ' Diplomates,' however, have, too much
fishes' blood in their organization. * *
Happily, I can laugh at all such ' menees:' for a man who seeks
nothing and fears little, who interests himself in the great world
only in so far as it affords him opportunities for making experimen
tal observations on himself and others; who is, as to necessaries at
least, independent, and has a few but faithful friends, — such a man
it is difficult seriously to injure. Experience too has cooled me; —
my blood no longer flows, with such uncontrollable impetuosity;
while my lightheartedness has not deserted me, still less the capacity
of loving intensely. I therefore enjoy life better than in the bloom
of youth, and would not exchange my present feelings for that early
tumultuous vehemence. Nay, in such a frame of mind, I feel not
the least dread of old age, and am persuaded that when that period
of life arrives, it will turn to us many a bright and beautiful side
whose existence we suspect not, and which those only never find
who want to remain youthful for ever.
I lately met with some pretty English verses which I translated,
after my fashion, with a thought of you, my best friend, who too
often regret departing youth. These are the delightful lines:
1st gleich bie trube Wange bleich,
Das Auge nicht mehr hell,
Und nahet schon das ernste Reich,
Wo Jugend fliehet schnell!
Doch lachelt Dir die Wange noch,
Das Auge kennt die Thrane noch,
Das Herz schlagt noch so warm und frei
Als in des Lebens grlinstem Mai.
So denk' denn nicht, dass nur die Jugend
Und SchOnheit Segen leiht —
Zeit lehrt die Seele schonre Tugend,
In Jahren treuer Zartlichkeit.
Und selbst wenn einst die Nacht von obcn
Verdunkelnd Deine Brust umf ilngt, .
Wird noch durch Liebeshand gehoben
Dein Haupt zur ew'gen Ruh' gesenkt.
O, so auch blinkt der Abendstern,
Ist gleich dahin der Sonne Licht,
Noch sanft und warm aus hoher Fern',
Und Tages-Glanz entbehrst Du nicht. — *
Yes, my beloved Julia, thus has time taught us, in years of tender
ness, that nothing can have so genuine a value as that. We have
now before us an evening star, whose mild light is far more delight
ful than that mid-day sun which often rather scorches than warms.
I drove home with L  , and we had a long conversation by the
snug fireside on the affairs of our country. *- * *
* ' ' * * » * « iS ' * *
is very kind to me, and I am doubly attached to him ; first,

for his own amiable and honourable character; secondly, for the sake
* English-German readers will probably find the original of these lines without
difficulty. — Than si . 7

50 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
of his excellent father, to whom we owe more real gratitude than to
 , though he had no other motive than his own impartial love of
justice. November 23d.
A strange custom in England is the continual intrusion of the
newspapers into the affairs of private life. A man of any distinc
tion not only sees the most absurd details concerning him dragged
before the public, — such as where he dined, what evening party he
attended, and so forth, (which many foreigners read with the great
est self-complacency,) — but if anything really worth telling happens
to him, it is immediately made public without shame or scruple.
Personal hostility has thus ' beau jeu,' as well as the desire of mak
ing profitable friends. Many use the newspapers for the publica
tion of articles to their own advantage, which they send themselves.
The foreign embassies cultivate this branch with great assiduity. It
is easy to see what formidable weapons the press thus furnishes.
Fortunately, however, the poison brings its antidote with it. This
consists in the indifference with which the public receives such com
munications. An article in a newspaper after which a Continental
would not show himself for three months, here excites at most a mo
mentary laugh, and the next day is forgotten.
About a month ago the papers made themselves extremely merry
about the duel of a noble lord here; who, according to their repre
sentation of the matter, had not cut a very heroic figure. They
made the most offensive remarks, and drew the most mortifying in
ferences as to the calibre of his valour; and all this had not the small
est perceptible effect in disabling him from presenting himself in
society with as much ease and unconcern as ever. They have tried
to give me too a ' coup fourre.'* * ' * *
* * * * * * * * *
But I have served under an old soldier, and learned from him
always to have the first and loudest laugh at myself, and not to spare
an inoffensive jest at myself and others. This is the only safe way
of meeting ridicule in the world: if you appear sensitive or embar
rassed, then indeed the poison works; otherwise it evaporates like
cold water on a red-hot stone. This the English understand to per
fection. This evening I spent, true to my determination, in Drury Lane,
where, to my infinite astonishment, old Braham appeared, still as
first singer, with the same applause with which I saw him, even then
an old man, perform the same part for his own benefit the day before
my departure from England, twelve years ago. I found little differ
ence in his singing, except that he shouted rather more violently,
and made rather more ' roulades' in order to conceal the decline of
his voice. He is a Jew, and I am firmly convinced the everlasting
one,* for he does not seem to grow old at all. ' Au reste,' he is the
• The traditional personage whom we call the Wandering Jew, the Germans call
der ewigeJude, the eternal or everlasting Jew.— Thaksi.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 51
genuine representative of the English style of singing, and, in po
pular songs especially, the enthusiastically adored idol of the public.
One cannot deny to him great power of voice and rapidity of exe
cution, and he is said to have a thorough knowledge of music: but
a more abominable style it is impossible to conceive.
The Prima Donna was Miss Paton, a very agreeable, but not a
first-rate singer. She is well-made, and not ugly, and is a great
favourite with the public. What would appear extraordinary among
us, — she is married to Lord W  L  , whose name she bears
in her own family and in private.* On the stage, however, she is
Miss Paton again, and paid as such, which is not unacceptable to
her lord.
/The most striking thing to a foreigner in English theatres is the
unheard-of coarseness and brutality of the audiences. ' The conse
quence of this is that the higher and more civilized classes go only
to the Italian Opera, and very rarely visit their national theatre.
Whether this be unfavourable or otherwise to the stage, I leave others
to determine.
English freedom here degenerates into the rudest license, and it is
not uncommon in the midst of the most affecting part of a tragedy,
or the most charming ' cadenza' of a singer, to hear some coarse ex
pression shouted from the galleries in stentor voice. This is follow
ed, according to the taste of the bystanders, either by loud laughter
and approbation, or by the castigation and expulsion of the of
fender. Whichever turn the thing takes, you can hear no more of what
is passing on the stage, where actors and singers, according to an
cient usage, do not suffer themselves to be interrupted by such oc
currences, but declaim or warble away, 'comme si rien n'etait'
And such things happen not once, but sometimes twenty times, in
the course of a performance, and amuse many of the audience more
than that does. It is also no rarity for some one to throw the frag
ments of his ' goute,' which do not always consist of orange-peels
alone, without the smallest ceremony on the heads of the people in
the pit, or to shail them with singular dexterity into the boxes;
while others hang their coats and waistcoats over the railing of the
gallery, and sit in shirt-sleeves; in short, all that could be devised
for the better excitement of a phlegmatic Harmonie Society of the
workmen in Berlin, under the renowned Wisotsky, is to be found
in the national theatre of Britain.
Another cause for the absence of respectable families is the resort
of hundreds of those unhappy women with whom London swarms.
They are to be seen of every degree, from the lady who spends a
splendid income, and has her own box, to the wretched beings who
wander houseless in the streets. Between the acts they fill the large
and handsome 'foyers,' and exhibit their boundless effrontery in the
most revolting manner.
* It is true that our charming Sontag, the queen of song, lias lately done nearly
the same thing, having contracted a left-handed marriage with Count R  .
— Editor.

52 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
It is most strange that in no country on earth is this afflicting and
humiliating spectacle so openly exhibited as in the religious and de
corous England. The evil goes to such an extent, that in the theatres
it is often difficult to keep off these repulsive beings, especially when
they are drunk, which is not seldom the case. They beg in the most
shameless manner, and a pretty, elegantly dressed girl does not dis
dain to take a shilling or a sixpence, which she instantly spends in a
glass of rum, like the meanest beggar. And these are the scenes,
I repeat, which are exhibited in the national theatre of England,
where the highest dramatic talent of the country should be develop
ed; where immortal artists like Garrick, Mrs. Siddons, MissO'Neil,
have enraptured the public by their genius, and where such actors as
Kean, Kemble, and Young still adorn the stage.
Is not this — to say nothing of the immorality — in the highest de
gree low and undignified? It is wholly inconsistent with any real
love of art, or conception of its office and dignity. The turhulent
scenes I have described above scarcely ever arise out of anything
connected with the performance, but have almost always some source
quite foreign to it, and no way relating to the stage.
Farewell! Ever your L  .

LETTER VI.
London, Nov. 25th, 1826.
Beloved, It is sometimes a perfect want with me to spend a day entirely
alone in my own room. I pass it in a sort of dreamy brooding. I
go over the past and the future, — all that I have felt and suffered,—
till, by the mixture of so many colours, one misty grey tint over
spreads the whole; and the dissonances of life melt away at length,
in a soft objectless melancholy.
The barrel-organs which resound day and night in every street,
and are at other times insufferable, are favourable to such a state of
mind. They too mingle a hundred different airs, till all music loses
itself in an indistinct dreamy ringing in the ears.
A much more entertaining thing is another sort of street perform
ance, — a genuine national comedy. It afforded me great amuse
ment from my window, and is well worth a somewhat particular
description. The hero of this dramais Punch, — the English Punch, — perfectly
different from the Italian Pulcinella. I send you a faithful portrait
of him in the act of beating his wife to death; — for he is the most
godless droll that ever I met with; and as completely without con
science as the wood out of which he is made; — a little, too, the type
of the nation he represents.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 53
Punch has, like his namesake, something of rum, lemon and sugar
in him; he is strong, sour and sweet, and withal pretty indifferent
' to the confusion he causes. He is, moreover, the most absolute
egotist the earth contains, ' et ne doute jamais de rien.' He con
quers everything by his invincible merriment and humour, laughs
at the laws, at men, and at the devil himself; and shows in part what
the Englishman is, in part what he wishes to be, in one composite
picture ; — on the native side, selfishness, perseverance and high spi
rit, and, wherever it is called for, reckless determination; — on the
foreign, unconquerable levity, and ever ready wit. But allow me
to paint Punch to you by his own proper words, and to take my
further account of him from his biography.
As a descendant of Pulcinella of Acerra, he is, in the first place,
unquestionably a nobleman of ancient stock. Harlequin, Clown,
the German Casperle and others are his near of kin; — but he, for his
great audacity, stands hest as head of the family. Pious, alas! he
is not: being a true Englishman, he doubtless goes to church on
Sundays; though, may be, he would beat any parson to death who
bored him with attempts to convert him. It is not to be denied that
Punch is a wild fellow, — no very moral personage, and not made of
wood for nothing. No man can be better fitted for a boxer, — other
men's hits he feels not, and his own are irresistible. With that, he
is a true Turk in his small respect for human life; endures no con
tradiction, and fears not the devil himself. On the other hand, we
can but admire his great qualities in many respects. His admirable
insensibility, and his already-commended invariable good-humour ;
his high heroic egotism; his unalterable self-complacency; his ex-
haustless wit, and the consummate cunning with which he gets him
self out of every scrape, and triumphs victoriously over every anta
gonist, — throws a bright lustre over all the little freedoms which he
is apt to take with human life. In him has not inaptly been observ
ed a compound of Richard the Third and Falstaff. Even in his out
ward man he unites the crooked legs and hump-back of Richard,
with the portly rotundity of Falstaff; to which are added the long
nose and the fiery black eyes of Italy.
His dwelling is a box, .with suitable internal decorations, set on
four poles, — a theatre which can be erected in a few seconds in any
place; a drapery falling over the poles, or legs, conceals Punch's
soul, which animates the puppets and lends them the needful words.
The drama in which he daily appears in the streets, varies, therefore,
with the talents of the person who acts as interpreter between Punch
and the public. The course of the incidents is however always es
sentially the same, and pretty nearly as follows:
As the curtain rises, Punch is heard behind the scenes trolling the
French ballad 'Malbrooke s'en va- t- en guerre,' and presently ap
pears dancing, and in high good-humour, and in droll verses tells
the spectators what manner of humour he is of. He calls himself a
gay merry fellow, who loves to give a joke, but is not very ready to
take one; and if he is ever gentle, it is only towards the fair sex.
With his money he is frank and free; and his grand object is to

54 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
laugh his whole life long, and to grow as fat as he can. He declares
himself a great admirer and seducer of the girls, and, as long as he
can get it, a friend of good cheer; when he cannot, however, he can
live on cheese-parings, and if he die — why then there's no more to
be said, than that's all over, and there's an end of Punch and the
play. (This latter avowal unquestionably smells a little of atheism.)
After this monologue he calls behind the scene for Judy, his young
wife, who will not come, but at last sends her dog instead. Punch
strokes and caresses him, but the spiteful cur seizes him by the nose,
and holds him fast, till after a laughable fight, and various rough
jokes of the not too discreet Punch, he at last beats off the dog and
gives him a sound drubbing.
His neighbour Scaramouch, hearing the noise, here enters with a
large stick, and calls Punch to account why he beat Judy's favourite
dog, "that newer bit anybody," "And I never beat a dog," re
plied Punch; "but," continues he, "what have you there in your
hand, my dear Scaramouch?" "Oh, nothing but a fiddle; will you
hear the tone of it? Do but come and hear what a fine instrument it
is." " Thank ye, thank ye, my good Scaramouch," replies Punch
modestly, "I can distinguish the tone of it very well here." Scara
mouch, however, is not to be so put off, and while he dances about
to the sound of his own singing, and flourishes his stick, he gives
Punch, as if by accident, a great knock on the head. Punch affects
not to heed it, but begins to dance too, and watching his opportuni
ty suddenly snatches the stick out of Scaramouch's hand, and in a
trice gives him such a blow with it that poor Scaramouch's head
rolls down at his feet, — for where Punch lays about him the grass
does not grow. " Ha! ha!" cries he, laughing, "did you hear the
fiddle, my good Scaramouch? What a fine tone it has! As long as
you live, my lad, you'll never hear a finer. But where is my Judy?
My sweet Judy, why don't you come."
Meanwhile Punch has hidden the body of Scaramouch behind the
curtain, and Judy, the ' feminine' pendant of her husband, with the
same monstrous nose, enters. A comically tender scene ensues, after
which Punch asks for his child; Judy goes to fetch it, and Punch
breaks forth into an ecstatic monologue on his happiness as a hus
band and father. The little monster arrives, and now the parents
can hardly contain themselves for joy, and lavish upon it the ten-
derest names and caresses. Judy, however, called away by her
household duties, soon departs, and leaves the infant in its father's
arms, who somewhat awkwardly tries to play the nurse and to dan
dle the child, which begins to cry piteously, and to behave very
naughtily. Punch at first tries to soothe it, but soon grows impa
tient, beats it, and, as it screams all the more violently, he flies into
a rage, and throws it out of the window, with curses, plump into the
street, where it falls among the spectators and breaks its neck. Punch
leans over the edge of the stage and looks after it, makes a few gri
maces, shakes his head, and begins to laugh, and then dances about,
singing merrily.
Meantime Judy returns, and asks with alarm for her darling.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 55
"The child is gone to sleep," replies Punch carelessly; however,
after a long investigation he is forced to confess that while he was
playing with him, he let him fall out of the window. Judy is out
of herself, tears her hair, and overwhelms her cruel tyrant with the
most dreadful reproaches. In vain does he try to soothe her; she
will not hear him, and runs away uttering vehement threats. Punch
holds his belly for laughter, dances about, and for very wantonness,
beats time with his own head upon the walls. But Judy now comes
behind him with a broomstick and belabours him with all her might.
At first he gives her good words, promises never to throw ano
ther child out of the window; begs her, however, not to take the
joke so seriously: — but finding that nothing will avail, he loses his
patience at last, and concludes the affair as with Scaramouch; — he
beats poor Judy to death. " Now," says he dryly, " our quarrel is
over, dear Judy, and if you are satisfied, so am I. Come, stand up
again, Judy. Oh, don't sham, this is only one of your tricks.
What, you won't get up? Well, then, off with you!" So saying, he
flings her after her child into the street.
He does not even trouble himself to look after her, but bursting
into one of his usual fits of loud laughter, cries out, " 'Tis a fine piece
of luck to lose a wife!"
In the second act we find Punch at a rendezvous with his mistress
Polly, to whom he pays his court, not in the most refined manner,
and assures her that she alone can drive away all his cares, and that,
if he had as many wives as Solomon, he could kill them all for her
sake. A courtier and friend of Polly's then pays him a visit; this
time he does not kill his man, but only thrashes him well: he is then
' ennuye,' and declares that the weather being fine he will take a
ride. A wild horse is brought, upon which he capers about for some
time in a ludicrous fashion; hut at last, from the dreadful plunging
of the untameable animal, is thrown. He calls out for help, and hap
pily his friend the doctor happens to be passing, and comes imme
diately. Punch lies like dead, and groans piteously. The doctor
tries to tranquillize him, and feels his pulse: Punch, to be short,
makes so uncivil a return for the doctor's attentions, that the latter
exclaims, " Here, Master Punch, I bring you a wholesome medicine,
the only one fit f&r you," and begins to thump him soundly with his
gold-headed-eane. " Oh dear!" cries Punch, " many thanks to you; I want none of
your physic, it gives me the headache." " Ah, that's only because
you have taken it irrtoo small doses," says the doctor; " take a lit
tle more, and it will cure you."
Punch at last feigns himself conquered, falls down exhausted, and
begs for mercy; but when the credulous doctor bends down over
him, Punch darts upon him like lightning, wrests the stick out of
his hand and lays about him as usual.
"Now," cries he, "you must take a little of your charming phy
sic, — only a little, respected friend; — there — there!"
" Oh Lord, you will kill me!" cries the doctor.
" Not worth talking of — only what's usual — doctors always die

56 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
when they take their own physic. Come, only one last pill:" —
and so saying, the ruthless Punch runs him through the body with
the point of his stick. The doctor dies. Punch, laughing, ex
claims, " Now, my good friend, cure yourself if you can."
\Exit, singing and dancing.
After other adventures, which have almost all the same tragical
end, justice is at length awake, and the constable is sent to arrest
Punch. He finds him, as usual, in the highest glee, and just busied,
as he says, in making music with the help of a dustman's bell (a
very ' naif confession of the musical capacity of the nation.)
The dialogue is brief and important* It ends with the constable
showing Punch the warrant for his arrest: "And," says Punch, " I
have a warrant for you, which I will soon execute." Hereupon he
seizes the bell, which he has held concealed behind him, and gives
the constable such a blow on the occiput, that, like his predecessors,
he falls lifeless; whereupon Punch springs off with a ' capriole', and
is heard singing behind the scenes.
The magistrate, who comes after the death of the constable, has no
better fate. A length the hangman, in proper person, lies in wait
for Punch, who in his joyous recklessness runs upon him without
seeing him. For the first time he seems somewhat embarrassed by
this rencontre, is very slightly cast down, and does his best to flatter
Mr. Ketch; calls him his old friend, and inquires very particularly
after the health of Mistress Ketch. The hangman, however, soon
makes him understand that all friendship must now have an end;
and sets before him what a bad man he is to have killed so many
men, and his wife and child.
" As to them," says he, " they were my own property, and 'tis
hard if a man may not do what he likes with his own." "And
why did you kill the poor doctor, who came to help you ?" " Only
in self-defence, good Mr. Ketch; he wanted me to take his medi
cine." But all excuses and evasions are useless. Three or four men
spring forward and bind Punch, whom Ketch leads to prison.
In the next scene we behold him at the back of the stage, trying
to look out from behind an iron grating, and rubbing his long nose
against the bars. He is very wroth and miserable, yet, according
to his use and wont, sings a song to drive away time. Mr. Ketch
enters, and with the assistance of his helpers erects a gallows before
the prison-door. Punch becomes sorrowful, but, instead of feeling
repentance, has only a fit of greater fondness and longing for his
Polly. He however mans himself again, and makes various ' bon
mots' on the handsome gallows, which he compares to a tree planted,
as it seems, for the adornment of his prospect. " How beautiful it
will be when it bears fruit!" cries he.
Some men now bring the coffin, and place it at the foot of the
* 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.—
Tranbl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 57
gallows. " What have you there ?" says Punch. " Ah ha! that is
no doubt the basket to put the fruit in."
Meanwhile Ketch returns, and greeting Punch, and opening the
door politely, tells him that all is ready, — he may come when he
likes. You may think that Punch is not very eager to accept the
invitation. After a good deal of discussion Ketch calls out, " It's of
no use, Master Punch, you must come out and be hanged."
" You won't be so cruel."
" Why were you so cruel as to kill your wife and child?"
" Is that any reason for your being cruel too ?" — (argument
against capital punishment.)
Ketch appeals to no better principle than that of the strongest, and
drags out Punch by his hair, begging for mercy and promising
amendment. " Now, my good Punch," says Ketch, coolly, " do but have the
goodness to put your head into this noose, and all will soon be over."
Punch affects awkwardness, and cant't get his head right into the
noose. "Good God! how awkward you are!" exclaims Ketch; "you
must put your head in so" — showing him. " Ay so, and then draw
it tight," cries Punch, drawing up the unwary hangman in a mo
ment, and hanging him on the gallows ; after which he hides him
self behind the wall. Two men come to take away the body, lay it
in the coffin, believing it to be that of the criminal, and carry it out,
while Punch laughs in his sleeve, and dances away as usual.
But the shrewdest battle is yet to come, for the devil himself, ' in
propria persona,' now comes to fetch him. Vainly does Punch lay
before him the most acute observations; that he is a very stupid
devil to wish to carry off the best friend he has on earth, and the
like. The devil will not hear reason, and stretches out his long
claws horribly at him. He appears just about to fly away with him,
as erst with Faust, but Punch is not so easily to be dealt with; man
fully he grasps his murderous staff, and defends himself even against
the devil. A fearful fight ensues, and — who would have thought it
possible ?¦ — Punch, so often in uttermost danger, at length remains
universal conqueror, spits the black fiend on his stick, holds him up
aloft, and whirling about with him with shouts of triumph, sings,
while he laughs more heartily than ever.
I leave it to you to make all the philosophical reflections; of
which Punch's career is fitted to excite not a few. Above all inte
resting would be the inquiry, how far the daily repetition of this
favourite popular drama for so many years has influenced the morality
of the lower classes.
To conclude, — for the sake of tragic justice, I sketch on the mar
gin of my sheet a second portrait of Punch, as he appears sitting in
prison, when the gallows is just brought before him.
In my next letter you will have all the details you desire concern
ing B  , which pious personage I have to-day forgotten for the
more interesting sinner Punch. — Adieu for to-day!

58 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
December 1st.
You remember what I told you of the mode of letting land in
this country. As the builders of houses have only ninety-nine years
to reckon on, they build as slightly as possible; the consequence of
which is that one is not very sure of one's life in some of the Lon
don houses. A house, by no means old, fell last night in St. James's
street, close by me, just like a house of cards, carrying the half of
another with it. Several persons were severely hurt, but the greater
number had time to escape, as there were threatening warnings.
Such is the rapidity with which they build here, that in a month the
whole will doubtless be standing again, though perhaps not much
safer than before.
A few days ago I attended the interesting ceremony of the open
ing of Parliament by the King in person; a ceremony which has not
taken place for several years.
In the centre of the House of Lords were assembled the Peers,
their scarlet mantles negligently thrown over their ordinary morning
dress. Near the wall opposite to the entrance stood the King's
throne; on benches on the left sat a number of ladies in full dress;
on the right, the diplomatic corps and foreigners. In front of the
throne was a bar, and behind it the members of the Lower House,
in the common dress of our day. The house without, and the stair
case, were filled with servants and heralds in the costume of the
fourteenth century.
At two o'clock discharges of cannon announced the arrival of the
King in state. A number of magnificent carriages and horses com
posed the procession, a sketch of which I have taken in my book of
reminiscences,* and have placed it in contrast with a drawing of one
of Csesar's triumphs. At the sight of these pictures one involuntarily
asks oneself, whether mankind have really made any progress.
Scarcely, as it seems, in as far as art is concerned; especially when
we look at the two prominent personages, — those who occupy the
highest seats at the respective ceremonies,— the King's body-coach
man, and Caesar.
At about half-past three the King made his appearance, he alone
being in full dress, and truly covered from top to toe with the an
cient kingly decorations; with the crown on his head and the sceptre
in his hand. He looked pale and bloated, and was obliged to sit on
the throne for a considerable time before he could get breath enough
to read his speech. During this time he turned friendly glances and
condescending bows towards some favoured ladies. On his right
stood Lord Liverpool, with the sword of state and the speech in his
* My deceased friend executed a singular idea, and left a relic which his survi
vors 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 'pele mele;'— he inserted only those
things which he had himself seen and witnessed, in tlie 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 worlds a perfect
atlas of his life, as he often called it  Edit.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 59
hand ; and the Duke of Wellington on his left. All three looked
so miserable, so ashy-gray and worn out, that never did human
greatness appear to me so little worth; indeed the tragic side of all
the comedies we play here below, fell almost heavily on my heart;
and yet it excited in me a strong feeling of the comic, to see how
the most powerful monarch of the earth was obliged to present him
self, as chief actor in a pantomime, before an audience whom he
deems so infinitely beneath him. In fact, the whole pageant, inclu
ding the King's costume, reminded me strikingly of one of those
historical plays which are here got up so well ; nothing was wanting
but the ' flourish of trumpets' which accompanies the entrance and
exit of one of Shakspeare's kings, to make the illusion complete.
In spite of his feebleness, George the Fourth read the ' banale'
speech with great dignity and a fine voice ; but with that royal ' non
chalance' which does not much concern itself what His Majesty pro
mises, or whether or not he is sometimes unable to decipher a word.
It was very evident that the monarch was heartily glad when the
' corvee' was over, so that the conclusion went off somewhat more
rapidly than the beginning.
Since my last letter I have been twice to the theatre, which the
late hours of dining render it impossible to do when one has any
engagement. I saw Mozart's Figaro announced at Drury-lane, and delighted
myself with the idea of hearing once more the sweet tones of my
fatherland: — what then was my astonishment at the unheard-of treat
ment which the master-work of the immortal composer has received
at English hands! You will hardly believe me when I tell you that
neither the Count, the Countess, nor Figaro sang; these parts were
given to mere actors, and their principal songs, with some little al
teration in the words, were sung by the other singers; to add to
this, the gardener roared out some interpolated popular English
songs, which suited Mozart's music just as a pitch-plaster would suit
the face of the Venus de' Medici. The whole opera was moreover
' arranged' by a certain Mr. Bishop (a circumstance which I had
seen noticed in the bill, but did not understand till now), — that is,
adapted to English ears by means of the most tasteless and shocking
alterations. The English national music, the coarse heavy melodies of which
can never be mistaken for an instant, has, to me at least, something
singularly offensive; an expression of brutal feeling both in pain
and pleasure, which smacks of ' roast-beef, plum-pudding, and por
ter.' You may imagine, therefore, what an agreeable effect these
incorporations with the lovely and refined conceptions of Mozart
must produce.
' Je n'y pouvais tenir' — poor Mozart appeared to me like a mar
tyr on the cross, and I suffered no less by sympathy.
This abominable practice is the more inexcusable, since here is
really no want of meritorious singers, male and female; and, with
better arrangement, very good performances might be given. It is

60 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
true, even if the stage were in good order, a second Orpheus would
still be required to tame English audiences.
Far better was the performance in Covent Garden, where Charles
Kemble, one of the best English actors, gave an admirable represen
tation of the part of Charles the Second. Kemble is a man of the
best education, and has always lived in good society; lie is therefore
qualified to represent a king royally; — with the ' aisance,' that is,
proper to all exalted persons. He very skilfully gave an amiable
colouring to the levity of Charles the Second; without ever, even
in moments of the greatest ' abandon,' losing the type of that inborn
conscious dignify, so difficult to imitate. The costume, too, was as
if cut out of the frame of an old picture, down to the veriest trifle;
and this was observed by all the other actors, for which Kemble,
who is also manager, deserves great praise.
I must, however, confess that in the next piece, in which Frederick
the Great plays the principal part, there was not the same intimate
knowledge and perfect imitation of foreign costume; both the king
and his suite seemed to have borrowed their wardrobe from that of
a pantomime. Zieten presented himself in a high grenadier's cap,
and Seydlitz appeared in locks e a la, Murat,' and with as many orders
as that royal actor used to wear; a profusion of which were by no
means the fashion in Frederick's day, nor were they then worn as
mere appendages of the toilet. December 2nd.
I often dine at Prince E  's, who exhibits a perfect model to
e diplomates' how dignified ' representation' may be combined with
agreeable facile manners; and how a man may please every body if
he understands the art of placing himself ' a, sa portee,' yet without
suffering his own dignity to be forgotten for an instant: — 'un vrai
Seigneur,' — such as are every day becoming rarer. Never too did
a foreigner succeed so perfectly in England ; and yet, most assuredly,
without the slightest concession to English arrogance. This implies
infinite tact; the lighter, more vivacious character of a South Ger
man; and the most astute intellect concealed beneath the most unpre
tending ' bonhommie;' the whole backed and set off by a great name
and a splendid fortune.
The other members of the diplomatic corps, with few exceptions,
are left by him quite in the back-ground, and most of the plenipo
tentiaries here disappear completely in the crowd. Among the am
bassadors there is, however, one of the female sex who plays a great
par(; * * * * * * * *
But more of this another time. I entered upon the subject of Diplo
mates, only for the sake of repeating to you a very pretty 'bon mot'
of one of them whom you know. I heard it to-day at dinuer. Count
H  was ambassador ata German court renowned for its economy
('pour ne pas dire mesquinerie,') and on some solemn occasion re
ceived a snuff-box with the portrait of the sovereign; which, how
ever, was set round with very small, paltry diamonds. Shortly

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 61
afterwards, one of his colleagues asked him to show him his present.
" Vous ne trouverez pas le portrait ressemblant," said the Count,
giving him the snuff-box, — " mais les diamants."
I occasionally see, with great satisfaction, the venerable Elliot,
who, together with the dry but very interesting Lord St. Helens,
whom Segur so often mentions in his Memoirs, belongs to the
< Doyens' of English diplomacy, and still dwells with extraordinary
pleasure on the recollection of his residence at Dresden. He has
several very charming daughters, and finds it difficult to live in a style
befitting his rank, for his long services have not been rewarded with
English liberality.*
Another very interesting person is Sir L  M  , who was
formerly in high favour with the king, then Prince of Wales, and
deserves mention, first, because he is a most agreeable Amphitryon
and entertains his friends admirably, and secondly, because he is one
of the most original of men, and one of the few truly practical
philosophers I have ever met with. The prejudices of the many ,
seem for him to have no existence; and nobody could be more dif
ficult to impose on by mere authority, whether on matters of heaven
or earth. Although sixty years old, and a martyr to the most un
heard of tortures with which gout and stone can rack an unhappy
mortal, no one ever heard a complaint from him; nor is his cheerful,
nay merry humour ever saddened by it for a moment. It must be
confessed that there are dispositions and temperaments which are
worth a hundred thousand a year.
When I was first introduced to him, a short time since, he had
just undergone the terrible operation for the stone. The surgeon re
fused to undertake it, on the ground that the weakness of the patient
rendered it too hazardous, but was at length almost compelled by
him to perform it. At that time he kept his bed, and looked like a
corpse, and at going in I involuntarily made ' une mine de doleance,'
upon which he instantly interrupted me, and told me to lay aside all
grimaces. "What cannot be cured," said he, "must be endured;
and better gaily, than sadly:" for himself, he said, he had certainly
abundant cause to laugh at his physicians, who had given him his
passport with the utmost certainty at least ten times, but had almost
all gone to the d — 1 before him. " Besides," said he, " I have en
joyed life as few have, and must now learn the dark side." In spite
of all his pleasures, and all his pains, the gay-hearted man is still in
such good preservation, that, since he is about again, with his artist
like perruque, he does not look much above forty, and exhibits a
spirited and ' rayonnante' physiognomy, whose features must once
have been handsome.
* 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.

62 LETTERS ON GERMANY, December 3rd.
Kemble gave me a high treat this evening as Falstaff. It is cer
tain that even the greatest dramatic poets stand in need of the actor's
aid to bring out their work. I never so fully understood the charac
ter of the mad knight; never was it so manifest to me what his out
ward deportment must have been, as since I saw him new-born in
the person of Charles Kemble. His dress and mask were striking
indeed, but by no means such a caricature as on our stages. Still
less had he the air of a man of low ra*nk and breeding, visibly a
mere ' farceur,' as Devrient, for instance, represented him in Berlin.
Falstaff, although a man of vulgar soul, is still by habit and inclina
tion a practised courtier; and the coarseness which he often assumes
in the prince's company is at least as much intentional acting, em
ployed by him to amuse the Prince (for princes often love vulgarity
from its very contrast with the gloomy elevation of their own sta
tion,) as to gratify his own humour. Mr. Kemble caught the finest
shades of the character; for, although he never lost sight of the na
tural, invincible humour, the witty presence of mind, and the di
verting drollery which made Falstaff such an agreeable companion, —
nay, which rendered him almost a necessary of life to those who had
once associated with him, — he is quite another man when he appears
at Court in the presence of the king and other dignified persons; or
when he plays antics with the Prince and his companions; or, lastly,
when he is alone with the latter. In the first case, you see a facetious
man, somewhat like the Marechal de Bassompierre, ludicrously fat,
but a man of dignified and gentlemanlike air; always a joker, it is
true, but in a good ' ton,' never forgetting the respect due to the
place and the presence in which he is. In the second stage, he allows
himself to go much further; takes all sorts of coarse freedoms; but
ever with observable care to exalt the Prince, and to assume only
the privilege of a Court fool, who, apparently, may say all that
comes into his head. In the last stage, we see Falstaff in complete
'neglige,' after he has thrown off all regard to appearances. Here
he wallows delightfully in the mire, like a swine in a ditch; and yet
even here he still remains original, and excites more laughter than
disgust. This is the supreme art, the last triumph, of the poet: he
alone can give, even to the most horrid monsters of sin and shame,
something like a divine impress; something which awakens our in
terest and attracts us, even to our own astonishment This is the
high dramatic truth, the creative power of genius, speaking of which
Walter Scott so prettily says, " I can only compare Shakspeare with
that man in the Arabian Nights, who has the power of passing into
anybody at pleasure, and imitating its feelings and actions."
I must here remark, that there is but one character in this immor
tal poet's works which always appeared to me ill-drawn and unna
tural, nor does any excite less interest in general. This is the king
in Hamlet. To mention only one trait, it appears to me quite psy-
cologically false, when the author makes the king kneel down, and
then exclaim, " I cannot pray." The king is never represented as

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 63
an irreligious man, a subtle sceptic, but merely as a coarse sensual
sinner; now we daily see that a man of this cast cannot only pray
regularly and zealously, but even pray that his crimes may prosper:
like that woman who was found alone in a robber's cave, after the
capture of the gang, on her knees, praying earnestly to heaven that
the expedition in which she believed them then engaged might be
successful, and that they might return laden with booty.
Nay even public pre-appointed prayers have often no better aim.
What examples of this kind does not history afford ! No, the sinful
king can pray, — the person in this tragedy who cannot, is Hamlet.
For it is only the unbelieving; the man who wants to fathom every
thing; the spiritual chemist who sees one apparently firm substance
after another melt away ; this man — till he is enabled by the divine
influence to construct one,* inward and indestructible, (and this
point Hamlet has manifestly not reached) this man alone, I say, can
not pray, for the Object fails him. He cannot deny it to himself, —
when he prays, he is only acting a part with himself. This is a me
lancholy process to pass through, and is imputed to unhappy mortals
as a crime by those who first place the poor child on the bed of Pro
crustes, and by that means often render it impossible for the cramp
ed and shortened limbs ever to extend themselves again to their na
tural length.
But back to the play. It concluded with a melo-drama, in which
a large Newfoundland dog really acted admirably; he defended a
banner for a long time, pursued the enemy, and afterwards came on
the stage wounded, lame, and bleeding, and died in the most mas
terly manner, with a last wag of the tail that was really full of ge
nius. You would have sworn that the good beast knew at least as
well as any of his human companions what he was about.
I left the Theatre in such good humour that I won eight rubbers
at whist after it at the Club, for luck at play goes with good spirits
and confidence. — But good night. December 4th.
In consequence of the opening of Parliament, society begins to be
more lively, though London ' en gros' is still empty.
The most elegant ladies of the first circles now give small parties,
* How may this be effected? Only when a man brings himself to acknowledge
that religion is entirely and solely an affair of the Ijeart and feehngs; to which the-
head can be profitable only by standing as watchman of the sanctuary, and guard
ing it with the sword of reason from its two hereditary foes, superstition and intole
rance. 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 6f 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 sen
timent 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 high
est, not merely as a behef, but as the true essence of his being, — his proper indi
vidual 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. — Editok.

64 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
access to which is far more difficult to most Englishmen than to fo
reigners of rank; for the despotism of fashion, as I have already told
you, rules in this land of freedom with iron sceptre, and extends
through all classes in a manner we on the Continent have no concep
tion of.
But without indulging too early in general observations, I will de
scribe to you my own way of life in London.
I rise late; read, like a half-nationalized foreigner, three or four
newspapers at breakfast; look in my ' visiting-book' what visits I
have to pay, and either drive to pay them in my cabriolet or ride. —
In the course of these excursions, I sometimes catch the enjoyment
of the picturesque; the struggle of the blood-red sun with the win
ter fogs often produces wild and singular effects of light. After 'my
visits are paid, I ride for several hours about the beautiful environs
of London, return when it grows dark, work a little, dress for din
ner, which is at seven or eight, and spend the evening either in the
Theatre or at some small party. The ludicrous ' routs,' — at which
one hardly finds standing-room on the staircase, — where one pushes
and is pushed, and is kept for hours in a hot-house temperature, —
have not yet commenced. In England however, except in a few di
plomatic houses, you can go nowhere in an evening except on spe
cial invitation. — In these small parties there is not much ' gene,' but
general conversation has no place: each gentleman usually singles
out a lady who peculiarly interests him, and does not quit her for
the whole evening. Man}' fair ones are thus frequently left sitting
alone, without an opportunity of speaking a word; they however do
not betray any dissatisfaction, even by a look or gesture, for they
are of a -very passive nature. — Every body of course speaks French,
as with us, ' tant bien que mal,' but this continued ' gene' annoys
the ladies so much after a time, that a man has no little advantage
who can speak English tolerably.
You see this life is pretty much a ' far niente,' though not a very
sweet one to my taste, for I love society only in intimate circles,
and attach myself with difficulty, — indeed now scarcely at all, — to
new acquaintances. The ennui, which seizes me in such an indif
ferent state of mind, is too clearly written on my undiplomatic face
not to extend to others as contagiously as yawning. Here and there
I find an exception: — to-day for instance I made the acquaintance of
Mr. Morier, the clever and very agreeable author of Hadji Baba; and
of Mr. Hope, the imputed author of Anastasius, a work of far higher
genius. This book is worthy of Byron: many maintain that Mr.
Hope, who is rather remarkable for his reserve than for anything
poetical in his appearance, cannot possibly have written it. This
doubt derives considerable force from a work which Mr. Hope for
merly published on furniture, the style and contents of which cer
tainly contrast strangely with the glowing impassioned Anastasius,
overflowing with thought and feeling. An acquaintance of mine
said to me, " One thing or the other: either Anastasius is not by him,
or the work on furniture." But matter so different brings with it
as different a style; and, as I observed, Mr. Hope, perhaps with in-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 65
voluntary prepossession, he appeared to me no ordinary man. He
is very rich, and his house full of treasures of art, and of luxuries
which I shall describe hereafter. His furniture theory, which is fa
shioned on the antique, I cannot praise in practice: — the chairs are
ungovernable; other trophy-like structures look ridiculous, and the
sofas have such sharp salient points in all directions, that an incau
tious sitter might hurt himself seriously.
On my return home at night I found your letter, which, like
everything from you, gave me more pleasure than aught else can.
Say not, however, that the pain of parting occasions you such deep
depression, — let it not be deeper than a joyful meeting can at once
remove; and that is probably not Very distant.
That you point to another life, as soon as things do not go precise
ly according to our wishes in this, seems to me, dearest, to show a
want of Christian patience and confidence. No, I confess it, spite of
transient fits of melancholy, I still feel the attractions of earth ; and
this ' span of life,' as you call it, has strong hold on my heart. If
indeed you, my affectionate tutelary goddess, were also Fortuna, I
should fare better than any mortal living: 'et toutes les etoiles pali-
raient devant la mienne:' — but since you love me, you are my For
tuna, and I desire no better.
Do not suffer your own melancholy, or mine, to deceive you. As
for me, you know that a nothing raises the barometer of my spirits,
and a nothing often depresses it. This is certainly too delicate a
nervous organization, and little fitted for every-day, home-baked
{liausbacknen) happiness, — which requires stronger nerves.
December 5th.
Oberon, Weber's song of the swan, has occupied my evening. —
The execution of both the instrumental and vocal parts left much to
desire; but on the whole, the opera was extremely well performed, •
for London. The best part was the decorations, especially at the
conjuration of the spirits. They appear, not, as usual, in the stand
ing costume, — scarlet jackets and breeches, with snaky locks and
flames on their heads, — but in the form of huge rocky caves, which
occupy the whole stage; every mass of rock then suddenly changes
into some fantastic and frightful fern or face, gleaming with many-
coloured flames and lurid light, out of which here and there a whole
figure leans grinning forward, while the fearful thrilling music re
echoes on every side from the moving chorus of rocks. '¦
The opera itself I regard as one of Weber's feebler productions.
There are beautiful parts, especially the introduction, which is truly
elf-like. I am less delighted with the overture, though so highly
extolled by connoisseurs.
I ought to have begun by telling you that I was presented to the
King to-day, at a great levee. — I give it you as a proof of the extra
ordinary voluntary seclusion of the present sovereign, that our Sec
retary of Legation was presented with me. for the first time, though
he has been here in that capacity for two years. His Majesty has a
very good memory. He immediately recollected my former visit
9

66 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
to England, though he mistook the date of it by several years, f
took occasion to make my compliments to him on the extraordinary
embellishment of London since that time, which indeed is to be
ascribed in great measure to him. After a gracious reply, I passed
on, and placed myself in a convenient station for seeing the whole
spectacle. It was odd enough.
The king, on account of the feeble state of his health, remained
seated; — the company marched past him in a line; each made his
bow, was addressed or not, and then either placed himself in the row
on the other side of the room, or quitted it. All those who had re
ceived any appointment kneeled down before the king and kissed
his hand, at which the American Minister, near whom I had acci
dentally placed myself, made a rather satirical face. The clergymen
and lawyers in their black gowns and white powdered wigs, short
and long, had a most whimsical masquerading appearance. One of
them was the object of an almost universal ill-suppressed laugh.
This personage had kneeled to be ' knighted,' as the English call it,
and in this posture, with the long fleece on his head, looked exactly
like a sheep at the slaughter-block. His Majesty signed to the great
Field Marshal to give him his sword. For the first time, perhaps,
the great warrior could not draw the sword from the scabbard; he
pulled and pulled, — all in vain. The king waiting with outstretched
arm; the Duke vainly pulling with all his might; the unhappy mar
tyr prostrate in silent resignation, as if expecting his end, and the
whole brilliant court standing around in anxious expectation: — it
was a group worthy of Gilray's pencil. At length the state weapon
started like a flash of lightning from its sheath. His Majesty grasp
ed it impatiently, — indeed his arm was probably weary and benumb
ed with being so long extended, — so that the sword, instead of
alighting on a new knight, fell on an old wig, which for a moment
enveloped king and subject in a cloud of powder. December 6th.
Mr. R  had long ago invited me to visit him at his country-
house, and I took advantage of a disengaged clay to drive out with
my friend L  to dine there. The royal banker has bought no
ducal residence, but lives in a pretty villa. We found some Direc
tors of the East India Company, and several members of his own
family and faith, whom I liked very much. I extremely respect
this family for having the courage to remain Jews. Only an idiot
can esteem a Jew the less for his religion, but renegades have
always a presumption against their sincerity, which it is difficult to
get over.
There are three cases in which I should unconditionally allow
Jews to change their religion. First, if they really believe that only
Christians can be saved; secondly, if their daughters wish to marry
Christians, who will have them on no other terms; thirdly, if a Jew
were elected king of a Christian people, — a thing by no means im
possible, since men far below the rank of Jewish barons, and noto-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 67
rsous for the absence of all religion, have frequently ascended the
throne in these latter days.*
Mr. R  was in high good-humour, amusing, and talkative.
It was diverting to hear him explain to us the pictures around his
dining-room, (all portraits of the sovereigns of Europe, presented
through their ministers,) and talk of the originals as his very good
friends, and, in a certain sense, his equals. "Yes," said he, "the
 once pressed me for a loan, and in the same week in which I
received his autograph letter, his father wrote to me also with his
own hand from Rome to beg me for Heaven's sake not to have any
concern in it, for that I could not have to do with a more dishonest
man than his son. 'C'etait sans doute tres Catholique;' probably,
however, the letter was written by the old  , who hated her own
son to such a degree, that she used to say of him, — everybody knows
how unjustly, — " He has the heart of a t  with the face of an
a  ."
The others' turn came next. * * * * * *
******* *****
He concluded, however, by modestly calling himself the dutiful
and generously paid agent and servant of these high potentates, all
of whom he honoured equally, let the state of politics be what it
might; for, said he, laughing, " I never like to quarrel with my
bread and butter."
It shows great prudence in Mr. R  to have accepted- neither
title nor order, and thus to have preserved a far more respectable
independence. He doubtless owes much to the good advice of his
extremely amiable and judicious wife, who excels him in tact and
knowledge of the world, though not perhaps in acuteness and talents
for business.
- On our way there we had been tempted to alight to see the state-
carriage of another monarch of Asiatic origin, the King of the Bir-
mans. It was taken in the late war. It is crowded with precious
stones, valued at six thousand pounds, and has a splendid effect by
candlelight: its canopy-like pyramidal form seemed to me in better
taste than that of our carriages. The attendants sitting on it were
odd enough, — two little boys and two peacocks, carved in wood and
beautifully painted and varnished. At the time it was taken, it was
drawn by two white elephants; and fifteen thousand precious stones,
great and small, all unpolished, still adorn the gilded wood of which
it is made. A number of curious and costly Birman arms were
placed, as trophies, round the spacious apartment, which gave a
doubly rich and interesting effect to the whole exhibition. As peo
ple always give a great deal for money here, there was a Poecilorama
* 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 unquestiona
bly 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 re
called, 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."

68 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
in an adjoining room, consisting also of Birman and Indian views,
over which the light is ingeniously thrown so as to produce very
lively and varied effects.
I don't know why such things are not used as decorations for
rooms. At a fete, for instance, a room thus fitted up would surely
be a much greater novelty than the hackneyed ornaments of gay
draperies, orange trees, and flowers. December 8th.
On my way home from a dinner at M. de Polignac's, a very agree
able but highly orthodox representative of ' I'ancien regime,' I was
in time to find the celebrated Mathews " At Home" at his theatre.
The curtain was dropped, and Mr. Mathews sitting in front of it at
a table covered with a cloth.
He began by discursively relating to the public that he was just
returned from a journey to Paris, where he had met with many ori
ginal individuals and droll adventures. Imperceptibly he passed
from the narrative style to a perfectly dramatic performance, in
which, with almost inconceivable talent and memory, he placed be
fore the eyes of his audience all that he had witnessed; while he
so totally altered his face, speech, and whole exterior, with the ra
pidity of lightning, that one must have seen it to believe it possible.
His outward helps consist only of a cap, a cloak, a false nose, a wig,
&c, which he draws from under the table-cover, and with these slen
der means produces an entire and instant transformation. The ap
plause was tumultuous and the laughter incessant. The principal
persons (who were introduced in various situations,) were an old
Englishman, who found fault with everything abroad and praised
everything at home; a provincial lady who never walked in the
street without a French dictionary in her hand, worried the passers-
by with incessant questions, and seized every opportunity of assist
ing other English people with her superior knowledge, in doing
which, as may be imagined, she stumbled upon the most perverted,
burlesque, and often equivocal expressions; a dandy from the city,
who affected ' le grand air;' and his opposite, a fat farmer from York
shire, who played pretty much the part of farmer Feldkiimmel.
The most amusing thing to me was^an English lecture on craniology
by Spurzheim. The likeness to that person, so well known in Eng
land, — to his whole manner and his German accent, — was so perfect,
that the theatre shook with incessant laughter.
I was less pleased with some other imitations; particularly that of
Talma, who is far above the reach of any mere mimic, be his talents
what they may. Besides, his death is too recent, and sorrow for
his irreparable loss too great in the mind of every lover of art, to
render such a parody agreeable.
The performance concluded with a little farce, for which the cur
tain was drawn up, and in which Mathews again played alone. He
filled seven or eight different parts, exclusive of those of a dog and
a child, which were indeed personated by puppets, but which he
barked and prattled, in as masterly a manner as he spoke the others.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 69
At first he is a French tutor, who is going to travel with a little lord
ten years old, whom he shuts into a guitar-case that he may save the
fare of the diligence, and at the same time charge it to the papa. At
every stage he takes him out, to give him air and make him say his
lesson. Re carries on the conversation with infinite drollery, and
surprising skill as a ventriloquist. The boy's resistance to being
shut up in his box again, — the way in which his murmurs and com
plaints die away, like the waltz in the Freischiitz, till at length the
lid is clapped to, and the last tones come from the shut case like a
faint echo, — are inconceivably comic.
After many adventures which beset the diligence and its passen
gers, an old maid (again Mathews) makes her appearance. She has
a favourite lap-dog, which is not suffered to travel inside, but which
she is trying to smuggle in, and fixes her eye on the guitar-case as a
fit hiding-place for her darling. In her hurry to accomplish her
purpose she does not observe that the place is already occupied. But
hardly has she laid the case out of her hand, when the dog begins to
growl and bark, the boy to howl, and she to scream for help ; which
trio made the gallery almost frantic with delight.
The whole affair is, as you perceive, not exactly aesthetic, and
rather fitted to an English stomach than to any other. It is, indeed,
almost painful to see such skill devoted to such absurd buffooneries;
the talent, however, is still most remarkable ; and even the physical
powers wonderful, which'can support these efforts of acting and con
tinual speaking, with all these fatiguing disguises, without a single
slip or stumble, for hours together.
Not to require as great an exertion of patience from you, I will
now conclude. I wish heartily that my display of the meagre peep-
shows of the town may not tire you too much: You asked for pic
tures of daily life ; you expect from me no statistical work, no to
pography, no regular enumeration of the so-called sights of London,
and no systematic treatise on England ; nor am I in any condition
to afford you such.
Receive, therefore, the unpretending humble fare I send you, in
good part. It is at all events now and then seasoned with a grain
of pepper. Your faithful L  .

LETTER VII.
London, Dec. 9th, 1826.
Dearest friend,
It is not uninteresting to attend the auctions here; first, on account
of the multitude of extremely rare and valuable things, which from
the wonderful activity of life and the constant vicissitudes of fortune
are daily brought into the market, and often sold very cheap ; and
secondly, for the ingenuity and eloquence of the auctioneers, of which

70 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
I have already made honourable mention. They embroider their
orations with more wit gratis, than ours would be willing to furnish
for ready money.
This morning I saw the sale of an Indian cabinet, the property of
a bankrupt Nabob, which contained some curious and beautiful works
of art. " The possessor of these treasures," said the orator, "has
taken much trouble for nothing; for nothing to himself, I mean, but
a great deal to you, gentlemen. He had once doubtless more money
than wit, but has now, as certainly, more wit than money." "Mo
desty and merit," observed he afterwards, " go together only thus
farj — both begin with an m." And in this style, and with such
' jeus de mots,' he continued. — "What enables the poor to live?"
concluded he. " Charity or liberality do but little towards it Vanity,
vanity is the thing, — not theirs, poor devils, but that of the rich.
If you then, gentlemen, will but display a little of this praisewor
thy vanity, and buy, you will earn a blessing even without meaning
it." Yes, truly, thought I, there you are right, old jester, for so admi
rably is the world contrived, that good must ever arise out of evil;
and the existence of evil only serves to render the good which suc
ceeds it more conspicuous.
One must moralize everywhere.
I dined at the house of a lady of distinction, who talked to me
the whole time we were at table about Napoleon, and, with true
English exaggeration, was so enamoured of him, that she thought
the execution of the Duke d'Enghein, and the betrayal of Spain,
laudable acts.
Though 1 do not go quite so far, I am, as you know, an admirer
of this man's colossal greatness, and delighted my neighbour highly
by describing to her Napoleon's former magnificence, of which I
was an eyewitness, — those brilliant days in which Csesar himself
stood amazed at his splendour;
" Quand les ambassadeurs de tant de rois divers
Vinrent le reconnoitre au nom de l'univers."
For his own fame, I do not wish otherwise any of his later misfor
tunes; nor for the tragic interest, any of his errors and faults. He
bore ' coups d'epees' and ' coups d'epingles' with equal fortitude and
dignity; and left an epitaph worthy of his life in the words, :Je
legue 1'opprobre de ma mort a l'Angleterre.'
Thus much is certain, he is still too near us for impartial judg
ment; and experience has amply taught us that it was less his des
potic principles than his personal aggrandisement which provoked
such inveterate hostility. The principles exist still; but, God be
praised, the energy with which he put them in practice, is utterly
wanting, and that is a great gain for human nature.*
* 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 ' a sa portee,' he was right; namely, that the grand enemy by

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 71
There is now a French theatre here, which is attended only by
the best company, and nevertheless is like a dark little private thea
tre. Perlet and Laporte are its great supports, and play admi
rably. The latter also, with true French assurance, acts on the
English stage, and- thinks, when the audience laughs at his accent
and French manners, that it is merely a tribute to his ' vis comica.'
I went to the theatre with Mrs.  , wife of the well-known
minister and member of parliament, and accompanied her after the
play to the first genuine rout I have attended this time of my being
in England, — what is more, too, in a house in which I was entirely
a stranger. It is the custom here to take your friends to parties of
this sort, and to present them, then and there, to the mistress of the
house, who never thinks you can bring enough to fill her small rooms
to suffocation: the more the better; and for the full satisfaction of
her vanity, a ' bagarre' must arise among the carriages below; some
must be broken- to pieces, and a few men and horses killed or hurt,
so that the ' Morning Post' of the following day may parade a long
article on the extremely ' fashionable soiree' given by ' Lady Vain,'
or ' Lady Foolish.'
In the course of the evening I made a more interesting acquaint
ance than I expected on the staircase; (I could get no further,) in
Lady C  B  , who has some reputation as an authoress. She
is the sister of a Duke, and was a celebrated beauty.
The next morning I called on her, and found everything in her
house brown, in every possible shade; — furniture, curtains, carpets,
her own and her children's dresses, presented no other colour. The
room was without looking-glasses or pictures; and its only orna
ments were casts from the antique. * * "¦'
After I had been there some time, the celebrated bookseller C 
entered. This man has made a fortune by Walter Scott's novels,
though, as I was told, he refused his first and best, Waverley, and at
last gave but a small sum for it. I hope the charming Lady C 
B  had better cause to be satisfied with him. I thought it dis
creet to leave her with her man of business, and made my bow.
December 10th.
The affairs of Portugal are now much discussed in all circles; and
the Marquis P  read us the just-printed English Declaration to
night, in a box at the French theatre. Politics are here a main in
gredient of social intercourse; as they begin to be in Paris, and will
in time become in our sleepy Germany; for the whole world has
now that tendency. The lighter and more frivolous pleasures suffer
by this change; and the art of conversation as it once flourished in
France, will perhaps soon be entirely lost. In this country I should
rather think it never existed, unless perhaps in Charles the Second's
time. And, indeed, people here are too slavishly subject to establish-
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 jield only to the still stronger power of public opinion, if ever they should
come into collision — Edit.

72 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ed usages; too systematic in all their enjoyments; too incredibly
kneaded up with prejudices; in a word, too little vivacious, to attain
to that unfettered spring and freedom of spirit, which must ever be
the sole basis of agreeable society. I must confess that I know none
more monotonous, nor more persuaded of its own pre-excellence,
than the highest society of this country, — with but few exceptions,
and those chiefly among foreigners, or persons who have resided a
good deal on the Continent A stony, marble-cold spirit of caste
and fashion rules all classes, and makes the highest tedious, the lower
ridiculous. True politeness of the heart and cheerful 'bonhommie'
are rarely to be met with in what is called society; nor, if we look
for foreign ingredients, do we find either French grace and vivacity,
or Italian naturalness; but at most, German stiffness and awkward
ness concealed under an iron mask of arrogance and ' hauteur.'
In spite of this, the ' nimbus' of a firmly anchored aristocracy and
vast wealth, (combined with admirable taste in spending it, which
no one can deny them,) has stamped the Great World of this coun
try as that, 'par excellence,' of Europe, to which all other nations
must more or less give way. But that foreigners individually and
personally do not find it agreeable, is evident by their rarity in Eng
land, and by the still greater rarity of their desire to stay long.
Every one of them at the bottom of his heart thanks God when he
is out of English society; though personal vanity afterwards leads
him to extol that uninspiring foggy sun, whose beams assuredly gave
him but little ' comfort' when he lived in them.
Far more loveable, because far more loving, do the English ap
pear in their domestic and most intimate relations; though even here
some ' baroque' customs prevail; — for instance, that sons in the high
est ranks, as soon as they are fledged, leave the paternal roof and
live alone; nay actually do not present themselves at their fathers'
dinner-table without a formal invitation. I lately read amoving in
stance of conjugal affection in the newspaper: The Marquis of Hast
ings died in Malta; shortly before his death he ordered that his
right hand should be cut off immediately after his death, and sent to
his wife. A gentleman of my acquaintance, out of real tenderness,
and with her previously obtained permission, cut off his mother's
head, that he might keep the skull as long as he lived ; while other
Englishmen, I really believe, would rather endure eternal torments
than permit the scalpel to come near their bodies. The laws enjoin
the most scrupulous fulfilment of such dispositions of a deceased per
son; however extravagant they may be, they must be executed. I
am told there is a country-house in England where a corpse, fully
dressed, has been standing at a window for the last half-century, and
still overlooks its former property.
Just as I was going to entertain you with more English originali
ties, my long-desired head-gardener entered my room, bringing
your letters. What a pity that you could not put yourself into the
large packet, (of course in all your 'fraicheur,' and not like Lord
Hasting's hand,) or inhabit a pretty box, like Gothe's delightful
Gnome, so that I might call you out and share with you every en-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 73
joyment, fresh as it arises, without this long interval! As it is, you
are melancholy, because I'was so a fortnight before; or your sympa
thizing answer to a cheerful letter of mine arrives just as I am la
bouring under a fresh attack of ' spleen.' As you say, such an old
letter is often like a dead body which, after being long forgotten, is
fished up out of the sea.
I must laugh at you, and scold you for one thing — that you write
me, as is your way, scarcely any details about what is passing at my
beloved M  , and send me, instead, long extracts out of a book
of Travels in Africa, which I had read here ages ago in the original.
I will certainly pay you in your own coin next time you do so. I
am just studying a very interesting work, Dass Preussische Exer-
cier-Reglement von 1805, out of which, when other matter fails me,
I shall send you the cleverest and most entertaining extracts. 0 you
gentle lamb ! you shall often be ' shorn' with these African novel
ties of yours; the more so, as the last shearing took place a long
time ago, and you must be sitting as deeply imbedded in your wool
as the Knights of St. John in B  , when, displaying their double
crosses, they await the highest bidder on their Woolsacks. The
seat of the Lord Chancellor here is also a Woolsack, but of rather a
more aristocratical sort, more nearly allied to the Golden Fleece.
I now make almost daily park-excursions with R  , to render
his visit to England as useful as possible; for a good gardener will
learn more here in his profession during a short stay, than in a study
of ten years at home. There are indeed in the immediate neighbour
hood of London a great number of very interesting seats, all of them
situated on very pleasant and animated roads. Amongst these may
particularly be mentioned a villa of Lord Mansfield's, the decora
tions of which do much honour to the taste of his lady. Sion House,
belonging to the Duke of Northumberland, and laid out by Brown,
is also extremely worth seeing, on account of its remarkable green
houses, and the multitude of gigantic exotic trees in the open air,
none of which would bear our climate. Here are also to be seen
whole groves of rhododendrons, camellias, &c, which are but par
tially covered in winter; and all kinds of beautiful evergreens thrive
luxuriantly in every season.
The green and hot-houses, which form a front of three hundred
feet, consist only of stone, iron and glass; a style of building which
has here the additional advantage of being cheaper than that with
wood. I was interested by a kind of chain, the links of which consisted
of scythes, for the purpose of clearing the large standing waters (a
defect in most English parks) : by merely drawing it, like a drag
net, along the bottom, it entirely removes the weeds. In the vast
pleasure-ground twelve men are daily mowing from five till nine
o'clock. By this means high grass is never to be seen there, and at
the same time the disagreeable general mowing is avoided, whieh de
stroys the neatness of the garden for some days. It is true that the).r
can do only a part daily; but it is so managed that they finish a cer
tain allotted portion, and they come round so often that the differ-
10

74 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ence in the turf is not perceptible. This short grass is, indeed, quite
lost to economy ; but beauty and utility cannot always be combined,
and the latter must certainly be subordinate in a pleasure-ground, or
it is better to relinquish all pretensions to one. Kew, which is on
the opposite bank of the river, unquestionably possesses the most
complete collection of exotic plants in Europe. The park has also a
great advantage in its beautiful situation on the Thames, but is in
general rather neglected. Yew trees are found here of the height
of our firs, and very fine specimens of holly and evergreen oak;
in other respects the old Queen's plantations are not very tasteful.
Wimbledon Park, stretching over several hills and full of beauti
ful groups of trees, presents fine views, but the effect of the whole
is spoiled by some degree of monotony.
 House is very near, and almost in the suburbs of London:
its architecture is not without interest.
I tell you nothing of the enchanting valley of Richmond. Every
traveller falls into an ecstasy about it, and with justice ; but he does
not always excite a similar feeling in the reader by his descriptions.
I therefore avoid them, and remark only that the excellent aristocra
tic inn (the Star and Garter,) from which one overlooks this para
dise, whilst one's corporeal wants are admirably provided for, en
hances the pleasure. Solitude and tranquillity joined to every com
fort of life, in a country beautiful above all expression, powerfully
invite to enjoyment.
In the evening I took R  to the Adelphi Theatre. It is small
and neat, and distinguished for the goodness of its machinery; just
now, too, it possesses several excellent actors. One of them played
the drunkard more naturally than I ever saw it. It is true that he
has more facilities here for the study of that state of mind, — for the
same reason that the ancients represented the naked figure better
than our artists, — namely, because they saw it more frequently. An
excellent trait of real life was, that the drunkard, who cherished a
tender passion for a young and poor girl in the house where he lodg
ed, when sober formed other projects, but in his drunken fits inva
riably returned with tears ' a ses anciennes amours,' and in that state
of mind was at length happily brought to marry her. December 23rd.
Many thanks for the news from B  . I am particularly
pleased that Alexander Von Humboldt is employed by Government.
It must give pleasure to every patriot to see a man like him at
length fixed in his native country, which is so justly proud of his
fame in all parts of the world. It must be a happy occurrence too
for many circles there, in which the salt will at length be mingled,
the want of which has so long rendered them quite unpalatable.
How much I lament the accident which has befallen our good and
noble King, (and I had already learned it from L  ,) you can
easily imagine, as you know my feelings on that subject; buti hope

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 75
to God that his strong constitution, and the help of such skilful men,
will remove every remaining evil. How rare, and how beautiful, to
hear a whole nation exclaim with one heart and mind, "May hea
ven preserve to us our beloved Monarch!"*
My own state of spirits is, ' au reste,' somewhat of the same me
lancholy cast, probably from the everlasting fogs, which are often so
bad that one is obliged to light candles in the middle of the day, and
yet cannot see. ' Le pire est, que je suis tantot trop, et tantot trop
peu sensible a I'opinion et aux precedes des autres.' In the former
disposition, (and dispositions unfortunately govern me with despotic
power,) they not only make me sad or cheerful, but, what is worse,
wise or foolish. I sometimes appear to myself like a person who
has climbed up a ladder of ropes, where his hands have grown be
numbed; and after hanging for a long time near the top, and en
deavouring to get still higher, is now on the point of being obliged
to let go, and fall down again to the bottom. And yet, perhaps,
when once arrived on the level plain of common-place and obscurity,
he may be more tranquil than in the stormy breezes ; and though his
hopes be less, he may be surrounded by a happier, though a more
simple reality. But a truce to such vain speculations. They are
unprofitable, and even fears of a threatening real misfortune ought
always to be forcibly banished; for why torment oneself with anxie
ties about that which may come, and yet perhaps never does come ;
yet, as a mere dreamy phantom, has embittered so much of a present
which might otherwise have been cheerful ?
In all such states of mind, your image is my best comfort; and to
you, my only and unchanging friend, I turn at length with tearful
eyes, and tender gratitude for all your manifold love, kindness and
indulgence. In your faithful bosom I deposit my grief as well as
my joy, and all my hopes; the most brilliant fulfilment of which
would, without you, lose all value for me.
But now I must leave you, as my duty requires, (for otherwise I
would not,) to go to a large party ; where I am destined, as in life,
to lose myself in the multitude. It is, I think, my last visit to the
gay world, as I am preparing to set out on a park- and garden-jour
ney with B  , which probably will take us a month. The pre
sent season is indeed just the best for him who wishes to make land
scape-gardening a study, for the leafless trees afford a clear and free view
in all directions; one can thus see the whole artificial landscape in a
single tour, understand the effects produced, and judge of the whole
like a plan on paper; as well as distinguish the parts of every plan
tation in their intended order.
Yesterday we visited, ' en attendant,' the parks in town, — Ken
sington Gardens ; — Regent's Park, ' en detail,' &c, on which occa
sion we did not omit to look in at the Diorama exhibited there.
This far surpassed my expectations, and all that I had formerly seen
of the same kind. It is certainly impossible to deceive the senses
* This is no exaggeration, as those who have had any opportunity of observing
tire strong personal attachment of the Prussian people to their present King can
attest  Tbans.

76 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
more effectually; even with the certitude of illusion one can hardly
persuade oneself it exists. The picture represented the interior of
a large abbey-church, appearing perfectly in its real dimensions. A
side door is open, ivy climbs through the windows, and the sun
occasionally shines through the door, and lightens with a cheering
beam the remains of coloured windows, glittering through cobwebs.
Through the opposite window at the end you see the neglected gar
den of the monastery, and above it, single clouds in the sky, which,
flitting stormily across, occasionally obscure the sunlight, and throw
deep shadows over the church — tranquil as death; where the crum
bled but magnificent monument of an ancient knight reposes in
gloomy majesty.
As our departure is fixed for to-morrow, I send off this letter, al
though it has not yet grown to the usual corpulence. How slender are
yours in comparison! Certainly, whenever our descendants find the
dusty correspondence of their ancestors in a corner of the old library,
they will be equally astonished at my prodigality and at your
avarice. 'A propos,' do not be too dissipated in B  , and for
get not, even for the shortest time,
The most faithful of your friends, L  .

LETTER VIII.
Watford, December 25, 1826.
Dear Friend,
This morning we started, — unluckily in bad rainy weather. Ten
miles from London we commenced operations with the inspection of
two villas and a large park, near the pretty little village of Stan
more. The first villa was thoroughly in the rural Gothic style, with
ornamented pointed gables; a ' genre' in which English architects
are peculiarly happy. The interior was also most prettily fitted up
in the same style, and at the same time extremely comfortable and
inviting. Even the doors in the walls surrounding the kitchen-gar
den were adorned with windows of coloured glass at the top, which had
a singular and beautiful brilliancy among the foliage. The little
flower-garden, too, was laid out in beds of Gothic forms surrounded
by gravel walks, and the fancy had not a bad effect.
Very different was the aspect of the other villa, in the Italian taste,
with large vases before it, filled not with flowers but with green and
yellow gourds and pumpkins. A superabundance of wooden sta
tues, painted white, decorated, or rather deformed, the gardens.
Among them a roaring rampant lion vainly sought to inspire terror,
and a Cupid hanging in a bush threatened, as abortively, the passen
gers with his darts.
The Priory, formerly a religious house, now the seat of Lord
Aberdeen, has many beauties. The number of magnificent firs and

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 77
pines in the park give it a singularly foreign air. The simple beau
tiful house is almost concealed amid trees of every size and form, so
that one catches only glimpses of it glancing between the shrubs, or
overtopping the high trees. This is always very advantageous to
buildings, especially those of an antique character. One seldom
sees here those unbroken views over a long and narrow strip of
level grass, the triumph of our landscape-gardeners, but which have
no other effect than that of making distance appear less than it really
is. We walked about the grounds for a considerable time, while a
bevy of young ladies and gentlemen of the family came around us,
mounted on small Scotch poneys; and one of the latter, a pretty boy,
attached himself to us as guide, and showed us the interior of the
house, whose dark walls were most luxuriantly clothed, up to the
very roof, with ivy, pomegranate and China-rose. It was twilight
before we quitted the park, and in half an hour we reached the lit
tle town of Watford, where I am now reposing in a good inn. R 
takes this opportunity of commending himself most respectfully to
you, and is writing very busily in his journal, which makes me
laugh. I must just remark, that at Stanmore Priory we saw (I steal it out
of the fore-named journal) a single rhododendron standing abroad,
fifteen feet high, and covering a circumference of at least twenty-
five feet with its thick branches. Such vegetation is more inviting
to ' parkomanie' than ours. Woburn, December 26th.
We have made a calculation, dear Julia, that if you were with us
(a wish ever present to the minds of your faithful servants) you
could not, with your aversion to foot-exercise, see above a quarter of
a park a-day; and that it would take you at least four hundred
and twenty years to see all the parks in England, of which there are
doubtless at least a hundred thousand, for they swarm whichever
way you turn your steps. Of course we visit only the great ones,
or look, ' en passant,' at any little villa that particularly strikes and
pleases us. Notwithstanding this, we have seen so many proud and
magnificent seats to-day, that we are still in perfect rapture at them.
For I, you know, never could subscribe to the rule of the ' nil
admirari,' which cramps and destroys our best enjoyments.
Before I begin my description, I must, however, give the excel
lent inns their meed of praise. In the country, even in small vil
lages, you find them equally neat and well attended. Cleanliness,
great convenience, and even elegance, are always combined in them ;
and a stranger is never invited to eat, sit and sleep in the same room,
as in the German inns, in which there are generally only ball-rooms
and bed-chambers.
The table-service generally consists of silver and porcelain: the
furniture is well contrived ; the beds always excellent ; and the
friendly, flickering fire never fails to greet you.
A detailed description of this morning's breakfast will give you
the best idea of the wants and the comfortable living of English tra
vellers.

78 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
N.B. I had ordered nothing but tea. The following is what I
found set out when I quitted my bedroom, — in a little town scarcely
so extensive as one of our villages. In the middle of the table
smoked a large tea-urn, prettily surrounded by silver tea-canisters,
a slop-basin, and a milk-jug. There were three small Wedgwood
plates, with as many knives and forks, and two large cups of beau
tiful porcelain: by them stood an inviting plate of boiled eggs, an
other 'ditto' of broiled 'oreillesde cochon a la Sainte Menehould;'
a plate of muffins, kept warm by a hot water-plate; another with cold
ham; flaky white bread, ' dry and buttered toast,' the best fresh but
ter in an elegant glass vessel ; convenient receptacles for salt and
pepper, English mustard and 'moutarde de maille;' lastly, a silver
tea-caddy, with very good green and black tea.
This most luxurious meal, — which I hope you will think I have
described as picturesquely as a landscape, — is, moreover, in propor
tion very cheap; for it was charged in the bill only two shillings
(16 Gr.). Travelling is however, on the whole, very expensive, —
especially the posting (which is exactly four times as much as with
us,) and the fees which you are expected to be giving all day long,
in all directions, to every species of servant and attendant.
At ten o'clock we reached Cashiobury Park, the seat of the Earl
of Essex. I sent in my name to him; upon which his son-in-law,
Mr. F  , (whom I had formerly known in Dresden, and with
whom I was happy to renew my acquaintance,) came to conduct me
about. The house is modern Gothic, and magnificently furnished.
You enter a hall with coloured windows, which afford a view into
an inner court laid out as a flower-garden: leaving the hall, you go
through a long gallery on the side, hung with armour, to the rich
carved oak staircase leading to the library, which here generally
serves as principal drawing-room. The library has two small cabi
nets looking on the garden, and filled with rarities. Among these
I was particularly pleased with two humorous sketches by Denon,
representing the levee of Cardinal Bernis at Rome, and a dinner at
Voltaire's, with the Abbe Maury, Diderot, Helvetius, d'Alembert,
and other philosophers, — all portraits.
I was much interested too by a complete toilet of Marie Antoi
nette's, on which the portraits of her husband and of Henry the
Fourth were painted in several places. From the library you go in
to an equally rich second drawing-room; and from thence into the
dining-room. Near to both these rooms was a green-house, in the
form of a chapel; and in every apartment windows down to the
ground afforded a view of the noble park and the river flowing
through it. On a distant rising ground you look along a very broad
avenue of limes, exactly at the end of which, during a part of the
summer, the sun sets: its horizontal rays passing along the whole
length of the green-house must afford the most splendid natural de
coration, heightened by the reflection of its beams from a large mir
ror at the end. The walls of the dining-room are covered with
oaken 'boiserie,' with beautiful cornices and carving; the furniture
is of rose-wood, silk and velvet; and valuable pictures in antique

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 79
gilded frames adorn the walls. The proportions of the room may be
called hall-like, and the whole is regularly heated to a temperature
of fourteen degrees of Reaumur.
The somewhat remote stables and all the domestic offices, &c, are
on the left, connected with the house by an embattled wall; so that
the building extends along an uninterrupted length of a thousand
feet. The flower-gardens occupy a very considerable space. Part of
them are laid out in the usual style; that is, a long green-house at
the bottom, in front of which are several 'berceaux' and shady
walks around a large grass-plat, which is broken with beds of all
forms, and dotted with rare trees and shrubs. But here was also
something new; — a deep secluded valley of oval form, around which
is a thick belt of evergreens, and rock-plants planted impenetrably
thick on artificial rockeries; a background of lofty fir-trees and oak,
with their tops waving in the wind; and, at one end of the grass-plat,
a single magnificent lime-tree surrounded by a bench. From this
point the whole of the little valley was covered with an embroider
ed parterre of the prettiest forms, although perfectly regular. The
egress from this enclosure lay through a grotto overgrown with ivy,
and lined with beautiful stones and shells, into a square rose-garden
surrounded with laurel hedges, in the centre of which is a temple,
and opposite to the entrance a conservatory for aquatic plants. The
rose-beds are cut in various figures, which intersect each other. A
walk, overarched with thick beeches neatly trimmed with the shears,
winds in a sinuous line from this point to the Chinese garden, which
is likewise enclosed by high trees and walls, and contains a number
of vases, benches, fountains, and a third green-house, — all in the
genuine Chinese style. Here were beds surrounded by circles of
white, blue, and red sand, fantastic dwarf plants, and many dozens
of large China vases placed on pedestals, thickly overgrown with
trailing evergreens and exotics. The windows of the house were
painted like Chinese hangings, and convex mirrors placed in the in
terior, which reflected us as in a ' camera obscura.' I say nothing of
the endless rows of rich hot-'jouses and forcing-beds, nor of the-
kitchen-gardens. You may esumate the thing for yourself, when I
repeat to you Mr. F  's assurance that the park, gardens, and
house cost ten thousand a-year to keep up. The Earl has his own
workmen in every department; masons, carpenters, cabinet-makers,
&c, each of whom has his prescribed province. One has, for in
stance, only to keep the fences in order, another the rooms, a third
the furniture, &c; a plan well worthy of imitation in the country.
I paid my visit to the venerable Earl, who kept his chamber with
the gout, and received from the kind friendly old man the best in
formation, and some (highly necessary) cards of admittance for my
further journey.
Our road lay for a long time through the park, till we reached one
of the principal features in it, called the Swiss Cottage, which stands
in a lovely secluded spot in the midst of a grove on the bank of the
river. We drove over the turf; for, as I have told you, many parks

80 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
here are quite like free uncultivated ground, and have often only
one road, which leads up to the house and out on the other side.
Having regained the high road, we drove along twenty miles of
country, all equally beautiful, equally luxuriant in fertility and vege
tation, and at five o'clock reached Ashridge Park, the seat of the Earl
of Bridgewater. Here you can follow me better, dear Julia, if you
open Repton's book, in which you will find several views, and the
ground-plan of this charming garden, which old Repton himself laid
out. Remember the ' Rosary,' and you will immediately know
where to look for it. This park is one of the largest in England, for
it is nearly three German miles in circumference; and the house
which, like Cashiobury, is modern Gothic, is almost endless, with all
its walls, towers, and courts. I must however frankly confess, that
this modern Gothic (' castellated ') style, which looks so fairy-like on
paper, in reality often strikes one not only as tasteless, but even
somewhat absurd, from its overloaded and incongruous air.
If in the midst of the most cultivated, peaceful fields, amid the
mingled beauties of countless flowers, you see a sort of fortress, with
turrets, loopholes, and battlements, not one of which has the slightest
purpose or utility, and, moreover, many of them standing on no
firmer basis than glass walls (the green-houses and conservatories
connected with the apartments,) — it is just as ridiculous and incon
gruous, as if you were to meet the possessor of these pretty flower-
gardens walking about in them in helm and harness. The antique,
the old Italian, or merely romantic* style, adapted to our times, har
monizes infinitely better with such surrounding objects, has a more
cheerful character, and even, with smaller masses, a much grander
and more majestic air.
The interior of this house has certainly the most striking effect,
and may truly be called princely. The possessor has very wisely
limited himself to few, but large, entertaining-rooms. You enter
the hall, which is hung with armour and adorned with antique furni
ture. You then come to the staircase, the most magnificent in its kind
that can be imagined. Running up three lofty stories, with the same
number of galleries, it almost equals the tower of a church in height
and size: the walls are of polished stone, the railings of bright brass,
the ceiling of wood beautifully carved in panels and adorned with
paintings, and around each landing-place or gallery are niches with
statues of the Kings of England in stone. Ascending this staircase
we reached a drawing-room decorated with crimson velvet and gild
ed furniture, lighted in front by enormous windows which occupy
nearly the whole side of the room, and disclose the view of the
'.pleasure-ground' and park. Sidewards, on the left, is another room
as large, in which are a billiard-table and the library. On the other
side, in the same suite, is the dining-room; and behind it a noble
green-house and orangery, through which you pass into the chapel,
* By ¦ romantic' the author apparently means the style of the domestic architec
ture of Elizabeth's and the succeeding reigns, which affected nothing like the air
of places of defence. — Tbansl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 61
which is adorned with ten windows of genuine antique painted glass,
and with admirable carvings in wood. All the benches are of walnut-
tree, covered with crimson velvet.
In the rooms are some fine and interesting pictures, but most of
them by modern artists. The pleasure-grounds and gardens are still
larger than those at Cashiobury. You will find a part of them in
Repton, viz. the American garden, the Monk's garden, and the
Rosary; to which I must add, first, the very elegant French garden,
with a covered gallery, on one side; a porcelain-like ornament with
flower-pots in the centre; and a large parterre, every bed of which
is filled with ..a different sort of flower: secondly, the Rockery, in
which are to be found every kind of rock and creeping plant.
Nothing but the long habit of great luxury could enable people even
to conceive a whole so manifold, so equally exemplary in all its parts,
and in such perfect order and condition; for we must confess that
even our sovereigns possess only fragments of what is here found
united. Some thousand head of deer, and countless groups of giant
trees, animate and adorn the park, which, with the exception of the
road leading through it, is left wholly to nature, and to its numerous
grazing herds.
Accept it as a small sacrifice, dear Julia, that I send you all these
minute details. They may not be useless in our own plans and build
ings, and are at least more tedious to write than to read.*
For better illustration, I take sketches of everything interesting,
which will stand us in good stead, as furnishing new ideas. In the
morning we are going to see Woburn Abbey, the seat of the Duke
of Bedford, one of the richest peers of England, which is said to
exceed Ashbridge in extent and grandeur, as much as that does
Cashiobury; a very agreeable climax.
The inn whence I write is again very good, and I purpose, after
all my fatigues, to do as much honour to my principal meal as I did
to my breakfast; though the former is here far more simple, and
consists of the same dishes day after day. The eternal ' mutton
chops' and a roast fowl with ' bread sauce,' with vegetables boiled in
water, and the national sauce, melted butter with flour, always play
the principal part. Leamington, Dec. 21st.
I am now in a large watering-place, of which, however, I have as
yet seen but little, as I only arrived at eleven o'clock last night.
The greater part of the day was spent in seeing Woburn Abbey.
This beautiful palace is in the Italian taste; the design simple and
noble, and infinitely more satisfactory than the colossal would-be-
Gothic ' nonsense.'
Its stables, riding-school, ball-rooms, statue and picture galleries,
conservatories and gardens, form a little town. For three centuries
this estate has been transmitted in a direct line in this family, — even
in England a rare instance; — so that it is not to be wondered at, if,
* I know not whether the reader will admit this apology. — Editoe.
11

82 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
with an income of a million of our money, an accumulation of lux
ury and magnificence has been formed here, far exceeding the powers
of any private person in our country: and indeed even were money
here and there forthcoming in like profusion, yet the state of society
adapted for centuries to the providing of the materials for a luxury
so refined, and so complete in all its parts, exists not among us.
The house, properly speaking, is a regular quadrangle; and the
' bel etage,' which is always * de plein pied' in country-houses, forms
an unbroken suite of rooms, occupying the whole superficial extent
These rooms are hung with valuable pictures, and richly furnished
with massive and magnificent stuffs; the ceilings and the ' embra
sures' of the doors are of white plaster with gold ornaments, or of
rare carved wood, — all equally simple and massy. In one room was
a remarkable collection of miniature portraits of the family, from
the first Russell (the name of the Dukes of Bedford) to the present
Duke, in an unbroken line. Under such circumstances, a man may
he permitted to be a little proud of his family and his noble blood.*
These miniatures were arranged in a very tasteful manner on crimson
velvet, in a long narrow gold frame, and set like medallions. The
stoves are mostly of gilt metal, with high marble chimney-pieces;
the chandeliers of bronze, richly gilded; everywhere the same mag
nificence, yet nowhere overloaded. The library is at the end, di
vided into two rooms, and opening immediately on the delightful
garden with wide glass doors.
The gardens appear to me peculiarly charming, so admirably in
terwoven with the buildings and so varied that it is difficult to de
scribe them adequately.
To give you at least a general idea of them, let me tell you, that
all along the various buildings, which sometimes project, sometimes
retreat, form now straight and now curved lines, runs an unbroken
arcade clothed with roses and climbing plants. Following this, you
come to a succession of different and beautiful gardens. Over the
arcade are partly chambers, partly the prettiest little green-houses.
One of them contains nothing but heaths, hundreds of which, in full
blow, present the loveliest picture, endlessly multiplied by walls of
mirror. Immediately under this Erica-house was the garden for
the same tribe of plants; a glass-plat with beds of various form's, all
filled with the larger and hardier sorts of heath. In one place the
bowery-walk leads quite through a lofty Palm-house, before which
lie the most beautiful embroidered parterres, intersected with gravel
walks. Adjoining this house is the statue-gallery, the walls of which
are covered with various sorts of marble; .there are also very beau
tiful pillars from Italy. It contains a number of antique sculptures,
and is terminated at either end by a temple, the one dedicated to
Freedom, and adorned with busts of Fox, &c, the. other to the
* 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 illus
trious name, and are destined to inherit his honours, are singularly free from tlie
morgue and arrogance with which he justly charges the English aristocracy.—
TbanSl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 83
Graces, with Canova's exquisite group of the tutelary goddesses.
From this point the arcade leads along an interminable plantation,
on a sloping bank entirely filled with azaleas and rhododendrons,
till you reach the Chinese garden, in which ' the Dairy' is a promi
nent and beautiful object. It is a sort of Chinese temple, decorated
with a profusion of white marble and coloured glasses; in the centre
is a fountain, and round the walls hundreds of large dishes and bowls
of Chinese and Japan porcelain of every form and colour, filled with
new milk and cream. The 'consoles' upon which these vessels
stand are perfect models for Chinese furniture. The windows are of
ground glass, with Chinese painting, which shows fantastically
enough by the dim light.
A further pleasure-ground, with the finest trees and many beauti
ful surprises, — among others pretty children's gardens, and a grass
garden in which all sorts of gramineous plants were cultivated in
little beds, forming a sort cf chequer-work, — led to the Aviary.
This consists of a large place fenced in, and a cottage, with a small
pond in the centre, all dedicated to the feathered race. Here the
fourth or fifth attendant awaited us, (each of whom expects a fee, so
that yrou cannot see such an establishment under some pounds ster
ling,) and showed us first several gay-plumed parrots and other rare
birds, each of whom had his own dwelling and little garden. These
birds' houses were made of twigs interwoven with wire, the roof
also of wire, the shrubs around evergreen, as were almost all the
other plants in this enclosure. As we walked out upon the open
space which occupies the centre, our Papageno whistled, and in an
instant the air was literally darkened around us by flights of pigeons,
chickens, and heaven knows what birds. Out of every bush started
gold and silver, pied and common, pheasants; and from the little
lake a black swan galloped heavily forward, expressing his strong
desire for food in tones like those of a fretful child. This beautiful
bird, raven black with red feet and bill, was exceedingly tame, ate
his food 'chemin faisant' out of the keeper's pocket, and did not
leave us for a moment while we were sauntering about the birds'
paradise, only now and then pushing away an intrusive duck or
other of the vulgar herd, or giving a noble gold pheasant a dig in
the side. A second interesting but imprisoned inhabitant of this
place was Hero, an African crane, a creature that looks as if it were
made of porcelain, and frequently reminded me in his movements
of our departed dancing fiallerino. The incident of his history
which had gained him his lofty name was unknown to the keeper.
The park, which is four German miles in circuit, does not con
sist merely of heath or meadow-land and trees, but has a fine wood,
and also a very beautiful part fenced in, called ' the Thornery,' a
wild sort of copse intersected with walks and overgrown with thorns
and brushwood; in the midst of which stands a little cottage with
the loveliest flower-garden.
Here terminate the splendours of Woburn Abbey. But no — two
things I must still mention. In the house, the decorations of which
I have described to you ' en gros,' I found a very ingenious contri-

84 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
vance. Round all the apartments of the great quadrangle runs an
inner wide gallery, on which several doors open; and a variety of
collections, some open, some in glass cases, and here and there in
terspersed with stands of flowers, are set out. This affords a walk
as instructive as it is agreeable in winter or bad weather, and is ren
dered perfectly comfortable by the ' conduits de chaleur,' which heat
the whole house. — The second remarkable thing is a picture of the
Earl of Essex as large as life. He is represented as of a fine and
slender person, but not a very distinguished face; small features
without much expression, small eyes, and a large red beard with
dark hair.
But I have written off a quarter of an inch of my finger, and
must conclude. To-morrow another step in the ascending scale,
for I must see Warwick Castle, which is spoken of as England's
pride. I am curious to see if we can really mount higher ; hitherto
we have certainly ascended from beautiful to more beautiful.
As the mail is just going off I enclose this to L  , who will
have the kindness to forward it to you more quickly than it would
otherwise go.
Think of the wanderer in your tranquil solitude, and believe that
if fate drove him to the antipodes, his heart would ever be near you.
Your L  .

LETTER IX.
Warwick, Dec. 28th, 1826.
Dear Julia,
Now indeed, for the first time, I am filled with real and unbound
ed enthusiasm. What I have hitherto described was a smiling coun
try, combined with everything that art and money could produce.
I left it with a feeling of satisfaction; and, although I have seen
things like it, — nay, even possess them, — not without admiration.
But what I saw to-day was more than that, — it was an enchanted
palace decked in the most charming garb of poetry, and surrounded
by all the majesty of history, the sight of which still fills me with
delighted astonishment.
You, accomplished reader of history and memoirs, know better
than I that the Earls of Warwick were once the mightiest vassals of
England, and that the great Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, boasted
of having deposed three kings, and placed as many on the vacant
throne. This was his castle, standing ever since the ninth century,
and in the possession of the same family since the reign of Elizabeth.
A tower of the castle, said to have been built by Beauchamp him
self, remains unaltered; and the whole stands colossal and mighty,
like an embodied vision of former times.
From a considerable distance you see the dark mass of stone tow
ering above the primaeval cedars, chestnuts, oaks and limes. It
stands on the rocks on the shore of the Avon, and rises to a perpen-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 85
dicular height of two hundred feet above the level of the water.
Two towers of different forms overtop the building itself almost in
an equal degree. A ruined pier of a bridge, overhung with trees,
stands in the middle of the river, which becoming deeper just as the
point where the building begins, forms a foaming waterfall, and
turns a mill, which appears only like a low abutment of the castle.
Going on, you lose sight of the castle for awhile, and soon find
yourself before a high embattled wall, built of large blocks of stone
covered by Time with moss and creeping plants. Lofty iron gates
slowly unfold to admit you to a deep hollow way blasted in the rock,
the stone walls of which are tapestried with the most luxuriant vege
tation. The carriage rolled with a heavy dull sound along the smooth
rock, which old oaks darkly overshadow. Suddenly, at a turn of
the way, the castle starts from the wood into broad open daylight,
resting on a soft grassy slope; and the large arch of the entrance
dwindles to the size of an insignificant doorway between the two
enormous towers, at the foot of which you now stand. A still greater
surprise now awaits yon when you pass through the second iron
gate into the court-yard: it is almost impossible to imagine anything
more picturesque, and at the same time more imposing.
Let your fancy conjure up a space about sfewice as large as the in
terior of the Colosseum at Rome, and let it transport you into a
forest of romantic luxuriance. You now overlook the large court,
surrounded by mossy trees and majestic buildings, which, though of
every variety of form, combine to create one sublime and connected
whole, whose lines now shooting upwards, now falling off into the
blue air, with the continually changing beauty of the green earth
beneath, produce, not symmetry indeed, but that higher harmony,
elsewhere proper to Nature's own works alone. The first glance at
your feet falls on a broad simple carpet of turf, around which a softly
winding gravel-walk leads to the entrance and exit of the gigantic
edifice. Looking backwards, your eye rests on the two black
towers, of which the oldest, called Guy's Tower, rears its head aloft
in solitary threatening majesty, high above all the surrounding
foliage, and looks as if cast in one mass of solid iron; — the other,
built by Beauchamp, is half hidden by a pine and a chestnut, the
noble growth of centuries. Broad-leaved ivy and vines climb along
the walls, here twining around the tower, there shooting up to its
very summit. On your left lie the inhabited part of the castle, and
tlie chape], ornamented with many lofty windows of various size
and form; while the opposite side of the vast quadrangle, almost en
tirely without windows, presents only a mighty mass of embattled
stone, broken by a few larches of colossal height, and huge arbutuses
which have grown to a surprising size in the shelter they have so
long enjoyed. But the sublimest spectacle yet awaits you, when
you raise your eyes straight before you. On this fourth side, the
ground, which has sunk into a low bushy basin forming the court,
and with which the buildings also descend for a considerable space,
rises again in the form of a steep conical hill, along the sides of
whicli climb the rugged walls of the castle. This hill, and the keep

86 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
which crowns it, are thickly overgrown at the top with underwood,
which only creeps round the foot of the towers and walls. Behind
it, however, rise gigantic venerable trees, towering above all the
rock-like structure. Their bare stems seem to float in upper air;
while at the very summit of the building rises a daring bridge, set,
as it were, on either side within trees; and as the clouds drift across
the blue sky, the broadest and most brilliant masses of light break
magically from under the towering arch and the dark coronet of trees.
Figure this to yourself; — behold the whole of this magical scene
at one glance; — connect with it all its associations; — think that here
nine centuries of haughty power, of triumphant victory and destruc
tive overthrow, of bloody deeds and wild greatness, — perhaps too of
gentle love and noble magnanimity, — have left, in part, their visible
traces, and where they are not, their vague romantic memory; — and
then judge with what feelings I could place myself in the situation
of the man to whom such recollections are daily suggested by these
objects, — recollections which, to him, have all the sanctity of kin
dred and blood; — the man who still inhabits the very dwelling of that
first possessor of the fortress of Warwick, that half-fabulous Guy,
who lived a thousand years ago, and whose corroded armour, to
gether with a hundred weapons of renowned ancestors, is preserved
in the antique hall. Is there a human being so unpoetical as not to
feel that the glories of such memorials, even to this very day, throw
a lustre around the feeblest representative of such a race?
To make my description in some degree clear, I annex' a ground-
plan, which may help'*your imagination. You must imagine the
river at a great depth below the castle-plain, and not visible from the
point I have been describing. fThe first sight of it you catch is from
the castle windows, together with the noble park, whose lines of
wood blend on every side with the horizon.
You ascend from the court to the dwelling-rooms by only a few
steps, first through a passage, and thence into the hall, on each side
of which extend the entertaining-rooms in an unbroken line of three
hundred and forty feet. Although almost ' de plein pied' with the
court, these rooms are more than fifty feet above the Avon, which
flows on the other side. From eight to fourteen feet thickness of
wall forms, in each window-recess, a complete closet, with the most
beautiful varied view over the river, wildly foaming below, and
further on flowing through the park in soft windings, till lost in the
dim distance. Had I till now, from the first sight of the castle, ad
vanced from surprise to surprise, — all this was surpassed, though in
another way, by what awaited me in the interior. I fancied myself
transported back into by-gone ages as 1 entered the gigantic baronial
hall, — a perfect picture of Walter Scott's; — the walls panelled with
carved cedar; hung with every kind of knightly accoutrement;
spacious enough to feast trains of vassals, — and saw before me a mar
ble chimney-piece under which I could perfectly well walk with my
hat on, and stand by the fire, which blazed like a funeral pile from a
strange antique iron grate in the form of a basket, three hundred
years old. On the side, true to ancient custom, was a stack of oak

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 87
logs piled up upon a stand of cedar, which was placed on the stone
floor partially covered by 'hautelisse' carpets. A man-servant
dressed in brown, whose dress, with his gold knee-bands, epaulets
and trimmings, had a very antique air, fed the mighty fire from time
to time with an enormous block. Here, in every circumstance, the
difference between the genuine old feudal greatness and the modern
imitations was as striking, as that between the moss-grown remains
of the weather-beaten fortress and the ruins built yesterday in the
garden of some rich contractor. Almost everything in the room was
old, stately, and original; nothing tasteless or incongruous, and all
preserved with the greatest care and affection. Among them were
many rich and rare articles which could no longer be procured, —
silk, velvet, gold and silver blended and interwoven. The furniture
consists almost entirely either of uncommonly rich gilding, of dark
brown carved walnut or oak, or of those antique French < com
modes' and cabinets inlaid with brass, the proper name of which I
have forgotten. There were also many fine specimens of mosaic, as
well as of beautiful marquetry. A fire-screen, with a massy gold
frame, consisted of a plate of glass so transparent that it was scarcely
distinguishable from the air. To those who love to see the cheerful
blaze without being scorched, such a screen is a great luxury. In
one of the chambers stands a state bed, presented to one of the Earls
of Warwick by Queen Anne; it is of red velvet embroidered, and is
still in good preservation. The treasures of art are countless.
Among the pictures, there was not one ' mediocre;' they are almost
all by the first masters: but, beyond this, maify of thefn have a pecu
liar family interest. There are a great many ancestral portraits by
Titian, Van Dyk, and Rubens. The gem of the collection is one of
Raphael's most enchanting pictures, the beautiful Joan of Arragon,
— of whom, strangely enough, there are four portraits, each of which
is declared to be genuine. Three of them must of course be copies,
but are no longer distinguishable from the original. One is at Paris,
one at Rome, one at Vienna, and the fourth here. I know them all,
and must give unqualified preference to this. There is an enchant
ment about this splendid woman which is wholly indescribable. An
eye leading to the very depths of the soul; queenlike majesty united
with the most feminine sensibility; intense passion blended with the
sweetest melancholy; and withal, a beauty of form, a transparent de
licacy of skin, and a truth, brilliancy and grace of the drapery and
ornaments, such as only a divine genius could call into perfect
being. Among the most interesting portraits, both for the subject and the
handling, are the following.
First, Machiavelli, by Titian. — Precisely as I should imagine him.
A face of great acuteness and prudence, and of suffering, — as if
lamenting over the profoundly-studied worthless side of human na
ture; that hound-like character which loves where it is spurned,
follows where it fears, and is faithful where it is fed. A trace of
compassionate scorn plays round the thin lips, while the dark eye
appears turned reflectingly inward.

88 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
It appears strange, at first sight, that this great and classic writer
should so long have been misunderstood in the grossest manner.
Either he has been represented as a moral scarecrow (and how
miserable is Voltaire's refutation of that notion!); or the most fan
tastic hypothesis is put forth, that his book is a satire. On more at
tentive observation, we arrive at the conviction that it was reserved
for modern times, in which politics at length begin to be viewed and
understood from a higher and really humane point of view, to form
a correct judgment of Machiavel's Prince.
To all arbitrary princes — and under that name I class all those who
think themselves invested with power solely ' par la grace de Dieu'
and for their own advantage, — all conquerors, and children of for
tune, whom some chance has given to the people they regard as their
property, — to all such as these, this profound and acute writer shows
the true and only wa}' to prosper; the exhaustive system they must
of necessity follow, in order to maintain a power radically sprung
from the soil of sin and error. His book is, and must ever be, the
true, inimitable gospel of such rulers; and we Prussians, especially,
have reason to congratulate ourselves that Napoleon had learned his
Machiavel so ill; — we should otherwise probably be still groaning
under his yoke.
That Machiavel felt all the value and the power of freedom, is
plain, from many passages in his book. In one he says, " He who
has conquered a. free city, has no secure means of keeping it, but
either to destroy it, or to people it with new inhabitants; for no
benefit a sovereign cdh • tonfer will ever make it forget its lost
freedom." By proving, as he incontestably does, that such a degree of arbi
trary power can be maintained only by the utter disregard of all
morality, and by seriously inculcating this doctrine upon princes, he
also demonstrates but too plainly, that the whole frame of society,
in his time, contained within itself a principle of demoralization;
and that no true happiness, no true civilization, was possible to any
people till that principle was detected and destroyed. The events
of modern times, and their consequences, have at length opened their
eyes to this truth, and they will not close them again!
The Duke of Alva, by Titian.— Full of expression, and, as I be
lieve, faithful ; — for this man was by no means a caricature of cruelty
and gloom;— earnest, fanatical, proud, firm as iron; practically ex
hibiting the Ideal of an inflexibly faithful servant, who, having once
undertaken a charge, looks neither to the right nor the left in the
execution of it; is ready blindly to fulfil the will of his God and of
his master, and asks not whether thousands perish in torture; in a
word, a powerful mind, not base but contracted, which lets others
think for it, and works to establish their authority.
Henry the Eighth and Ann Boleyn, by Holbein.*— The King in
a splendid dress, — a fat, rather butcher-like man, in whom sensuali-
* There are so many pictures of Henry and Elizabeth in England, that you must
forgive my ircquent mention of them. There are shades of difference in all.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 89
ty, cunning, cruelty, and strength, rule in a frightfully complacent
and almost jovial physiognomy. You see that such a man might
make you tremble, and yet somehow attach you. Ann Boleyn is a
good-natured, unmeaning, almost stupid-looking, genuine English
beauty, like many one sees now, only in another dress.
Cromwell, by Van Dyk. — A magnificent head: somewhat of the
bronze gladiator-look of Napoleon; but with much coarser features,
through which, as behind a mask, is seen the light of a great soul:
enthusiasm is, however, too little perceptible in them. There is an
expression of cunning in the eye, combined with something of
honesty, which renders it the more deceptive; but not a trace of
cruelty, — with that, indeed, the Protector cannot be reproached.
The execution of the King was a cruel act, but one which appeared
to Cromwell's mind in the light of a necessary political operation,
and in no degree sprang from a delight in bloodshed. Under this
picture hangs Cromwell's own helmet.
Prince Rupert, by Van Dyk. — Completely the bold soldier!
Every inch a cavalier! I do not mean in the exclusive sense of an
adherent of the King, but in that of an accomplished gentleman and
knight: a handsome face, as dangerous to women as to the enemy,
and the picturesque garb and port of a warrior.
Elizabeth, by Holbein. — The best and perhaps most faithful pic
ture I have ever seen of her. She is represented in her prime,
almost disgustingly fair, or rather white, with pale red hair. The
eyes somewhat Albino-like, and almost without eyebrows. There
is an artificial good-nature, but a false expression. Vehement pas
sions and a furious temper seem to lie hidden under that pallid ex
terior, like a volcano under snow; while the intense desire to please
is betrayed by the rich and over-ornamented dress. Quite different,
— stern, hard, and dangerous to approach, — does she appear in the
pictures of her at an advanced age, but even then extremely over
dressed. Mary of Scotland. — Probably painted in prison, and shortly be
fore her death: it has the air of a matron of forty. — There is still
the faultless beauty; but it is no longer the light-minded Mary, full
of the enjoyment of life, and of her own resistless charms; but visi
bly purified by misfortune, — with a sedate expression; — in short,
Schiller's Mary, — a noble nature, which has at length found itself
again! It is one of the rarest pictures of the unhappy Queen, whom
one is accustomed to see depicted in all the splendour of youth and
beauty. Ignatius Loyola, by Rubens. — A very beautifully painted and
grand picture; but which immediately strikes one as a fiction, and
no portrait. The sanctified expression, common to so many pic
tures of saints and priests, is unmeaning. The colouring is by far
the finest thing about the picture.
But I should never have done, were I to attempt to go through this
gallery. I must take you for a minute into the furthest cabinet, which
contains a beautiful collection of enamels, chiefly after designs by
Raphael, and a marble bust of the Black Prince, a sturdy soldier
12

90 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
both in head and hand, — at a time when the latter alone sufficed to
secure the hight esrenown.
Many valuable Etruscan vases and other works of art, besides the
pictures and antiques, decorate the various apartments, and with
great good taste are arranged so as to appear as harmonious accesso
ries, instead of being heaped up in a gallery by themselves as dead
masses. It was pointed out to me as a proof of the perfect and solid archi
tecture of the castle, — that, in spite of its age, when all the doors of
the suite of rooms are shut, you see the bust placed exactly in the
centre of the furthest cabinet, through the keyholes, along a length
of three hundred and fifty feet ; — a perfection, indeed, which our
present race of workmen would never think of approaching. Though,
as I told you, the walls of the. hall are hung with a great quantity of
armour, there is also an armoury, which is extremely rich. Here is
the leathern collar, stained with blood blackened by time, in which
Lord Brook, an ancestor of the present Earl, was slain at the battle
of Litchfield. In one corner of the room lies a curious specimen of
art, very heterogeneous with the rest, — a monkey, cast in iron, of a
perfection and ' abandon' in the disposition of the limbs which rivals
Nature herself. I was sorry the ' chatellaine' could not tell nie who
had made the model for this cast. He must be an eminent master
who could thus express all the monkey grace and suppleness with
such perfect fidelity, in an attitude of the most enjoying laziness.
Before I quitted the princely Warwick, 1 ascended one of the
highest towers, and enjoyed a rich and beautiful prospect on every
side. The weather was tolerably clear. Far more enchanting than
this panorama, however, was the long walk in the gardens which
surround the castle on two sides, whose character of serene grandeur
is admirably adapted to that of the building. The height and beauty
of the trees, the luxuriance of the vegetation and of the turf, cannot
be exceeded; while a number of gigantic cedars, and the ever-vary
ing aspect of the majestic castle, through whose lofty cruciform loop
holes the rays of light played, threw such enchantment over the
whole scene that I could hardly tear myself away. We walked
about till the moon rose; and her light, as we looked through the
darkening alleys, gave to all objects a more solemn and gigantic cha
racter. We could therefore only see the celebrated colossal War
wick Vase by lamplight. It holds several hundred gallons, and is
adorned with the most beautiful workmanship. We also saw some
ancient curiosities which are kept in the Porter's Lodge; particular
ly some cows' horns and wild boar's tusks, ascribed to beasts which
Guy, — a hero of Saxon times, the fabulous ancestor of the first Earls
of Warwick, — is said to have destroyed. The dimensions of his
arms, which are preserved here, bespeak a man of such strength and
stature as Nature no longer produces.
Here at length I took a lingering farewell of Warwick Castle, and
laid the recollection, like a dream of the sublime and shadowy past,
on my heart. I felt, in the faint moonlight, like a child who sees
a fantastic giant head of far distant ages beckoning to it with friend
ly nod over the summit of the wood.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 91
With such fahcies, dear Julia, I will go to sleep, and wake to meet
them again in the morning, for another scene of romance awaits me,
— the ruins of Kenilworth. Birmingham, Dec. 29th: Evening.
I must continue my narrative. — Leamington (' car il faut pourtant
que j'en dise quelque chose') was only a little village a few years
ago, and is now a rich and elegant town, containing ten or twelve
palace-like inns, four large bath-houses with colonnades and gardens,
several libraries, with which are connected card-, billiard-, concert-
and ball-rooms (one for six hundred persons,) and a host of private
houses, which are almost entirely occupied by visitors, and spring
out of the earth like mushrooms. All here is on a vast scale, though
the waters are insignificant. The same are used for drinking as for
bathing, and yet it swarms with visitors. The baths are as spacious
as the English beds, and are lined throughout with earthenware
tiles. Not far from Leamington, and a league from Warwick, is a beau
tiful enchanting spot called Guy's Cliff; part of the house is as old
as Warwick Castle. Under it is a deep cavern, in the picturesque
rocky shore of the Avon, into which, as tradition says, Guy of War
wick, after many high deeds at home and abroad, secretly retired to
close his life in pious meditation. After two years of incessant
search, his inconsolable wife found him lying dead in his cave, and
in despair threw herself down from the rocks into the Avon. In later
times a chapel was built in the rock to commemorate this tragic
event, and adorned by Henry the Third with a statue of Sir Guy.
This has unhappily been so mutilated by Cromwell's troops, that
it is now but a shapeless block. Opposite to the chapel are twelve
monks' cells hewn in the rock, now used as stables. The chapel it
self, which has been entirely renovated in the interior, is connected
with the dwelling of the proprietor, part of which is Gothic some
centuries old, part in the old Italian style, and part quite new, built
exactly to correspond with the most ancient part. The whole is ex
tremely picturesque, and the interior is fitted up with equal atten
tion to taste and comfort. The drawing-room, with its two deep
window-recesses, struck me as uncommonly cheerful. One of these
windows stands above a rock which rises fifty feet perpendicularly
from the river, in whose bosom lies a lovely little island, and behind
it a wide prospect of luxuriant meadows, beautiful trees, and, quite
in the background, a village half buried in wood. At a short dis
tance on the side is an extremely ancient mill, said to have been
in existence before the Norman invasion. A little further off, the
picture was terminated by a woody hill, also within the enclosure
of the park, on which a high cross marks the spot where Gavestone,
the infamous favourite of Edward the Second, was executed by the
rebellious lords Warwick and Arundel. All these recollections,
united with so many natural beauties, make a strong impression on
the mind. — The other window afforded a perfect contrast with this.
It overlooks a level plain laid out as a very pretty French garden, in

92 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
which gay porcelain ornaments and coloured sand mingled their hues
with the flowers, and terminates in a beautiful alley overshadowed
with ivy cut into a pointed arch. In the room itself sparkled a cheer
ful fire; choice pictures adorned the walls, and several sofas of va
rious forms, tables covered with curiosities, and furniture standing
about in agreeable disorder, gave it the most inviting and home-like air.
I returned back to the town of Warwick to see the church, and
the chapel containing the monument of the great King-maker, which
he placed there in his life-tirne, and now reposes under. His statue
of metal lies on the sarcophagus; an eagle and a bear at his feet.
The head is very expressive and natural. Pie does not fold his
hands, as is the case in most statues of knights, but only raises them
a little to heaven, as though he would not pray, and could greet even
his Maker only with a gesture of courtesy; his head is slightly in
clined, but with no air of humility. Round his stone coffin are em
blazoned the splendid bearings of all his lordships, and an enormous
sword lies threatening by his side. The splendid painted windows,
and the numerous well-preserved and richly gilded ornaments, give
to the whole a stately, solemn character.
A family of the town most unfortunately got permission, about a
hundred and fifty years ago, to erect a monument to some country
'squire or other, immediately under the large central window. It
occupies the entire wall, and destroys the beautiful simplicity of the
whole by this hideous, disgraceful modern excrescence.
By the side-wall lies another intruder carved in stone, but one of
better pretensions; — no less a man than the powerful Earl of Leices
ter: he is represented of middle age, a handsome, high-bred and
haughty -looking man; but without the lofty genius in his features
so strikingly portrayed on the metal countenance of the great War
wick. A few posts from Leamington, in a country which gradually be
comes more solitary and dreary, lies Kenilworth.
With Sir Walter Scott's captivating book in my hand I wandered
amid these ruins, which call up such varied feelings. They cover
a space of more than three quarters of a mile in circumference, and
exhibit, although in rapid decay, many traces of great and singular
magnificence. The oldest part of the castle, built in 1120, still stands the firmest,
while the part added by Leicester is almost utterly destroyed. The
wide moat which formerly surrounded the castle, and around which
stretched a park of thirty English miles in circuit, was dried up in
Cromwell's time, in the hope of finding treasure in it. The park,
too, has long disappeared, and is now changed into fields, on which
are some scattered cottages. A part of the castle, standing isolated
and almost hidden under creeping plants, is transformed into a kind
of out-work; and the whole surrounding country has a more barren,
deserted and melancholy aspect than any part we have travelled
through. But this harmonizes well with the character of the prin
cipal object, and enhances the saddening effect of greatness in such
utter decay.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 93
The balcony called Elizabeth's Bower is still standing; and the
tradition goes, that in moonlight nights a white figure is often seen
there looking fixedly and immovably into the depth below. The
ruins of the banqueting-hall, with the gigantic chimney-piece, the
extensive kitchen, and the wine-cellar beneath, are still clearly dis
tinguishable; and many a lonesome chamber may still be standing
in the towers, to which all access is cut off. The fancy delights in
guessing the past by what still remains; and I often dreamed, while
climbing among the ruins, that I had found the very spot where the
infamous Vernon traitorously plunged the truest and most unhappy
of wives into eternal night. But equally lost are the traces of the
crimes and of the virtues which lived within these walls; Time has
long since thrown his all-concealing veil over them; and gone are
the eternally-repeated sorrows and joys, the mouldered splendour,
and the transient struggle.
The day was gloomy; black clouds rolled across the heavens, and
occasionally a yellow tawny light broke from between them; the
wind whistled among the ivy, and piped shrilly through the va
cant windows; now and then a stone loosened itself from the crumb
ling building, and rolled clattering down the outer wall. Not a
human being was to be seen; all was solitary, awful; — a gloomy but
sublime memorial of destruction.
Such moments are really consolatory: — we feel more vividly than
at any other that it is not worth while to grieve and trouble our
selves about earthly things, since sorrow, like joy, lasts but for a
moment. As an illustration of the eternal mutation of human affairs,
I found myself transported in the evening from the mute and lifeless
ruins to the prosaic tumult of a multitude, busied but in gain; in the
reeking, smoky, bustling manufacturing town of Birmingham. The
last romantic sight was the flames which at night-fall illumined the
town on all sides from the tall chimneys of the iron-works. Here is
an end to all sport of the fancy till more fitting time and place.
December 30th.
Birmingham is one of the most considerable and one of the ugliest
towns of England. It contains a hundred and twenty thousand in
habitants, of whom two-thirds are doubtless workmen, and indeed, it
presents only the appearance of an immeasurable workshop.
Immediately after breakfast I went to the manufactory of Mr.
Thomasson, our consul here, — the second in extent. The first, —
where a thousand workmen are daily employed, and an eighty-horse
power steam-engine is applied to innumerable uses, even in the
manufactory of livery buttons and pins' heads, — has been hermeti
cally sealed to all foreigners ever since the visit of the Austrian
princes, one of whose suite carried away some important secret.
I passed several hours here with great interest, though in hideous,
dirty, and stinking holes, which serve as the various workshops; and
made a button, which R  will deliver to you1 as a proof of my
industry. In a better room below are set out all the productions of the man-

94 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ufactory, in gold, silver, bronze, plated, and lackered wares, the lat
ter surpassing their Japan originals in beauty ; steel wares of every
kind; — all in a profusion and elegance which really excite amaze
ment. Among other things, I saw the copy of the Warwick Vase,
of the same size as the original. It is cast in bronze, and cost four
thousand pounds. I saw also magnificent table-services in plated
ware, brought to such perfection that it is impossible to distinguish
it from silver. The great people here often mix it among their
plate, as the Paris ladies mix false stones and pearls with their real
ones. I made acquaintance with a multitude of new and agreeable in
ventions of luxuries in great and small, and could not quite resist the
temptation to buy, which is here so powerful. The trifles I bought
will soon reach you in a well-packed box.
The iron-works, with their gigantic steam-engines, the needle
manufactory, the steel works, — where you find every article from
the most delicate scissars to the largest grate, polished like mirrors,
with all the intermediate ' nuances,' — afford agreeable occupation for
a day: — hut pardon me any further description of them; 'Ce n'est
pas mon metier. ' December 31st: — Sunday.
As the manufactories are at rest to-day, I made an excursion to
Aston Hall, the seat of Mr. Watt, where, indeed, there is little to
be seen in the way of gardening, but the old house contains many
curious portraits. Unfortunately an ignorant porter could give me
but little information about them.
There was an extremely fine picture of Gustavus Adolphus, as
large as life. The good-nature, dignity and prudence; the clear
honest eyes, which yet express much more than honesty; and the
gentle, but not the less firm, assurance in his whole aspect, — were in
the highest degree attractive. Near to it stood an excellent bust of
Cromwell, which I should think a better likeness than the picture
at Warwick. It is more consonant with his historic character; —
coarse, and, if you will, vulgar features; but a rocky nature in the
whole countenance, clearly allied to that dark enthusiasm and demo
niac cunning which so truly characterize the man. Two cannon-
balls which Cromwell threw into the house, then fortified, and which
broke the banisters in two places, are carefully left on the very spot
where they fell, and the railing not repaired, — though it has since
most stupidly been painted white even in the broken part
Not to lose a day, as there is nothing to see here but workshops,
I intend to set off this evening and travel through the night to Ches
ter. There we shall spend to-morrow in seeing Eaton, Lord Gros-
venor's celebrated seat, of which I wrote you word that Bathiany
gave me such a magnificent description, and whicli, according to all
I hear, contains whatever gold can procure. The day after to-mor
row I shall return hither, visit some more manufactories, and then
go back to Oxford, in the neighbourhood of which are two of the
largest parks in England, Blenheim and Stowe.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 95
Chester, January 1st, 1827.
Another year gone! None of the worst to me, except for the sepa
ration from you. I lighted the lamp in the carriage and read Lady
Morgan's last novel with great pleasure, while we rolled swiftly
over the level road. As soon as the hand reached twelve o'clock,
R  congratulated me on the new year, for myself and for you.
In twelve hours more we reached Chester, an ancient ' baroque' city.
Though we had gone nineteen German miles in thirteen hours, I
find that in England, as well as in France, as you go further from
the metropolis you find a general deterioration; — the inns are less
excellent, the post-horses worse, the postilions more dirty, the dress
of the people generally less respectable, and the air of bustle and
business less. At the same time the dearness increases, and you are
subjected to many extortions which, nearer to London, are prevent
ed by the great competition.
The new year set in with unfavourable weather. It rained the
whole day. As soon as we had made a little toilet, we hastened to
see the wonders of Eaton Hall, of which, however, my expectations
were not very high. Moderate as they were, they were scarcely re
alized. The park and the gardens were, to my taste, the most un
meaning of any of their class I had seen, although of vast extent;
and the house excited just the same feelings in me as Ashridge, only
with the difference that it is still more overloaded, and internally far
less beautiful, though furnished still more expensively, in patches.
You find all imaginable splendour and ostentation which a man who
has an income of a million of our money can display; but taste not
perhaps in the same profusion. In this chaos of modern Gothic ex
crescences, I remarked ill-painted modern glass windows, and shape
less tables and chairs, which most incongruously affected to imitate
architectural ornaments. I did not find one single thing worth
sketching; and it is perfectly inconceivable to me how M. Laine, (to
whose merits in the embellishment of his country all must do jus
tice,) could, in the Annals of the Berlin Horticultural Society, pre
fer this to any he had seen ; at which indeed his English critics have
made merry not a little. M. Laine imitated this garden in the one
in front of the new palace at Potsdam. In his place I should, I con
fess, have chosen another model ; though this style is certainly far
better suited to the palace in question than to a Gothic castle. Trea
sures of art I saw none ; the best was a middling picture by West
All the magnificence lay in the gorgeous materials, and the profuse
display of money. The drawing-room or library would, for size,
make a very good riding-school. The large portraits of the posses
sor and his wife, in the dining-room, have little interest, except for
their acquaintances. A number of ' affreux' little Gothic temples, de
face the pleasure-ground, which has, moreover, no fine trees: the
soil is not very favourable, and the whole seems laid out in compa
ratively recent times. The country is rather pretty, though not pic
turesque, and too flat.
As we had time to spare, we visited the royal castle of Chester,

96 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
which is now converted into an excellent county gaol. The whole
arrangement of it seemed to me most humane and perfect. The
view from the terrace of the ' corps de logis,' in which are the Courts
of Justice, down upon the prisoners in their cells, is extremely cu
rious and surprising.
Imagine a high terrace of rock, on which stands a castle with two
wings. The ' corps de logis' is, as I said, dedicated to the Courts,
which are very spacious; and the wings, to the prisoners for debt.
The court-yard is laid out as a little garden, in which the debtors
may walk. Under the court are cells in which the criminals are con
fined; the further end on the right is appropriated to the women.
The cells are separate, and radiate from a centre; the little piece of
ground in front of each is a garden for the use of the prisoner, in
which he is permitted to walk; before trial his dress is gray; after
it, red and green. In each division of the building behind the cells
is a large common-room, with a fire, in which the prisoners work.
The cells are clean and airy; the food varies with the degree of
crime, — the lowest is bread, potatoes and salt. To-day, being new-
year's-day, all the prisoners had roast-beef, plum-pudding, and ale.
Most of them, especially the women, became very animated, and
made a horrible noise, with hurrahs to the health of the Mayor who
had given them this fete.
The view from the upper terrace, over the gardens, the prison,
and a noble country, with the river winding below, just behind the
cells ; — on the side, the roofs and towers of the city in picturesque
confusion; and in the distance, the mountains of Wales, — is mag
nificent, and ' a tout prendre,' our country counsellors of justice
(Oberlandes gerichtsr'dthe) are seldom lodged so well as the rogues
and thieves here.
Thank Heaven, we set out on our return to-morrow, for I am
quite weary of parks and sights. I am afraid you will be no less
so, of my monotonous letters; but as you have said A you must say
B, and so prepare for a dozen parks before we reach London.
Meanwhile I send my epistle thither, to afford you at least an
interval, and pray God to have you in his merciful and faithful
keeping. Your ever devoted •
L  .

LETTER X.
Hawkestone Park, Jan. 2nd, 1827.
Beloved friend,
Though I felt perfectly ' blase' of parks yesterday, and thought I
could never take any interest in them again, I am quite of another
mind to-day, and must in some respects give Hawkestone the pre
ference over all I have seen. It is not art, nor magnificence, nor
aristocratical splendour, but nature alone, to which it is indebted for

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 97
this pre-eminence, and in such a degree that were I gifted with the
power of adding to its beauty, I should ask, What can I add?
Turn your imagination to a spot of ground so commandingly
placed, that from its highest point you can let your eye wander over
fifteen counties. Three sides of this wide panorama rise and fall in
constant change of hill and dale, like the waves of an agitated sea,
and are bounded at the horizon by the strangely-formed jagged out
line of the Welsh mountains, which at either end descend to a fertile
plain shaded by thousands of lofty trees, and in the obscure distance
where it blends with the sky is edged with a white misty line — the
ocean. The Welsh mountains are partly covered with snow, and all the
cultivated country between so thickly intersected with hedge-rows
and trees, that at a distance it has rather the appearance of a thinly
planted wood, here and there broken by water or by numberless
fields and meadows. You stand directly in the centre of this scene,
on the summit of a group of hills, looking down over the tops of
groves of oaks and beeches alternating with the most luxuriant slopes
of meadow-land, upon a wall of rock five or six hundred feet high,
which forms numerous steep precipices and pretty valleys. In one
of the gloomiest spots of this wilderness arise the venerable ruins of
' the Red Castle,' a magnificent memorial of the time of William the
Conqueror. Now imagine this whole romantic group of hills, which rises
isolated from the very plain, to be surrounded almost in a perfect cir
cle by the silver waves of the river Hawke. This naturally bounded
spot is Hawkestone Park, a spot whose beauties are so appreciated
even in the neighbourhood, that the brides and bridegrooms of Li
verpool and Shrewsbury come here to pass their honeymoon. The
park seems indeed rather the property of the public than of its pos
sessor, who never resides here, and whose ruinous and mean-looking
house lies hidden in a corner of the park, like a ' hors d'ceuvre.'
There is, however, a pretty inn, in which visitors find all that is
needful to their comfort. Here we passed the night, and after a
good breakfast ' a la fourchette,' set out on our long excursion on
foot; for the roads are so bad that we could not drive. Our scramb
ling walk, almost dangerous in winter, lasted four hours.
We crossed a grassy plain, shaded by oaks and covered with graz
ing cattle, to the rocks I have mentioned, in which the pale green
veins show the existence of copper. They rise out of a lofty hang
ing wood of old beeches, and are crowned at their summits with
black firs, the whole effect of which is most striking. In this natural
wall is a grotto, which, after climbing wearily along a zig-zag path in
the wood, you reach through a dark covered way more than a hundred
feet long, hewn in the rock. The grotto consists of numerous caverns
incrusted with all sorts of minerals. There are small openings in
which are set pieces of coloured glass cut like brilliants; in the dark
they gleam like the precious stones of Aladdin's cave. An old wo
man was our guide, and excited our wonder by her unwearied walk
ing, and the dexterity with which she climbed up and down the rocks
13

98 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
in slippers. The irregular steps of stone were as smooth as glass,
and so difficult sometimes to pass over, that our good R  , who
had iron heels to his boots, complained bitterly of the efforts he had
to make to keep himself up. We reached a summer-house, built
of trunks and branches of trees and covered with moss, which com
manded a picturesque view of a fantastic hill called the Temple of
Patience. Our way then led us to the so-called Swiss Bridge, which
is boldly thrown from one rock to another. As the railing is partly
broken down and the passage rather a dizzy one, my good Julia, if
it were possible for her to have come thus far, would have found an
end to her expedition. How fortunate it is to have such an unweari
ed guide through the regions of imagination — one who bears you in
an instant across the giddy bridge, and now places you before a black
tower-like rock projecting out of the glittering beeches, overgrown
with thorns and festooned with garlands of ivy! This was long the
abode of a fox, who lived secure from pursuit in his castle of Mala-
partus; it is still called Reynard's House. We went on, up hill and
down dale, and at length, rather tired, reached the terrace, an open
place with beautiful peeps at the country cut in the wood. Not far
from thence, behind very high trees, stands a column a hundred-and-
twenty feet high, dedicated to the founder of the family, — a London
merchant and Lord Mayor of London in the time of Henry the
Third, — whose statue crowns the pillar. A convenient winding
staircase in the inside leads to its summit, whence you overlook the
panorama of fifteen counties already mentioned. You pass through
still wilder chasms between the rocks to a lovely cottage, standing in
complete seclusion at the end of a green valley, where formerly va
rious beasts and birds were kept, which are now preserved stuffed in
a room of the cottage. A young woman showed them to us, with
the strange announcement, — 'All these animals that you see used to
live formerly.' I spare you the green-house built of masses of rock
and branches of trees, and the Gothic tower — a sort of summer-
house, and lead you a long, long way through wood, then over green
hills and through a narrow defile to the magnificent ruin, the su
blimely situated Red Castle. The decayed walls and the hewn rocky
sides are of great extent. You can reach the interior only through a
winding passage blasted in the rock, so utterly dark that I found
myself obliged to use my guide's petticoat as an Ariadne's clue, for
I literally could not see my hand before my eyes. Out of this tunnel
you emerge into a picturesque alley of rock, with smooth high walls
overarched with mountain-ashes. On the side you perceive a cavern,
the mouth of which is still closed with a rusty iron gate. Climbing
rude steps in the rock, you reach the upper part of the ruin — a high
roofless tower, in whose walls, fifteen feet thick, many trees centuries
old have struck their roots, and in the interior of which is a well,
which appears to sink down to the entrails of the earth. The massy
and unshaken barrier around it, the lofty tower through which the sky
appears above, and the bottomless depth beneath, where reigns eternal
night, produce an effect I never remember to have experienced. You
see Hope and Despair allegorically united in one picture before you.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 99
The tower, and the rock on which it stands, look down from a giddy
height, in a perfectly perpendicular line, upon the valley, in which
the huge trees appear like copse-wood.
By a somewhat considerable leap of the imagination you reach a
New Zealander's hut on the banks of a little lake, built many years
ago from a drawing of Captain Cook's, and furnished with arrows,
spears, tomahawks, skulls of eaten enemies, and such-like pretty
trifles, the innocent luxuries of these children of nature.
Here we closed our walk, leaving unseen several devices which
deform the place, and which, as well as (alas!) the paths, are some
what in decay. But these defects are slight, in a whole so full of
sublime and wondrously-varied natural beauty. Newport, Jan. 3rd.
It is winter in good earnest; — the earth covered with ice and six
inches of snow, and the cold in the rooms, so insufficiently warmed
by open fires, almost insufferable. As I passed the greater part of
the day in the carriage, I have little to tell. Birmingham, Jan. 4th.
To-day too we saw nothing remarkable on our road but a newly laid
out park through which we drove, with a small but elegant garden,
with very pretty flower-stands of various sorts, and baskets, all of
fine wire, and clothed with creepers. R  was obliged to draw
them with stiff fingers.
The inn at which we ate our luncheon bore the date 1603 carved
in stone, and is the prettiest specimen of a cottage in an antique
style, with brickwork in various patterns, I have met with. To
wards evening we reached Birmingham, where I am reposing com
fortably after the excessive cold. January 6th.
The whole day has been, as in my last visit, devoted to the ma
nufactories and warehouses. The poor workmen, however, have a
bad time of it. Their earnings are sufficient, it is true; but many of
their occupations are of such a kind that the slightest neglect or care
lessness may be productive of the most dreadful consequences. I saw
a man whose business it is to hold the piece of metal out of which
livery buttons are stamped. He has had his thumbs twice shatter
ed, and they are now only little formless lumps of flesh. Wo to
those whose clothes approach too near to the steam-engines or other
hideous machines! Many a one has this inexorable power seized and
crushed, as the boa crushes its helpless prey. Some occupations are
as unhealthy as those of the lead-works in Siberia; and in others
there is a stench which a stranger can scarcely endure for a minute.
Everything has its dark side, — this advanced state of manufacture
among the rest; but that is no reason for rejecting it
Even virtue has its disadvantages when it oversteps the bounds of
moderation; while on the other hand the greatest evil, crime itself
not excepted, has its bright spots.

100 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
It is remarkable that, in spite of this wonderful progress in all
discoveries, the English have not yet been able, as Mr. Thomasson
assured me, to rival the iron-castings of Berlin. What I saw of this
kind were immeasurably inferior. I am sometimes tempted to think
that we are arrived at that point at which, far as the English now excel
us, they will begin to descend, and we to ascend. But as they have
to fall from such a height, and we to rise from such a depth, a long
time may elapse before we arrive at the meeting-point. However,
as I said, I think we have started on the road. Deutschland, Gluck
auf! if thy sons obtain but freedom, their efforts will succeed.
Stratford-on-Jivon, Jan. 6th.
This day's journey was not long, but full of interest; for the place
whence my letter is dated is the birth-place of Shakspeare.
It is profoundly affecting to see the familiar trifles which centu
ries ago stood in immediate and domestic contact with so great and
beloved a man; then to visit the place where his bones have long
been mouldering; and thus in a few moments to traverse the long
way from his cradle to his grave. The house in which he was born,
and the very room hallowed by this great event, still stand almost
unchanged. The latter is perfectly like a humble tradesman's room,
such as we commonly find them in our small towns ; quite suited to
the time when England stood on the same step of civilization which
the lower classes still occup3T with us. The walls are completely
covered with the names of men of every country and rank; and al
though I do not particularly like these parasitical appendages on fo
reign greatness, like insects clinging to marble palaces, yet I could
not resist the impulse of gratitude and veneration, Which led me to
add my name to the others.
The church on the Avon (the same river which washes the noble
walls of Warwick,) where Shakspeare lies buried, is a beautiful rem
nant of antiquity, adorned with numerous remarkable monuments;
among which, that of the chief of poets is, of course, the most con
spicuous. It was formerly painted and gilded, as was the bust ; but
through the stupidity of a certain Malone, was whitewashed over
about a century ago, by which it lost much of its singular character.
The bust is far from having any merit as a work of art: it is devoid
of expression, and probably, therefore, of resemblance. It was not
without a considerable outlay of trouble and money that I succeeded
in getting a little engraving of the monument in the original colours,
— the last copy the clerk's wife had, as she assured me. I send it
with my letter.
I also bought in a bookseller's shop several views of the place,
and of the objects I have mentioned. In the town-house there is a
large picture of Shakspeare, painted in more recent times; and a
still better one of Garrick, which has some resemblance, not only in
the features but the ' tournure7 to Iifland. Oxford, Jan. 1th.
After having given the ' parkomanie' two days rest, we revived

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 101
it to-day, having visited no less than four great parks, the last of
which was the famous Blenheim. But in order: — ' Executez vous.'
First we passed through Eastrop Park, remarkable in as far as it
is of the time in which the French style had just begun to decline;
but at this transition period the change was as yet so slight, that ave
nues of clumps, of different but regularly alternating figures, replaced
avenues of single trees; and hedges were planted in serpentine lines.
The whole appeared in great decay.
Ditchley Park is more beautiful. Unfortunately, the English cli
mate played us a sad trick to-day. In the morning (for the second
time since we left London) the sun shone, and we were triumphing
in our good luck, when suddenly there fell such a fog that during
the whole remaining day we never could see a hundred steps before
us, — often scarcely ten. In the house we found a number of good
pictures, especially very fine portraits, but no creature could tell us
whom they represented. We learned nothing new in our art, but
we found a novelty in another department. In the gamekeeper's
lodge, in default of spoils of nobler beasts, were about six dozen rats
nailed up, their legs and tails displayed with great taste.
Our third visit was to Blandford Park, belonging to Lord Chur
chill ; very inconsiderable as a park, but the house contains some no
ble pictures. Two, I particularly envied the possessor. The first,
a female figure, attributed, no doubt falsely, to Michael Angelo.
The drawing is certainly bold, but there is a truth and elasticity in
the flesh, a Titian-like colouring, and a lovely archness of expres
sion, which betray no Michael Angelo, — even suppose the assertion
to be false, that we possess no oil-paintings of that great master.
The second riveted me still more; — a Judith ascribed to Cigoli,
a painter whose works I do not remember to have seen. The sub
ject is common enough: the triumphant virgin, with the trunkless
head in her hand, has always appeared to me rather disgusting than
attractive; but here the artist has diffused an expression over Judith's
elevated and captivating face, which appears to me to be conceived
in the very spirit of poetry.
I had rather possess good copies of such exquisite pictures, than
less interesting originals even by great masters: — it is the poetical,
not the technical part of a work of art that has charms for me. I
pass over a fine collection of drawings by Raphael, Claude, and
Rubens, and many interesting portraits.
The horrid fog was thicker and thicker, and we saw Blenheim as
if by twilight. In grandeur and magnificence it is doubtless extra
ordinary; and I was much pleased with what I saw, or rather di
vined; for it was all shrouded in a veil, behind which the sun ap
peared rayless, like the moon. The house is very large and regu
lar, built, unhappily, in the old French style, and truly royal in
magnificence. The park is five German miles in circumference,
and the piece of water, the finest work of its kind existing, occupies
alone eight hundred acres. The pleasure-grounds are on a equally
vast scale; forty men are daily employed in mowing. Opposite to
the house the water forms a cascade, so admirably constructed of

102 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
large masses of rock brought from a great distance; that it is difficult
to believe it artificial.
One cannot help admiring the grandeur of Brown's genius and
conceptions, as one wanders through these grounds: he is the
Shakspeare of gardening. The plantations have attained to such a
height that we saw a single Portugal laurel growing out of the turf,
which measured two hundred feet in circumference.
The present possessor, with an income of seventy thousand
pounds, is so much in debt that his property is administered for the
benefit of his creditors, and he receives five thousand a year for his
life. It is a grievous pity that he spends this little in pulling in
pieces Brown's imposing gardens, and modernizing them in a mise
rable taste; transforming the rich draperies which Brown had thrown
around Nature, into a harlequin jacket of little clumps and beds. A
large portion of the old pleasure-ground is thus destroyed; as the
old gardener, almost with tears in his eyes, remarked to us. Many
noble trees lay felled around; and a black spot on the turf showed
the place where a laurel, nearly as large as the one I mentioned,
lately stood in all its pride and beauty. I thought with grief how
vain it is to attempt to found anything lasting, and saw in imagina
tion those of my successors who will destroy the plantations which
we have designed and tended together with so much fondness.
Blenheim is chiefly situated on the spot where stood the ancient royal
park of Woodstock (which you remember from Walter Scott's last
novel). A great part of the oak wood which existed in the time of
the unhappy Rosamond is still alive, and dying in an agony of a
century's duration. There are perfect monsters of oaks and cedars,
both as to form and size. Many are so entirely enwreathed with
ivy that it has killed them, but at the same time clothed them with
a new and more beautiful evergreen foliage which enwraps the de
cayed trunk, like a magnificent shroud, till it falls into dust.
Deer, pheasants and cattle, people the park, whose green plains
seemed, in the uncertain mist, boundless as the sea; in some places,
bare as a Steppe, in others thickly planted.
The interior of the house looks rather neglected, but contains a
number of valuable works of art It must be confessed that never
did a nation bestow a richer reward on one of its great men than
Blenheim, which is princely even in its minutest details.*
As we entered, there was such a smoke that we thought we had
to encounter a second fog in the house. Some very dirty shabby
servants — a thing almost unheard-of here — ran past us to fetch the
' Chatelaine,' who, wrapped in a Scotch plaid, with a staff in her
hand and the air of an enchantress, advanced with so majestic an air
towards us, that one might have taken her for the Duchess herself.
The magic wand' was for the purpose of pointing more conveniently
to the various curiosities. As a preliminary measure, she required
that we should inscribe our names in a large book: unhappily, how-
* The description is abridged. It is feared the English reader has already been
aated with parks and houses. — Tbansu.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 103
ever, there was no ink in the inkstand, so that this important cere
mony was necessarily dispensed with. We passed through many
chill and faded rooms, decorated with numerous and fine pictures,
though among them are many inferior ones, on which the names of
Raphael, Guido, &c. are liberally bestowed. The gallery is extremely
rich in fine and genuine Rubens'; the most attractive among which,
to me, was his own frequently repeated but excellent portrait. I was
also much interested by a whole length portrait of the wild Duke of
Buckingham, by Van Dyk, — a roue of avery different sort, both in the
delicate turn of the features, the chivalrous dignity, and the tasteful
dress, from our modern ones. Further on is a beautiful Madonna, by
Carlo Dolce, less smooth and ' banale' than most of those by the same
master; and an excellent and most characteristic portrait of Catharine
of Medicis. She is very fair, with exqiasitely beautiful hands, and
a singular expression of cold passion (if 1 may use the, words) in her
features, which yet does not excite the feeling of repulsion one
would anticipate. Ruben's wife hangs opposite to her, — a hand
some Flemish housewife, somewhat vulgar, but beautifully painted
and admirably conceived. Philip the Second, by Titian, appeared
to me unmeaning: — two beggar boys, by Morillo, admirable. Lot
and his daughters, by Rubens; — the female figures somewhat less
vulgar and coarse than most of his beauties, who generally have too
much in common with the chief produce of his native country: Lot
is admirably painted: the picture is however a very unpleasing one.
— In the bedroom was hung, oddly enough, a disgusting, fearful pic
ture of Seneca's death in the bath, — Seneca already a livid corpse.
The portrait of the Duke's mother, by Sir Joshua Reynolds is ex
tremely pleasing. Her beauty and sweet child-like look were
worthy of a Madonna; and the little boy is a perfect Cupid, full of
archness and grace.
The library is a magnificent room, containing seventeen thousand
volumes, decorated on the one side with a marble statue of Queen
Anne; on the other, a strange pendant — a colossal antique bust of
Alexander; a model of youthful beauty, in my opinion excelling the
Apollo Belvedere. It is more human, and yet the god-like nature
appears through the human, — not indeed in the christian, but the
pagan sense of the word.
It is but fair to notice the portrait of the great Duke of Marlbo
rough, to whom this whole splendid edifice owes its existence. His
history is remarkable in many points of view: I especially advise
every man who wishes to make his fortune to study it attentively;
he may learn much from a character so formed to get on in the
world. — The following anecdote has always appeared to me remarka
ble, insignificant as was the incident.
The Duke was one day overtaken by a violent shower of rain
while riding with his suite. He asked his groom for his cloak; and
not receiving it at the instant, repeated his order in a rather hasty
tone. This provoked the man, and he replied with an impertinent
air, " Well, I hope you will wait just till I have unbuckled it." The
Duke, without evincing the slightest irritation, turned smiling to the

104 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
person next him, and said, " Now would I not for all the world be
of that fellow's temper."
The more well-known story of the ' petulance ' of the Duchess
of Castlemaine, which Churchill turned to such good account, and
which in the strangest way laid the basis of his. great career, showed
an entirely similar ' disposition,' and power over himself.
In night and fog we reaehed Oxford, where I alighted at the Star,
and refreshed myself with an admirable dinner prepared by a French
cook from London. Though I do not, .like the ancients, regard
cooks as objects of religious veneration, I cannot deny that I have
singular respect for their art: ' II est beau au feu' may be said with
as much justice of a virtuoso of this kind, as of the most dashing sol
dier; and in the field of politics and diplomapy, eyery minister
knows how much he is indebted to his cook.
My excursion draws to a close, and in three days I hope to send
off B  with all the materials he has collected, like a bee laden
with honey. January 8th.
Oxford is a most singular city. Such a crowd of magnificent
Gothic buildings, from five hundred to a thousand years old, can no
where else be found collected in one place. There are spots in
which you can imagine yourself transported back to the fifteenth
century. You see nothing around you but monuments of that period,
without a single incongruous object. Many, nay almost all, of these
old colleges and churches are also very beautiful in detail, and all of
a most picturesque character. I have often wondered why we do
not adopt many of the details of this style of architecture ; for in
stance, the broad light windows in two or three divisions, sometimes
diversified with large bows and irregularly divided; only habit could
make us endure the uniform rows of square holes which we call
windows. I went first to the so-called Theatre, which was built by a bishop
three hundred years ago. The iron railing which surrounds it has,
instead of pillars, a sort of ' termini' with the heads of the Roman
Emperors, a strange fancy, but the effect is not bad. In this thea
tre — which, as might be expected from its origin, is more like a
church — the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia, and the Prince
Regent were made Doctors, and were obliged to appear in scarlet
robes. The portraits of all three have since been placed here. The
King of England in his coronation robes — an admirable picture by
Lawrence, worthy of ancient times — hangs in the centre, in a most
splendid frame; on either side, in far simpler frames and simpler
garb, hang the Emperor of Russia, and the King of Prussia, also by
Lawrence. The King is not like: of the Emperor Alexander I
never saw a better portrait.
At the University Stereotype Press, where the printing of a sheet
on both sides is accomplished in five minutes, I again displayed my
activity, and had the honour to print a sheet, which I send you as

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 105
companion to the Birmingham button: it contains some interesting
incidents concerning the Maccabees.
A great deal of the printing for the Bible Society is done here;
and if it goes on at this rate, the time will soon arrive concerning
which a periodical called ' The Catholic,' of the year 1824, prophe
sied in this wise: "If it comes to that, that all read the Bible, the
world will be a fit abode only for wild beasts." If " the Catholic."
means that all will understand it, he may be right, for then the
whole human race will be ripe for another world. Nevertheless I
am so far of " the Catholic's" mind, that I think the indiscriminate
diffusion of the Bible among all, — even the rudest savages, — is
throwing pearls before swine.
I next went to the Museum, which contains a very heterogeneous
mixture of things. On the staircase as you enter is a picture of the
battle of Pavia, in which the principal figures are portraits painted at
the time, as is expressed on the canvass. It is precisely in the style
of the old miniatures, and very interesting for the accuracy of the
dresses and armour: under it is the inscription " Comen les geiis de
Lempereur deffirent les francoys en Ian 1525." Portraits of Cardi
nal Wolsey and Cardinal Richelieu also adorn the staircase. Under
them was that of Tradescant, a noted gardener of Charles the First,
from which it was impossible to tear his colleague R  away; he
looked at the picture with a sort of protecting air, and was specially
delighted with a garland of mulberries and cucumbers which pictur
esquely surrounded this father of gardeners. The most interesting
thing in the picture, to me, was the portrait of a strange large bird;
worthy of the Arabian Nights, called Dodo, which belonged to the
gardener when alive, and whose like has never been seen in these
parts since. As a proof that this is no fable, they showed us the
genuine head and beak — wonderfully odd.
In the collection of natural history were a great many rare parrots,
and a curious bird with spikes on its wings, with which it spears
fish as with a lance. The diminutive warrior, who is only six inches
high, looks uncommonly fierce and bold; he is like a miniature crane,
only much more cunning and pugnacious. Here is the duck-billed
platypus, that strange animal from New Holland. The productions
of that part of the globe are so unlike those of all the others, that
they almost make one imagine it belongs to another era of creation,
or that it dropped on our earth from some wandering star.
The colours of a picture made of humming-birds' feathers seemed
something unearthly. Equally curious was a bas-relief of a knight
in splendid gold-green armour made of beetles' wings. Our modern
knights might be very handsomely represented in steel-blue armour
made from the wings of the dung-beetle. I cannot attempt to give
you an inventory of the cabinet of curiosities; I confined myself, as
I always do, to what struck me, which was not always the most cele
brated; — a jewelled glove of Henry the Eighth's; — an autograph let
ter of Queen Elizabeth's to Lord Burleigh, beautifully written; —
a pretty riding-cloak and shoe of the Maiden Queen, which latter
proves the extreme beauty of her foot; lastly, her watch, with a taste-
14

106 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ful chain consisting of five medallions in a row, each containing hair
of a different colour — probably of her chief favourites. Far more
curious and sacred is a medallion with a portrait rudely executed in
mosaic, and an inscription signifying that it belonged to the great
Alfred. This precious relic was found ten years ago in ploughing a
field in the island of Athelney, where Alfred lay hidden from the
Danes. I must now conduct you to the picture-gallery built by Elizabeth,
and preserved exactly ' in statu quo.' The roof is of wainscot
panelled, and in each panel a coat-of-arms, which has a most antique
and magnificent effect. Very good models of the principal temples
of antiquity stand in the ante-room. There are some excellent pic
tures. The one which charmed me the most was an authentic por
trait of Mary of Scotland, by Zuccaro, painted just after her arrival
from France, and brilliant in all the indescribable radiance and fasci
nation of her youth and freshness. It is easy to understand how
it was that this woman had only passionate adorers and devoted par
tisans, or furious enemies. A face more, in the true sense of the
word, charming, — seductive, — can scarcely be imagined: with all
its French graces, it however betrays the selfishness of the beauty,
the recklessness of unbridled passion; but of malignity or vulgarity,
such as we see, the former in Elizabeth, the latter in Catharine of
Medicis, not a trace; — in short, a perfectly womanlike, and there
fore perfectly captivating character of countenance, with all the vir
tues and all the weaknesses and vices of her sex in their fullest pro
portions. I should think the possession of such a picture a real hap
piness, — that of the original might give one too much trouble. The
same artist painted a portrait of Elizabeth, precisely like that at
Warwick. The Earl of Leicester, taken shortly before his death, is
extremely interesting. His face is as elegant and high-bred as it is
handsome; and though not indicative of genius, has the expression
of a sagacious, dignified, and powerful man. There are no remains
of the brilliancy of youth, but a proud complacent consciousness of
secure unalterable favour. In a copy of the School of Athens by
Giulio Romano, I admired once more the exquisite face of the young
Duke of Urbino, — that ideal of soft youthful beauty: — the loveliest
girl might be more than satisfied with the possession of it. Garrick's
portrait, by Raphael Mengs, did not answer my idea of that great
actor so perfectly as the one at Stratford-on-Avon. I was delighted
with a picture of Charles the Twelfth, by Schroter, — every inch a
grand Don Quixotte: and with a very characteristic Charles the
Second, by Sir Peter Lely. Charles' aspect, like his age, seems to
me entirely French, even to his features, which are strikingly like
those of Bussy Rabutin. His father hangs near, — a more attractive
picture than usual. He has unquestionably a fine face, with very
speaking eyes; but the soft, melancholy, ideological expression too
plainly shows that the bearer of such features was little fitted to en
counter such a man as Cromwell, or such an age as that he lived in.
It is the greatest calamity for a prince to fall upon an ill-suited time,
unless he be strong enough to impress his own stamp upon it. The

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 107
great Locke, by Gibson, is a pale attenuated student. Near him is a
handsome portly Luther, by Holbein; — the stately Handel, by Hod-
son; — and Hugo Grotius, with his acute, crafty, and yet high chival
rous face, more that of an energetic man of the world than of a man
of letters. These are the subjects that struck me the most.
January 9th.
To-day I have walked all over Oxford; and I cannot express with
what intense delight I wandered from cloister to cloister, and re
freshed myself at this living spring of antiquity.
There is a magnificent avenue of elms, which, like the buildings
around it, dates from the year 1520. From this queen of avenues,
in which not a single tree is wanting, and which leads through a
meadow to the river, you see on one side a charming landscape, on
the other a part of the city, with five or six of the most beautiful
Gothic towers, — ever a noble view, but to-day rendered almost like
a picture of fairy enchantment: the sky was overcast, the wind
drove the black fantastic clouds, like a herd of wild beasts, across it;
at length the most beautiful rainbow, vaulting from one tower and
descending on another, spanned the whole city.
Fi'om this ancient seat of the Muses of England, from all its col
leges, — each different from the other, — each enclosing a spacious
court, and adorned with noble towers, — each with its own more or
less beautifully ornamented church, its library and picture-gallery,
all in their kind of new and varied interest, — I carry away the most
agreeable recollections. If you can bear to drink again and again
from the old cup, you shall accompany me in my- ramble.
My first walk was to the Ratcliffe Library; a round and modern
building, — erected, that is, in the last century, at Dr. Ratcliffe's cost,
— nearly in the centre of the town. The interior is simply a ro
tunda in three stages or stories, with a cupola and two open galleries,
whence side-rooms radiate from the inner to the outer circle. Be
low are casts of the best antiques. A small winding staircase leads
to a side tower, from the roof of which you have a splendid view of
the Gothic palaces pointing to heaven with their hundred spires.
The surrounding country is cheerful, fertile, and well wooded.
There are four-and-twenty colleges (a sort of cloister for education,)
and thirteen churches in this small town, containing only sixteen
thousand inhabitants.
From hence we proceeded to Henry the Eighth's Library, pre
served, externally and internally, in nearly its original state, and
containing not less than three hundred thousand volumes. The ' lo
cale' is like no other of the kind, and transports one completely into
past ages. The cruciform room; the strange shelves; the iron grat
ings, half blue, half gilded, and of a form no longer seen; the enor
mous windows, as broad as three church windows together, and or
namented with beautiful coloured glass; the gay gilded ceiling, with
numberless panels, each containing the picture of an open Bible with
four crowns; even the Doctors sitting at the tables in the dress of
Luther, which they still wear, — how strangely is the fancy excited

108 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
by such a scene! A gallery runs round midway of the high shelves,
for the purpose of reaching the books above. On the railing of this
gallery are hung the portraits of the various librarians, from the first
to the last; some, unhappily, in modern dresses, who look like apes
among their venerable predecessors. In the middle of the room the
shelves are so arranged on either side, that they form a long alley of
enclosed closets, in which every man who wishes to use the library
can work completely undisturbed, — -an old and most exemplary ar
rangement. There are also books in the rooms which occupy the
whole ground-floor of this quadrangular edifice. Here are some
very curious manuscripts and specimens of early printing. I saw
with sorrow how large a tribute the poverty of Germany has been
compelled to pay to the wealth of England; among other things, a
magnificent copy of Faust's first Bible, of the year 1440, which I
think belonged to our Doctor Barth, and is inscribed with a number
of notes in his handwriting. I was delighted to find a manuscript
so exactly like a volume of Froissart in our library, (that with the
miniatures in every leaf,) embellished with the same arabesques of
fruit and flowers on a gold ground, the style and colouring of the
figures so precisely the same, that it is scarcely to be doubted they
are by the same painter. Unfortunately there is neither name nor
date. The text is Quintus Curtius, — all the figures exactly in the
costume of the time of the illuminator: Alexander, cased in iron
from head to foot, breaks a lance with Darius, and throws him from
his saddle, just in the style of the French and English knights in
Froissart. A very curious French manuscript, the subject of which is an he
roic poem, contains the name of the writer with the date 1340, (an
extremely rare occurrence,) and under it the name of the painter
with the date 1346; this gives reason to conclude that the latter had
spent six years in the illuminating, which is almost all executed on
a very unusual design, in gold, blue and red in squares, like a carpet.
This manuscript is peculiarly interesting from the circumstance that
the painter, instead of enclosing the text within a border or arabesque,
has surrounded it with a representation of the trades, sports, and
pastimes of his time. A cursory glance showed me, together with
many games and occupations which we have lost, so many which
are still so precisely the same, that I was really surprised. For in
stance, a masked-ball; Kdmmerchen vcrmlethenf' the Hdndespiel,
or ' gioco di villano;' the same with the feet, which we boys often
used to play in winter to warm ourselves; throwing at cocks, and
cockfighting; rope-dancers and conjurors; horse-riders and trained
horses, whose feats are more wonderful than ours; rifle-shooting at
a man who (' mille pardons') turns himself in unseemly wise to the
company, like one still existing on a gate at Lausitz; a smithy,
where a horse is shoeing ; a wagon, with three large cart-horses har
nessed out at length, with harness, &c. all in the present form, even
the driver's costume — a blue slop — the very same; and many other
* Literally, 'Little rooms to let;' I think we call the game, ' Seats.'— Thaksi.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 109
things which I have not time to notice, — showed that though many
things change, yet an infinite deal remains unaltered, and perhaps,
' a tout prendre,' human life is more the same in different ages than
we generally imagine.
A Boccaccio, with exquisitely beautiful miniatures, is one of the
show-pieces of the library. A copy of the Acts of the Apostles, of
the seventh century, in Greek and Latin, is shown as a great curio
sity: each line contains only one word in each language. Consider
ing its great antiquity, it is in very good preservation.
In the beautiful court of All Souls College — which moreover is
carpeted with the finest turf — there is a spot whence you have a most
magnificent view of spires, towers, and facades of ancient buildings,
rising in unbroken series, one behind another, without the least mix
ture of modern houses. Here is another noble library. In the mid
dle is an orrery, which illustrates our solar system very clearly, and
keeps equal course with the sun and planets through the year.
Christ's College is a beautiful building of modern times; a part of
it only is very old. The church is of Saxon architecture; round and
pointed arches intermingle, but do not at all offend the eye. Here
is the famous shrine of St. Frisdewilde, a most magnificent and taste
ful Gothic monument of the beginning of the eighth century, and
still in good preservation. It was enriched with silver Apostles and
other ornaments, which were plundered in Cromwell's time. That
unhappy religious war did irreparable damage to the antiquities of
England; till then, all these sacred relics were in perfect preser
vation. Attached to this college is that most charming walk I described to
you above. It leads us to Magdalen College, which has been in part
newly restored. The restoration is perfectly in the ancient style,
and renders this part of the building secure for five hundred years
to come; it has already cost forty thousand pounds, though but a
small part is completed: — it may be imagined what enormous sums
the execution of such works from the foundation would cost
Nothing great in art can be executed now, for the money it would
cost is absolutely unattainable. The sum which formerly purchased
a god-like work of Raphael's, would now (even allowing for the dif
ference in the value of money) scarcely buy a moderate portrait by
Lawrence. The Botanic Garden, which closed our walk, contains
nothing worth describing. I therefore release you for the present,
my dear Julia; 'mais c'est a y revenir demain.' Buckingham, Jan. 10th.
It is a sin how long my private journal has been neglected. The
more my letters to you swell, the more does my unhappy journal
shrink. If you were to burn these letters, I should have no trace
of what had become of me all this time. Imagine how unpleasant
to vanish from one's own memory!
My imagination is so ' montee' by the many vestiges and echoes
of past times, that I dream of a distant future, in which even ruins
will be no more, — in which we shall lose not only these shadows of

110 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
humanity, but human nature itself, and begin a new life in new
spheres. For in remembrance, say what you will, we entirely lose
that which we actually were; — even here, the old man nearly loses
himself as a child. We may indeed find ourselves again, my best
friend, and then will the tie that binds us necessarily re-unite. Let
this satisfy us.
'Mais revenons a nos moutons; — c'est a dire, parlons de nouveau
de pares.'
Dreadful weather — rain and darkness, detained me at Oxford till
three in the afternoon, when it cleared sufficiently for me to set out.
The postilion missed the road, which is not a main one, and drove
us a long way about, so that we arrived very late. While the fire
was lighting in my room, I sat down in mine host's, where I found a
very pretty girl, his niece, and two doctors of the place, with whom
I talked away the evening very pleasantly. Aylesbury , Jan. 11th.
Stowe is, like Blenheim, another specimen of English grandeur
and magnificence. The park embraces a large tract of undulating
ground, with fine trees; the house is a noble building in the Italian
style. The grounds were laid out long ago; and though in many
respects beautiful, and remarkable for fine lofty trees, are so over
loaded with temples and buildings of all sorts, that the greatest pos
sible improvement to the place would be the pulling down ten or a
dozen of them. There is a charming flower-garden, thickly sur
rounded with high trees, firs, cedars and evergreens, and flowering
shrubs. The parterre forms a regular pattern like a carpet, in front
of a crescent-formed house filled with rare birds. In the middle of
this carpet is a fountain, and on either side are two pretty ' volieres'
of wire.
In the park stands a tower called the Bourbon Tower, from the
circle of limes around it which Louis the Eighteenth planted during
his long residence at Hartwell in this neighbourhood. The tower,
though modern, is half fallen in. I wish this be no ill omen for the
Bourbons in France, where even the sage Charter-giver could obtain
no better titles from his subjects than ' Louis l'Inevi table,' and 'Deux
FoisNeuf.' Here is a monument deserving of mention, dedicated to the great
men and women of England, with very appropriate inscriptions, and
busts modelled after the best pictures.
The facade of the building is four hundred and fifty feet long, and
as long is the unbroken 'enfilade' of rooms in the ' bel etage,' which
you enter from the garden by a fine flight of steps. You pass through
a bronze door into an oval marble hall with a beautiful dome, whence
alone it is lighted. A circle of twenty pillars of red scagliola mar
ble surrounds it, and in the niches between them are ten antique
statues. The floor is paved with real marble, and a gilded grating
admits heated air. I will not weary you with further description of
the rooms; — they are very rich, and all more or less decorated with
pictures and curiosities. The state bed-room, which is not used, is

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. Ill
crowded with fine porcelain, and contains a curious old bed of em
broidered velvet with gold fringe.
In a boudoir near were many other curiosities, which we were only
permitted to see through a grating. The loss of a ruby necklace
formerly belonging to Marie Antoinette, is the very sufficient rea
son for this prohibition, which is never removed but in the Duke's
presence. The library is a long gallery covered from top to bottom with
shelves, with a light and elegant gallery in the middle. An adjoin
ing room, fitted up in the same way, contains nothing but maps and
engravings, probably one of the richest collections in the world.
This seems the peculiar taste of the present Duke.
The hall on the other side of the house, looking on the park, com
mands a view which struck me as quite peculiar. You see a large
open grassy plain, skirted on either side by an oak wood, and in the
middle and background meadows and wood interspersed. In the
centre of the plain, about sixty or seventy paces from the house,
stands, perfectly isolated, a colossal snow-white equestrian statue, of
admirable workmanship. The pedestal is so high that the horseman
seems to rest on the top of the wood behind him. Not a building,
nor any other object than trees, grass, and sky, are visible; and the
whole scene so utterly still and inanimate, that the white spectral
image rivets the attention: — no finer decoration for Don Juan could
be imagined. It happened, too, by a fortunate chance, that the sky
on that side of the house was perfectly black with a threatening
snow-storm, so that the dazzling white statue stood out in almost
fearful grandeur. At the moment, it looked alive, and every muscle
seemed to rise in the sharp lights.
Among the pictures is a treasure which seems to be unknown to
our German travellers, at least I never saw it noticed: — a genuine
portrait of Shakspeare, painted during his lifetime by Barnage. The
hypercritics of England will have it there is no genuine portrait of
Shakspeare; but it seems to me almost impossible to invent a physi
ognomy carrying on it such a triumphant air of truth, so fully ex
pressing the grandeur and originality of the man; furnished with all
the intellectual elevation, all the acuteness, wit, delicacy, all the
genuine humour, whose exhaustless treasures were never so lavished
on any mortal. The countenance is nowise what is vulgarly called
handsome; but the sublime beauty of the mind within beams from
every part. Across the lofty forehead gleam the bright flashes of
that daring spirit; the large dark brown eyes are penetrating, fiery,
yet mild; around the lips play light irony and good-natured arch
ness, but wedded to a sweet benevolent smile, which lends the high
est, the most heart-winning charm to the lofty, awful dignity of the
intellectual parts of the face. Wondrously perfect appears the
structure of the skull and forehead ; there are no single prominences,
but all the organs so capacious and complete that we stand astonish
ed before such a glorious pattern of perfect organization, and feel a
deep joy at finding the man in so beautiful a harmony with his works.
Two excellent Albrecht Diirers — a pair of female saints in a fan-

112 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
tastic landscape— attracted me, particularly by their primitive Ger
man character. They are two genuine Niirnberg housewives, dressed
in their fatherlandish caps, and taken from nature itself; good-na
tured, and busied about their saintly affairs. — A picture of Luther,
by Holbein, is more intellectual and less fat than usual.
There is a remarkable picture, by Van Dyk, of the Duke of Vieux-
ville, ambassador from the Court of France to Charles the First, who
with chivalrous devotion followed the King into the field and was
killed at Newbury. The dress is odd, but picturesque; — a white
' juste-au-corps, a la Henri Quatre,' with a black mantle thrown over
it; full short black breeches falling over the knee, with silver points;
pale violet stockings with gold clocks, and white shoes with gold
roses. On the mantle is embroidered the star of the Holy Ghost,
four times as large as it is now worn, the blue riband 'en sautoir,'
but hanging down very low, and the cross worn in the present fa
shion, on the side; it is narrower and smaller than now, and hangs
by the broad riband almost under the arm.
The Duke de Guise was not such as I had pictured him to myself:
— a pale face with reddish beard and hair; with the expression
rather of an ' intriguant' than of a great man. — A picture which
corresponds better with the character of the person it represents is
Count Gondemar, Spanish ambassador to the Court of James the
First, by Velasquez; he ingratiated himself with the King by his
dog-Latin, in which burlesque form he made free to say anything.
He brought the gallant Sir Walter Raleigh, the favourite of Eliza
beth, to the scaffold by his Jesuitical intrigues.
A picture of Cromwell, by his Court painter Richardson, has a
double interest for the family. It was painted expressly for one of
the Duke's ancestors, who appears in the same picture as page, in
the act of tying the Protector's scarf. This portrait is not much
like the others of the same personage I have seen; it represents him
as younger, and of a more refined nature, and is therefore probably
flattered. From the hand of a Court painter this is to be expected.
I must only mention two fine and large Teniers', one of which
represents three wonderfully characteristic Dutch boors, meeting in
a village and gossiping with their pipes in their mouths; an excel
lent Ruysdael; six famous Rembrandts, and Titian's lovely mistress.
I admired, too, a new specimen of art, — two Sevres cups with
miniatures after Petitot, by that admirable porcelain-painter Madame
Jaquotot The one represents Ninon de l'Enclos, of whom I had
never before seen a picture that answered to my idea of her. This
expressed her character fully, and is of the most attractive beauty, —
genuine French, lively as quicksilver, bold almost to impudence,
but too generous and too truly natural to leave any other than an
engaging impression on the mind. The other — a gentle, placid,
and voluptuous beauty — was inscribed, Francoise d'Orleans de Va-
lois. As thoroughly initiated in French genealogies and memoirs,
you will know who she is. ' Je l'ignore.' Each cup cost a thou
sand francs.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 113
In a beautiful moonlight we drove to Aylesbury, whence I now
write. Uxbridge, Jan. 12 th.
This evening I hope to be in London again. While the horses
are putting-to I write a few words. We saw Lord Carrington's park
this morning, — for your comfort be it said, the last, at present at
least. The garden is nothing remarkable: the house is in the be
loved modern Gothic style, but, being simple and unpretending,
looks less affected. It is built of stone, without ornament. A good
portrait of Pitt hangs in the library. This great man has anything
but the face of a man of genius, — and who knows whether posterity
will think his deeds betray more than his face?
One thing pretty I observed in the garden, — a thick massy wreath
of ivy planted on the turf. It looks as if negligently dropped
there. Our excursion was to be closed by the sight of Bulstrode,
which Repton describes at such length as the model of parks; but
this drop is spared you, my poor Julia, for the Duke of Portland has
sold it, and the present owner has felled the trees about which Repton
is so enthusiastic, ploughed up the park, and pulled down the house
to sell the stone. It was a miserable scene of desolation, — made
more miserable by the strange dress of the women at work: they
were wrapped from top to toe in blood-red cloaks, and looked like
an ill-omened assemblage of executioners. London, Jan. 13th.
By bright gas-light, which is always like a festal illumination
here, we drove into town, and as I .wished to have an instant con
trast with my park-and-garden life, I alighted at Covent Garden to
see my first Christmas pantomime'. This is a very favourite spec
tacle in England, particularly with children ; so that I was quite in
my place. Playwrights and scene-painters take great pains to make
every year's wonders exceed the last. Before I bid you good-night
I must give you a rhapsodical sketch of the performance. At the
rising of the curtain a thick mist covers the stage and gradually rolls
off. This is remarkably well managed by means of fine gauze. In
the dim light you distinguish a little cottage, the dwelling of a sor
ceress; in the back-ground a lake surrounded by mountains, some
of whose peaks are clothed with snow. All as yet is misty and in
distinct; — the sun then rises triumphantly, chases the morning dews,
and the hut, with the village in the distance, now appear in perfect
outline. And now you behold upon the roof a large cock, who
flaps his wings, plumes himself, stretches his neck, and greets the
sun with several very natural Kikerikys* A magpie near him be
gins to chatter and to strut about, and to peck at a gigantic tom-cat
lying in a niche in the wall, who sleepily stretches himself, cleans
his face, and purrs most complacently. This tom-cat is acted with
great' virtuosite' by an actor who is afterwards transformed into Har-
* German for 'Cock-a-doodle-doo.' — Tbahsl.
15

114 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
lequin. The way in which he plays with a melon, the lightness and
agility with which he climbs up the chimney and down again, his
springs, and all his gesture, are so natural that they could only be ac
quired by a long study of the animal himself. Happily the scenic
art is come to that, that it no longer suffers men to be excelled by
poodles and monkeys, but has actually raised them to the power of
representing those admired animals to the life.
Meanwhile the door opens, and Mother Shipton, a frightful old
witch, enters with a son very like herself. The household animals,
to whom is added an enormous duck, pay their morning court to the
best of their ability. But the witch is in a bad humour, utters a
curse upon them all, and changes them on the spot into the persons
of the Italian comedy, who, like the rest of the world, persecute
each other without rest, till at last the most cunning conquers. The
web of story is then spun on through a thousand transformations and
extravagances, without any particular connexion, but with occasional
good hits at the incidents of the day; and above all, with admirable
decorations, and great wit on the part of the machinist. One of the
best scenes was the witch's kitchen. A rock cleaves open and dis
plays a large cave, in the midst of which more than a cart-load of
wood forms the fire, before which a whole stag with its antlers, a
whole ox, and a pig, are turning rapidly on the spit. On a hearth
on the right side is baking a pie as big as a wagon, and on the left a
plum-pudding of equal calibre is boiling. The 'chef de cuisine'
appears with a dozen or two assistants in a grotesque white uniform,
with long tails, and each armed with a gigantic knife and fork. The
commandant makes them go through a ludicrous exercise, present
arms, &c. He then draws them up ' en peloton' to baste the roast,
which is performed with ladles of the same huge proportions as
the other utensils, while they industriously fan the fire with their
tails. The scene next represents a high- castle, to which the colossal
' batterie de cuisine' is conveyed like a park of artillery. It appears
smaller and smaller along the winding path, till at length the pie dis
appears in the horizon like the setting moon.
Next we are transported into a large town, with all sorts of comi
cal inscriptions on the houses, most of them satires on the multitude
of new inventions and companies for all manner of undertakings;
such as, "Washing Company of the three united kingdoms;"
" Steam-boat to America in six days;" " Certain way of winning in
the lottery;" " Mining shares at ten pounds a share, by which to be
come worth a million in ten years." The fore-ground exhibits a
tailor's workshop, with several journeymen busily stitching away in
the ' rez de chaussee;' a pair of shears six yards long are fixed over
the door as a sign, with the points upwards. Harlequin arrives,
pursued by Pantaloon and Co., and springs through the air with a
somerset in at a window on the first story, which breaks with a loud
crash. The pursuers drawing back from the ' salto mortale,' tumble
over and thump each other with artist-like skill and wonderful sup
pleness. Ladders are now brought, and they climb into the house

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 115
after Harlequin: but he has made his escape through the chimney,
and runs off over the roofs. Pantaloon with his long chin and beard
leans out of the window before which the shears are placed, to see
which way Harlequin is gone. Suddenly the parted blades shut to,
and his head falls into the street. Pantaloon, not a whit the less,
runs down stairs and rushes out at the door after his rolling head; —
unluckily a poodle picks it up and runs off with it, and Pantaloon
after him. But here he meets Harlequin again, disguised as a doc
tor, who holds a consultation with three others as to what is to be
done for the unhappy Pantaloon. They at length decide to rub the
place where the head is wanting with Macassar oil; and by means of
this operation a new head happily grows under the eye of the spec
tators. In the last act, Tivoli at Paris is well given. A balloon ascends
with a pretty child. While he floats from the stage over the heads
of the audience the earthly scene gradually sinks, and as the balloon
reaches the lofty roof, where it makes a circuit round the chandelier,
the stage is filled with rolling clouds through which a thousand stars
shine and produce a very pretty illusion.
As the balloon sinks, town and gardens gradually rise again. A
rope is next stretched, on which a lady drives a wheelbarrow to the
summit of a Gothic tower, in the midst of fire-works; while other
' equilibristes' perform their break-neck feats on level ground.
At the conclusion, the stage is transformed, amid thunder and
lightning, into a magnificent Chinese hall with a thousand gay paper
lanterns; where all spells are dissolved, the witch banished to the
centre of the earth by a beneficent enchanter, and Harlequin, recog
nized as legitimate prince, marries his Columbine.x.
On our way home we had another and more terrible spectacle,
gratis. A lofty column of lurid smoke poured from a chimney, and
soon became tinged with blue, red and green; — the nearer we came
the thicker and more variegated it ascended, like one of the Chinese
fireworks we had just seen. " Probably," said I to R  , " a che
mical laboratory, if it be not indeed a fire in earnest." Hardly had
I said the words when my fears were fulfilled. Cries resounded from
all sides, the flames streamed wildly forth towards heaven, the peo
ple flocked together, and fire-engines soon rattled through the streets.
But the huge city swallows up all particular incidents, — five hundred
steps further, and the fire in the neighbourhood excited no interest
whatever; the guests in an illumined mansion danced merrily, the
play-goers walked quietly home, and all traces of alarm or sympathy
were lost.
But, my dear Julia, ' il faut que tout finesse' — and so must my
long narrative, which certainly furnishes you with a sheet for every
year of my life. That it ends with fire you must take as an emblem
of ardent love, — and here it is not necessary, as your superstition
requires, to exclaim "In a good hour be it said." Every hour, even
the most unfortunate, is good — where love is. Your L  .

116 LETTERS ON GERMAN?,

LETTER XI.
London, Jan. 19th, 1827.
Dearest Julia,
R  left London to-day for Harwich, and will be with you in a
fortnight. I know how glad you will be to have a living witness of
the sayings and doings of your L  ; one whom you can question
about so many things which, even with the best intentions cannot
always find place in letters.
I have now settled myself into a town life again. Yesterday I
dined with Prince E  , where the  secretary of legation
kept us in an incessant laugh. He is a kind of agreeable buffoon,
and although of very mean extraction, a superlative ultra; ('tel le
maitre, tel le valet.') I have often admired the talent of the French,
and envied it too, for making the most amusing stories out of the
most common-place incidents; — such as lose all their salt coming
from any mouth but theirs.
Nobody possesses this talent in a higher degree than Monsieur
R  . He affords another proof that it is entirely the result of a
language so admirably adapted to produce it, and of an education
which springs from the same source; for Monsieur R  is a Ger
man — I think a Swabian; but was brought to France when only
two years old, and educated as a Frenchman. Language makes the
man, more than blood; — though 'tis true, blood has first made the
language. ' Au reste,' one must acknowledge that however brilliant such
agreeable chatter may be at the moment, it goes out like a fusee,
and leaves nothing on the memory; so that the pedantic German
feels a sort of uneasiness after listening to it, and regrets having
spent his time so unprofitably. Had it been possible to that element
of Germanism which formed our language, to give it that lightness,
roundness, agreeable equivocalness, and at the same time precision
and definiteness, — qualities which are called into full play in society
by French audacity, — the conversation of the German would certain
ly have been the more satisfactory of the two, for he would never
have neglected to connect the useful with the agreeable. As it is,
we Germans have nothing left in society, but that sort of talent
which the French call ' 1'esprit des escaliers ;' — that, namely, which
suggests to a man as he is going down stairs, the clever things he
might have said in the ' salon.'
Of this Frenchman's fireworks and crackers I retain nothing but
the following anecdote. A diplomatic writer, who passed as autho
rity in the time of Louis the Fourteenth, concluded a treatise on the
great privileges pertaining to foreign envoys, with the following
words; — ' mais des qu'un ambassadeur est mort, il rentre dans la
vie privee.' January 22nd.
The poor Duke of York is at length dead, after a long illness, and
lay in state yesterday with great magnificence. I saw him in Octo-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 117
ber, and found him, even then, the shadow of the robust stately man
whom I had formerly so often seen at Lady L  's, and at his own
house, where six bottles of claret after dinner scarcely made a per
ceptible change in his countenance. I remember that in one such
evening, — it was indeed already after midnight, — he took some of
his guests, among whom were the Austrian Ambassador, Count
Meerveldt, Count Beroldingen, and myself, into his beautiful ar
moury. We tried to swing several Turkish sabres, but none of us
had a very firm grasp; whence it happened that the Duke and Count
Meerveldt both scratched themselves with a sort of straight Indian
sword, so as to draw blood. Count Meerveldt then wished to try if
it cut as well as a real Damascus, and undertook to cut through one of
the wax candles which stood on the table. The experiment answer
ed so ill, that both the candles, candlesticks and all, fell to the ground
and were extinguished. While we were groping about in the dark,
and trying to find the door, the Duke's aide-de-camp, Colonel C  ,
stammered out in great agitation, "By God, Sir, I remember the
sword is poisoned!" You may conceive the agreeable feelings of
the wounded at this intelligence. Happily on further examination
it appeared that claret and not poison was at the bottom of the
Colonel's exclamation.
The Duke seems to be much regretted, and the whole country
wears deep mourning for him, with crape on the hat, and black
gloves, ' ce qui fait le desespoir' of all shopkeepers. People put
their servants into black liveries, and write on paper with a broad
black edge. Meantime the Christmas pantomimes go on as merrily
as ever. It has a strange effect to see Harlequin and Columbine
skipping about on the stage in all conceivable frivolities and antics,
while the coal-black audience, dressed as for a funeral procession,
clap and shout with delight.
I this minute receive your letter from B  . Really so merry,
I might almost say so pungent a one, you have not written of a
long time. The B  originals seem to have quite electrified you,
and though I rejoice at it, I can't help being a little jealous. But
you will soon come back to your original. I say with Caesar, I fear
not the fat, but the lean; and so long as you tell me that you pre
serve your charming ' embonpoint,' I am easy. I had a great mind,
however, to plague you a little in return; but I know you don't bear
jesting 'par distance' well, so I abstain. To vent my humour in
some way, I send you a bit out of my journal, — a ' pendant' to your
African Travels; for the poor meagre journal is still alive, though it
has received no nutriment by the month together, and the little it
has had, has not the least 'hautgout' Don't expect, therefore, any
thing facetious or satirical, but something quite serious. It is laid
upon you as a punishment. EXTRACTS PROM MY JOURNAL.
I was lately reading a review of Lady Morgan's Salvator Rosa.
A passage in it touched me deeply, ' et pour cause.' It is the very
original description of her hero, nearly as follows.

118 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
" With a thirst for praise, which scarcely any applause could sa
tisfy, Salvator united a quickness of perception that rendered him
suspicious of pleasing, even at the moment he was most successful.
A gaping mouth, a closing lid, a languid look, or an impatient hem!
threw him into utter confusion, and deprived him of all presence of
mind, of all power of concealing his mortification  Abandoned
by the idle and the great, whom his delightful talents had so long con
tributed to amuse, he voluntarily excluded himself from the few true
and staunch friends who clung to him in his adversity, and shut him
self up equally from all he loved and all he despised  His re
ference to this journey is curious, as being illustrative of those high
imaginations, and lofty and lonely feelings, in which lay all the se
cret of his peculiar genius: while his pantings after solitude, his
vain repinings, exhibit the struggles of a mind divided between a
natural love of repose and a factitious ambition for the world's no
tice and the eclat of fame, — no unusual contrast in those who, being
highly gifted and highly organized, are placed by nature above their
species in all the splendid endowments of intellect; and who are, hj
the same nature, again drawn down to its level through their social
and sympathetic affections  His fine but fatal organization,
which rendered him so susceptible of impressions, whether of good
or evil, and which left him at times no shelter against 'horrible
imaginings,' or against those real inflictions, calumny and slander,
plunged him too frequently into fits of listless melancholy, when,
disabused of all illusion, he saw the species to which he belonged in
all the nakedness of its inherent infirmity."
Yes, this picture is copied from the very soul; and it is no less
true, that a man born with such a disposition can never feel at ease
or happy in the world which surrounds him, unless he be placed
very much above it, or live in it entirely unnoticed.
So far I was led by the thoughts of others. Now I must, conclude
for to-day with a few of my own, the subject of which lies far near
er to our inmost hearts; and discuss a question, the full investiga
tion of which must interest every one, be he ever so little a philoso
pher by profession.
What is Conscience?
Conscience has unquestionably a twofold nature, as it has a two
fold source. The one flows from our highest strength, the other
from our greatest weakness; the' one from the spirit of God dwelling
in us, the other from sensual fear. Perfectly to dissever and distin
guish these two kinds of conscience, is necessary to that serenity of
mind which can arise only out of the utmost possible clearness: for
man, when he has once got beyond the original dominant instinct of
feeling, attains to the Permanent, even the recognition of truth, only
by mental labour and conflict, — the moral ' sweat of his brow.'
Man, however, is a whole, compounded of countless parts; and it
is only in the perfect equipoise of these parts, that, as man — that is,
as a being at once sensual and spiritual — he can obtain perfect hap
piness and contentment. It is the common, ever-recurring error, to
strive to cultivate one side predominantly: — with one man it is the

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 119
province of religion; with another, that of severe reason; with the
man of the world, those of the understanding and the senses alone.
But all these together, exercised, enjoyed, and blended, so to speak,
with artist-like skill, can alone produce the most perfect Life for this
earth, and for our destinies while upon it, — the complete, entire
Truth. Under this point of view, then, must that which we call Con
science be considered, and the true distinguished from the false.
Under the head of the True, I understand the infallible sugges
tions of the divine spirit in us; which restrains us from evil, gene
rally, as from the wholly one-sided, inconsistent, and negative: and
this requires no further explanation. By the False, I mean that
which arises only from the Conventional; from custom, authority,
from subtleties which have grown out of these foundations, and from
overstrained anxiety; — in a word, from fear. Delicate, excitable
natures, in whom the cerebral system predominates, in whom, there
fore, the head and the fancy are more powerful and active than the
heart: in whom the distributing intellect too easily breaks up and
scatters the depth and intensity of the full feelings, are most subject
to this kind of error. It is, however, so difficult to follow these sub
tle ramifications and secret counter-workings, that we often take
that for a primary feeling, which is only the retro-action of a sophis
tical intellect.
Now, as right and wrong, applied to the individual actions of hu
man life with all their various conditions and intricacies, must ob
viously be relative; nothing remains but that every man should,
with the help of all the powers of his soul, make quite clear to him
self, sincerely and faithfully lay down to himself, what he can rea
sonably regard as right and what as wrong; and having ascertained
it, thenceforward tranquilly apply that standard; and not trouble
himself further about his so-called conscience; that is, the inward
uneasiness and uncertainty which disturb the mind under new and
conflicting circumstances. These cannot possibly be avoided;
since the distinctions we have heard of right and wrong, .reasonable
and absurd, in our childhood and early youth, will ever exercise an
irresistible influence.*
To give a few exemplifications. — A man of a gentle temper, edu
cated in the fear of God and the love of man, who becomes a soldier,
the first time he has to take deliberate aim at human life will hardly
do it without a strong pang of conscience. So, at least, it was with
me. Nevertheless it is his duty ; a duty which may be justified
on higher, although worldly grounds; so long at least as mankind
are not further advanced than they now are.
• Cases moreover do occur, in which tlie conscience is, so to speak, right and
wrong at the same time. An act may be necessaiy, which is unquestionably, viewed
on one side, culpa'ble, but which is chosen as tlie lesser of two evils; in which case
no reasonable moralist will contend that it is unpardonable. In telling a compul
sory he, for instance, we- must ever make a considerable sacrifice of our moral dig
nity, though by refusing to tell it, we might be guilty of the basest treachery to
parents or friends. — Editor.

120 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
In like manner, he who after a long struggle forswears the religion
of his fathers — the daily repeated lesson of his youth, — and embraces
another on full conviction that it is better, will generally feel a slight,
but difficultly subdued inquietude; and it is with that, just as with the
most absurd fear of ghosts in those who have been educated in the
belief of ghosts. They have a ghost-conscience, which they cannot
get rid of. Nay, even more; with irritable characters, the mere per
suasion that others hold them guilty of an evil action will give them
so much the feeling of an evil conscience, that it appears in all its
usual outward signs — embarrassment, blushing, and turning pale.
This may be carried so far as to lead to insanity. For instance:
A man universally believed to have killed another, or one who
really, though quite innocently, has killed another, may never enjoy
a moment's tranquillity or happiness again. We even read of a
Bramin, whose religious creed makes the murder of an insect as
criminal as that of a man, who killed himself because an English
' savant' told him that he never drank a glass of water without de
stroying thousands of invisible creatures. ' II n'y a qu'un pas du
sublime au ridicule.'
Ugoni, in his Life of one of the most conscientious of men, Pas-
saroni, relates that as he was one day going over the bridge of the
' Porta Orientale' he saw a man lying fast asleep on the broad stone
parapet, whence, if suddenly waked, he would probably have fallen
into the river. He seized him by the arm, with difficulty aroused
him, and with still greater made him understand why he had
waked him. The porter, in a passion, requited his trouble with
a hearty curse, and bid him go to the devil. Passaroni, greatly
mortified and grieved at being the innocent cause of the man's wrath,
pulled out a handful of coin, and gave it to him to drink the giver's
health. Thereupon he left him quite satisfied; but had scarcely
reached the end of the bridge, when it struck him that his gift would
probably produce even worse consequences than his waking of the
man had done ; for that it would very likely lead the poor fellow
into the crime of drunkenness. He immediately hurried back in
great anxiety, found the man fortunately at the same spot, where he
had laid himself down again exactly in his old position, and begged
him, with some embarrassment, to give him back so much of the
money as he did not want for his most pressing necessities. But as
the rage of the porter, who thought himself fooled, now boiled over
more furiously than ever, Passaroni devised another expedient:
" Here, my friend," said he, as you will not give me anything back,
take another scudo, and promise me solemnly, that if you spend all
the rest of the money in drink, you will buy something with that
scudo to eat with it. Having received this promise from the ' fa-
chino,' Passaroni's conscience was at length at rest, and he went con
tentedly home.
We must, I repeat, — if we would not be either unhappy, or ridi
culous, and like a reed shaken with every wind, — educate our con
sciences as well as all the other faculties of our souls: that is, while

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 121
we preserve them in all their purity, prescribe to them due limits;
for even the noblest are otherwise liable to deterioration and perver
sion. The simplest and most universally applicable and universally
intelligible guide is the precept of Christ, "Do not unto others (nor,
we might add, to yourselves) what ye would not that others do unto
you." But as there exist, as yet, no, true Christians, certain exceptions
to this rule are, and, in the present state of society, must be, per
mitted, as for instance, the case of the soldier above cited; or that
of a man who obeys the laws of honour, which in certain stations it
is utterly impossible to brave. And then there remains no other
solution of the difficulty, than to allow to others the same liberty of
making exceptions that we find ourselves compelled to claim; — in
this way we just manage to preserve charity, and, at all events, that
justice which is called the 'lex talionis.'
That man has a happy, an enviable existence, to whom nature and
surrounding circumstances have made it easy or possible to walk
constantly in a beaten track; to be, from youth upwards, kind and
loving, moderate in his desires and pure in his actions. The first
fault is pregnant with sorrow and evil; for, as our philosophical poet
so truly says, " Das eben ist der Fluch des Bosen
Dass es fortwuchernd immer Boses muss gebahren!"
And regeneration in this life is not always to be attained. May it
not, then, be the last and highest act of mercy of Eternal Love, to
have appointed death as a means of wiping out the confused and
blotted scrawl, and restoring the troubled, misguided soul to the
condition of a pure white sheet, ready for happier trials? For that
upon which the Holy has already been written here, must far higher
bliss be in store. All-loving Justice punishes not as weak man
punishes; but it can reward only where reward is due,- — where it
follows as an inevitable consequence of the past. January 21st.
It is become very cold again, and the fire-place, 'wo Tag und
Nacht die Kohle brenntf is unhappily quite insufficient to produce
a warm room, such as our stoves- — which, spite of their ugliness,
I now think of as admirably efficient — procure us. To set my
blood in motion I ride the more, and to-day, on my way home,
saw one of the many Cosmoramas exhibited here, which certainly
afford a very agreeable chamber journey, as they call it in
B  . The picture of the Coronation of Charles the Tenth in the
Cathedral at Rheims, doubtless gave me a far more commodious
view of it than I should have had in the crowded church. But what
tasteless costume, from the King to the lowest courtier! New and
old mixed in the most ludicrous and offensive manner! If people
will perform such farces, the least they can do is to make them as
pretty as those at Franconi's. The ruins of Palmyra lay outstretched
16

122 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
in solemn majesty in the boundless Desert, which a caravan in the
distant horizon is slowly traversing under a torrid sun.
The most perfect illusion was the great fire at Edinburgh: — it
actually burned. You saw the flames stream upwards; then clouds
of black smoke ascend; while the view of the whole landscape inces
santly changed with the changes of this fearful light, just as in a real
fire. Probably the proprietor's kitchen was behind the picture, and
the fire which heated the fancy of credulous spectators like myself,
roasted the leg of mutton which our shillings paid for.
January 28th.
For some days I have vegetated too completely to have much to
write to you about. This morning I was not a little surprised to see
R  , whom I thought almost with you, enter my room. He had
been shipwrecked on his way to Hamburgh, and driven back by the
storm to Harwich; had passed a whole night in imminent peril, and
is so heartily frightened, that he will hear no more of the sea as long
as he lives. I therefore send him by Calais, and only write that you
may not be uneasy. He has unfortunately lost some of the things
he took for you.
Hyde Park afforded a new spectacle this morning. The large lake
was frozen, and swarmed with a gay and countless multitude of
skaters and others, who enjoyed these wintry pleasures, so rare here,
with true child-like delight. A few years ago, in weather like this,
a strange wager was laid. The notorious Hunt deals in shoe-black
ing: a large sort of wagon filled with it and drawn by four fine
horses, which the young gentleman his son drives 'four-in-hand,'
daily traverses the city in all directions. This young Hunt betted
a hundred pounds that he would drive the equipage in question at
full speed across the ' Serpentine,' and won his wager in brilliant
style. A caricature immortalized this feat, and the sale of his black
ing, as is reasonable, increased threefold.
My house is grown very musical, for Miss A  , a newly-
engaged opera- singer, has come to live in it. The thin English walls
give me the advantage of hearing her every morning gratis.
I have not been well for some days. The town air does not agree
with me, and compels me to follow a 'regime' like that in your
song: — " un bouillon
d'un roguon
de papillon." C  Hall, Feb. 2d.

Lord D  , to whose wife I had been introduced in London, in
vited me to visit him for a few days at his country house. I accept
ed his invitation with the more pleasure because C  Hall is the
place of which Repton says that he had laboured at its embellish
ment, together with its proprietor, forty years ago. Indeed it does
him the greatest honour; though, from all I saw and heard, it ap
peared to me that the admirable taste of its Lord was entitled to the

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 123
largest share of the merit; especially in sparing old trees which
Repton would have removed. Nevertheless an honourable feeling
of gratitude has dedicated an alcove, commanding a wonderfully
beautiful prospect, to the man to whom landscape-gardening is so
much indebted. Repton's son, who was with us, had told Lady
D  a great deal about M  ; and as she is almost as great a
' parkomane' as myself, we had a very attractive subject in common,
and walked about for some hours in the flower-garden, which is still
more tasteful than splendid, and is adorned with some graceful mar
ble statues by Canova.
I did not see the master of the house, who was suffering from
gout, till we came down to dinner, when I met a large company;
amongst others Lord M  , who had just been to inspect the ships
of war lying in the Thames.
Lord D  was lying on a sofa, covered with a Scotch plaid, and
embarrassed me a little by his first address.
" You don't know me," said he, " and yet we saw each other very
often thirty years ago." Now as I was in frocks at the time he spoke
of, I was obliged to beg for a further explanation, though I cannot
say I was much delighted at having my age so fully discussed before
all the company, — for you know I claim not to look more than
thirty. However, I could but admire Lord D  's memory. He
remembered every circumstance of his visit to my parents with the
Duke of Portland, and recalled to me many a little forgotten inci
dent. What originals were then to be found, and how joyously and
heartily people entered into all sorts of amusement in those days, his
conversation gave me new and very entertaining proof of.
He mentioned among others a certain Baron, who believed as
firmly in ghosts as in the Gospel, and held Cagliostro for a sort of
Messias. One day when he went out alone, to skate on the lake
near our house, the whole party dressed themselves in sheets and
other things borrowed from the wardrobe of the theatre, and pre
sented to the eyes of the terrified Illuminatus the awful appearance
of a party of ghosts, in broad daylight, on the ice. In mortal terror
he fell on his knees, spite of his skates; and with a volubility which
the venerable Lord could not think of, even now, without laughing,
uttered "Abracadabra," and bits out of Faust's incantations, inter
spersed with fragments of quavering psalms. During this, one of
the ghosts, who, with the help of a long stick under his sheet, made
himself sometimes tall and sometimes low, slipped and fell, stripped
of all disguise, directly before the knees of the praying Baron. His
faith was too robust, however, to be shaken by such a trifle. On the
contrary, his terror was increased to such a pitch, that he sprang up,
fell again, in consequence of his unlucky ' chaussure,' but soon scram
bled up, and with a dexterity no one gave him credit for before, van
ished like the wind, amid the cheers of the whole company.
Even the confession of the whole joke by the actors in it never
could convince him that he had been hoaxed, and no power on earth
could ever induce him to see the frightful lake again as long as he
remained at M  .

124 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
You know I cannot avoid the reflections which often fill me with
melancholy even on the most joyous occasions. So was it with me
now, as Lord D  thus conjured up before me the picture of de
parted times; — as he eulogized my grandfather's amiable character,
described my mother's high spirit, and what a wild child I was:
' Helas, ils sont passes ces jours de fete. ' The amiable man has long
lain mouldering in his grave; the high-spirited young woman is old,
and no longer high-spirited; and even the wild boy is more than
tamed — nay, not very far from those days in which he will say, " I
have no pleasure in them:" the mad-cap young Englishman who
played the ghost on the ice, lay before me, an old man, tortured with
gout, stretched helpless on a sofa, — the tale of the merry pranks of
his youth interrupted by sighs extorted by pain ; while the poor fool
whom he so terrified as ghost has long been a ghost himself, and the
good Lord would be not a little alarmed if his visit happened to be
returned. "Oh world, world!" as Napoleon said. *
February 3rd: — Evening.
Lord D  possesses a fine collection of pictures, among which
are Titian's celebrated Venus; the Death of Regulus, by Salvator
Rosa; a large picture of Rubens, which has frequently been engrav
ed; and a very fine Guido. In the two latter indeed, a not very
agreeable subject, a lifeless head, is the principal object; in the one
that of Cyrus, in the other that of John the Baptist. But Guido's
Herodias is another of those figures instinct with the genius of poe
tical, divine beauty, uniting the most lovely womanliness with the
deepest tragic expression, which leave so indelible an impression,
and are so seldom found in reality. There is a lady of your acquaint
ance who corresponds with this ideal, Countess A  ofB  .
She was, when 1 knew her,f the most beautiful and richly-gifted
woman I ever beheld. Perfect symmetry, absolute harmony, reign
ed in her person and in her mind; so that the most heterogeneous
things equally became her. Majestic as a queen, when she was ' en
representation;' distinguished by the most easy and graceful manners,
the most exquisite knowledge of the world, when doing the honours
of her own house; and by the most ' naive,' touching kindness and
sweetness in the circle of her family; — but under every aspect ren
dered more interesting and impressive by a trace of thoughtful me
lancholy never wholly effaced, allied to that perfect feminine tender
ness which gives to woman the highest and most resistless charm in
the eyes of men; — her resemblance to this picture of Guido's was
striking. Two very pretty attendants of Herodias are in admirable
contrast with the main figure. They are perfect ladies-in-waiting,
* 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 Tcher-
nicheff, 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 theubroke
into the half-suppressed exclamation, ' O monde, O monde!' He might, perhaps,
silently add, ' iu m'echappes' — as a few years more verified. — Edit.
f And is still. — Eiitoe.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 125
who have no soul for anything beyond their court and their service;
and their beauty receives from its very unmeaningness a certain rather
animal character, which we can contemplate with an agreeable care
lessness — a sort of repose to the mind after the profound and thrilling
impression made by the main figure. The one is watching the glance
of her mistress with an unmeaning smile; the other looks at the head
of the Martyr in the charger with the same indifference as if it were
'a pudding.'
I must describe to you, once for all, the 'vie de chateau' in Eng
land; of course only the common canvas, on which the Special is in
every case embroidered by each man according to his fancy. The
groundwork is in all the same, nor did I find it at all altered from
what I formerly saw here. ' It forms, without any question, the most
agreeable side of English life; for there is great freedom, and a ban
ishment of most1 of the wearisome ceremonies which, with usj tire
both host and guest. Notwithstanding this, one finds not less lux
ury than in the town ; this is rendered less burthensome by the cus
tom I mentioned of receiving guests only during a short period of
the year, and on invitation.
The ostentation which, doubtless, lies at the root of such customs,
we may well forgive, for the better reception it procures us.
Strangers have generally only one room allotted to them, usually a
spacious apartment on the first floor. Englishmen seldom go into this
room except to sleep, and to dress twice a-day, which, even without
company and in the most strictly domestic circle, is always ' de
rigueur;' for all meals are commonly taken in company, and anyone
who wants to write does it in the library. There, also, those who
wish to converse give each other 'rendezvous,' to avoid either the
whole society, or particular parties, in the formation of which people
are quite at liberty. Here you have an opportunity of gossiping
for hours with the young ladies, who are always very literarily in
clined. Many a marriage is thus concocted or destroyed, between
the ' corpus juris' on the one side and Bouffler's Works on the other,
while fashionable novels, as a sort of intermediate link, lie on the
tables in the middle.
Ten or eleven is the hour for breakfast, at which you may appear
in 'negligee.' It is always of the same kind as that I described to
you in the inn, only of course more elegant and complete. The ladies
do the honours of the table very agreeably. If you come down
later, when the breakfast is removed, a servant brings you what you
want. In many houses he is on the watch till one o'clock, or even
later, to see that stragglers do not starve. That half-a-dozen news
papers must lie on the table for every one to read who' likes, is, of
course, understood. The men now either go out hunting or shoot
ing, or on business; the host does the same, without troubling him
self in the least degree about his guests (the truest kindness and
good-breeding;) and about half an hour before dinner the company
meet again in the drawing-room in elegant toilette.
The course and order of dinner I have already described to you.

126 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
England is the true land of contrasts — 'du haut et du bas' at
every step. Thus, even in elegant houses in the country, coachmen
and grooms wait at dinner, and are not always free from the odour
of the stable. At the second breakfast, the 'luncheon,' which is
served a few hours after the first, and is generally eaten only by the
women (who like to make ' la petite bouche' at dinner,) there are
no napkins, and altogether less neatness and elegance than at the
other meals.
This as parenthesis: — I now return to the 'order of the day.'
When the men have drunk as much as they wish, they go in search
of tea, coffee, and the ladies, and remain for some hours with them,
though without mixing much. To-day, for instance, I observed the
company was distributed in the following manner. Our suffering
host lay on the sofa, dosing a little; five ladies and gentlemen were
very attentively reading in various sorts of books (of this number I
was one, having some views of parks before me;) another had been
playing for a quarter of an hour with a long-suffering dog; two old
Members of Parliament were disputing vehemently about the ' Corn
Bill;' and the rest of the company were in a dimly-lighted room ad
joining, where a pretty girl was playing on the piano-forte, and ano
ther, with a most perforating voice, singing ballads.
I cannot help remarking here, that Lord and Lady D  are
among the most enlightened, unpretending, and therefore most
agreeable, of the people of rank here. Pie is of the moderate Oppo
sition, and desires the real good of his country, and nothing else;
a patriot wholly devoid of egotism, — the noblest title that a cultivat
ed man can bear. She is goodness, cordiality, and unpretendingness
itself. A light supper of cold meats and fruits is brought, at which every
one helps himself, and shortly after midnight all retire. A number
of small candlesticks stand ready on a side-table; every man takes
his own, and lights himself up to bed; for the greater part of the
servants, who have to rise early, are, as is fair and reasonable, gone
to bed. The eternal sitting of servants in an ante-room is not the
custom here; and except at appointed times, when their services are
expected, they are little seen, and one waits on oneself.
At night I found a most excellent chintz bed with a canopy. It
was so enormously large that I lay like an icicle in it, — for the dis
tant fire was too remote to give any sensible warmth. February 5th.
Between ourselves be it said, However agreeable, however uncon
strained may be one's abode in another's house, it is always too con
strained, too unaccustomed, above all too dependent for me, proud
and fond of ease as I am, ever to feel perfectly at home. This I can
be nowhere but within my own walls, and, next to that, in a tra
velling-carriage or an inn. This may not be the best taste in the
world, but it is mine. There are so many men who have no taste
of their own, at all, that I am delighted with myself for having one,
though it be not of the best. I shall therefore not exhaust the term

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 127
of my invitation, but evacuate my large bed to-morrow, and proceed
to Brighton, a watering-place now in great fashion.
I have ridden all over the park here, in company with Lord
D  's very kind and polite son. It is less remarkable for features
of striking beauty, than for the absence of all defect. Some views
through wooded valleys, of the distant Thames, the town of Grave-
send and its rising masts, have however a grand character; but no
thing can exceed the incomparable skill with which the walls of
wood within the park are planted, in masterly imitation of nature.
As a study, I should recommend Cobham, in some respects, more
than any of the parks I have described; though in extent and costli
ness it is surpassed by many. It is very modest; but to the admirer
of nature its character is only the more delightful and satisfactory. It
has also a great variety of hill, valley, and wood.
I took leave of Lady D  in her own room; a little sanctuary,
furnished with delightful disorder and profusion: — the walls full of
small ' consoles,' surmounted with mirrors and crowded with choice
curiosities; and the floor covered with splendid camellias, in baskets,
looking as if they grew there.
Among these flowers, dear Julia, I take my leave of you. I in-
treat you.to send me an answer of equal length, that your conscience
may not reproach you with loving me less than I love you.
Your hearty Friend, L  .

LETTER XII.
Brighton, Feb. 7th, 1827.
Beloved, I travelled these sixty miles yesterday with great rapidity, and
in the most charming state of indolence, without even the exertion
of looking up; — for one must once in a while travel like a fashiona
ble Englishman.
It seems that here is a better atmosphere than in any other part of
the land of fog; the bright sunshine waked me this morning as early
as nine o'clock.
I soon went out ; — first on the Marine Parade, which stretches to
a considerable extent along the sea; then made a tour through the
large, clean, and very cheerful town, which with its broad streets is
like the newest parts of London ; and concluded with visits to seve
ral London acquaintances. I then rode out, for I had sent my horses
here before me. Vainly did I look around for a tree. The country
is perfectly naked : nothing is to be seen but hilly downs covered
with short turf; and sea and sky are the only picturesque objects: —
even this first day of myr visit they greeted me with the most beau
tiful sunset. The majestic orb was veiled in a rosy transparent mist,
so that it darted forth no rays, but was like a ball of massive gold,
glowing with the most fervid heat: as it touched the water, it ap-

128 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
peared slowly to dissolve, and to spread itself over the surface of the
blue deep. At length Ocean swallowed the fiery globe; the burn
ing hues faded from red to violet, then gradually to whitish gray,
and at length the waves, driven hy the evening wind, dashed mur
muring on the shore in the dim twilight, as if in triumph over the
buried sun.
A distinguished old Minister enjoyed this noble spectacle with
me, and was fully alive to its beauty. Lord Harrowby is an amia
ble man, of mild refined manners, and of great experience of the
world and of business. February 8th.
Public rooms, lists of visitors [Badelisten), &c, do not exist here.
Brighton has only the name of a bathing-place tin our sense of the
word, and is chiefly resorted to by the inhabitants of London for re
creation and pure air. People who have no country-house, or who
find London too expensive, spend the winter, which is the fashiona
ble season, here. The King was formerly very fond of Brighton,
and|built a strange Oriental Palace, which seen from the adjoining
heights, with its cupolas and minarets, looks exactly like the pieces
on a chess-board. The interior is splendidly though fantastically
furnished. Although it has cost enormous sums, its possessor, long
sick of it, is said to have shown a desire to pull it down, which in
deed would be no great subject of lamentation.
The only large trees I have seen in the neighbourhood are in the
gardens of this Palace. But the walks by the sea are so agreeable
that one does very well without; especially the large Chain Pier,
which extends a thousand feet into the sea, and from whose extremity
the steam-vessels sail for Dieppe and Boulogne.
Not far from thence an Indian has established Oriental baths,
where people are shampooed after the Turkish fashion, which is said
to be very healthful and invigorating, and is in great favour with the
fashionable world. I found the interior arrangements very Euro
pean. The treatment is like that in the Russian vapour-baths, only
I think not so good. I cannot help thinking the sudden cold after
such profuse perspiration very dangerous.
I thought the method of drying linen more worth imitating. It
is laid in a sort of wardrobe lined with tin, and kept at an equal heat
by means of steam. February 9th.
The sun has disappeared again, and the cold has returned with
such force that I am writing to you in gloves — for the better preser-.
vation of my white hands, to which I, like Lord Byron, attach great
importance. 1 honestly confess I don't see that a man is ' un fat'
merely for trying to preserve the little beauty God has given him ;
at all events chapped hands are a horror to me, and always were. —
Talking of this, I remember that I was once in the boudoir of a very
beautiful woman in Strasburg, where I met Field-marshal W 
(then only General), who in eulogizing Napoleon laid a peculiar

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 129
stress on his temperance, adding in a contemptuous tone, "A hero
could not be a ' gourmand.' " Now the fair lady, who was other
wise a very kind friend of mine, knew me to be not quite insensible
to ' bonne chere,' and to gratify her malicious pleasure in teasing me,
made the General repeat his observation. Though I never set up
for a hero, (except in a little romance or two, here and there,) I felt
that I blushed; one of those stupidities of which I never could break
myself, even on many occasions where there was no ground for it.
Provoked at myself, I said with some pique, " It is fortunate for the
lovers of a good table, General, that there are a few brilliant excep
tions to your rule. Remember Alexander: — it is tiue that a too
luxurious feast led him into the burning of Persepoljs; — but I think
you will allow him to have been a hero for all that: and ' gourman-
dise' did not prevent Frederick the Great from acquiring immortal
renown, both as a warrior and a ruler. — You, General, who have
fought with the French with so much glory, should not attack a
good ' cuisine;' for that nation, however, distinguished be her gene
rals, will obtain a wider and perhaps more lasting fame from her
cooks." This last sentence was doubtless inspired by a prophetic
spirit; and how would the enthusiastic eulogist of Napoleon have
wondered, had I told him that in a little while he would stand op
posed to the great ' non-gourmand' himself, and would receive one
of the last effectual ' coups de griffes' of the sick lion.
You think, I dare say, dear Julia, that this anecdote is as much in
place here as one of our friend PI  's ' a-propos.' But you are
mistaken. I now go on to adduce Alcibiades and Poniatowsky, as
examples of men distinguished for attention to dress and to their per
sons; thus proving from experience that neither sensibility to good
cheer, nor a little ' fatuite,' are any obstacles to heroism, if other
qualities be not wanting.
A visit from Count F  , one of the most agreeable and respecta
ble representatives of Napoleon's time, who carried into the Imperial
Court 'les souvenirs de I'ancien regime,' and into the present one the
reputation of spotless integrity and fidelity, (a most rare instance!)
— here interrupted me. He came to invite me to dinner to-morrow.
This has detained me: — it is too late to ride; I am not in the hu
mour to seek Club society: I shall put on a second dressing-gown,
dream about you and M  , read over your letters, and patiently
freeze in my room, — for more than eight degrees of heat I find it
impossible to procure by means of an open fire in my airy and many-
windowed room. — ' Au revoir,' then. February 10th.
It was fair that I should indemnify myself to-day for my confine
ment to my room, so I wandered about in the neighbourhood for
many hours. I enjoyed my freedom the more, as I was to execute
mj^self in the evening at a great subscription ball.
The country all around is certainly very remarkable; for in a four
hours ride I did not see a single full-grown tree. Yet the numerous
hills, the large town in the distance, several smaller ones scattered
17

130 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
about, the sea and ships — all under rapidly changing lights, suf
ficiently diversified the landscape; and even the contrast with the
generally well-wooded character of England was not without its
charms. The sun at length retired to rest incognito, the sky cleared,
and the moon rose cloudless and brilliant over the waters. I now
turned my horse's head from the hills down to the sea, and rode five
or six miles, about the distance to Brighton, hard on the edge of the
waves along the sandy shore. The tide was coming in, and my
horse sometimes shyed when a wave, crowned with snowy foam,
rolled under his feet and quickly retreated as if in sport
I love nothing better than to ride alone by moonlight on the wide
shore, — alone with the plashing and roaring and murmuring of the
waves; — so near to the mysterious deep, that my horse can only be
kept within reach of its rolling waters by force, and as soon as his
rein is loosened darts away with redoubled speed towards the firm
land. How different from this poetical scene was the prosaic ball! —
which moreover so little answered my expectations that I was per
fectly astonished. A narrow staircase led directly into the ball
room, which was ill-lighted and miserably furnished, and surround
ed with worsted cords to divide the dancers from the spectators.
An orchestra for the musicians was hung with ill-washed white dra
peries, which looked like sheets hung out to dry. Imagine a second
room near it, with benches along the walls, and a large tea-table in
the middle; in both rooms the numerous company raven black from
head to foot, gloves inclusive; a melancholy style of dancing, with
out the least trace of vivacity or joyousness; so that the only feel
ing you have is that of compassion for the useless fatigue the poor
people are enduring; — and now you have a true idea of the Brigh
ton Almack's, for so these very fashionable balls are called. The
whole establishment is droll enough. Almack's balls in London are
the resort of people of the highest rank during the season, which
lasts from April to June ; and five or six of the most intensely fash
ionable ladies (Princess L  among the number), who are called
Patronesses, distribute the tickets. It is an immense favour to ob
tain one; and, for people who do not belong to the very highest or
.most modish world, very difficult Intrigues are set on foot months
beforehand, and the Lady-patronesses flattered in the meanest and
most servile manner, to secure so important an advantage; for those
who have never been seen at Almack's are regarded as utterly un
fashionable — I might almost say disreputable; and the would-be-
fashionable English world naturally holds this to be the greatest of
all possible calamities. So true is this, that a novel was lately writ
ten on this subject, which contains a very fair delineation of London
society, and has gone through three editions. On nearer observa
tion, however, one sees that it betrays more of the ante-chamber
than of the ' salon,' — that the author is one, as the Abbe de Voise-
non said, ' qui a ecoute aux portes.'
How admirably well-informed the English are concerning foreign
ers is seen in a passage in this novel, in which the wife of a foreign

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 131
ambassador, born however in England, is extremely facetious on the
ignorant Londoners who assigned a higher rank to a German Prince
than to her husband the Baron, whose title was far nobler. " But
the word Prince," adds she, " whose nullity is well known to every
body on the Continent, dazzled my stupid countrymen. ' C'est bien
vrai,' says a Frenchman, ' un Due cirait mes bottes a Naples, et a
Petersbourg un Prince Russe me rasait tous les matins.' " As the
English generally mis-spell and mis-quote foreign words and
phrases, I strongly suspect that a slight mistake has crept in here,
and that it ought to be printed, " un Prince Russe me rossait tous
les matins."*
You may partly conceive the burlesque effect such a fashionable
novel produces on people in the middling society of London, who
are continually groping in the dark after ' le bel air,' are consequently
in perpetual terror and agony, lest they should betray their acquaint
ance with the great world, and thus generally make themselves ex
quisitely ludicrous. I had a very amusing example of this a few
weeks before the publication of the book in question.
I was invited, with several other foreigners, to dine with a very
rich ********
Among them was a German Prince, who had visited at the house
before, and, luckily for the farce, a German Baron also. When din
ner was announced, the Prince advanced, as usual, to the lady of
the house to hand her out, and was not a little amazed when she
turned her back upon him with a slight curtesy, and took the arm
of the most agreeably-surprised Baron. A laugh, which I really
found it impossible to suppress, almost offended the good Prince,
who could not explain to himself the extraordinary behaviour of our
hostess; but, as I instantly guessed the cause, I soon helped him out
of his wonderment
Regardless of rank, he now took the prettiest woman of the party;
while I, for my part, made haste to secure  , that I might be sure
of an amusing conversation during dinner. The soup was hardly
removed, when I expressed to her as politely as I could, how much
her nice tact and exact knowledge of the usages of even foreign so
ciety had surprised me. " Ah," replied she, " when one has been
* It is natural enough that it should be difficult for the English, who trouble them
selves so little about ainthing non-English, to distinguish the respective ranks of
German, Russian, and French princes, and that they therefore place them some
times 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 ti
tles, 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 Ger
many who are not of old family and high rank, with the appurtenant rights and pri
vileges; 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 there service alone gives rank, privilege or importance; and in
Italy, the title is not worth much more. The Enghsh mix all this up together, and
seldom know what sort of tone to take with a foreigner, or what place to assign to
him.

132 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
 so long, one becomes thoroughly acquainted with the world."
" Certainly," replied I, " especially in  , where you have all
that sort of thing in black and white." " You see," said she, speak
ing rather low, " we know well enough that ' a foreign Prince' is
nothing very great, but to a Baron we give the honour due." " Ad
mirably distinguished!" exclaimed I; " but in Italy you must be on
your guard, for there ' barone' means a rascal." " Is it possible?"
said she; " what a strange title!" " Yes, madam, titles on the Con
tinent are mysterious things; and were you the Sphinx herself, you
would never fathom the enigma." " May I help you to some fish?"
said she. "With great pleasure," answered I, and found the turbot,
even without a title, excellent.
But, to return to Almack's: — The oddest thing is, that one of
these tickets, for which many English men and women struggle and
strive, as if for life and death, are, after all, to be paid for with the
sum of ten shillings; for Almack's are neither more nor less than
balls for money. ' Quelle folie que la mode!' We are sometimes
forced to conclude that our planet is the mad-house of the solar
system. In Brighton we find the copy of London in little. The present
Lady-patronesses are *****
When I entered, I saw no one of my acquaintance, and therefore
addressed myself to a gentleman near me to show me the Marchio
ness of  , from whom I had received my ticket, through the
'entremise' of Countess F  . I was obliged to present myself
to her, to return my thanks; and found her a very kind, amiable,
domestic woman, who had never quitted England. She introduced
me to her daughters, and also to a certain Lady  , who spoke
very good German. That is the fashion now, and the young ladies
labour hard to accomplish it.
I afterwards found a gentleman of my acquaintance, who introduced
me to several very pretty young ladies, among whom Miss W  ,
a niece of Lord C  , was peculiarly distinguished. She was
brought up in Germany, and is more German than English, — of
course an advantage in my eyes. She was by far the prettiest and
most graceful girl in the room, so that I was almost tempted to dance
once more; though from vanity (for I always danced badly) I re
nounced that so-called pleasure years ago. I might safely enough
have attempted it here, for, God knows, nowhere do people jump
about more awkwardly; and a man who waltzes in time is a real
curiosity. But it seems to me too ludicrous, to join the worship
pers of the tarantula so far on my way towards forty. ' II est vrai
que la fortune m'a souvent envoye promener, mais danser — c'est
trop fort!'
I was told that the chief of a Plighland clan, with a name as long
as a Spaniard's, — a descendant of some island king, and proud as
Holofernes of a thousand years of noble ancestry, — wished to make
my acquaintance. I had reason to congratulate myself on making
his; for I found him a living model of one of Walter Scott's pictures.
A genuine Highland Scot, hanging with body and soul on ancestry

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 133
and ancient customs, having great contempt for the English, full of
fire, good-natured,' loyal-hearted, and brave; but childishly vain,
and, on that side, as easy to wound as to win. I very gladly took
refuge from the tedium of the crowd in conversation with a man of
so original a character. I sat down by him on a bench in the tea
room, and got him to tell me of all the glories of his ancient heritage,
all the battles of his forefathers, and his own travels and adventures.
The worthy man described to me at great length his Highland dress,
to which he evidently attached immense importance; and told me a
long history of the effect his appearance in it had produced on the
Court of Berlin. There was doubtless enough to excite a smile in
his account of the astonishment of the King and Queen, and of the
signal attentions his striking dress commanded; yet there was a fire
and a simplicity in his manner of relating the triumphs of his na
tional costume, that touched me extremely. February 11th.
This morning I went to church, with a full intention of being
pious; but it did not succeed. Everything was too cold, dry, and
una^sthetic. I am an advocate for a more imaginative worship,
though it he addressed rather more to the senses. If we did but
follow Nature, we should find her the best instructress in religion, as
in other things. Is it not by her most magnificent and sublime spec
tacles that she awakens our hearts to emotions of piety? by the paint
ing of her sunsets, by the music of the rolling deep, by the forms of
her mountains and her rocks? Be not wiser, my brethren, than Him
who created all these Wonders, and formed the human heart to feel
them; but imitate Him, according to the measure of your feeble
powers. But on this matter I should preach to deaf ears, except to yours,
clear Julia; they have long listened, with me, to the heavenly song of
the spheres, which ceaselessly resounds in the eternal, beautiful crea
tion, if men did not stop their ears with the cotton of positive dog
mas and traditions, through which they cannot hear it*
The sermon too which I heard, though prepared beforehand, and
read, was stony and unprofitable. Preachers would do much more
good if they would lay aside the old mechanical custom of taking
* 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 Zei
tung; — " 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 fainth' imagine. If we
can scarcely conceive that all will become new, how can we so suddenly conceive
a new Ml? 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" — Edi
tor.

134 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
texts only out of the Bible, and take them from local life and circum
stances, and from human society as it now exists; if they would
rather seek to foster the in-dwelling poetical religion, than the mere
spirit of dogma; if they would treat morality not only as the Com
manded, but as the Beautiful and the Useful, — the Necessary, in
deed, to the happiness of the individual, and of society. If more
pains were taken to instruct the working-man from the pulpit, — to
form him to think instead of to believe, — crime would soon become
less frequent; he would begin to feel a real interest in what he heard,
— a positive want of the church and of the sermon, for his own guid
ance and information: whereas he now attends them mechanically
and without reflection, or from some motives equally unprofitable.
The laws of the land, too, and not the Ten Commandments alone,
should be declared and expounded to the people from the pulpit; —
they should be made perfectly conversant with them, and with the
grounds of them; for, to use the words of Christ, how many sin
without knowing what they do!*
The best practical receipt for a universal morality is, without
doubt, to ask oneself whether an action, or course of action, if adopt
ed by every man, would be useful or injurious to society. In the
first case, it is of course good, — in the second, bad. Had Govern
ments, and those upon whom devolves the sacred and neglected duty
of instructing the people, habituated them to the constant applica
tion of this test or measure of conduct, and then demonstrated to
them, directly, ' ad oculos,' the inevitable, ultimate reaction of evil
conduct on themselves, they would, in the course of a few years,
have improved not only the morality of the country, but its physical
condition and commercial prosperity; whereas the ordinary priestly
wisdom, which sets faith, authority, and dogma above everything,
has left mankind in the same state for centuries, — if indeed it have
not made them worse.
It would, perhaps, do no harm occasionally to choose teachers
who have been converted to virtue by experience of the evil conse
quences of vice (as, for instance, the late Werner,) and who are
therefore best informed on the subject. Not only is there more joy
in heaven over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety-and-nine
just men, but such a man is more firm in his convictions and percep
tions, and generally more zealous in reclaiming others, as the exam
ples of many holy men prove.
Above all, in every well-organized society all clergymen, be they
of what persuasion they may, must, in my opinion, be paid by fixed
salary, and not be permitted to take money for every separate con
solation of real, or ceremony of conventional, religion ; — a meanness
which necessarily destroys all true reverence for the priest, and
which must degrade him in his own eyes, if he have any delicacy.
* 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
he legal in one village, which ten miles off is illegal; in short, that the P  Ju
rists should at length become workers in bronze, and not tinkers. — Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 135
It is really dreadful to see the poor man stick his two groschen be
hind the altar for the holy elements he has just received; or crowd a
fee into the reverend gentleman's hand when his child is christened,
just as if he were giving him a shilling to drink. But when we hear
the parson storm and scold from the pulpit, because his offerings and
tithes decrease; when we hear him announce such a falling-off in his
revenues as a proof of the decline of religion; then, indeed, we feel
distinctly why there are so many parsons, and what they themselves
regard as their true and proper vocation. Soldiers naturally love
war, and in like manner priests love religion, — for their own advan
tage. But patriots love war only as a means of obtaining freedom;
and philosophers, religion only for its beauty and its truth.
That is the difference. — But, as the author of the Zillah so truly
says, " Establishments endure longer than opinions; the church out
lasts the faith which founded it; and if a priesthood has once succeed
ed in interweaving itself with the institutions of the country, it may
continue to subsist and to flourish long after its form of worship is
regarded with aversion and contempt."
The afternoon was more satisfactory. — I climbed the hills around
the town, and at last crept up to the top of a windmill in order to
see the whole panorama of Brighton. The wind turned the sails of
the mill with such force that the whole building rocked like a ship.
The miller's lad, who had shown me the way up, went to a flour-
bin and took out a telescope. Spite of its soft bed, it was unhappily
broken. I was however well satisfied with the general view, enli
vened as it was by hundreds of fishing-boats which seemed struggling
with the storm, and hastened back with the sinking sun to my so
cial duties.
The party at Count F  's was small but interesting; il was ren
dered so in the first place by the host himself; then by a lady cele
brated for her beauty; and lastly, by a former well-known leader of
' ton' in Paris. In his youth he played a considerable part there,
and was at the same time constantly implicated in political affairs.
He now passes a great part of the year in England, probably still
not without political views. He is one of that sort of men, daily be
coming more rare, who live in great style, one knows not how; con
trive to acquire a sort of authority everywhere, one knows not why;
and under whom one always expects to find something mysterious,
one knows not wherefore.  is very agreeable, at least when he
chooses: he narrates admirably, and has forgotten nothing of his
eventful life which can give zest to his conversation. For adventu
rers of this high order, whose consummate knowledge of the world
affords continual matter for admiration, (though generally employed
only to make dupes,) the French character is better suited than any
other. Their agreeableness in society smooths their way; and their
not over warm hearts and ceconomical understandings, (if I may use
the expression,) admirably enable them to keep all the ground they
have won, and to maintain a firm footing on it for ever.
The clever man of whom I am now speaking plays also very
agreeably; and jestingly declares, like Fox, that after the pleasure of
winning, he knows no greater than that of losing.

136 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
We talked a great deal about Napoleon, of whom our host, like
all who lived long in immediate intercourse with him, could not
speak without veneration. He mentioned a circumstance which
struck me. The Emperor, he said, was so incredibly exhausted by
the violent excitement of the Hundred Days and the events that suc
ceeded them, that on his retreat from Waterloo, in the early part of
which he was protected by a battalion of his ' Garde,' he proceeded
very slowly, and without any precipitation (quite contrary to our
version of the affair.) Two or three times he fell asleep on his horse;
and would have fallen off, had not Count F  himself held him on.
But the Count declared that, except by this complete corporeal ex
haustion, he never exhibited the slightest mark of internal agitation.
February 14th.
My original friend the Scot — who, I am told, has killed two or
three men in duels — visited me this morning, and brought me his
genealogy, printed, with the whole history of his race or 'clan.'
He complained bitterly that another man of his name contested the
rank of chieftain with him; and took great pains to prove to me,
from the work he had brought, that he was the true one: he added,
that " the judgment of Heaven between them would be the best
way of deciding their respective claims." He then called my at
tention to his arms, of the origin of which he related a curious his
tory. * * ***.*#***
*"**# ********
It was, like most of these traditions, poetical enough, and a striking
picture of those rude but vigorous ages. I did not fail to relate to
him a ' pendant' to his story, from the Nibelungenlied, concerning
my own ancestors; — probably both were equally true. We parted,
over the ghosts of our forefathers, the best friends in the world.
There are now private balls every evening: and in rooms to
which a respectable German citizen would not venture to invite
twelve people, some hundreds are here packed like negro slaves. It
is even worse than in London; and the space allotted to tlie quad
rilles allows only the mathematical possibility of making something
like dancing demonstrations. A ball without this crowd would be
despised ; and a visitor of any fashion who found the staircase emp
ty, would probably drive away from the door. This strange taste
reminded me of one of Potier's characters, a ' ci-devant jeune hom
me' who orders a pair of pantaloons of his tailor which are to be
' extraordinairement collant:' as the ' artiste' is going away he calls
after him, " Entendez vous? — extraordinairement collant; si j'y en-
tre, je ne le prends pas." In like manner an English dandy would
say of a rout, " Si j'y entre, je n'y vais pas."
When you are once in, however, I must confess that nowhere do
you see a greater number of pretty girls, against whom you are
squeezed < bongre malgre,' than here. Some of them have been edu
cated for a year or two in France, and are distinguished for a better
' tournure' and style of dress: many of them speak German. A man
may have as many invitations to ' soirees' of this sort as he likes;

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 137
but he may go away as perfect a stranger as if he had been uninvit
ed ; for if he does not stay long, he does not so much as see the
hostess, and certainly she does not know half the people present. At
one o'clock a very ' recherche' cold supper is served, with ' force
champagne.' The supper-room is usually on the ground-floor, and
the table of course cannot contain above twenty persons at a time, so
that the company go down in troops, and meet, pushing and elbow
ing, on the narrow staircase. If you succeed in getting a seat, you
may rest a little; and many avail themselves of this privilege with
small regard to their successors: little attention is paid to giving
place to the ladies. On the other hand, the servants are very active
in continually replacing the dishes and bottles, as fast as they are
emptied, on the side of the table to which the guests have no ac
cess. In order to see the whole of the thing, I stayed till four in the
morning in one of the best houses, and found the end of the fete,
after three-fourths of the company were gone, the most agreeable;
the more so as the daughters of the house were remarkably pretty
amiable girls. There were some famous originals, however, at the
ball ; among others, a fat lady of at least fifty-five, dressed in black
velvet with white trimmings, and a turban with floating ostrich fea
thers, who waltzed like a Bacchante whenever she could find room.
Her very pretty daughters tried in vain to rival their mamma. My
curiosity being excited by such a display of Herculean vigour and
pertinacity, I found the lady's large fortune had been made by spe
culations in cattle. The music in most of these balls was extremely
meagre and bad. The musicians, however, contrive to jjroduce
such a noise with such instruments as they have, that you cannot
hear yourself speak near them. February 16th.
I read yesterday that " strong passions are increased by distance."
Mine for you must be very strong then — though indeed tender
friendship is ever the surest of any — for I love you better than
ever: — but this is intelligible enough. If we truly love a person
we have, when absent from him, only his good and agreeable quali
ties before our eyes; the unpleasant little defects which exist in every
man, and which, however trifling they may be, annoy us when pre
sent, vanish from our recollection, — and thus love naturally increases
in absence. And you — what, do you think on this subject ? How
many more faults have you to cover with the mantle of Christian
love in me!
I am going to London to-morrow, expressly to deliver this letter
to our ambassador with my own hands, since the last was delayed so
long. Probably it fell into the hands of the curious, for we shall not
soon get rid of the ' infamie' of opening letters. In two days I shall
return, and shall be happy enough to miss three or four balls in the
interval. — I took a long walk this morning, and this time not en
tirely alone, but with one of the many agreeable girls I have met
with here. When young unmarried women are once ' lancees' in
18

138 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
the world, they enjoy more rational freedom in England than in any
other country in Europe. The young lady ' qusestionis' was just
seventeen, and polished in Paris.
On my return home I found, to my no small astonishment, a letter
from the luckless R  , who has been again driven back to Har
wich, and despairingly implores money and help. Contrary to my
desire, as I now learn for the first time, he did not go by Calais. These
wanderings of the Garden-Odysseus are as ludicrous as they are dis
agreeable, and you will doubtless think the adventurer 'malgre lui'
is eaten by the fishes, till you have ocular proof of the contrary..
I recollect that twelve years ago, about this same season, I was going
to embark for Hamburg, from which I was fortunately dissuaded by
my old French valet. He said, with rather an odd turn of expres
sion; "Dans ces tems ci, il y a toujours quelques equinoxes dan-
gereuses, qui peuvent devenir funestes." He was right; the vessel
was wrecked, and several lives lost. London, Feb. 18th.
Plonour to Mr. Temple! — Your letter, which he forwarded,
reached me in ten days, while those which come through our diplo
macy are three weeks on the road. Give him my best thanks. I
laughed heartily at the news H  sends me so humorously. The
little Criminal-rath (' conseiller criminel') whom the jester calls
' le Rat criminel;' the 'Renvoye extraordinaire,' and the 'Diplo
mate a la fourchette,' are admirably painted; so is The Fortunate
house- court- state- and body-servant. Don't wonder at his success: it
is indisputable that there is a sort of narrowness which almost always
succeeds in the world; and a character of mind which never suc
ceeds. Mine is of this latter sort — a fantastic picture-making mind,
that fashions its own dream-world anew every day, and thence re
mains for ever a stranger in the actual world. You tell me that if
Fortune had offered herself to me, I should have slighted her, or at
most, playfully taken her by the finger, instead of clutching her
earnestly; — that I never valued the present till it stood as a picture
in the far distance; — that then indeed it was often a picture of re
pentance and regret; the future, a picture of longing and aspiration;
the present, never anything but a misty spot. ' A merveille.' You
say all this most charmingly; and I must acknowledge that nobody
understands better how to moralize impressively than you. — If it
were but of any use to me! But tell me, — if you could convince the
lame man that it were far better for him not to be lame; — as soon as
the poor wretch tries to set one foot before the other, does he limp
the less? ' Naturam expellas furca,' &c. Vainly do you desire your
stomach to digest better, your wit to be sharper, your reason to be
more efficient: — things go on in their old train, with a few modifica
tions. The decisions of the Ministers on the S  affair, which you
communicate to me, also remain after the old sort, in spite of the
extreme politeness of those gentlemen. Is it not strange, however,'
that our inferior functionaries distinguish themselves as much by their

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 139
< tracasseries,' and by their ill-bred, and I might say contemptuous,
style, as the higher do (with a single exception) by their care in
using none but the most refined and polished forms ? Do not these
on this very account wear the appearance of the bitterest irony?
You may give this as a. subject for a prize-essay to our G  dilet
tante academy.
'Apropos,' — who is that very wise Minister of whom H 
speaks? Ah ha! I guess — but all Ministers are now-a-days so wise
' ex officio,' that it is difficult to know which he means. The other,
however, I guessed instantly — as well as the pure horizontal indivi
dual, whose illness grieves me heartily; for when he is well, he
stands, in my opinion, most singularly perpendicular, towering above
disfavour or envy, both by the dignity of his character, and by his
experience and talents for business. There are, to be sure, some
official persons in our country whom one might fairly ask, with
Burger's Lenore, every time one sees them, " Bist lebend, Liebster,
oder tudt?"*
Heaven preserve us both in better health of body and mind ! And,
above all, may it preserve to me your tender friendship, the most
essential element of my well-being! Your faithful L  .

LETTER XIII.
Brighton, Feb. 19th, 1827.
Dear Julia,
'To make the best of my time,' (as the practical English say,)
before I left town yesterday I visited three theatres in succession.
In the first piece I saw, the principal person was an Irish servant.
According to all I have been able to learn from plays and novels,
these Irish must be an odd people, — of a fresh originality very un
like the English. Irish beggars are very common in the streets of
London, where they are easily recognized by their Gascon-like man
ner and dialect. A modern author remarks with equal drollery and
truth: " The English beggar whines out the same monotonous words
in a drawling tone, ' Give a poor man a halfpenny, Give a poor man
a halfpenny.' — What an orator is his Irish colleague! '0 your
honour, give us a penny, only one blessed penny, your honour's
honour, and God's blessing be upon your children, and your chil
dren's children! Give us only one little penny, and may Heaven
grant you a long life, and a quiet death, and a blessed resurrec
tion!' " Who can withstand entreaties so humorously moving ?
In the next theatre we were regaled with a pantomime, in which
' Art living, dearest, or dead ''

140 LETTERS ON GERMANS',
was a quadrille of birds, and another of tea-things; after which the
tea-pot, milk-jug, and cup, executed a ' pas de trois,' while spoons,
knives, and forks danced around them as ' figurantes.' The birds
were ' a s'y meprendre,' and I recommend something of the same
kind, with parrots which might speak too, to be arranged for the
S  Court theatre by Mephistophiles. A clever account of it
would be a still further novelty, and a tea-kettle and accompaniments
would be very suitable additions to the society.
I saw the Indian jugglers for the third time; They exhibited
something quite new. Instead of balls, they threw up and caught
short burning torches. This produces a curious sort of fire-workj
a continuous developement of burning figures, — wheels, serpents, tri
angles, stars, flowers, &c, as if in a kaleidescope. The immovable
steadiness and accuracy of these people never misses.
The fantastic absurdities of the pantomimes probably affected my
imagination in the night, which I dosed away between London and
Brighton; for I had the strangest visions in my carriage. At first I
was mounted on my beautiful gray, whom for once I could not
manage: he constantly resisted my will; and when at last I mastered
him, shook his head with such fury, that it broke from his neck and
flew to a distance of twenty paces, while I plunged down a precipice
on the headless body. — I was next sitting on a hench in my park,
and watching the devastations made by a frightful hurricane, which
tore up the old trees far and near, and threw them together like fag
gots. — At last I quarrelled with you, dear Julia, and in despair went
for a soldier. I forgot you (which is possible only in sleep,) and found
myself in my new sphere, once more young and brilliant, full of
fresh spirit, and not less full of wanton pride. It was the day of
battle. The thunder of the cannon rolled magnificently ; noble mar
tial music accompanied it, and animated our spirits; while, with the
prerogative of a dream, we sat quietly breakfasting on a ' pate aux
truffes et champagne,' in the midst of a fire of musketry. A spent
cannon-ball now came 'en ricochet' towards us; and before 1 could
spring aside, carried off the head of my comrade, who was sitting
on the ground by my side, and both my legs, so that I fell groaning
with pain and horror. When I recovered my senses, the storm was
roaring around me, and the sea howled in my ears. I thought my
self on the voyage, when, behold, my carriage stopped at the door
of the inn on the Marine Parade at Brighton! To-morrow perhaps
I shall dream out the rest. But arc the waking fancies of life much
less confused? Castles in the air, for good and for evil; — nothing but
castles in the air. Some stand for minutes, some for years, some for
tens* of years; but they all fall at last, and only seem realities. No
body can furnish a greater abundance of plans to architects of such
castles than I. On the slightest inducement I can build a fairy palace,
* 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,— Tkansl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 141
just as easily as a miserable hut, a grave, or a dungeon. But you
are ever by, my Julia, either sharing the palace, adorning the hut,
weeping over the grave, or consoling me in bonds. At this moment
I am floating midway, without any determinate abode: I am, how
ever, all the more ethereal and light-hearted for that ; but, I must
confess, with a very sleepy ' physique,' for it is three in the morn
ing: and so I kiss your hand, and bid you good night. But I beg
you to look in your dream-book what these adventures of mine
portend. You know my favourite superstition, which 1 set too high a value
upon to have it torn from me by chaffy reasonings. As, for instance,
when an ' esprit fort' shrugs up. his shoulders, (if he does not ven
ture to turn up his nose in my face,) or a well-anointed priest says,
" It is extraordinary to see how inconsistently many men refuse to
believe in religion, (by which parsons always mean their Church and
its ordinances,) and yet give way to the utmost credulity in the great
est absurdities." " But, reverend Sir," I ask in reply, " in what
then do these absurdities consist?" " Why, the belief in sympathies,
in dreams, in the influence of the stars, and so on." " But, most
respected Sir, I see no inconsistency in the matter. Every reflect
ing man must confess that there are a number of mysterious powers
in nature, — influences, and attractions, both of our earth, and of the
system to which it belongs, of which many that formerly passed for
fables have been discovered; others that as yet we do but suspect or
divine, and cannot ascertain. It is therefore by no means contrary
to reason to make one's own hypotheses concerning them, and to
believe in these more or less. I do not, therefore, contest your
miracles, nor your symbols; — I contest only certain other things,
which many of you teach, and which are equally incomprehensible
to the understanding and repugnant to the heart: for instance, a God
more passionate and partial than the frailest man; infinite torments
appointed by infinite love, for finite sins; arbitrarily-predestined for
giveness or damnation, — and so on. Such things can be possible
only when two and two shall make five, and no superstition can ap
proach the insanity of such a belief." February 22nd.
I am just returned from a grand Almack's fancy ball, where
everybody was either in some fantastic outlandish dress, or in uni
form, — a ' melange' which does not seem to me in very good taste,
nor very respectful to the latter. You may imagine that my friend
the Highland chieftain did not fail to appear in his national costume.
It is really very handsome; in the highest degree rich, picturesque,
and manly: the only thing that does not please me is the shoes with
the large buckles. The sword is just in the form of one of our stu
dent's rapiers ; and besides that, there is a dagger, pistols, and car
touche-box. The arms are set with precious stones; and an eagle's
feather, the badge of a chieftain, adorns the cap.
I escorted two ladies to the ball, — the one a good-natured and sen
sible woman, still very pretty at five-and-thirty, who likes the world

142 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
and is liked by it, and nurses an invalid husband with the most un
remitting care. Her ' tournure' is agreeable, her disposition kind
and good, — so that she is just the person ' pour en faire une amie
dans le monde.' The other lady, her intimate friend, is a young and
very pretty widow; not a very considerable person, but a good-tem
pered friendly little creature, who is perfectly contented if you tell
her that her teeth are pearls and her eyes violets.
I had no reason to be ashamed of my ladies, either as to person
or dress; but they, and all present, were eclipsed by the youthful
Miss  . She is really one of the most beautiful girls I have seen,
— a little sylph, — who must have stolen her exquisite foot and her
graces from another land. She is only sixteen, — wild, and mobile
as quicksilver; unwearied in dancing as in frolic. I was so fortunate
as to gain her good graces to-day by a lucky offering. This con
sisted in a ' cornet' of remarkably well-made ' bonbon' crackers, in
the distribution of which she had found infinite diversion at the last
ball. This indecorum had been strongly reprobated by the mammas;
so that there were no more to be had at supper, as heretofore. I had
providently laid in a stock at the confectioner's, and now presented
them to her unexpectedly ; and I doubt whether the gift of a million
of money would give poor me half the pleasure I now bestowed by
such a trifle. The little thing was in an ecstasy of delight, and im
mediately prepared her batteries, which were the more successful,
as the enemy thought themselves secure. At every explosion she
laughed as if she would kill herself; and every time I met her she
smiled upon me with her sparkling eyes, as sweetly as a little angel.
Poor child! this perfect innocence, this overflow of happiness and
joy, touched me deeply — for, alas! she will soon, like all the rest,
be undeceived.
There were many other very pretty young women; but they were
too much ' dressees;' some were loaded with jewels and trinkets, but
none were comparable to this girl. February 24th.
I spent this evening at Mrs. F  's, a very dignified and delight
ful woman, formerly, as it is affirmed, married to the King. She is
now without influence in that region, but still universally beloved
and respected, — ' d'un excellent ton et sans pretension.' I there
heard some interesting details concerning Lord Liverpool: a man
who, an hour before, ruled half a world with energy and sagacity,
becomes an * imbecile' from the neglect to open a vein! His prede
cessor, Lord Castlereagh, from the same cause commits suicide! —
On how frail a tenure hangs the human intellect!
In this house one sees only 'beau monde.' Indeed there is not
much of the very emptiest, the exclusive society here; or they live
completely retired, that they may not come into collision with the
persons they call ' Nobodies,' whom they shun with greater horror
than Brahmins shun Parias. Though my station and connexions al
low me to enter the sanctuary, I do not on that account disdain the
world without As a foreigner, and still more as an independent

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 143
man, I take the liberty to seek enjoyment wherever I can find it,
unfettered by such restrictions, — nor do I always find the most in
the highest places. Even the vulgarity and laughable ' singerie' of
the ' parvenus' is sometimes extremely amusing, and has a much
more burlesque character in England than in any other country;
since wealth, establishment, and luxury, — in a word, all their 'en
tourage,' — are essentially the same as those of the great and the high
bred; only the persons wander among them as if stripped bare.
Here occurred a long pause in my correspondence. Pardon, — -I
was eating my solitary dinner; a snipe stood before me, and a ' mou-
ton qui reve' by my side. You guess who is the latter. Don't be
distressed about the place on the left, for on the right is a blazing fire,
and I know how much you fear that.
I shall spend the evening again at Count F  's, who is of the
Brahmin class. Have I described him to you? He is no insigni
ficant person. Uniting French agreeableness with English solidity,
he speaks both languages with nearly equal ease and fluency. Though
no longer young, he is still a handsome man, and his external ap
pearance is rendered more striking by a very noble, dignified air.
Simple, and thoroughly polite, cheerful without sarcasm or maligni
ty, his conversation amuses and satisfies, even when it is not brilliant
at the moment. His wife is neither remarkable for beauty nor the
contrary. She has sense, ' 1'usage du grand monde, et quelque fois
de la politesse;' no inconsiderable talent for music, and ten-thousand
a-year. With all these materials, I need not tell you the house is
an extremely pleasant one. February 25th.
There is a delightful custom for the men at English balls. After
the conclusion of a dance, each takes his partner on his arm, and
walks about with her till the next begins. Many a man has thus
time to conquer his timidity, and nothing is wanting but our large
and numerous rooms to make it still more agreeable. Here there is
no wider field to expatiate in than down the stairs to the eating-room,
and up again; still many a gentle word maybe whispered in the
crowd, for nobody heeds what his neighbour does.
As I am tormented on all sides to dance, (a German who does not
waltz appears incomprehensible here,) and do not like it, I have
given out that I am restrained by a vow, and leave it to be inferred
that it is a tender one. The ladies do not know how to reconcile
this with the persuasion that I came here in search of a wife, which
they stoutly maintain. Thank Heaven! I find my tranquillity quite
undisturbed. ****"* * *
A poor Englishman here is in much worse plight. He threw him
self off the pier to-day, being, as the English say, ' crossed in love,'
and only yesterday he was dancing as if stung by a tarantula. The
poor fellow must have been like the turkeys that are made to dance
ballets in Paris by being set on a metal plate, under which a fire is
lighted. The spectator who sees their convulsive bounds, thinks
they are very merry, while the poor things are burning by inches.

144 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
I have often complained that Brighton has no vegetation; but the
sun sets in the sea, and the cloud-pictures by which they are accom
panied, exceed all I ever beheld' in variety. To-day it had rained
all day, and in the evening, when it cleared up, a dark range of
mountains formed itself above the watery mirror, gradually acquir
ing a firmer consistency as the sun reached the highest peak, and
broke through the black masses as if with clefts of flaming gold; I
thought I saw Vesuvius again, streaming with lava. After I had
attended this magnificent ' coucher' of the monarch of the heavens
till its last moment, I wandered about the bare downs till it was per
fectly dark, scouring hill and dale on my swift steed. Probably he
too had pictures in his fancy which urged him to greater speed, —
enticing visions of oats and hay.
March 14thr
These everlasting balls, concerts, dinners, and promenades, I can
not call exactly tedious, but time-killing. Meanwhile a poor dying
man has taken up his abode in my house; and his groans and com
plaints, which all night long reach me through the thin walls, form
too sharp and melancholy a contrast with this abode of frivolity and
dissipation. I can do nothing for him, so I shall leave the house to
morrow for London.
I have received both your letters, and am heartily grieved to hear
that both cook and doctor are wanting at your baths. You must do
everything you can to get both these important chemists, (destined
by Nature to play into each other's hands,) as soon as possible, and
of the best quality.
You know that a celebrated French physician, the first time he
was called into a house, always began by running into the kitchen,
embracing the cook, and thanking him for a new patient.
When Louis the Fourteenth grew worse and worse, and, distrust
ing his own physicians, consulted our Esculapius, the latter made
representations to the first 'homme de bonne bouche' that he should
provide fewer and simpler dishes for the King. " Allons done,
Monsieur," replied the heroic cook, embracing the physician, "mon
metier est de faire manger le Roi, le votre de lui en oter les suites.
Faisons chacun le notre!"
Before I left Brighton I was forced to be present at a musical
< soiree,' one of the severest trials to which foreigners in England
are exposed. Every mother who has grown-up daughters, for whom
she has had to pay large sums to the music-master, chooses to enjoy
the satisfaction of having the youthful ' talent' admired. There is
nothing therefore but quavering and strumming right and left, so
that one is really overpowered and unhappy: and even if an English
woman has the power of singing, she has scarcely ever either science
or manner. The men are much more agreeable ' dilettanti,' for
they, at least, give one the diversion of a comical farce. That a man
should advance to the piano-forte with far greater confidence than a
* The account of the intermediate days has been suppressed. — Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 145
David, strike with his forefinger the note he thinks his song should
begin with, and then ' entonner,' like a thunder-clap, (generally a
note or two lower than the pitch,) and sing through a long 'aria'
without rest or pause, and without accompaniment of any sort, ex
cept the most wonderful distortions of face, — is a thing one must
have seen to believe it possible, especially in the presence of at least
fifty people. Sometimes the thing is heightened by their making
choice of Italian songs; and, in their total ignorance ol the language,
roaring out words which, if they were understood by the ladies,
would force them to leave the room. It did not appear to me that
people constrained themselves much in laughing on these occasions:
but such vocalists are far too well established in their own opinion
to be disturbed by that ; — once let loose upon society, they are ex
tremely hard to call off again.
London, Feb. 11th.
I am once more in Albemarle Street, and after my long absence
I yesterday paid no fewer than twenty-two visits; dined at a Club
dinner;* went to a ball at the house of the above-mentioned fair
Napoleonist, and closed the day with a ' soiree' at Mrs. Hope's, a
very fashionable and pretty woman, wife of the author of Anasta
sius. To-day I visited ' in another quarter' two Chinese ladies who also
receive company here, and in a very original style too, — only one
must pay one's ' entree.' Even from the very staircase everything
is arranged as if in China itself; and when you enter, and see the la
dies reclining, with outstretched feet five inches in length, under an
illumination of paper lanterns, you may almost fancy yourself in
Canton. They claim to be of high descent, — to which their feet
bear witness ; for the lower classes, of course, have not this distin
guishing mark. The small-footed women have so little centripedal
power, that they can hardly totter from one ottoman to another with
out a stick.
I am a passionate admirer of small feet in women; but these are
too small, and horrible to behold naked: the toes, doubled under
from infancy, are literally grown into the sole. This practice is
nearly as absurd as the stays of our ladies, though perhaps not quite
so injurious to the health.
I bought a new pair of shoes of these princesses, which I made
them try on before my eyes. I send them you, together with seve
ral other Chinesiana, silk hangings, pictures, &c; among others, por
traits of the Emperor and Empress. The good creatures seem to
me, spite of their quality, to have brought a complete warehouse
with them, for the moment a thing is sold it is replaced by another.
Though they have been for some time in England, they have not
learned a single word of English. Their own language appeared to
me very heavy and dragging ; and their faces were, to a European
taste, more than ugly.
* A note explanatory of this word is omitted, as unnecessary in England. — Trass.
19

146 LETTERS ON GERMANY, February 18th.
The Italian Opera has commenced, — the only theatre ' du bel air,'
except the French Play. As people cannot appear there but ' en
toilette,' even in the pit, the effect is very brilliant. The opera
however was bad, orchestra as well as singers, and the ballet like
wise. The lighting of the theatre is better adapted for being seen
than for seeing: in front of every box hangs a chandelier, which
dazzles one very offensively, and throws the actors into the shade.
The opera lasts till one o'clock, so that you have ample time to visit
it without giving up other engagements. The ' trouble' has now
begun in good earnest; one seldom gets home before three or four
o'clock in the morning: and a man who chooses to be very 'repan
du' — which the exclusives indeed do not, but which is amusing to a
foreigner — may very well accept a dozen invitations for every even
The great world is consequently not alive before two o'clock in
the afternoon. The Park hours are from four till six, when the la
dies drive about by thousands in their elegant equipages and morn
ing dresses, and the gentlemen on their beautiful horses ' voltigent'
about from flower to flower, displaying all the grace Heaven has be
stowed upon them. Almost all Englishmen, however, look well
on horseback, and ride better and more naturally than our riding-
masters, who certainly understand admirably, when they are on a
horse trained to every sort of pace and speed, how to sit like a
clothes-peg on a linen-line.
The green turf of the Park swarms with riders, who can ride
faster there than in the ' corso.' Among them are many ladies, who
manage their horses as skilfully and steadily as the men.
But Miss Sally is now led out before my door, and snorts impa
tiently on the macadamized pavement. My letter is long enough: —
a thousand greetings to all who are good enough to remember me,
and the most affectionate farewell to you ! Your Friend L  .

LETTER XIV.
London, March 25th.
Dearest and best.
It would be too tiresome if I sent you a daily list of the parties I
go to: I shall only mention them when anything strikes me as re
markable; and perhaps hereafter, if I feel the inclination and the
power, I shall give you a general 'appercu' of the whole. The tech
nical part of social life — the arrangements for physical comfort and
entertainment — is well understood here. The most distinguished
specimen of this is the house of the Duke of D  , a king of fa
shion and elegance.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 147
Very few persons of rank have what we, on the Continent, call a
palace, in London. Their palaces, their luxury and their grandeur,
are to be seen in the country. The Duke of D  is an excep
tion ; — his palace in town displays great taste and richness, and a
numerous collection of works of art. The company is always the
most select ; and though here, as everywhere, too numerous, is renr
dered less oppressive by the number of rooms: still it is too much
like a crowd at a fair. The concerts at D  House, particular
ly, are very fine entertainments, where only the very first talent to
be found in the metropolis is engaged, and where perfect order com
bined with boundless profusion reigns throughout. Among other
things, the arrangement of the suppers and 'buffets,' which are ex
cellent in such crowded parties, is most recommendable. In a se
parate room is a long table, with the most delicate and choice re
freshments of every kind, so placed that it is accessible to the guests
only on one side. Behind it stand maid-servants, in a uniform of
white gowns and black aprons, who give everybody what he asks
for, and have room enough to do their ministering conveniently: be
hind them is a door communicating with the ' offices,' through which
everything needful is handed to them without disturbance to the
company; — the disagreeable procession of troops of men-servants
balancing great trays and pushing about the ' salons' with them, al
ways in danger of discharging their contents, cold or warm, into the
laps or pockets of the company, is thus avoided.
The supper is served at a later hour, by male attendants, in another
room, which communicates with the kitchen. The waiting is far
better, with much fewer people, than on the Continent, and accom
plished without the least confusion.
I must observe, by the by, as to 'bonne chere,' that the very best
in the world is lo be found at the first tables in London: they have
the best French cooks and the best Italian confectioners, for the very
simple reason that they pay them best. I am told there are cooks
who receive twelve hundred a year here; — to merit, its crown!
Sometimes, after concert and supper, at two in the morning dan
cing begins, and one drives home by sunlight. This suits me admi
rably, for you know I always had the taste of Minerva's bird. In
such a night-morning I often enjoy a drive in the Park; for, thank
Heaven! Spring is visibly coming, and the tender green of the
young leaves and the pink almond blossoms peep forth over the gar
den-walls and amid the dark net-work of the swelling branches.
March 26th.
I devoted this morning to an excursion to Deptfbrd, to see Captain
Parry's ship the Hecla, which is to sail in a few days for the North
Pole. Whether she will reach it, is another matter: I wish it may
not fare with Parry as with poor Count Zambeccari, who to this
hour is not returned from his last aerial voyage.
Captain Parry did the honours of his singular vessel with great
politeness; his air and manner perfectly bespeak the frank, deter
mined, gallant seaman he is known to be. Some curiously formed
boats, which were likewise to serve as sledges, lay on the deck.

148 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
The ship herself has double sides, filled with cork, to keep in the
heat; she is also warmed by ' conduits de chaleur.' The provisions
consist of the strongest extracts; so that a whole ox in his quintes
sence can be put in a man's coat-pocket, like the stereotype editions
of the ' chef d'ceuvres' of the whole literature of England in one vo
lume. All the officers seemed picked men. I found Captain Ross,
who has accompanied Captain Parry in all his voyages, a very po
lished and agreeable man. The ship was thronged with visitors,
climbing in a continual stream up the rope-ladder. It was impossi
ble to look without intense interest on a crew who were going to
confront such toils and dangers, in the light-hearted and enterpris
ing spirit of their class, solely for the advancement of science and
the satisfaction of a noble curiosity.
I was invited to dine in barracks by a Major of the Horse Guards.
There is a most advantageous custom prevalent throughout the
English army, — I mean the so-called ' Mess.' Each regiment has
its common table, to which everyefficer is bound to contribute a cer
tain sum, whether he choose to avail himself of it or not. By this
he is entitled to the privilege of dining at it daily, and of bringing
an occasional guest according to some established regulations. A
committee superintends the economical part. Each officer presides
at table in turn, from the colonel down to the youngest lieutenant,
and is invested, so long as he is ' en fonction,' with the requisite
authority. The 'ton' of the officers is excellent; far more 'gentle
man-like' than that commonly to be found on the Continent; at least
so I am bound to conclude from this sample. Although the strictest
subordination prevails in service, yet when that is over, they meet
as gentlemen, so entirely on an equality, that it were impossible for
a stranger to discover from their deportment the superior from the
subordinate officers. The table was admirably served. There was
not wanting either an elegant service of plate, or champagne, claret,
or any of the requisites of luxury. The dinner was followed by no
excess; and the conversation, though perfectly unconstrained and
cheerful, was confined within the bounds of decorum and good
breeding. To crown all, the whole did not last too long; so that I
had still time to pay some visits at the Opera, which is convenient
enough for that purpose. March 28th.
In most companies pretty high play is the order of the day, and
the ladies are the most eager players. The crowding to the ' ecarte'
table, which is almost out of fashion at Paris, is incessant; and the
white arms of the English beauties appear to great advantage on the
table-covers of black velvet embroidered with gold. But if their
arms are dangerous, their hands are still more so, ' ear les vieilles
surtout trichent impitoyablement' There are some old maids
whom one meets in the first society who make a regular trade of
play, so that they carry off fifty pounds at a stroke without changing
a feature. They have small parties at their own houses, which are
as like ' tripots' as possible.
In no country can the admirer of ' le moyen age,' ' fair, fat and

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 149

forty,' meet more women in high preservation than in England.
Even still more mature years do not obliterate all pretensions.

I closed my day with reading and whist at the Club. My party
was most curiously composed; — the Portuguese Ambassador, who
is strikingly like Napoleon; a Neapolitan ex-minister, brought
hither by the failure of the revolution ; the Frenchman whom I de
scribed to you at Brighton; and my German insignificance, who
however this time gained the victory ; for I won eight rubbers and
two 'Monkeys.' What is a 'Monkey?' you ask. Fashion has
given strange names to the markers. One for twenty-five pounds is
called a Poney; and one for fifty, a 'Monkey.' April 3rd.
You are accustomed to follow me from the palace to the cottage,
and from the decorated room to more beautiful nature. To-day I
must introduce you to my dentist, the celebrated Mr. Cartwright.
This gentleman is said to make ten thousand a year by his profession,
and exercises it in the most ' grandiose' style. In the first place he
goes to no one, excepting the King: every subject, male or female,
must wait on him. But this is not all; — you must announce your
self a week or fortnight beforehand, and solicit an audience: you
then receive a card containing the following answer: —
" Mr. Cartwright will have the pleasure of receiving N 
N  on such a day and such hour."
You appear at the appointed time, and are ushered into an elegant
room, where a piano-forte, prints, books and other helps to pass time
are placed ; a very necessary attention, as you often have to wait an
hour or more.
When I entered, I found the Duchess of Montrose and Lady Mel
ville and her daughters, who were called away ' gradatim,' so that
at length my turn came.
When you have once reached this point, you find indeed infinite
reason to be satisfied ; for Mr. Cartwright is the most skilful and
scientific man of his profession I ever met with, — perfectly devoid
of all trace of ' charlatanerie,' which the difficulty of access might
lead you to anticipate. He has also a settled price, and not an exor
bitant one, — 'mais c'est un Grand Seigneur dentiste.'
In the evening, after wandering to four or five places in search of
something interesting, I at last fixed myself at Lady  's, where
I was riveted by the conversation of a Captain  , a half-German
who is just returned from the East, and gave a very interesting
account of his travels. Among other things he told me the follow
ing strange anecdotes of Lady Hester Stanhope, a niece of Pitt's,
who left England many years ago, turned Arab, and has established
herself in Syria.
She is now honoured by the Arabs as a prophet, lives with all
the state of a native princess, and seldom allows Europeans to see
her. After a great deal of trouble Captain  gained access to her.

150 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
The first thing she required was his promise that he would not
write anything about her. This vow being made, (luekily I am
bound by none such,) she was cheerful and conversable, and talked
with equal ease and cleverness. She made it no secret that she had
renounced the Christian faith, and at the same time that she still
looked for the appearing of the true Son of God, before whom she
was appointed to prepare the way. Hereupon she showed the Cap
tain a noble Arab mare, which had a curious bony excrescence on
the back exactly in the form of a saddle. " This horse," said she,
— with a look of which Captain  declared he was still in doubt
whether to ascribe to madness or to a desire to hoax him, — " This
horse God has saddled for his own Son, and wo to the man who
shall dare to mount it! Under my protection it awaits its true mas
ter." She afterwards assured him, ' en passant,' that Adam was still liv
ing, and that she knew perfectly the place of his concealment, but
would not reveal it.
The lady of the house listened to his narration, and assured him
that Lady Hester had been only ' quizzing' him ; for that she had
known her well, and that never had woman a clearer, more deter
mined, and at the same time more astute mind. For a person of
such a character, she has made a good exchange in renouncing West
ern for Eastern life. She rules; she is free as bird in air; while in
the centre of civilization she would never have been able to subtract
herself from the slavery which must ever remain, more or less, the
dark side of civilized life. April 4 th.
Sir Alexander Johnston, a great Orientalist, but in another sense
of the word, invited me to dinner, and seasoned the repast by his
intelligent and learned conversation. He has effected many import
ant things in his department; but we, dear Julia, are both of us too
ignorant on the subject for me to attempt to give you any account of
them. One thing however will interest you. He told me of a cache-
mir shawl of Tippoo Saib's, embroidered in gold, and silks of all
colours, ten ells long and worth a thousand pounds — a thing well
calculated to set a female imagination on fire. April 6 th.
Can you tell me why all objects reflected by art give us only plea
sure, whereas all realities have at least one defective side ? We see
the torments of Laocoon in marble with undisturbed delight,* while
the actual scene would excite simply horror. A Dutch fish-market,
represented with perfect fidelity by a humorous painter, charms us,
and our pleasure increases as we follow out the details; in the real
market, we should pass along rapidly with averted eyes and nose.
The joys and sorrows of the hero of a poem or work of imagination
* This is quite contrary to what the author has himself remarked on the picture
of Seneca, and contrary I think to the fact. — Transl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 151
affect us in like manner with deep pleasure, while we feel only pain
at actual sufferings, and actual joys ever appear incomplete and im
perfect Even happiness, supposing it to be attained, always brings
with it the bitter thought, How long will it last? Well, therefore,
does Schiller say, " Ernst is das Leben, heiter ist die Kunst." (Se
rious, or stern, is life, cheerful is art.) Art alone, — the creation of
fancy, — procures unmingled pleasure; and therefore let us, dear
Julia, never cease to rejoice that an active creative fancy is stir
ring within us, and sometimes procures us enjoyments which reality
cannot bestow. Shall I then prepare for myself such an innocent
festival, and fly across the sea to you? we have been but too long
asunder. How beautiful does everything appear to me! It is spring; — the
violets send forth enchanting fragrance after the heavy shower;
swallows are twittering in the air, and pretty little water-wagtails
are running merrily round the lake. And now the sun breaks from
behind the last lingering dark cloud, in all his majesty, and draws
strange characters on the distant mountains. The old limetrees
around us gleam like emeralds; gay butterflies try their light wings,
and frolic, as if drunk with joy, over the grassy carpet. Bees hum
busily around the thousand fresh flowers, and green beetles glitter
in the sunlight. But now a splendid bow arises out of the west,
spans the blue sky above the castle, and sinks on the black pine-
forest Now is the cheerful white-covered table set, and decked
with polished utensils. The juicy fruits of the hot-house, hyacin-
thine Xeres in crystal cups, and champagne covered with thick mist
from the ice, await the guests: — and see who advances slowly and
gravely among the shrubs, with that dignified air?
Ah, it is you, dear Julia, I exclaim enraptured — fly towards you,
0.nA ****** * * * * *
Thus does fancy paint. What however in reality unhinges me is,
that it is a long time since I had a letter from you, and I really want
one to restore my nerves. But I must dress for a couple of ' Russian
steam balls' as they ought to be called. April 1th.
As the Lord Mayor has invited me to his great dinner, I rode
into the city this morning to call on him: this is rather a perilous
enterprise, with a fidgetty horse. Once I got so entangled in the
crowd, that I was absolutely forced to turn my horse on the ' trot-
toir.' This the people regarded as an invasion of their rights; and
not observing that necessity drove me thither, began to abuse me,
and some to strike my horse: a huge gigantic carter held up his fist
and challenged me to box with him: as however I felt no inclination
to make this practical application of the lessons I have taken in the
' noble art of self-defence,' I pressed forward to a small gap which
happily offered itself, and made my escape.
I dined with Count Miinster, a noble representative of Germany,
who has endeavoured as far as possible to preserve German simpli
city in his household. Everybody knows his distinguished qualities

152 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
as a statesman: he is not less remarkable for his agreeable manners
and talents in social and domestic life.
Since his residence in England, he has designed and painted the
decorations for his castle in the Harz, with great taste and skill; and
his wife's paintings on glass are very beautiful: in a few years all the
windows of the castle chapel will be adorned with her own works.
The German housewife however is no mere modern bel-esprit, or
artist, but, like one of the knightly dames who are the subjects of her
pencil, she takes care to have excellent beer brewed in her own
house: — she gave me some, which I drank with all the gratitude of a
guest in the hall of Valhalla.
In the evening a great fete at Lord Hertford's, with concert, ball,
French play, &c, assembled the fashionable and half-fashionable
world* in a magnificent and tastefully furnished house. The singu
larity in it is, that all the rooms are decorated in the same manner,
— flesh-coloured stucco and gold, with black bronze, very large
looking-glasses, and curtains of crimson and white silk. This uni
formity produces a very ' grandiose' effect. One room alone (of
extraordinary size for London) is white and gold, carpeted with scar
let cloth, and with furniture and curtains of the same colour.
The company, ' c'est a dire la foule,' was not more vivacious
than usual, and the whole affair ' magnifiquement ennuyeux.'
Another house worth seeing is that of 'the great banker  ,
especially on account of the fine collection of pictures. Here is also
that triumph of modern sculpture, Thorwaldson's Jason, and some
valuable antiques. On a sort of terrace on part of the house are
hanging-gardens; and though the shrubs have only three feet of
earth, they grow very luxuriantly.
The lady of the gardens is however no Semiramis; 'il s'en faut,'
whatever she may think * '* *
I could not help comparing her with her far more wealthy rival Ma
dame R  , and remarking how far the Jewish golden queen sur
passed the Christian one in cordial amiability and external dignity
and good-breeding. April 8th.
What contributes much to the ' dullness ' of English society, is
the haughty aversion which Englishmen (note well that I mean in
their own country, for 'abroad' they are ready enough to make
advances) show to addressing an unknown person; if he should ven
ture to address them, they receive it with the air of an insult. They
sometimes laugh at themselves for this singular incivility, but no
one makes the least attempt to act differently when an opportunity
offers. There is a story that a lady saw a man fall into the water, and
earnestly entreated the dandy who accompanied her, and who was a
notoriously good swimmer, to save his life. Pier friend raised his
• As there are quarter, half, three-quarter, and whole blood horses in England,
just so, and into even more subtle distmctions, is the fashionable world divided.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 153
' lorgnette' with the phlegm indispensable to a man of fashion, looked
earnestly at the drowning man, whose head rose for the last time,
and calmly replied, " It's impossible, Madam, I never was intro
duced to that gentleman."
I made the acquaintance of a man of very different manners this
evening ; the Persian Charge d' Affaires, an Asiatic of very pleasant
address, and whose splendid costume and black beard were only de
formed, in my eyes, by the Persian peaked cap of black sheepskin.
He speaks very good English, and made very acute observations on
European society. Among other things he said, that though in
many respects we were much further advanced than they, yet that
all their views of existence were of a firmer and more composed cha
racter; that every man reconciled himself to his lot; whereas he re
marked here an incessant fermentation, an everlasting discontent,
both of masses and of individuals; nay, he confessed that he felt him
self infected by it, and should have great trouble, on his return to
Persia, to fall back into that old happy track, in which a man who is
unfortunate consoles himself, exclaiming " Whose dog am I then,
to want to be happy?"
This indeed furnishes ample matter for reflection to the pursuers
of the ideal, to which secret association I, alas! belong.
A ball at Mrs. Hope's was very splendid, ' mais c'est toujours la
meme chose.' In a party to which I went before this, I was pre
sented to the Duke of Gloucester. I only mention the fact for the
sake of remarking, that the English Princes of the Blood observe a
much more courteous sort of etiquette than most of those on the
Continent: the Duke, who was playing whist, rose from the table,
and did not sit down again till our short conversation was ended.
But let me go back for a moment to the beginning of the day.
The gardens of the neighbourhood are now in full bloom, the
weather is fine, and my ride this morning brought me about thirty
miles from town. In variety and richness the suburbs of London
surpass those of any other capital; which here and there display
natural beauties, but never that exquisite mixture of nature and the
highest cultivation, — never at least in any considerable masses.
I should have gladly ridden further and further, and returned at
length with great regret. * The meadows around me were so luxu
riant, that it was only at a distance they looked green; when you
were near them they were embroidered with blue, yellow, red, and
lilac, like a carpet of Tcurnay. The cows were wading up to their
bellies in the gay flowers, or resting under the shadow of huge
domes of foliage, impenetrable to every ray of sun. It was magni
ficent, and adorned with a richness which art can never reach. In
an hour's riding I reached a hill where the ruins of a church stood in
the midst of a- garden. The sun darted its rays from behind a cloud
athwart the whole sky, like a huge torch, the centre of which rested
directly on the metropolis of the world, — the immeasurable Babel
which lay outstretched with its thousand towers, and its hundred
thousand sins, its fog and smoke, its treasures and its misery, further
than the eye could reach. It was in vain! I must plunge into it
20

154 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
again, fromt he spring and its bursting blossoms, from the green
meadows — again into the macadamized slough, — into the everlasting
dead monotony, — into dinners and routs.
Accept my farewell — my next letter will go on to tell what be
came of Daniel in the lion's den.
Your faithful friend L  .

LETTER XV.
London, April 15th, 1821.
Dearest Friend,
At length the long-desired letter is arrived, and another in its
company. Why was it so long on the road? — ¦' Quien sabbe?' as the
South Americans say. Probably the official reader was lazy, and let
it lie by him some time before he would take the trouble to re-seal it
dexterously. But, dear Julia, how pretty and tender is your poem, — a new
talent, which I never discovered in you before. Yes, may God
grant that " all your tears may turn to flowers, to adorn us and refresh
us with their fragrance!" and that this beautiful and loving prophecy
may soon be fulfilled ! And yet the fairest flowers would be too dearly
bought, for me, at that price. tYoiir tears at least ought not to flow
to produce them. ,- yy
What you say of H  , " ^qiu'il se sent miserable parcequ'il n'est
fier que par orgueil et liberal q'ue^ar bassesse" is striking, and will
unfortunately suit too many liberals.
I wrote to you on the occasion in question, that you should think
only of yourself; and you reply, that I am yourself. Best and kind
est! yes, one self we will remain wherever we may be; and had men
guardian spirits, ours must act in common: but here we have no
other tutelary genius than that moral strength which Heaven has
given us.
And is it really so melancholy in M  ? You tell me of storms
and torrents of rain that threaten destruction. But a fortnight has
passed since that was written — before this reaches you it will be a
month. I shall hope therefore that you. are reading it in the midst
of the green spring, with everything blooming around you, and with
the zephyr fanning you instead of the furious wind. I told my old
B  dt that there were terrible storms in M  . " Ja, ja," replied
he, "those are the Brighton ones." If you had known that, dearest
Julia, you would have thought them more agreeable, for they would
have brought you the latest news of your friend. I beg you to give
my most sincere and heartfelt thanks to our honoured Premier.
Were all of his class like him, how much more popular would Go
vernments be! Were all Ministers as high-minded and as upright,
how would the universal discontent be diminished! and how much
more free and independent would they themselves be of those many
weights which drag them down, just when it is most necessary they
should soar!

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 155
All goes on here as usual. This evening, a splendid fete at Lord
H  's closed the Easter festivities. Most fashionable people now
make another short stay in the country, and in a fortnight hence the
season proper begins. I am going back to Brighton for a few days,
but shall wait for the Lord Mayor's dinner. April 16th.
This took place to-day in Guildhall; and now that I have recovered
from the fatigue, I am extremely glad I went.
It lasted full six hours, and six hundred people were present.
The tables were set parallel from the top to the bottom of the hall,
with the exception of one which was placed across it, at the top.
At this the Lord Mayor himself and his most distinguished guests
were seated. The ' coup d'ceil' from hence was imposing; — the vast
hall and its lofty columns, the tables extending further than the eye
could reach, and the huge mirrors behind them, so that they seemed
prolonged to infinity. The brilliant illumination turned night into
day; and two bands of music, in a balcony at the end of the hall
opposite to us, played during the toasts, which were all of a national
character. The Lord Mayor made six-and-twenty speeches, long
and short, well and truly counted. A foreign diplomate also ven
tured upon one, but with very bad success, and had it not been for
the good-nature of the audience, 'who called out 'Hear, hear!' every
time he was at fault, till he had collected himself again, he must have
stuck fast, and so remained.
At' every toast which the Lord Mayor gave, a sort of master of
the ceremonies decorated with a silver chain, who stood behind his
chair, called aloud, 'My lords and gentlemen, fill your glasses!' The
ladies were frightfully dressed, and with a ' tournure' to match. I
was seated next to an American, the niece of a former President of
the United States, as she told me, — but I really forget which. It is
to be presumed that her red hair and Albino complexion are not
common among her countrywomen, or their beauty would not be so
celebrated. Her conversation, however, was very clever, and had
something of the humour of Washington Irving.
At twelve o'clock the ball began. It must have been curious
enough, from the motley character of the company: I was, however,
so tired with sitting six mortal hours at dinner, in full uniform,
that I drove home as fast as I could, and for once went to bed at
midnight. Brighton, April 11th.
In this morning's paper we read the speech of the diplomate I
mentioned to you: — N. B. not what it was, but what it ought to have
been, — which is often the case.
Immediately after breakfast I drove out with Count D  , a very
merry, amusing Dane, and spent the evening at Lady  's, where
I met many of the persons I had seen here before: and Lady  ,
whom you remember at Paris as the object of the Duke of Welling
ton's adorations.

156 LETTERS ON GERMANY>
A propos of him, — do you read the newspapers? Here is a great
crisis in the political world. Canning's appointment as Premier has
given such offence to the other Ministers, that seven have resigned,
and only three remain in place. It is said that the party will find
it difficult to go on without some of them, — for instance, Lord Mel
ville. The Duke of Wellington also loses considerably by the change.
He who was all in all, is now declared, with the usual exaggeration
of party spirit, " politically dead." There is, however, something
magnanimous in thus sacrificing all one's personal views to one's
opinions. Caricatures rain upon the defeated, and some of them are
very witty. The old Lord Chancellor Eldon, who is very unpopular,
is particularly ill-treated. So is Earl W  , a singular old man, who
has the most preposterous aristocratical haughtiness, looks like a
mummy, and spite of his eighty years, is daily to be seen crossing
St. James's park on a fast-trotting horse, with the velocity of a bird.
Brighton, April 20th.
To-day I have had full experience how dangerous the fogs here
may beeome. I had not thought of this in London, where the
scenes they occasion are generally only ludicrous.
An acquaintance had lent me his hunter, as I had left mine in
London, and I determined to ride, in a direction as yet unknown to
me, towards what is called the Devil's Dyke. I had already ridden
some miles over the smooth turf, when suddenly the air was ob
scured, and in a few minutes I could not see ten steps before me.
Thus it remained; nor did there appear the least hope of its clear
ing. I passed an hour in riding to and fro in search of a tracked
road; — my light clothing was soaked through, the air ice-cold, and
had night overtaken me, the prospect was not the most agreeable.
In this extremity, wholly unacquainted with the country, it happily
occurred to me to give my old horse, who had often hunted over
these downs, completely his own way. In a few paces after he felt
himself perfectly free he turned short about, and set off at a pretty
brisk gallop directly down the hill upon which I was. I took good
care not to disturb him, spite of the obscurity around me, even when
he broke through a field of high prickly broom and furze, over which
he leapt like a hare. A few inconsiderable hedges and ditches of
course retarded him still less ; and after half an hour's pretty hard
running, the good beast brought me safely to the entrance of Brighton,
though on the opposite side to that from which I had set out. I was
heartily glad to get off so well, and seriously determined to be more
prudent in this land of fog for the future.
I generally spend my evenings at Lady K  's or Mrs, F  's,
and play ecarte and whist with the men, or loo with the young ladies.
These small circles are much more agreeable than the great parties
of the metropolis. There, every art is understood but the art of
society. Thus, for instance, musicians, artists, poets, and men of
talent generally, are invited merely as fashionable decorations; to
live, with them, to extract enjoyment from their conversation, or
from their genius, is a thing utterly unknown. All real cultivation

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND- 157
has a political character and tendency; party spirit, and the fashion
able spirit of caste pervade all society. Plence arises not only a uni
versal ' deeousu,' but a rigorous division of the several elements;
which, combined with the naturally unsocial temper of Englishmen,
must render a residence among them unpleasant to every foreigner,
unless he either has access to the most intimate family circles, or can
take a lively interest in political affairs.
The happiest and the most respectable class in England is, with
out all doubt, the middle class, whose political activity is confined
to the improvement of their own immediate province, and among
whom tolerably just views and principles generally prevail. People
of this unfashionable class are also the only truly hospitable, and are
wholly devoid of the arrogant airs so disgusting in their superiors.
They do not run after a foreigner; but if he comes in their way,
they treat him with kindness and sympathy. They love their
country passionately, but without any view to personal interest, —
without hope of sinecures, or intrigue for place. They are often
ridiculous, but always deserving of respect, and their national ego
tism is restricted within more reasonable bounds than that of their
superiors. It may now be said with equal truth of England as it formerly was
of France, ' que les deux bouts du fruit sont gates,' — the aristocracy
and the mob. The former unquestionably holds a most noble sta
tion: but without great moderation, without great concessions
made to reason and to the spirit of the times, they will perhaps
not occupy this station half a century longer. I once said as much
to Prince E  ; he laughed in my face, — ' mais nous verrons.'
I send you a few excerpts from 'the newspapers, to give you an
idea of the freedom of the press.
1st. "Every ship in the Navy ought to hoist her colours; for
Lord Melville was an incubus that weighed down the service. Me
ritorious officers may now have a chance, — under Lord Melville
they had none."
2nd. " We hear from good authority that the Great Captain takes
extraordinary pains to get into the Cabinet again, but in vain. This
spoiled child of fortune ought not to have imagined that his resig
nation could for a moment have embarrassed the Government We
believe^ however, that he is not the only ex-Minister who already
bitterly repents his folly and arrogance."
3rd. " The Ministerial Septemvirate who wanted to extort power,
are much indebted to Mr. Hume's new Act. According to the old
law, servants who tried to extort higher wages from their masters
were very properly sent to the tread-mill. "
4th. " We are assured that a great Septemvir has offered to re-en
ter the service, on condition that he be made Directing' Minister,
Grand Constable, and Archbishop of Canterbury."
Our Ministers would stare not a little if our blotting-paper jour
nals were to make as free with them.
To-mori'ow I return to town: for as the Romans formerly called
Rome "the city," so do the English call London "town."

158 LETTERS ON GERMANY, London, April 22nd.
I arrived just in time to be present at a dinner-party at the new
Premier's, to which I received an invitation in Brighton.
This distinguished man is as remarkable for the grace and charm
with which he does the honours of his house, as for the eloquence
with which he carries away his auditors. 'Bel esprit' and states
man by turns, he wants nothing but better health: he seemed to me
very unwell and suffering. Mrs. Canning is also a very intelligent
woman. I have been assured that she holds the newspaper depart
ment, i. e. that she reads them, and informs her husband of all the
important matter they contain ; nay, even that she has occasionally
written articles herself.
A concert at Countess  's was very fully attended. Galli
and Pasta, who are arrived, and will greatly raise the state of the
Opera, sang. The rooms were choke-full, and several young men
lay on the carpet at the feet of their ladies, with their heads luxuri
ously reclined against the cushions of the sofas on which their fair
ones were seated. This Turkish fashion is really very delightful;
and I wonder extremely that C  did not introduce it in Berlin,
and, deposit himself for once at the feet of one of the ladies in wait
ing. The Berliners would have thought this ' charmant' (as they
call it) in the English ambassador. April 25th.
After a long interval I re-visited the theatre. I was in good luck,
for Liston acted |' a mourir derire,' in a little farce the scene of
which is laid in Paris in the time of Louis the Fifteenth. A rich
English merchant, tormented by the spleen, goes to that city for
amusement. Scarcely is he fairly settled in his hotel when the min
ister of police is announced, and presently enters, admirably dress
ed in the costume of the time. He discloses to the astonished citi
zen that the police is on the track of a notorious gang of thieves,
who, suspecting that he had a great deal of money with him, had
laid a plan to break into his house that night, and to rob and murder
him. The minister adds, that every thing now depends on his own
behaviour; that if he shows the slightest consciousness, if he appears
less cheerful than usual, or does any thing unwonted betraying
anxiety, he will probably hasten the proceedings of the robbers, and
in that case that the police could not be answerable for his safety —
indeed that his life would probably be in the greatest danger, for
that it was not sure that the people of the house were not in the plot;
— he must therefore go to bed at ten o'clock as usual, and let mat
ters take their course.
Mr. Jackson, more dead than alive at this intelligence, wants in
stantly to leave the house. But the minister gravely replies that
this can by no means be suffered, and would be no security to him ;
for that the robbers would discover his new residence, and then
make more sure of their prey. "Make yourself perfectly easy,"
concludes Monsieur de Sartines, " all will be well if you do but put
a good face upon the affair."

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 159
You may easily imagine what ludicrous scenes are produced by
the continual efforts of the old merchant to conceal the horrible
fright he is in. Meanwhile his servant, a true Englishman, always
thirsty, finds some wine in a closet and eagerly drinks it. It turns
out to be antimonial wine, and in a few minutes he is seized with
violent sickness; his master instantly concludes that the plan is to
poison, instead of shooting or stabbing him. At this moment the
hostess comes in with a cup of chocolate. In a transport of rage
and terror, Liston seizes her by the throat, and forces her to drink
the chocolate; which, after some surprise at the oddness of English
manners, she very willingly does. Liston's by-play during this, and
the manner in which, suddenly recollecting his promise, he bursts
into a convulsive laugh, and tries to turn it off as a jest, is unspeak
ably droll. At length ten o'clock arrives; and after many burlesque
incidents Mr. Jackson goes to bed in his velvet breeches, lays a
sword and pistols by his side, and draws the curtains quite close. It
unfortunately happens that the daughter of the host has a love-affair,
and had given her lover ' rendezvous' in this very room before the
stranger had engaged the lodging. To avoid discovery she glides
softly in, puts out the light cautiously, and goes to the window, at
which her lover is already climbing in. As soon as he springs into
the middle of the room and begins to speak, groans of terror are
heard from the bed: first one pistol falls down with a clatter, then
another; the curtain opens; Liston makes a feeble thrust with the
sword, which falls from his trembling hand, throws himself out of
bed, and in his curious costume falls on his knees before the girl,
who is as terrified as himself, and piteously implores mercy, while
the lover slily conceals himself behind the bed. The door is thrown
open, and the minister of police enters with torches to inform the
trembling Jackson that the band of robbers is taken; and adds, with
a smile, as he looks at the group, " 1 congratulate you that you have
found so agreeable a way of passing the time." April 26 th.
A strange place I have visited to-day! A church called the Areo
pagus, in which a clergyman, the Rev. Robert Taylor, preaches
against Christianity, and permits any one publicly to oppose him.
He has retained only one thing of the Anglo-Christian church — to
make you pay a shilling for your seat. Mr. Taylor has some learn
ing, and is no bad speaker, but as passionate a fanatic for the destruc
tion of Christianity as some others are for its support. He says strong
things — sometimes true, often false; sometimes witty, and sometimes
utterly indecorous. The place was thronged with hearers of all
classes. — In a nation which is at so very low a point of religious
education, it is easy to understand that a negative apostle of this
sort may attract a great concourse. In Germany, where the people
are far advanced in the rational path of gradual reform, an under
taking of the kind would fill some with pious horror, would attract
nobody, and would justly disgust all; — even if the police did not
render such an exhibition impossible.

160 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
The first Almack's ball took place this evening; and from all I
had heard of this celebrated assembly, I was really curious to see it:
but never were my expectations so disappointed. It was not much
better than at Brighton. A large bare room, with a. bad floor, and
ropes around it, like the space in an Arab eamp parted off for the
horses; two or three small naked rooms at the side, in which were
served the most wretched refreshments; and a company into which,
spite of the immense difficulty of getting tickets, a great many ' No
bodies' had wriggled; in which the dress was generally as tasteless
as the 'tournure' was bad; — this was all. In a word, a sort of inn-
entertainment: — the music and the lighting the only good things.
And yet Almack's is the culminating point of the English world of
fashion. This overstrained simplicity had, however, originally a motive.
People of real fashion wished to oppose something extremely cheap
to the monstrous ' faste' of the rich ' parvenus;' while the institution
of Lady-patronesses, without whose approbation no one could be ad
mitted, would render it inaccessible to them. Money and bad com
pany (in the aristocratical sense of the word) have however, forced
their way; and the only characteristic which has been retained is
the unseemly place, which is not unlike the ' local' of a shooting
ball in our large towns, and forms a most ludicrous contrast with
the general splendour and luxury of England. May 1st.
At E  's this morning I found Prince S  , who is just come
from the coronation at Moscow by way of Brazil ; (such is the ease
and rapidity of travelling in our times.) For natural beauty, he gave
the preference to the island of Madeira over every country he had
seen. He was but just eight days in coming from thence to Lon
don, which has set me longing to make the excursion as soon as the
season is over.
From four o'clock in the afternoon till ten, I sat in the House of
Commons ; crowded, in horrible heat, most uncomfortably seated ;
and yet with such eager, excited attention, that the six hours passed
like a moment
There is something truly great in such a representative assembly!
This simplicity of exterior; this dignity and experience; this vast
power without, and absence of all pomp within!
The debate this evening was moreover of the highest interest.
Most of the former Ministers have, as you know, resigned; among
them, some of the most influential men in England, and (since Na
poleon's and Bliicher's death) the greatest Commander in Europe.
Canning, the champion of the liberal party, has defeated this Minis
try, and is, spite of all their efforts, become head of the new one,
the formation of which was left to him, according to the usual cus
tom here. But the whole power of the exasperated ultra-aristocracy
and their dependants presses upon him;" and even one of his most
particular friends, a commoner like himself, is among the resigning

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 161
Ministers, and has joined the hostile party. This gentleman (Mr.
Peel) to-day opened the attack, in a long and clever speech, though
full of repetition. It would lead me too far, and greatly exceed the
bounds of a correspondence like ours, were I to go into the details
of the present political questions. My object is only to give ycu an
idea of the tactic with which, on the one side, the leader of the new
Opposition headed the attack, and was followed by several more ob
scure combatants, who planted a stroke here and there; while on the
other, the old Opposition, the Whigs, (who now support the liberal
ministry with all their might,) more skilfully commenced with their
musketry, and reserved the heavy fire of their great gun, Broug
ham. In a magnificent speech which flowed on like a clear stream,
he tried to disarm his opponent; now tortured him with sarcasms;
now taking a higher flight, wrought upon the sensibility, or con
vinced the reason of his hearers. I must attempt to give you a
specimen of this extraordinary piece of eloquence.*
The orator closed with the solemn declaration, that he was per
fectly impartial; — that he could be impartial ; for that it was his fixed
determination never, and on no terms, to accept a place in an Ad
ministration of these kingdoms. t
I had heard and admired Brougham before. No man ever spoke
with greater fluency, — hour after hour, in a clear unbroken stream of
eloquence, — with a fine and distinct organ, — riveting the attention,
— without once halting, or pausing, — without repeating, recalling,
or mistaking a word; defects which frequently deform Mr. Peel's
speeches. Brougham speaks as a good reader reads from a book.
Nevertheless, it seems to me that you perceive only extraordinary
talent, formidable pungent wit, and rare presence of mind: — the
heart-warming power of genius, such as flows from Canning's
tongue, he possesses, in my opinion, in a far lower degree.
Canning, the hero of the day, now rose. — If his predecessor
might be compared to a dexterous and elegant boxer, Canning pre
sented the image of a finished antique gladiator. All was noble, re
fined, simple; — then suddenly, at one splendid point, his eloquence
burst forth like lightning — grand and all-subduing. A kind of lan
guor and weakness, apparently the consequence of his late illness
and of the load of business laid upon him, seemed somewhat to di
minish his energy, but perhaps increased his influence over the
feelings. * 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
Enghsh than that of tlie speaker. — Trans.
" Nicht um Platze zu erlangen, nicht um Reichthumer zu erwerben ja nicht ein-
mal um den Cathohken unsres Landes ihr naturliches und menschhches Recht
wiedergegeben zu sehen, eine Wohlthat, um die ich seit 25 Jahren Gott und die
Nation vergebens anrufe, nicht fiir alles dieses habe ich mich dem neuen Ministerium
angeschlossen, nein, sondern nur, weil, wohin ich mein Auge wende, nach Euro-
pa's civilisirten Staaten, oder nach Amerika's ungeheurem Continent, nach dem
Orient oder Occident, ich uberall die Morgenrothe der Freiheit tagen sehe, — ja, ihr
allein habe ich mich angeschlossen, indem ich dem Manne folge, der ihr Vorfech-
ter zu seyn, eben so wurdig als willig ist!"
t This, we find, was only a figure of speech. — Edit.
21

162 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
His speech was, in every point of view, the most complete, as
well as the most irresistibly persuasive; — the crown and glory of
the debate. Never shall I lose the impression which this, and that
other celebrated speech of his on the affairs of Portugal, made upon
me. Deeply did 1 feel on each of these occasions, that the highest
power man can exercise over his brother man, — the most dazzling
splendour with which he can surround himself, before which that of
the most successful warrior pales like the light of phosphorus in the
sun, — lies in the divine gift of eloquence. Only to the great master
in this godlike art is it given to affect the heart and mind of a whole
nation with that sort of magnetic somnambulism, in which nothing
is possible to it but blind and absolute surrender and following; while
the magic rod of the magnetiser is equally absolute over rage and
gentleness, over war and peace, over tears and smiles.
On the following day the House of Lords was opened under the
same-remarkable circumstances as the House of Commons had been,
though there are no men of talents equal to Brougham, nor, above all,
to Canning. Lord Ellenborough rose first, and said that the late
Ministers were accused of having resigned in consequence of a com
bination, and of having thus been guilty of the great offence of en
deavouring to abridge the constitutional prerogative of the King to
change his Ministers entirely at his own free will. For the preser
vation of their honour he must therefore claim for them to be heard
fully in their own justification. — Here I saw the great Wellington
in a terrible strait. He is no orator, and was compelled, ' bongre,
malgre,' to enter upon his defence, like an accused person. He was
considerably agitated; and this senate of his country, though com
posed of men whom individually, perhaps, he did not care for, ap
peared more imposing to him 'en masse' than Napoleon and his
hundred thousands. There was, however, something touching to
me in seeing the hero of this century in so subdued a situation. He
stammered much, interrupted and involved himself; but at length,
with the help of his party, who at every stumbling-block gave him
time to collect himself by means of noise and cheers (exactly as it
was with the Ambassador's speech at the Lord Mayor's feast,) he
brought the matter tolerably to this conclusion, — that there was
no 'conspiracy.' He occasionally said strong things, — probably
stronger than he meant, for he was evidently not master of his stuff.
Among other things, the following words pleased me extremely. —
" I am a soldier and no orator. I am utterly deficient in the talents
requisite to play a part in this great assembly. I must be more than
mad if I ever entertained the insane thought (of which I am ac
cused) of becoming Prime Minister."* All the Lords who had
* 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 Enghsh nations, and their respective ad
vantages. "Ce qui est beau en Angleterre," said the Duke with evident self-
complacency, " c'est qui ni le rang, ni les richesses, nila faveur ne sauraient elover

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. i63
resigned made their apology in turn, as well as they could. Old Lord
Eldon tried the effect of tears, which he has always at hand on great
occasions; but I did not see that they produced any corresponding
emotion in the audience. He was answered by the new Peer and
Minister, Lord Goderich, formerly Mr. Robinson, for himself and
the Premier, who, being a commoner, cannot appear in the House of
Lords, though he governs England, and is become too illustrious, as
Mr. Canning, to exchange that name for a title.
The new peer's speech was a very good one, but the beginning
excited an universal laugh. True to long habit, he addressed the
speaker of the House as " Sir." He was so ' decontenance' at his
blunder, that he put his hand to his forehead, and remained for a time
speechless; but recovered his self-possession with the help of the
friendly "Hear, hear!"
Lord Holland distinguished himself as usual by sharp and striking
exposition; Lord King by a great deal of wit, not always in the best
taste; Lord Lansdowne by calm, appropriate statement, more re
markable for good sense than for brilliancj'. Lord Grey far excell
ed the rest in dignity of manner, a thing which English orators,
almost without exception, either neglect or cannot acquire. The
want of decorum, remarkable in the lower house, which is like a
dirty coffee-house, and where many of the representatives of the
people lie sprawling on the benches with their hats on, and talking
of all sorts of trifles while their colleagues are speaking, seldom ap
pears here. The place and the deportment are, on the contrary,
suited to the senate of a great nation.
When I question myself as to the total impression of this day, I
must confess that it was at once elevating and melancholy; — the
former when I fancied myself an Englishman, the latter when I felt
that I was a German.
This twofold senate of the People of England, spite of all the de
fects and blemishes common to human nature which are blended in
its composition, is yet something in the highest degree grand; and
in contemplating its power and operation thus near at hand, one be
gins to understand why it is that the English nation is, as yet, the
first on the face of the earth.
May 3d.
To-day, for a change, you shall follow me from the serious busi
ness of Parliament to the theatre.
The piece was a mere spectacle: — dramatic exhibitions of that sort
are more beautifully and skilfully executed here than in any other
country. I shall confine myself to describing the 'scenery.'
In a wild mountain district of Spain, a Moorish castle rises amid
rocks in the distance. It is night, but the moon shines brightly in
the blue heavens, and mingles her pale light with the brilliant illu
mination of the windows of the castle and the chapel. A road wind-
un Anglois aux premieres places. Le genie 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.— Emtob.

164 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ing among the mountains is visible at many points; and at length,
supported on arches of masonry, leads to the foreground.
A band of robbers now glide stealthily forth from the thicket, and
conceal themselves by the road-side. — You discover from their con
versation that they are lying in wait for a rich prize.
Their handsome young leader is distinguished by his commanding
air and his splendid dress, in the style of the Italian banditti. After
a short interval you see the castle-gates in the distance unclose, a
drawbridge is let down, and a state-carriage drawn by six mules
rolls along the road. Sometimes you lose it behind the mountains;
— it approaches, growing larger and larger (an effect admirably pro
duced by figures of various dimensions,) and at length comes on the
stage at a brisk trot. A few shots are immediately fired by the rob
bers, the coachman is killed, and the plunder of the carriage goes for
ward amid noise and confusion. In the midst of the tumult the
curtain falls.
At the beginning of the second act you see the same scene, but it
excites quite different emotions. The lights in the castle are extin
guished, — the moon is veiled behind a cloud. In the dim light you
imperfectly distinguish the carriage, with the doors rent from the
hinges. On the box lies the murdered driver; the pallid head of one
of the fallen robbers is seen above a stone trench; and the handsome
captain leans dying against the trunk of a tree, while his boy Gilblas
is vainly trying to check the flight of the departing spirit. This
half-dead, half-living picture, is extremely powerful and touching.
My morning calls were useful, for they procured me three tickets
for the next Almack's; and I prevailed upon one of the most rigo
rous and dreaded of Patronesses to give me a ticket for a little ob
scure 'Miss' of my acquaintance,' — an immense 'faveur!' I was,
however, obliged to manoeuvre and entreat a long time to obtain it.
The young lady and her party nearly kissed my hands, and behaved
as if they had gained the great prize in the lottery.
After Almack's, there is no way of approaching an English lady
so good as politics. There has been nothing to be heard lately,
whether at dinner or at the Opera, nay even at balls, but Canning
and Wellington from every pretty mouth ; nay, Lord E  com
plained that his wife disturbed him with politics at night. She
frightened him by suddenly calling out in her sleep, " Will the Pre
mier stand or fall?"
If I improve myself in nothing else here, I shall in politics and
cabriolet-driving; the latter one learns to perfection. You wind
along at full speed, among carts and carriages, where you would
have thought you must have stopped for minutes. A residence in
such a metropolis of the world certainly tends to correct all one's
small views of things: one regards them in a broader manner, and
more ' en bloc'
May 10th.
The eternal uniformity of the season goes on for ever. A soiree
at Lady Cowper's, one of the gentlest of Lady-patronesses; another

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 165
at Lady Jersey's, one of the handsomest and most distinguished wo
men in England, — both preceded by an Indian melodrame, — filled
my evening very agreeably. The scene of the melodrame lay in an
island whose inhabitants were endowed with the delightful gift of
flying. The prettiest girls came floating in in masses, like flights of
cranes, and when very pressingly courted just let their wings sink;
but if you were emboldened by this, — a nod — and the graceful,
many-coloured folds expanded, and away they went; nor could one
so much as see the slender cords by which they were drawn up.
At a dinner and soiree at Prince Polignac's there were several in
teresting persons; among them the Governor of Odessa, one of the
most agreeable Russians I have seen, and Sir Thomas Lawrence,
the celebrated painter. I was told that he regularly loses at billiards
(of which he makes the great mistake of fancying himself a master)
the enormous sums he gains by his art. He is a man of interesting
appearance, with something ' du moyen age' in his features, strongly
reminding one of the pictures of the Venetian school.
Still more was I attracted by the Portuguese eyes of the Marchio
ness  : Portuguese and Spanish eyes eclipse all others.
Prince Polignac's niece told me that her uncle's hair, which is
perfectly white, while the rest of his appearance is youthful and
agreeable, had turned gray at the age of five-and-twenty, in the
course of a few weeks, from the anxiety and horror of a revolution
ary dungeon.* He may well find the present contrast agreeable;
but, alas! the Restoration cannot restore the colour of his hair. I
was interested by this circumstance; for you know, my good Julia,
mine has also patriotically begun to assume our national colours,
white and black.
A curious foreigner who wishes to see all the gradations of social
life, can hardly hold out a London season. More than forty invita
tions are now lying on my table, — five or six for each day. All
these fete-givers must be called upon in a morning; and, to be cour
teous, one must go in person. ' C'est la mer a boire;' and yet on
my way to parties I continually pass ten or a dozen houses which I
don't know, where the same mass of carriages is standing before the
door. A ball at which I was lately present was peculiarly brilliant, and
was attended by some of the Royal Princes. When this is the case,
the vanity of the host has introduced the fashion of mentioning it
on the card: "To meet his Royal Highness," &c. &c. is the laugh
able phrase. The whole garden belonging to the house was built
over, and divided into large rooms, which were hung with draperies
of rose-coloured and white muslin, ornamented with enormous mir
rors and numerous chandeliers, and perfumed with the flowers of
every zone.
The Duchess of Clarence honoured the entertainment with her
* 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.

166 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
presence; and all pressed forward to see her, for she is one of the
few Princesses whose personal character inspires far more respect
than their rank, and whose infinite goodness of heart and amiable
disposition have gained her a popularity in England of which we
Germans maybe proud; the more so as she is probably destined to
be Queen of these realms.
The person who gave this ball was, however, far from being fash
ionable; a quality which is susceptible of the strangest 'nuances.'
But every one, fashionable or not, refines upon his neighbour's en
tertainment as he can.
The next day Countess L  gave a ball, at which I was obliged
to alight at least a thousand steps from the house, as it was utterly
impossible to get through the crowd of carriages. Several equipages
that had tried to force their way were fast locked together, and the
coachmen were swearing the most terrible oaths. At this ball the
hot-houses were tapestried with moss of various hues, and the ground
thickly strewed with new-mown grass, out of which flowers seemed
to grow freely here and there; the stalks were illuminated, which
doubled the splendour of their colours. The walks were marked
by coloured lamps, glittering like jewels in the grass. Gay arabesques
were described among the moss on the walls in the same manner.
In the background was a beautiful transparent landscape with moon
light and water.
May 15th.
Riding out to-day with several ladies, the question arose which
way we should take, the best to enjoy the beautiful spring evening.
Just then we saw an air-balloon floating in the sky, and the question
was answered. For more than ten miles did the untired ladies fol
low their aerial guide, as if on a ' steeple-chase,' but it vanished at
length from our sight. The evening was devoted to a grand diplo
matic dinner, at which several of the new Ministers were present;
and to a ball in a German house, whose solid and tasteful magnificence
equals the best English ones, and excels most in the agreeable quali
ties of its possessors; I mean Prince Esterhazy's.
My journal will soon be like Bernouilly's Travels, which mainly
treat of invitations, dinners, and evening parties. But you must
take the thing as it comes. Liken this journal to a stuff upon which
are very different embroideries, some rich, some poor. The strong
lasting stuff is my unalterable love for you, and the wish to make
you live with me, as far as it is possible, my distant life ; the embroi
deries are only copies of what I see or experience, and must there
fore take the same character, be the colours sometimes glowing,
sometimes faint. And it were not to be wondered at if they faded
altogether in the choking city, which never can afford such lovely
hues as beautiful nature.
May 21st.
I give you notice beforehand that I must remain true to the same
theme, and record a breakfast at the Duke of Devonshire's at Chis
wick.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 167
This is the prettiest sort of fete given here; they are given in the
country, and the company are dispersed through the house and the
beautiful gardens. Though called breakfasts, they begin at three,
and do not leave off before midnight. Prince B  , brother-in-law
of Napoleon, was there, — another of those whom I formerly saw
in that splendour which they borrowed only from the Sun of the
world, — a splendour whicli so quickly vanished with its source.
But the great ornament of the fete was the beautiful Lady Ellen-
borough. She came in a small carriage drawn by poneys not larger
than Kamtschatkadale dogs, which she drove herself. From hence
forward the doves may be unyoked from the chariot of Venus, and
poneys harnessed to it instead.
All sorts of equipages fare worse here than anywhere. At last
night's Almack's there was such a ' bagarre' among them, that seve
ral ladies were obliged to wait for hours before the chaos was reduced
to any order. The coachmen on these occasions behave like mad
men, trying to force their way, and the English police does not
trouble itself about such matters. As soon as these heroic chariot-
drivers espy the least opening, they whip their horses in, as if horses
and carriage were an iron wedge; the preservation of either seems
totally disregarded. In this manner one of Lady Sligo's horses
had its two hind-legs entangled in such a manner in the fore-wheel
of a carriage, that it was quite impossible to release them, and one
turn of the wheel would infallibly have broken both. Notwithstand
ing this, the other coachman could hardly be prevailed on to stand
still. When the crowd dispersed a little, they were forced to take
out both horses, and even then it was with some difficulty they ex
tricated the entangled one. All this time the poor animal roared
like the lion in Exeter 'Change. At the same time a cabriolet was
crushed to pieces, and ' en revanche' drove both its shafts through
the window of a coach, from which the screams of several female
voices proved that it was already full: — many other carriages were
damaged. After this description, you, dearest, with your ' poltronnerie,'
will scarcely trust yourself here in a carriage. It were certainly
safer to adopt the fashion of the time of Queen Bess, when all, even
the most delicate court-maidens, went a-visiting on horseback.
May 21th.
I had the honour of dining with the Duke of Clarence to-day.
The Princess Augusta, the Duchess of Kent, her daughter, and the
Duchess of Gloucester were present. The Duke is a very kind,
friendly host, and always does me the favour to remind me of the
various times and places at which we have met before. He has
much of the true Englishman, in the best sense of the word, and
the English love of domestic life. This dinner was given in cele
bration of the birthday of Princess Carolath. * He gave her health;
* Daughter of the lady to whom these letters are addressed, by her former hus
band, Count Pappenheim  Tbansl.

I 68 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
at which the gentle Emily, spite of her intimacy with the amiable
Duchess, her relation and friend, blushed over and over.
Among the guests I must mention Sir George Cockburn, who
took Napoleon to St. Helena. He told me many circumstances
which proved Napoleon's extraordinary power of winning those
whom he had any desire to win. The Admiral likewise admired
the sincerity with which Napoleon spoke of himself, as of an indif
ferent historical personage; and among other things, openly declared
that the Russians had so completely outwitted him in Moscow, that
up to the very last day he was continually in hope of peace, till at
length it was too late. ' C'etait sans doute une grande faute," added
he coolly.
The Duke's daughters are ' d'un beau sang,' all remarkably pretty,
though all in a totally different style. Among the sons, the most
distinguished is Colonel Fitzclarence, whose travels overland from
India, through Egypt, you read with so much interest. He has also
written on the German Landwehr, of which he is no partisan. Sel
dom does one find a young officer of such varied accomplishments.
I have known him a long time, and have frequently had occasion to
be grateful for his obliging and friendly manners.
His eldest sister is married to Sir Philip Sidney. I heard from
her that not only has the series of portraits been preserved unbroken
in that illustrious family from Lord Leicester's time downwards, but
also a lock of hair of every successive head of the family. Among
other curious documents they have also a list of the guests at the
feast at Kenilworth, and some very remarkable household accounts
of that time. I believe Sir Walter Scott has used these papers.
In the evening Pasta warbled at Countess St. A  's, and two or
three balls closed the day.
May 26th.
This morning in the Park I could not restrain a hearty laugh at
a young lord, who has not profited much by his residence at Paris,
and whose beautiful horse attracted more admiration than himself.
"Quel beau cheval que vous avez la!" said I. " Oui," replied he,
with his English accent; " je l'ai fait moi meme, et pour cela je lui
suis beaucoup attache." Is not this almost as good as the deaf Rus
sian officer in B  , to whom the King said, on the entrance of a
surgeon, " Ce poisson la est bien frequent chez vous." " Oui,
Sire," replied he, with a profound bow, "je l'ai ete pendant quinze
ans." ' Rex JudEeorum' gave a magnificent dinner, the dessert of which
alone, as he told me, cost a hundred pounds. I sat next to a very
clever woman, Mrs. A  , the friend of the Duke of W  , a
very characteristic, acute, un-English physiognomy, — you may think
what an ' enragee' politician. I must have annoyed her excessively;
in the first place I am a great Canningite; in the second, I hate po
litics at dinner. We had a great exhibition of splendour. The table
service was of vermilion and silver; that of the dessert, I think, all
gold. Under the portrait of Prince Metternich (a present from the

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 169
original) in an adjoining room, was a large gold box, perhaps a copy
of the Ark of the Covenant. A concert succeeded the dinner, at
which Mr. Moschelles played as enchantingly as his wife looked.
It was not till two o'clock that I got away to a rout at the Duke of
Northumberland's, a small party of about a thousand persons. Music
was performed in an immense picture-gallery, at thirty degrees of
Reaumur. The crowd and bustle was however so great that we
heard little of it. The atmosphere was like that of the black-hole
at Calcutta. Are these really the amusements of civilized nations !
May 3lst.
The rich Lady L  , with whose ' black diamonds' her com
plexion forms the most agreeable contrast, and whose ' air chiffonne'
is quite original, showed me her bazaar this morning. It is no
common one, for it contained jewels to the amount of three hundred
thousand reichsthalers. The whole boudoir full of perfumes, flowers,
and rarities, the ' clair obscur' of rose-coloured curtains, and the
Marchioness herself in a dress of yellow gauze, reclined on her
chaise longue ' plongee dans une douce langueur;' — it was a pretty
picture of ' refinement' Diamonds and pearls, pens and ink, books,
letters, toys and seals, and an unfinished purse, lay before her.
Among the seals, two were piquant, from their contrast, — the one
from Lord Byron: " Love will find its way
Where wolves would fear to stray."
The other says, with true French 'philosophic,' 'Tout lasse, tout
casse, tout passe.' Nothing, however, was so common in the house
as portraits of the Emperor Alexander, who had paid great attention
to the Marchioness at V  , and whose image had been thus mul
tiplied by gratitude. Her husband was ambassador there, and used
his English prerogative to its full extent. Once he boxed with a
'fiacre' driver: another time he presented the Archduchess, and, if
I mistake not, the Empress herself, to his wife, instead of the re
verse; — then he ran into the kitchen to stab his cook for having
offended the Marchioness : ' enfin, il faisait la pluie et le beau tems a
V  ; ou plutot l'orage et la grele.'
Just conceive how ' disappointed' the poor lady must be, after so
long ruling on the Continent, ' malgre ses diamans, son rang, et sa
jolie mine,' not to be able to be really and truly fashionable. But
this aristocracy of fashion is more difficult to attain to than the high
est rank of freemasonry, and much more capricious than that vene
rable institution, though both alike make something out of nothing.
I dined at Lord Darnley's, where I met Lord Bloomfield, former
ly a conspicuous man, and great favourite of the King's ' du tems de
ses fredaines.' There was also the Archbishop of York, a majestic
old man, who began life as a private tutor, and has reached this ele
vated station by the patronage of his pupils. Nothing can be at
once more ugly and more laughable than the demi-toilette of an Eng
lish Archbishop. A short schoolmaster's wig ill-powdered, a black
22

170 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
French coat, and a little black silk ladies' apron hung over the inex
pressibles in front, just as our miners hang theirs behind.
We were extremely well entertained with game and excellent
fruits from Cobham; and after dinner drove to a concert, which was
very different from any I had heard here. These concerts were set
on foot by several noblemen and distinguished persons, admirers of
the music of Handel, Mozart, and the old Italian masters, whose
compositions are here exclusively performed. It's long since I had
such a treat ! What is the modern Trilliliren compared with the
sublimity of that old church music ? I felt transported back to the
days of my childhood, a feeling which always strengthens the soul
for days, and gives it a fresher, lighter flight. The singing was ex
cellent throughout, and often of an unearthly beauty in its simplicity;
for it is inconceivable what a power God has given to the human
voice when rightly employed, and poured forth in a simple and sus
tained flow. Handel's choruses in the Oratorio of Israel in Egypt
make you think you feci the night which overshadowed Egypt, and
hear the tumult of Pharaoh's host, and the roaring of the sea that
engulfs them in its waters.
I could not bring myself to listen to ball-fiddling after these sacred
tones, and therefore retired to my own room at twelve o'clock, wil
lingly leaving Almack's and another fashionable ball unvisited. I
shall carry the echo of this music of the spheres into my dreams,
and, borne on its wings, shall take a spiritualized flight with you,
my Julia: 'Are you ready? Now we fly.' June 1st.
My old B  waked me very early, which he never does unless
he has a letter from you to give me. On all lesser occasions he lets
me sleep on, however particularly I may have desired him to call me.
His apology always is, " You were so sound asleep!"
It is really lucky that I have not that sort of vanity which is in
toxicated by praise, otherwise you would make a complete fool of
me. Alas! I know myself too well, and a hundred faults which
your love but half perceives. The little devil whom you attack cer
tainly often possesses me. But he is a tolerably innocent, often a
poor foolish, honest little devil, of a sort that stands midway between
angel and devil, as to the morality of the business; — in a word, a
genuine weak child of man. But as he displeases you, poor little
imp, I shall put him into a bottle, like Hofmann, and cork him
down with Solomon's seal. From this time I shall produce only
the Herrnhiiter before you: — you know I passed my youth among
that sect, 'et si je m'en ressens, je ne m'en ressens gueres.'
I shall certainly be present at the fancy-ball you mean to give in
imitation of that at Brighton. Nobody will know me, for the good
reason that I shall be invisible: I shall only imprint a kiss on your
forehead, and then be off like a thought: — be on the watch therefore!
June 3d.
I wandered yesterday from the regions of the gay world once
more into the City, and observed the toiling industry which is con-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 171
tinnally producing some fresh article of luxury. Every day sees
some new invention. Among them may be reckoned the countless
advertisements, and the manner of putting them 'en evidence.'
Formerly people were content to paste them up; now they are am
bulant. One man has a pasteboard hat, three times as high as other
hats, on which is written in great letters, "Boots at twelve shillings
a pair, — warranted." Another carries a sort of banner, on which is
represented a washerwoman, and the inscription, " Only three-pence
a shirt." Chests, like Noah's ark, entirely pasted over with bills,
and of the dimensions of a small house, drawn by men or horses,
slowly parade the streets, and carry more lies upon them than Mun
chausen ever invented.
I arrived at Mr. R  's very tired, and accepted an invitation to
dine with him at his counting-house. During dinner we philoso
phized on the subject of religion. ' R  est vraiment un tres bon
enfant,' and more obliging than most men of his class, — whenever
he thinks he risks nothing by it, which one cannot blame him for.
In our religious discussion he had somewhat the best of it, for he is
of the ancient nobility in matters of faith: they are the true aristo
crats in this subject, and will hear of no innovation or reform. I
wound up by saying, with Gothe, Alle Ansichten sind zu loben;
and drove in a crazy hackney-coach back to the ' West End of the
Town,' — where there are neither Jews nor Christians, but only
Fashionables and Nobodies, — to hear Pasta sing at Mrs. P  's,
and to play ecarte, de moitie with Lord H  's friend.
I came home at four o'clock, fell asleep by rosy daylight, and fan
cied my bed was the moss of a forest. I was waked by a piteous
cry: I looked around, and saw a poor devil come plump dovvn
through the air from the top of a high tree, and fall on the ground
near me. Groaning, and pale as ashes, he crawled up, and cried out
that it was all over wifh him. I was hastening to help him, when a
creature like an inkstand with a stopper came up, and, with heavy
curses, gave the half-dead man several blows with his stopper. I
watched my time, pulled out the stopper; and as the ink streamed
forth, he changed himself into a Moor in a splendid silver jacket
and elegant costume, who cried out laughing, that if I would only
let him alone, he would show me such things as I never saw before.
Now began such conjurations as left all the Pinettis and Philadel-
phias in the world far behind. A large closet changed its contents
every minute; and all the treasures of Golconda, with unheard-of
curiosities, were presented to my view.
My dream went on increasing in extravagance. Did you ever
hear of such mad visions as haunt me here? It's the melancholy
fog, the suffocating air of London, which clouds my senses. I send
them to you therefore, that you may let them out in our own sun
shine, and on their heavy wings I lay a thousand affectionate greet
ings of your faithful Friend, L  .

172 LETTERS ON GERMANY,

LETTER XVI.

London, June 5th, 1827.
This morning I paid a visit to Mrs. Hope, and saw her husband's
collection of works of art more in detail. A very beautiful Venus
by Canova was peculiarly interesting to me, having seen it some
years ago, unfinished, in the ' atelier' of that delightful artist in
Rome; it then left a more agreeable impression on my mind than
any of his works.
Among the pictures, I was particularly struck with the infamous
Cesare Borgia, by Correggio. What a sublime villain ! He stands in
the most intrepid manly beauty; vigour and loftiness of mind beam
from every feature ; in the eyes alone lurks the ferocious tiger. The
collection is peculiarly rich in pictures of the Flemish school: many
of them are of inimitable truth, which I freely confess has often a
greater charm for me than even the perfect representation of an
Ideal, if that does not happen to hit some kindred conception in my
own mind.
Thus a fine stately old Dutch burgher's wife, drinking down a
glass of wine with great ' delice,' — her husband wrapped in his
cloak, with the bottle out of which he has just helped her still in his
hand, while he looks at her with good-natured pleasure, — was to me
a very attractive subject.
So, likewise, some officers of the sixteenth century in their hand
some and appropriate dress, carousing after their hard and bloody
toils: and several others, equally true to nature. Among the land
scapes I made acquaintance with a Hobbima, which has the greatest
resemblance to the manner of Ruysdael. Fruit, which almost de
ceived the sense, by Van Huysum and Van Os. Houses, in which
every tile is given, by Van der Meer. Several Wouvermans',
Paul Potters, &c. &c. — nothing was wanting to complete the rich
ness of the collection. Only the modern English pictures were bad.
The rest of the day I staid at home, to hallow the birthday of my
good mother, alone and in quiet. June 1th.
As a sample of the necessities of a London dandy, I send you the
following statement by my ' fashionable' washerwoman, who is em
ployed by some of the most distinguished ' elegans,' and is the only
person who can make cravats of the right stiffness, or fold the breasts
of shirts with plaits of the right size. An ' elegant,' then, requires
per week, — Twenty shirts; twenty-four pocket-handkerchiefs; nine
or ten pair of 'summer trowsers;' thirty neck-handkerchiefs (unless
he wears black ones;) a dozen, waistcoats; and stockings 'a. dis
cretion.' I see your housewifely soul aghast. But as a dandy cannot get
on without dressing three or four times a day, the affair is ' tout sim
ple,' for he must appear, —

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 173
1st. In breakfast toilette, — a chintz dressing-gown and Turkish
slippers. 2nd. Morning riding dress, — frock coat, boots and spurs.
3rd. Dinner dress, — dress coat and shoes.
4th. Ball dress, with ' pumps,' a w-ord signifying shoes as thin as
paper. At six o'clock the Park was so full that it was like a rout on
horseback, only much pleasanter; instead of carpets or chalked floors
there was the green turf, a fresh breeze instead of stifling heat and
vapour; and instead of tiring one's own legs, one made the horse's
do all the work.
Before I rode thither I called on Princess E  and found
three young and handsome ' ambassadrices en conference, toutes les
trois profondement occupees d'une queue ;' namely, whether it was
necessary to wear one at the queen of Wiirtemberg's, or not.
At a ball this evening, at the forementioned Marchioness of Lon
donderry's, I saw the Polonaise and the Mazurka danced here for
the first time, — and very badly. We supped in the Statue Gallery.
Many ladies had hung shawls and other articles of dress on the sta
tues, which dreadfully shocked one's feeling for art. At six I came
home, and am writing to you while they are closing my shutters to
make an artificial night. The valets here have a sad life of it, and
can only sleep out of hand, if I may say so, or like watchmen, in the
day. June 13th.
I have already told you that One is invited here to a Royal Prince,
just as in some other places, among intimate friends, to a dainty
dish. I was thus invited yesterday to dine with the Duchess of
Gloucester, and to-day with the Duke of Sussex. This Prince, who
is ' brouille' with the King, has gained great popularity by his libe
ral opinions, and quite deserves it. He has been much on the Con
tinent, and likes the German mode of life. Our language is perfect
ly familiar to him, as indeed it is to most of his brothers. In com
pliment to him, after the ladies left the table, cigars were brought,
and more than one smoked, which I never before saw in England.
Monsieur de Moutron told a great man}' droll stories, with genuine
French address. But the most amusing person was Major Keppel,
the Persian traveller, who related some rather ' scabreuses' but ama
zingly ' piquantes' anecdotes, which he would not commit to print,
and which I reserve till we meet In the morning I drive to Ascot
with young Captain R  , and shall visit Windsor, to make some
break in this life of uniform dissipation. It is supposed that the
races will be unusually brilliant, as the King is to be present, and
his horses are to run. Windsor, June 14th.
After a rapid drive of twenty -five English miles, — partly through
Windsor Park, behind which the Castle, the residence of so many
kings, rears its head, — we reached the wide and barren heath of

174 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Ascot, where the races are held. The place presented a perfect pic
ture of a pleasuring encampment. Endless lines of tents for horse
and man; streets of carriages along the course, chiefly filled with
pretty women; high stands, consisting of three or four stages one
above another, with the King's stand at the goal; — all this enlivened
by twenty or thirty thousand people, of whom many have been en
camped here five or six days: — such are the leading features of the
motley picture. One part forms a sort of fair, where among the
other booths and tents, — like a Liberty or Free Quarter* in the mid
dle ages, — are to be found various games of hazard, elsewhere se
verely forbidden.
The ladies in the carriages are provided with excellent breakfasts,
and champagne, which they distribute with great hospitality. I
found many old friends, and made some new acquaintances; among
others, an extremely agreeable woman, Lady  , who invited me
to dine at her cottage. As the races ended for to-day at six o'clock,
we drove to T  Park, through a most beautiful country, so
thickly studded with trees that spite of its ploughed fields it had the
appearance of a cultivated wood. We arrived before the family,
and found the house open, but without a servant or any living crea
ture in it. It was like the enchanted dwelling of a fairy, for a more
lovely abode cannot be conceived. Could you but have seen it! On
a rising ground, half-concealed by the most magnificent old trees,
stood a house whose various jutting parts, built at different periods,
and here and there hidden by the shrubberies, never permitted the
eye to catch its entire outline. A sort of colonnade of rose-trees,
covered with flowers, led directly into the hall; and passing through
some other apartments and a corridor, we reached the dining-room,
where a table stood richly covered, — but still no human being was
visible. The garden lay before us, a perfect paradise, lighted by
the glow of the evening sun. Along the whole house, now project
ing, now receding, were verandas of various forms, and clothed with
creeping plants. These formed a border to the gayest flower-gar
den, covering the whole slope of the hill. Close upon the edge of
it was a deep and narrow green valley; behind which the ground
rose again and formed a higher line of hill, the side of which was
clothed with huge beeches. At the end of the valley the near view
was terminated by water. In the distance, above the crown of trees,
was seen the ' Round Tower' of Windsor Castle, with the majestic
royal banner floating in the blue air. This was the only object to
remind us that Nature, or some beneficent fairy did not reign alone
here; but that man, with his pleasures, his pomps, and his necessi
ties, was near at hand. Like a beacon-tower of ambition it looked
down upon the peaceful cottages; alluring the gazer to a higher but
more deceitful enjoyment, which he who obtains buys only with his
own grievous loss. Peace and contentment abide in the valley.
" 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. — TnA\sL.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 175
My poetical ' extase' was interrupted by my fair hostess, who
was greatly amused at our description of her enchanted palace, and
immediately took care that we should be shown to our rooms, to
make our toilet, which the dust and heat rendered very necessary.
An excellent dinner, with iced champagne and delicious fruits, was
very grateful, and we remained at table till midnight. Coffee and
tea, with music, occupied two hours more, the latter of which, I
must in all sincerity confess, we could willingly have dispensed
with. After our agreeable evening a rather disagreeable incident awaited
me. As I was going to bed B  began to exclaim that ill-luck
followed him everywhere.
"Why, what has happened?"
"0 Lord! if I could help it I would not tell, but it must come
out." s " Now, Devil take you, make an end; what is it?"
The confused-headed old fellow had put a purse with five and
twenty pounds I gave him into the pocket of the carriage, instead of
into the seat; and, like Kotzebue's stupid country squire, took it
out in the tumult of the booths to pay for a glass of beer, changed a
sovereign, because as he said he had no small money, and then care
fully put the purse in the same place again. It followed, as a matter
of course in England, that when he returned to the carriage it was
gone. Richmond, June 13th.
This morning we visited the Castle, which is now completing ac
cording to the old plan, and is already the vastest and most magnifi
cent residence possessed by any sovereign in Europe. The time
was too short to see the interior, which I therefore deferred to ano
ther opportunity. I only paid a visit to the Duchess of C  , who
lives in the great tower and enjoys a delicious view from her lofty
balcony. Among her attendants was a beautiful Greek boy in his
national costume, scarlet, blue, and gold, with naked legs and feet
He was saved from the massacre of Scio by being hidden in an oven.
He is now become a perfect Englishman, but has retained something
inexpressibly noble and foreign in his air. At one o'clock we re
turned to the race-ground ; and this time I received my breakfast
(luncheon) from the hands of another beauty. At the close of the
races we drove to Richmond, where R  's regiment is quartered,
and passed a very joyous evening with the officers. The universal
competence of England permits a far more luxurious life than mili
tary men enjoy with us. These gentlemen deny themselves nothing,
and their mess is better served throughout than many a princely ta
ble in Germany.
In the morning this regiment of Hussars and a regiment of Lan
cers are to be reviewed by an Inspecting General, which I shall
stay to see. June. 16 th.
The regiment went through its business very well ; with less af-

176 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
fectation, — perhaps with less precision, — than our marvellously
trained three-year horse-soldiers; but with more true military cool
ness, and with the steadiness and ease resulting from long habit: all
their evolutions too were more rapid, from the excellence of their
horses, with which those of the Continent are not to be compared.
The English cavalry has gained immensely in command of the rein,
and in military seat, since the last war, which is mainly to be as
cribed to the care and attention of the Duke of Wellington: the men
had their horses as well in hand as the best of ours. The extraordi
nary thing, according to our notions, was to see the perfect ease with
which fifty or sixty officers in plain clothes, — several General offi
cers among them, some in undress jackets and top-boots, some in
frock-coats and coloured cravats, — took part in the review, and
thronged around the Inspecting General, who with his two aids-de
camp were the only men in uniform, except the regiment. Nay,
even some supernumerary officers of the regiment itself, not on ac
tual service, rode about with him in civil dress and shoes, — a sight
which would have given such a shock to the nerves of a 
general, as would have endangered his intellects for ever. In a
word, one sees here more of the reality; with us, more of the form.
Here, 'tis true, the clothes do not make the man; and this simplicity
is sometimes very imposing.
R  told me that this regiment was originally formed by the
Tailors' Company, at the time of the threatened French invasion,
and at first consisted entirely of tailors. They are now transformed
into very sturdy martial hussars, and fought with great distinction
at La Belle Alliance. June 13th.
Since the day before yesterday I have returned to the old track.
I 'debutai' with four balls, and a dinner at Lord Caernarvon's,
where I met Monsieur Eynard, the celebrated Philhellenist, whose
pretty wife -manifests an equal enthusiasm for the Greek cause.
Yesterday I dined at Esterhazy's, and met a young Spaniard whom
I could not help wishing an actor, that he might play Don Juan, for
he seemed to me the perfect Ideal of that character. With the tones
of the dramatic Pasta, whom one hears every evening, ringing in my
ears, I went to bed.
This evening there was a concert at the tall Duke's, where every
body was in raptures at old Velluti, because he sang well once upon
a time. He lives here upon his ancient fame. From thence I went
to one of the prettiest balls I have seen in London, at the house of a
Scotch woman of rank. The largest room was entirely decorated
with paper lamps made in the forms of various flowers, very taste
fully grouped.
As we got into our carriages at six o'clock, by sunshine, the ladies
had a most strange appearance. No ' fraicheur' could stand this
test: they changed colour like chameleons. Some looked perfectly
blue, some mottled, most of them death-like, their locks hanging
about, their eyes glassy. It was frightful to see how the blooming

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 177
rosebuds of lamplight were suddenly changed by the sunbeams into
faded withered roses. June 23rd.
What say you, dear Julia, to a breakfast given to two thousand
people ? Such an one took place to-day in the ' Horticultural Gar
dens,' which are extensive enough to accommodate that number of
persons conveniently. Not that there was any deficiency of horri
ble crowding in the tents in which the provisions were placed, — es
pecially where the prize fruits were exhibited. As soon as the
prizes were distributed, they were devoured in the twinkling of an
eye, in the coarsest and most unseemly manner. There was one
Providence pine which weighed eleven pounds; deep red and green
ones of not much smaller dimensions; strawberries as big as small
apples; and the rarest choice of delicious fruits of all kinds. The
fete, on the whole, was gay, and of an agreeable rural character.
The smooth turf, and the well-dressed company that trod it; the
tents and groups among the shrubs; perfect masses of roses and
flowers of every kind, produced the most cheerful, agreeable scene.
I drove there with our Ambassador, with whom I returned at seven
in the evening. We could not help laughing at the strange industry
of an Irishman, who affected to light us to our carriages, with a lan
tern in which there was, of course, no light, as it was broad day.
By this piece of manual wit he earned a shilling from the merry and
goodnatured. One of his English comrades called out to him,
" You are showing the way to liberal people." "Oh!" said he,
" if I did not know them for such, I should not go with them."
Odd enough too were the Tyrolese singers, who are in great fashion;
they call every body, even the King, who talks German with
them, ' Du' (thou), and are strangers to all false shame or fear of
man. It is comical enough to see one of them go up to Prince
Esterhazy, to whose patriotic favour they are chiefly indebted for
their great vogue, put out his hand to him and exclaim, "Nun, was
machst Du, Esterhazy ?" (literally, " Well, what art thou about,
Esterhazy ?") The little female in this party of wonderful animals
came up to me to-day and said, " I have been looking at thee a long
time, for thou art so like my dear John, that I must give thee a
kiss." The offer was not very tempting, for the girl is ugly; but as
His Majesty himself has kissed her (of which there is a good cari
cature in the shops), the proposal is now esteemed flattering. June 26th.
The Duke of Northumberland had the kindness to show me his
fine palace to-day in detail. I here found what I had long vainly
desired to see, — a house in which not only the general effect is that
of the highest splendour and elegance, but everything, the greatest
as well as the smallest, is executed with equal exactness and perfec
tion, — ' ou rien ne cloche.'
Such an Ideal is in this instance completely realized. You do not
find the smallest trifle neglected, not a line awry, not a speck of
23

178 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
dirt, nothing faded, nothing out of fashion or keeping, nothing worn
out, nothing sham, not an article of furniture, not a window, or a
door, which is not, in its way, a model of workmanship.
This extraordinary perfection has indeed cost several hundred
thousand pounds, and doubtless no little trouble; but it is perhaps
unique in its kind. The richest embellishment from works of art
and curiosities is also not wanting. The arrangement of the latter
on terrace-formed shelves covered with violet velvet, behind which
are looking-glasses in one piece, is very tasteful. One of the most
striking things is the marble staircase, with a railing of gilded bronze.
The hand-rail of polished mahogany at the top is a curious piece of
workmanship: by some contrivance, which remains a secret, the
wood is so put together that it is impossible to discover a singlejoint
from top to bottom. The whole seems to be made of one piece, or
is so really. Another remarkable thing is the false ' porte cochere'
in the outer wall, which is only opened on occasion of a great press
of carriages; and when closed, cannot be detected in the facade.
It is of iron, and so completely masked by a coating of composition
stone and a false window, that it cannot be distinguished from the
rest of the house. — Of the pictures another time.
At the Duke of Clarence's, in the evening, I made the acquaintance
of a very interesting man, — Sir Gore Ouseley, late ambassador to
Persia, who was accompanied by Mr. Morier, the author of Hadji
Baba, as his secretary of legation. I must tell you two or three
characteristic anecdotes of that country, which I heard from him.
The present Shah was held in such a state of dependence by his
prime minister, Ibrahim Khan, who had placed him on the throne
while yet a child, that he had little more than the name of a ruler. It
was impossible for him to make any resistance, since every pro
vince or city throughout the empire was governed, without excep
tion, by relations or creatures of the minister. At length the Shah
determined to withdraw himself at all risks from such a bondage, and
devised the following energetic means, which bear the genuine
stamp of Oriental character. According to the ancient institutions
of the country, there exists a class of soldiers, thinly scattered
through all the principal towns, called the King's guard. These
obey no order that does not proceed immediately from the King
himself, and bear his own private signet: — this guard has thus re
mained the only body independent of the minister, and the sole sure
support of the throne. The King now secretly despatched orders,
written by his own hand, to the chief of this faithful band, requiring
them on a particular day and hour to put to death all Ibrahim's re
lations throughout the kingdom. On the appointed day the Shah
held a Divan, sought to bring on a dispute with Ibrahim, and when
the latter assumed his usual lofty tone, commanded him immediately
to retire to the state prison. The minister smiled, and replied,
" that he would go, but that the King would be pleased to consider
that the governor of every one of his provinces would call him to
account for this act" " Not now, friend Ibrahim," exclaimed
the King gaily, — "Not now." Then drawing out his English

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 179
watch, and casting a withering glance at the perplexed minister, he
coolly added, " At this minute the last of your blood has ceased to
breathe, and you will soon follow." And so it happened.
The second anecdote shows that the Shah acts on the principle of
the French song, which says, " quand on a depeuple la terre, il faut
la repeupler apres."
At Sir Gore's audience of leave, he begged the Shah graciously
to tell him what was the number of his children, that he might give
his own monarch correct information on so interesting a subject, pro
vided, as was probable, he should make any inquiry. " A hundred
and fifty-four sons," replied the Shah. " May I venture to ask your
Majesty how many children?" The word daughters, according to
the rules of Oriental etiquette, he dared not to pronounce; and in
deed the general question was, according to Persian notions, almost
an offence. The King, however, who liked Sir Gore very much,
did not take it ill. " Ha ha! I understand you," said he laughing;
and called to the chief of his eunuchs, " Musa, how many daughters
have I?" " King of kings," answered Musa, prostrating himself on
his face, " five hundred and sixty." When Sir Gore Ouseley re
peated this conversation to the Empress-mother in Petersburg, she
only exclaimed. " Ah, le monstre!" June 29th.
As the season, thank Heaven, now draws near its close, I project
a tour to the North of England, and Scotland, whither I have re
ceived several invitations, but had rather preserve my liberty in
order to scour the country ' a ma guise,' if time and circumstances
permit. To-day we had the finest weather I have seen in England ; and as
I returned from the country in the evening, after an early dinner at
Count Miinster's, I saw, for the first time, an Italian light on the
distance, — shades of blue and lilac as rich and as soft as a picture of
Claude's. ' A propos,' among the notabilia for imitation I must mention a
flower-table of the Countess's. The top is a crystal-clear glass, under
which is a deep box or tray filled with wet sand, with a fine wire
net over it, in the interstices of which fresh flowers are closely
stuck. The tray is pushed in, and you have the most beautiful
flower-picture to write or work over. If you wish to regale your
self with the fragrance, you may open the glass cover, or remove it
entirely. Children's balls are now the order of the day, and I went to one
of the prettiest this evening at Lady Jersey's. These highborn
northern children had every possible advantage of dress, and many
were not without grace; but it really afflicted me to observe how
early they had ceased to be children; — the poor things were, for the
most part, as unnatural, as unjoyous, and as much occupied with
themselves, as we great figures around them. Italian peasant-chil
dren would have been a hundred times more graceful and more en
gaging. It was only at supper that the animal instinct displayed

180 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
itself more openly and unreservedly, and, breaking through all
forms and all disguises, reinstated Nature in her rights. The pure
and lovely natural feeling, however, was the tenderness of the mo
thers, which betrayed itself without affectation in their beaming eyes,
made many an ugly woman tolerable, and gave to the beautiful a
higher beauty.
A second ball at Lady R  's presented the hundredth repeti
tion of the usual stupid throng, in which poor Prince B  , for
whose corpulence these squeezes are little adapted, fainted, and lean
ing on the banister, gasped for air like a dying carp. Pleasure and
happiness are certainly pursued in very odd ways in this world.
July 3rd.
This afternoon I rode by a long circuitous way to eat a solitary
fish dinner at Greenwich. The view from the Observatory is re
markable for this, — that almost the whole surface of ground you
overlook is occupied by the city of London, which continually
stretches out its polypus arms wider and wider, and swallows up the
villages in its neighbourhood, one after another. Indeed, for a popu
lation equal to that of half the kingdom of Saxony some space is
wanted. I went into the Ship tavern, gave my horse to the hostler, and
was shown into a very neat little room with a balcony projecting
over the Thames, under which the fish were swimming which I,
merciless human beast of prey, was about to devour. The river
was enlivened by a hundred barks; music and song resounded cheer
fully from the steamboats passing by; and behind the gay scene, the
sun, blood-red, and enveloped in a light veil of mist, declined to
wards the horizon. As I sat at the window, I gave audience to my
thoughts, till the entrance of various sorts of fish as variously pre
pared, called me to more material pleasures. Iced champagne, and
Lord Chesterfield's Letters which I had put in my pocket, gave zest
to my repast; and after a short siesta, during which night had come
on, I remounted my horse and rode the German mile and a half to
my home through an unbroken avenue of brilliant gas lamps, and
over well-watered roads. It was just striking midnight when I
reached the house, and a coffin hung with black passed me on the
left like an apparition. July 5th.
B  gave me your letter at Almack's, and I immediately has
tened ' home' with it. How greatly have your descriptions rejoiced
me! I was near weeping over the venerable trees that called to me,
through you — " Oh, our master and lord, hearest thou not the rus
tling of our leafy tops, the home of so many birds ?" Ah, yes, I hear
it in spirit, and shall have no true enjoyment till I am once more
there with my truest friend, and the plants that are to me as loving
children. I thank you cordially for the leaf of cinq foil ; and as the
horse of the accompanying Vienna postilion, the bearer of a thousand

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 181
blessings, has lost his tail on the road, I have replaced it by this leaf,
which gives him a genuine Holy Alliance look.
Here my old B  interrupted me with the question whether he
might stay out for the night, promising to be back by eight in the
morning. I gave him leave, and asked, laughing, what adventure
he had in hand? " Ach!" said he, " I only want for once to see how
they hang people here, and at six o'clock in the morning five men
are to be hanged at once."
What a discord rang through my whole being, just filled with
joyous tumult! What a contrast between the thousands, wearied with
the dance, and sated with multiplied amusements, returning home at
that hour to their luxurious couches, and those wretched beings who
are condemned to pass through anguish and pain into eternity! I
exclaimed again with Napoleon, "Oh, monde, monde!" and for a
long time, after a day wasted in frivolity, could not go to sleep; I
was pursued by the thought that at that very moment perhaps these
unhappy ones were called to take so fearful a leave of the world and
its joys; not excited and elevated by the feeling of being martyrs
to some good or great cause, but the victims of vulgar, debasing
crime. Men pity those who suffer innocently: how much more
pitiable do the guilty appear to me !
My imagination when once excited always outstrips wisdom and
expediency; and thus did all vain pleasures, all those refinements of
luxury which mock at misery and privation, now appear to me in
the light of real sins: indeed I very often feel in the same temper
with regard to them. A luxurious dinner has often been spoiled to
me when I have looked at the poor servants, who are present indeed,
but only as assistant slaves; or thought of the needy, who at the
close of a long day's ceaseless toil can hardly obtain their scanty
miserable meal; while we, like the epicure in the English carica
ture, envy the beggar his hunger. Yet spite of all these good and
just feelings, (I judge of others by myself,) we should be greatly in
censed if our servant played the Tantalus and removed the dishes
from our tempting table, or if the poor man invited himself to share
our feast without the wedding garment. Heaven has ordained that
some should enjoy, while others want; and so it must remain in
this world. Every shout of joy is echoed, in some other place, by
a cry of grief and despair; and while one man here breaks the cord
of existence in phrensy, another is lost elsewhere in an ecstasy of
delight. Let no one therefore fret himself vainly concerning it, if he nei
ther deserves nor understands that it should fare better or worse
with him than with others. Fate delights in this bitter irony —
therefore pluck, 0 man! the flowers with child-like joy so long as
they bloom; share their fragrance and beauty when you can with
others, and manfully present a breast of steel to your own mis
fortunes. July 1th.
1 return to my daily chronicle.
After dining with the epicurean Sir L  , I passed the evening

182 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
very agreeably in a small party at the Duchess of Kent's. The
Court circles here, if they may be called so, have no resemblance
whatever to those of the Continent, which once led the absent Count
R  into such a strange scrape. The King of B  asked him
how he enjoyed the ball that evening; " Oh," replied he, "as soon
as the Court is gone I think it will be very pleasant."
At a very late hour I drove from thence to a ball at Princess
L  's, a lady whose entertainments are perfectly worthy of her
Fashionableness ' par excellence.' A conversation I accidentally fell
into with another diplomate procured me some interesting particu
lars. He told me about that difficult mission, the purpose of which
was to induce the Empress of the French voluntarily to quit an army
still devoted to Napoleon, and consisting of at least twelve thousand
picked men. Contrary to all expectation, however, he found in
Marie Louise scarcely a disposition to resist, and very little love for
the Emperor (which indeed the sequel has sufficiently proved.) The
little King of Rome alone, then only five years old, steadfastly re
fused to go, and could only be removed by force; — -just as on a for
mer occasion, led by the same heroic instinct, he had resisted the
Regent's pusillanimous flight from Paris. His account of the parts
which many distinguished men played on this occasion I must omit:
I can only say that it confirmed me in the persuasion that the French
nation never sunk to so Iowa pitch of baseness as at the time of Na
poleon's abdication. July 10th.
It is now more oppressively hot than I had imagined possible in
this misty country. The turf in Hyde Park is of the colour of
sand, and the trees dry and sear; the squares in the tovvn, spite of
all the watering, do not look much better. Nevertheless the grass-
plots are as carefully mowed and rolled as if there were really grass
upon them. No doubt, with equal care and labour, even more beau
tiful turf could be obtained in South Germany than here; but we
shall never get to that, — we love our ease too well.
As the heat increases, London empties, and the season is nearly
over. For the first time I found myself without an invitation to
day, and employed my leisure in sight-seeing. Among other things
I visited the King's Bench and Newgate prisons.
The former, which is principally appropriated to the reception of
debtors, is a perfect isolated world in miniature; — like a not insig
nificant town, only surrounded by walls thirty feet high. Cook-
shops, circulating libraries, coffee-houses, dealers, and artisans of all
kinds, dwellings of different degrees, even a market-place, — nothing
is wanting. When I went in, a very noisy game at ball was going
on in the latter. A man who has money lives as well and agreeably
as possible within these walls, — bating liberty. Even very ' good
society,' male and female, is sometimes to be found in this little
commune of a thousand persons; but he who has nothing fares ill
enough: to him, however, every spot on the globe is a prison. Lord
Cochrane passed some time in the King's Bench, for spreading false

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 183
intelligence with a view to lower the Funds; and the rich, highly
respected, and popular Sir Francis Burdettwas also imprisoned here
some time for a libel he wrote. The prisoner who conducted me
about had been an inhabitant of the place twelve years, and declared
in the best possible humour, that he had no hope of ever coming
out again. An old Frenchwoman of very good air and manners
said the same; and declared that she did not intend ever to acquaint
her relations with her situation, for that she lived very contentedly
here, and did not know how she might find matters in France.
She seemed perfectly persuaded ' que le mieux est l'ennemi du
bien.' The aspect of Newgate, the prison for criminals, is more appall
ing. But even here the treatment is very mild, and a most exem
plary cleanliness reigns throughout. The Government allows each
criminal a pint of thick gruel in a morning, and half a pound of
meat or a mess of broth alternately for dinner, with a pound of good
bread daily. Besides this, they are permitted to buy other articles
of food, and half a bottle of wine a-day. They employ themselves
as they please; there are separate courts belonging to a certain num
ber of rooms or cells: for those who like to work there are work
rooms; but many smoke and play from morning till night. At nine
o'clock they must all attend divine service. Seven or eight gene
rally inhabit one room. They are allowed a mattrass and two blankets
for sleeping, and coals for cooking, and, in winter, for warming the
cells. Those condemned to death are put in separate less convenient
cells, where two or three sleep together. By day, even these have
a court-yard for recreation, and a separate eating-room. I saw six
boys, the eldest of whom was not more than fourteen, all under sen
tence of death, smoking and playing very merrily. The sentence
was not yet confirmed, however, and they were still with the other
prisoners; it was thought it would be commuted for transportation
to Botany Bay. Four of a maturer age, in the same predicament, —
only that the enormity of their crimes left them no hope of pardon
— took their fate still more gaily. Three of them were noisily play
ing whist with Dummy,* amid jokes and laughter; but the fourth
sat in a window-seat busily engaged in studying a French grammar.
'C'etait bien un philosophe sans le savoir!' July 12th.
Yesterday evening I went for the first time to Vauxhall, a public
garden, in the style of Tivoli at Paris, but on a far grander and
more brilliant scale. The illumination with thousands of lamps of
the most dazzling colours is uncommonly splendid. Especially beau
tiful were large bouquets of flowers hung in the trees, formed of red,
blue, yellow, and violet lamps, and the leaves and stalks of green;
there were also chandeliers of a gay Turkish sort of pattern of vari
ous hues, and a temple for the music, surmounted with the royal
* Mid dem todten Mann, I believe is Englished as above. — Tkassl.

184 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
arms and crest. Several triumphal arches were not of wood, but of
cast-iron, of light transparent patterns, infinitely more elegant, and
quite as rich as the former. Beyond this the gardens extended with
all their variety and their exhibitions, the most remarkable of which
was the battle of Waterloo. They open at seven: there was an
opera, rope-dancing, and at ten o'clock (to conclude) this same bat
tle. It is curious enough, and in many scenes the deception really
remarkable. An open part of the gardens is the theatre, surrounded
by venerable horse-chestnuts mingled with shrubs. Between four of
the former, whose foliage is almost impervious, was a ' tribune,'
with benches for about twelve hundred persons, reaching to the
height of forty feet. Here we took our seats, not without a frightful
squeeze, in which we had to give and take some hearty pushes. It
was a warm and most lovely night: the moon shone extremely
bright, and showed a huge red curtain, hung, at a distance of about
fifty paces from us, between two gigantic trees, and painted with the
arms of the United Kingdom. Behind the curtain rose the tops of
trees as far as one could see. After a moment's pause, the discharge
of a cannon thundered through the seeming wood, and the fine band
of the second regiment of Guards was heard in the distance. The
curtain opened in the centre, was quickly drawn asunder; and we
saw, as if by the light of day, the outwork of Houguemont on a
gently rising ground, amid high trees. The French ' Gardes' in
correct uniform now advanced out of the wood to martial music,
with the bearded ' Sapeurs' at their head. They formed into line;
and Napoleon on his gray horse, and dressed in his gray surtout,
accompanied by several marshals, rode past them 'en revue.' A
thousand voices shout ' Vive l'Empereur!' — the Emperor touches
his hat, sets off at a gallop, and the troops bivouac in dense groups.
A distant firing is then heard; the scene becomes more tumultuous,
and the French march out. Shortly after, Wellington appears with
his staff, — all very good copies of the individuals, — harangues his
troops, and rides slowly off. The great original was among the
spectators, and laughed heartily at his representative. The fight is
begun by the 'tirailleurs;' whole columns then advance upon each
other, and charge with the bayonet; the French cuirassiers charge
the Scotch Grays; and as there are a thousand men and two hundred
horses in action, and no spare of gunpowder, it is, for a moment,
very like a real battle. The storming of Houguemont, which is set
on fire by several shells, was particularly well done: the combatants
were for a time hidden by the thick smoke of real fire, or only ren
dered partially visible by the flashes of musketry, while the fore
ground was strewed with dead and dying. As the smoke cleared off,
Houguemont was seen in flames, — the English as conquerors, the
French as captives: in the distance was Napoleon on horseback, and
behind him his carriage-and-four hurrying across the scene. The
victorious Wellington was greeted with loud cheers mingled with the
thunder of the distant cannon. The ludicrous side of the exhibition
was the making Napoleon race across the stage several times, pur-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 185
sued and fugitive, to tickle English vanity, and afford a triumph to
the ' plebs' in good and bad coats. But such is the lot of the great!
The conqueror before whom the world trembled, — for whom the
blood of millions was freely shed, — for whose glance or nod kings
waited and watched, — is now a child's pastime, a tale of his times,
vanished like a dream, — the Jupiter gone, and, as it seems, Scapan
only remaining.
Although past midnight it was still early enough to go from the
strange scene of illumination and moonlight to a splendid ball at
Lady L  's, where I found a blaze of diamonds, handsome wo
men, dainty refreshments, a luxurious supper, and gigantic ennui; I
therefore went to bed as early as five o'clock. July 13th.
I had often heard of a certain Mr. Deville, a disciple of Gall; a
passionate craniologist, who voluntarily, and only with a view to the
advancement of his science, gives audience every day at certain
hours. He carefully examines the skulls of his visitors, and very
courteously communicates the result of his observations.
Full of curiosity, I went to him this morning, and found a gallery
containing a remarkable collection of skulls and casts, filled with
ladies and gentlemen; some of whom brought their children to be
examined with a view to their education. A pale, unaffected, seri
ous man was occupied in satisfying their curiosity with evident
good-will and pleasure. I waited till all the rest were gone, and
then asked Mr. Deville to do me the favour to grant me an especial
share of attention; for that, though it was unhappily too late for edu
cation with me, I earnestly wished to receive from him such an
account of myself as I might place before me as a sort of mirror. He
looked at me attentively, perhaps that he might first detect, by the
Lavaterian method, whether I was ' de bonne foi,' or was only
speaking ironically. He then politely asked me to be seated. He
felt my head for a full quarter of an hour; after which he sketched
the following portrait of me, bit by bit. You, who know me so well,
will doubtless be as much surprised at it as I was. I confess that it
plunged me into no little astonishment, impossible as I knew it to be
that he could ever have known anything about me. As I wrote
down all he said immediately, and the thing interested me, as you
may believe, not a little, I do not think I can have mistaken in any
material point*
" Your friendship," he began, " is very difficult to win, and can
be gained only by those who devote themselves to you with the
greatest fidelity. In this case, however, you will requite their
attachment with unshaken constancy."
" You are irritable in every sense of the word, and capable of the
* I thought of omitting this part, which certainly belongs too much to confiden
tial 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.
24

186 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
greatest extremes; but neither the passion of love, of hatred, nor
any other, has very enduring consequences with you."
" You love the arts, and if you had applied, or would apply, to
them, you would make great proficiency with little difficulty. I find
the power of composition strongly marked upon your skull. You
are no imitator, but like to create: indeed you must often be driven
by irresistible impulse to produce what is new."
" You have also a strong sense of harmony, order, and symmetry.
Servants or workmen must have some trouble in satisfying you, for
nothing can be complete and accurate enough for you."
" You have, — strangely enough, — the love of domestic life and the
love of rambling about the world (which are opposed,) of equal
strength. No doubt, therefore, you take as many things about with
you as you can find means to convey; and try in every place to sur
round yourself with accustomed objects and images as quickly as
possible." (This, so strikingly true, and so much in detail, aston
ished me particularly.)
"There is a similar contradiction in you between an acute under
standing (forgive me, I must repeat what he said,) and a considera
ble propensity to enthusiasm and visionary musing. You must be
profoundly religious, and yet, probably, you have no very strong
attachment to any particular form of religion, but rather (his very
words) revere a First Cause under a moral point of view."
" You are very vain,— not in the way of those who think them
selves anything great, but of those who wish to be so. Hence, you
are not perfectly at ease in the society of your superiors, in any
sense of the word, — nay, even of your equals. You are perfectly
at ease only where, at least on one point, either from your station,
or from some other cause, you have an acknowledged preponderance.
Contradiction, concealed satire, apparent coldness, (especially when
ambiguous and not decidedly and openly hostile,) paralyze your fa
culties; and you are, as I said, perfectly unrestrained and 'cheerful'
only in situations where your vanity is not ' hurt;' and where the
people around you are, at the same time, attached to you, to which
your good-nature — one of your strongest characteristics — makes you
peculiarly susceptible."
" This latter quality, united to a strong judgment, makes you a
great venerator of truth and justice. The contrary incenses you ;
and you would always be disposed to take the part of the oppressed,
without any individual interest in the matter. You are ready to con
fess your own injustice, and to make any reparation you can. Un
pleasant truths concerning yourself may vex you, but if said without
hostile intention, will incline you to much higher esteem for the
sayer. For the same reason, you will not rate distinctions of birth
too highly, though your vanity may not be wholly insensible to them."
" You are easily carried away, and yet levity is not one of your
characteristics: on the contrary, you have ' cautiousness'* in a high
* 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.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 187
degree. It is indeed the wormwood in your life; for you reflect
far too much upon everything; you conjure up the strangest fancies,
and fall into distress and trouble, mistrust of yourself and suspicion
of others, or into perfect apathy, at mere trifles. You occupy your
self almost always with the future, little with the past, and less
with the present"
"You continually aspire (streben): are covetous of distinction,
and very sensitive to neglect; have a great deal of ambition, and of
various kinds; these you rapidly interchange, and want to reach
your object quickly, for your imagination is stronger than your pa
tience; and therefore you must find peculiarly favourable circum
stances in order to succeed."
" You have, howevep, qualities which make you capable of no
common things, even the organ of perseverance and constancy is
strongly expressed on your skull, but obstructed by so many con
flicting organs, that you stand in need of great excitement to give
room for it to act: then the nobler powers are called forward, and
the meaner ones recede."
" You value wealth very highly, as all do who wish to accomplish
great objects, — but only as means, not as end. Money in itself is
indifferent to you, and it is possible that you are not always a very
good manager of it."
" You want to have all your wishes gratified in a moment, as with
an enchanter's wand: often, however, the wish expires before the
fulfilment is possible. The pleasures of sense, and delight in the
beautiful, have a powerful influence over you; and as you certainly
incline to the imperious, the ambitious, and the vain, you have here
a cluster of qualities, against which you have need to be upon your
guard not to fall into great faults; for all propensities in themselves
are good; it is only their abuse that renders them a source of evil.
Even the organs so erroneously designated by the father of our sci
ence the organs of murder and of theft, (now more correctly termed
organs of destructiveness and acquisitiveness) are only marks of en
ergy and of desire to possess, which, when united with good-nature,
conscientiousness and foresight, form a finely constituted head ;
though without these intellectual qualities they may easily lead to
crime." He also said that in judging of a skull it was necessary to regard
not the separate organs, but the aggregate of the whole; for that
they respectively modified each other in various ways; nay, some
times entirely neutralized each other: that therefore the propor
tions of the whole afforded the true key to the character of the man.
As a universal rule, he laid down, that men whose skulls, if di
vided by a supposed perpendicular line drawn through the middle
of the ear, presented a larger mass before than behind, were the higher
portion of the species; for that the fore part contains the intellectual,
the hind part the animal propensities.
All the skulls of criminals who had been executed, for instance,
which he had in his collection, confirmed his theory; and in one dis
tinguished for the atrocious character of his offence, the occiput was

188 LETTERS OX GERMANY,
two-thirds of the whole head. The busts of Nero and Caracalla ex
hibit the same proportions. — Where the contrary extreme prevails,
the individual in question is deficient in energy: and here, as in
everything, a balance is the true desideratum.
Mr. Deville affirmed that it was possible, not only to enlarge or
gans already prominent by the exercise of the qualities they denote,
but by that very process to diminish others ; and assured me that
no age was excepted from this rule. He showed me the cast of a
skull of a gentleman who, when near sixty, devoted himself intense
ly to the study of astronomy ; and in a few years the appropriate
' bosse' became so prominent as to project considerably beyond all
others.* B July 14th.
I have paid several visits to Mr. Nash, to whom I am indebted
for much valuable instruction in my art. He is said to have ' erect
ed' an enormous fortune. He'has a beautiful country-house, and no
artist is more handsomely lodged in town. I was particularly pleased
with his library. It consists of a long and wide gallery, with twelve
deep niches on each side, and two large doorways at the ends, lead
ing into two other spacious rooms. In each niche is a semicircular
window in the roof, and on the wall a fresco painting, copied from
the 'Logge di Rafaelle;' and below these, casts of the best antique
statues, on pedestals. The remaining space in the niches is occu
pied by books, which, however, rise no higher than the pedestal of
the statues. Arabesques, also copied from those of the Vatican, ad
mirably executed in fresco, adorn the broad pilasters between the
niches. All the space on the walls or pilasters not covered with paintings
is of a pale red stucco, with small gold mouldings. The execution
seems thoroughly finished and excellent.
I dined at the Portuguese Ambassador's. Our dinner was very
near ending like Prince Schwartzenberg's at Paris. One of Rundell
and Bridge's beautiful brilliant silver girandoles came too near the
curtain, which immediately blazed up. The flames were extinguish
ed by the Spanish Ambassador; a fact which may afford matter for
witticisms to the newspapers, in the present political conjuncture.
I drove half a post further in the streets, late at night, to see the
tower of St. Giles's church, whose new bright-red illuminated clock-
face shines like a magnificent star in the dark.
I found your letter at home, with all sorts of affectionate re
proaches for my neglect of our own interests for indifferent things.
Even were this sometimes the case, you must not think that my
heart is the less filled with you. The rose, too, sometimes yields a
stronger sometimes a weaker perfume; nay, sometimes there is not
* 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, con
siderably more ornate than that which he is likely to have used  Thansl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 189
a flower on the bush ; in their season they bud and blossom again —
but the nature of the plant is always the same.
Herder's prayer is beautiful — but it is not applicable to this earth;
for though it is true that God's sun shines on the evil and on the
good, it is equally true that His thunderbolt strikes the good and the
evil. Each must protect himself from calamity, with all the wisdom
and the courage he is endowed with.
Men are wearisome to you, you say. Oh, Heaven! how weari
some are they to me! When one has lived so long in the interchange
of all feelings and all thoughts, the intercourse with the 'banal' un-
sympathizing world is more than empty and tasteless.
Your hypothesis, that two kindred souls will, in another world,
melt into one existence, is very pretty — but I should not like to be
united to you in that manner. One being must, indeed, love itself;
but the mutual love of two is voluntary, and that alone has value.
Let us therefore, hope to meet again, but to be one, as we are now,
— one only in mutual love and truth.
One of the many currents of this great stream carried me into the
Annual Exhibition of Pictures. In historical pictures there was lit
tle to delight the lover of art. Some portraits by Sir Thomas Law
rence showed, as all his do, his great genius, and at the same time
his carelessness. He finishes only particular parts, and daubs over
the remainder in such a manner that it must be looked at from a
distance, like-scene-painting. The great masters of the art painted
not so, when they devoted their talents to portrait painting.
In landscapes, on the other hand, there was much that was at
tractive. First, The Dead Elephant. — The scene is a wild mountain-dis
trict in the interior of India. Strange gigantic trees and luxuriant
tangled thickets surround a dark lake. A dead elephant lies stretched
on its shore, and a crocodile, opening its wide javvs and displaying
its frightful teeth, is seen climbing up the huge body, driving away
a monstrous bird of prey, and menacing the other crocodiles which
are eagerly swimming across the lake to their repast. Vultures are
poised on the branches of the trees, and the head of a tiger glares
from the jungle. On the other side are seen three still more for
midable predatory animals, — English hunters, whose guns are
pointed at the great crocodile, and will soon excite more terrific
confusion among this terrific group.
Another view is on the sea-shore of Africa. You see ships in the
far distance. In the foreground a palm-grove slopes down to the
clear stream, where a boat is lying at anchor, in which a negro is
sleeping — but in what a fearful situation! A gigantic boa-constrictor
has issued from the wood, and, while its tail rests in the thicket, has
twined itself in a loose ring around the sleeper, it now rears its head
aloft hissing with rage at his companions, who are hastening with
their axes to his assistance. One of them has just fortunately suc
ceeded in scotching it, and has thus saved the negro, who wakes,
and stares in wild terror on the serpent. It is said that as soon as
the muscles of the back of the boa are divided in an}- part it looses

190 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
all its power. The picture is taken from an incident which really
occurred in the year 1792.
We are still in a distant part of the globe, but in more remote
ages. A wondrously beautiful moonlight gleams and glitters on
the Bay of Alexandria. Majestic monuments and temples of Egyp
tian art lie in the strongly contrasted light and shadow; and from
the steps of a hall of noble architecture, Cleopatra, surrounded by
all the luxury and pomp of the East, is descending to the golden bark
which is to bear her to Anthony. The most beautiful boys and
girls strew flowers under her feet, and a chorus of old men with
snowy beards and clad in purple, are seated on the sea-shore, sing
ing a farewell song to their golden harps.
Have you not enough of this yet, dear Julia ? Well then, look at
the Travelled Monkey, who returns to his brethren in the woods,
in the dress of a modern 'exclusive.' They throng around him in
amazement; one pulls at his watch-chain, another at his well starched
cravat. At length, one whose jealousy is excited by his finery
gives him a box on the ear: this is a signal for an universal pillage.
In a few minutes he will be reduced to appear once more 'in natu-
ralibus.' Here I close my exhibition. Dear Julia, confess that if you were
the editor of the ' Morgen Blatt,' you could not have a more inde
fatigable correspondent. Whether I be well or ill, merry or sad, I
always fulfil my duty. Just now I am by no means at my best: I
am ill, and I have lost a great deal of money at whist. It is really
extraordinary how soon one comes to regard a pound as a ' thaler.'
Though I know the difference full well, and often find it not very
agreeable, yet the physical effect of the ' sovereign' here, is constantly
the same upon me as that of the ' thaler' at home, for which I often
laugh at myself. I wish fate would make a similar mistake, and
convert our 'thalers' into pounds. I, for one, should certainly not
bury mine. Yet we should put our gains to good interest; for when
one tries to make a beautified living creation out of dead money, as
we have done, and at the same time to increase the comfort of those
around one, — as I did by employing them, and you by the more
direct means of bounty, — surely one has gained usurious interest.
Prudence, however, is not our ' forte,' and if you have shown
rather more than I, it is only because you are a woman, and have
therefore the habit of being on the defensive. Prudence is far more
a weapon of defence than of attack.
You have now a good opportunity for the exercise of it in the
S  society, and I already see you in thought taming the refrac
tory, and speaking the words of peace with dignified serenity. Here
is your portrait on the margin, 'a la Sir Thomas Lawrence.' You
will doubtless recognize that strong bent for art which the Gallite
discovered on my cranium. The surrounding caricatures you must
ascribe to my somewhat sulky humour.
As a mind in this flat depressed tone is little fertile in thoughts,
permit me to supply the place of them by some passages out of a

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 191
singular book I have met with. You will think that it must have
flowed not only from my pen but from my most inmost soul.
" It is incalculable," says the author, "what an influence the ob
jects which surround our childhood exercise over the whole forma
tion of our character in after-life. In the dark forests of the land
of my birth, in my continual solitary wanderings where nature wears
so romantic an aspect, arose my early love for my own meditations;
and, when I was afterwards thrown among numbers of my own age
at school, rendered it impossible to my disposition of mind, to form
any intimate companionships, except those which I first began to dis
cover in myself.
" In the day, my great pleasure was lonely wandering in the coun
try: — in the evening, the reading of romantic fictions, which I con
nected in my mind with the scenes I was so familiar with; and
whether I sat in winter in the chimney corner poring over my book,
or in summer lay stretched in luxurious indolence under a tree, my
hours were equally filled with all those misty and voluptuous dreams
which were perhaps the essence of poetry, but which I was not gift
ed with the genius to embody. Such a temper is not made for in
tercourse with men. One while I pursued an object with restless
activity, — another, I lived in perfectly supine meditation. Nothing
came up to my wishes or my imaginings, and my whole being was
at last profoundly imbued with that bitter, melancholy philosophy,
which taught me, like Faust, that knowledge is but useless stuff,
that hope is but a cheat; and laid a curse upon me, like that which
hangs on him who, amid all the joys of youth and the allurements
of pleasure, feels the presence of a spirit of darkness ever around
him. The experience of longer and bitterer years makes me doubt whe
ther this earth can ever bring forth a living form which can realize
the visions of him who has dwelt too long absorbed in the creations
of his own fancy."
In another place, he says of a man who was much praised:
" He was one of the macadamized Perfections of society. His
greatest fault was his complete levelness and equality; you longed
for a hill to climb; — for a stone, even if it lay in your way. Love
can attach itself only to something prominent, were it even a thing
that others might hate. One can hardly feel what is extreme for
mediocrity." ' C'est vraiment une consolation!'
Further: " Our senses may be enthralled by beauty; but absence
effaces the impression, and reason may vanquish it."
" Our vanity may make us passionately adore rank and distinction,
but the empire of vanity is founded on sand."
" Who can love Genius, and not perceive that the feelings it ex
cites are a part of our own being and of our immortality?" July 18th.
Would you believe, dearest Julia, that although annoyed in various
ways, and almost ill, I have found these days of solitude, in which

192 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
I have been occupied only with you, my books, and my thoughts,
much more satisfactorily, — how shall I express it? — much more fully
employed, than that comfortless existence which is called society
and the world. Play forms an ingredient, for that is a mere killing
of time without any result, but has at least the advantage, that we are
not conscious of the time we are wasting during its lapse, as we are
in most so-called amusements. How few men can rightly enter into
such a state of mind! and how fortunate may I esteem myself that
you can! You are only too indulgent towards me, aud that makes
me place less confidence in your judgments.
Now for a secret: — When I send you any extracts from books,
you are never to swear whose they are; for, thanks to my boasted
organ of composition (you see I am still busied with Mr. Deville,)
exact transcribing is almost an impossibility with me. A borrowed
material always becomes something different, if not something bet
ter, under my hands. But as I am so excitable and mobile, I must
often appear inconsistent, and my letters must contain many contra
dictions. Nevertheless, I hope a genuinely humane spirit always
appears in them, and, here and there, a knightly one; for every man
must pay his tribute to the circumstances with which birth and ex
istence have surrounded him.
Ah, if we did but live together in the old knightly days! Many a
time has the enchanting picture of the castle of our fathers, — such
as they inhabited it, in the wild Spessart, frowning from rocks sur
rounded by old oaks and firs, — stood like a dim recollection before
my fancy. Along the hollow way in the valley, I see the lord of
the castle with his horsemen riding to meet the morning sun, (for
as a true knight he is an early riser.) You, good Julia, lean forward
from the balcony, and wave your handkerchief till not a steel breast
plate glitters in the sunbeam, and nothing living is in sight, save a
timid roe that darts out of the thicket, or a high-antlered stag that
looks proudly down from some crested crag on the country beneath.
Another time we are seated, after some successful feud, at our
goblets. You pour out the wine, which I quaff like a brave and true
knight, while the good chaplain reads the wonders of a legend. Now
the warder's horn is heard on the turret, and a banner is seen wind
ing up to the castle gate. It is your former lover returned from the
Holy Land — ' Gare a toi.'* July 19 th.
A cheerful ray of sun enticed me forth, but I soon exchanged the
clear air of heaven for subterranean gloom. I went into the famous
Tunnel, the wonderful passage under the Thames. You have read
in the papers that the water broke in some weeks ago, and filled the
part that was completed, five hundred and forty feet in length. Any
event, lucky or unlucky, is sure to give birth to a caricature in a few
* It is matter of history that even the true old German knights had contracted
the bad habit of occasionally interlarding their discourse with French phrases 
Editob.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 193
days. There is one representing the Tunnel catastrophe, in which
a fat man on all-fours, and looking like a large toad, is trying to save
himself, and screaming 'Fire!' with a mouth extended from ear to
ear. With the aid of the diving-bell the hole has been so stopped,
that it is asserted there is no fear of a recurrence of the accident.
The water has been pumped out by a steam-engine of great power,
so that one can descend with perfect safety. It is a gigantic work,
practicable nowhere but here, where people don't know what to do
with their money.
From hence I went to Astley's theatre, the Franconi's of London,
and superior to its rival. A horse called Pegasus, with wings at
tached to his shoulders, performs wonderful feats; and the drunken
Russian courier, who rides six or eight horses at once, cannot be sur
passed for dexterity and daring. The dramatic part of the exhibition
consisted of a most ludicrous parody of the Freischiitz. Instead of
the casting of the bullets, we had Pierrot and Pantaloon making a
cake, to which Weber's music formed a strangely ludicrous accom
paniment. The spirits which appear are all kitchen spirits, and Sa
tan himself a ' chef de cuisine.' As the closing horror, the ghost of
a pair of bellows blows out all the lights, except one great taper,
which continually takes fire again. A giant fist seizes poor Pierrot;
and a cook almost as tall as the theatre, in red and black devilish
costume, covers both with an ' extinguisher' as big as a housed
These absurdities raise a laugh for a moment, it is true; but they
cannot make a melancholy spirit cheerful, and you know I have so
many causes for gloom which I cannot forget * * *
* * * * ********
Some evil constellation must now reign over us ; for certainly there
are lucky and unlucky tides in man's life, and to know when they
set in would be a great assistance to the steersman. The star which
you tell me burns so brightly over your residence must have a hos
tile influence. One star, however, shines benignly upon me, and
that is your love. With that, would my life be extinguished.
Change of scene seems to become more and more necessary to
me, especially as there is little here to amuse or interest. After
rain, sunshine: — forward then, — and do you rouse me by your let
ters. Let them be cheering and invigorating by their own cheer
fulness, for that is more important to me than all the intelligence,
bad or good, they can contain. Nothing is so terrible to my ima
gination as to think of you, at a distance, distressed or out of
spirits. It is so great an art to suffer triumphantly — like a martyr;
and it is practicable when one suffers innocently, or for love of an
other. You, my dearest Julia, have known few other sufferings
than these. Of myself I cannot speak so proudly. July 23rd.
This morning I visited Bedlam. Nowhere are madmen — confined
ones, that is — better lodged. There is a pleasure-ground before the
door of the palace, and nothing can be cleaner and more convenient
ly fitted up than the interior. As I entered the women's gallery,
25

194 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
conducted by a very pretty young girl who officiated as keeper, one
of the patients, a woman of about thirty, looked at me for a long
time very attentively, — then suddenly coming up to me she said,
" You are a foreigner: I know you, Prince! Why did you not put
on your uniform to come to see me? that would have become you
better. Ah, how handsome Charles used to look in his!"
You may imagine my painful astonishment. " Poor thing!" said
my guide, "she was seduced by some foreign prince, and every
foreigner she sees she fancies is one. Sometimes she cries the whole
day long, and will let nobody go near her: after that she is quite
sensible again for weeks. She was very pretty once, but fretting
has spoiled all her beauty."
I was greatly struck by a young man, evidently of respectable
station and education, who was possessed by one fixed idea, — 4hat
he was a Stuart, and had therefore a lawful claim to the throne. I
conversed with him for half an hour without being able to get him
upon this subject. He always broke off cautiously, nay cunningly,
and talked in a very interesting manner of other things, particularly
of America, where he had travelled for a considerable time; nor did
he exhibit the slightest trace of insanity. Speaking of Walter Scott's
novels, I several times mentioned the Pretender, which I thought
would excite him to speak; and at length said in a confidential tone,
" I know you are a Stuart yourself." This seemed to alarm him;
and laying his finger on his lips, he whispered, " We must not speak
of that here; the triumph of justice can be brought about by time
alone, but the light will soon shine forth." "I am going into
Wales," replied I, (he is a native of the Principality,) "will you
give me your father's address, that I may carry him your greetings?"
" With the greatest pleasure," said he; " give me your pocket-book,
and I will write it." I gave it him, and he wrote his real name,
 ; then pointing to it with a smile, he added, " That's the
name under which my father passes there. — Adieu!" and with a
gracious motion of the hand he left me.
What a dreadful spectacle! One single inveterate idea converts
the most agreeable man into an incurable lunatic, costs him his free
dom, and condemns him to the society of vulgar madness for life.
What is unhappy man in conflict with physical evil, — and where,
then, is the freedom of his will?
There was a foreign patient, whose conceits were more ridiculous,
— if those of madness can ever be so; — a German pedant and writer
of tours, who joined me in looking about the house, of which he
was a constant inmate. He was incessantly taking notes. He ad
dressed each of the patients at great length, and carefully committed
their answers to paper, though they were often anything but compli
mentary to him. Scarcely had he observed my conversation with
the young man I have mentioned, when he came up to me, and
besought me pressingly to let him see what that gentleman had writ
ten in my pocket-book. I told him. " Oh excellent — singular,"
said he, "perhaps a real Stuart! I must inquire into it immediately,
— a secret of state perhaps, — who knows? Very remarkable. Ich

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 195
emfehle mich unterthdnigst." So saying, he strutted away, with
an awkward, silly air, yet perfectly satisfied with himself.
On my way home I met a number of funerals, which indeed in a
gulf like London, where Death must be ever at work, is no wonder;
and yet I must always regard it as a bad omen, even though the su
perstition that deems it so belong rather to Bedlam than to a reason
able head. — With me it has some foundation.
When I was very young I was once driving in a curricle through
the town of J  where I then resided. A long funeral procession
met me: I was forced to stop; and as my horses were shy and res
tive, I had some difficulty in holding them in, and at length became
infected with their impatience. I broke through the train, and in
considerately exclaimed, "The D— 1 take all this absurd funeral
pomp; I can't be detained by it any longer." I drove on; and had
scarcely gone fifty paces further, when a little boy darted out of a
shop door, and ran with such rapidity between the horses and the
carriage that it was impossible to check them till the wheel had pass
ed over the whole length of the poor child's body, and he lay lifeless
on the pavement. You may imagine my mortal terror. I sprang
out, raised the little fellow; and a number of people were already
gathered around us, when the mother rushed forward, rent my heart
with her cries, and excited the people to take vengeance on me. I
was obliged to harangue the crowd to allay the rising storm; and
after relating the manner of the accident, giving my name, and
leaving money with the mother, I succeeded, not without some
difficulty, in regaining my carriage and escaping from the tumult. I
was near the gate, to which you descend by a tolerably steep hill. I
was so absorbed by the thought of the accident which had just occur
red, that I did not attend to the reins,— one slipped out of my hand.
The horses, already hurried and alarmed by the confusion, set off,
and came in contact with a wagon, with such force that one of them
was killed on the spot, and my curricle smashed to pieces. I was
thrown out with great violence, and for a moment rendered sense
less by the shock. On recovering, I found myself lying with my
face pressed so close to the ground that I was almost stifled. I felt,
however, the plunging of a furious animal above me, and heard the
thunder of blows which seemed to strike my head, and yet gave me
but little pain. In the midst of all, I clearly distinguished the cries
of several persons around, and the exclamation, "He is a dead man
— shoot the horse instantly!" At these words I received a blow on
the temple which entirely deprived me of sense.
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a mattrass in the
middle of a miserable room: an old woman was washing the blood
from my head and face, and a surgeon, busied with his instruments,
was preparing to trepan me. " Oh, let the poor gentleman die in
peace!" cried the woman compassionately: and as I thought I felt
distinctly that, spite of my external wounds, 1 had received no in
ternal injury, I happily found strength to resist the operation; though
the young man, who was an hospital pupil, was extremely eager to
prove his skill — which, he encouragingly added, he had not yet had

196 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
an opportunity of trying — upon my skull. I exerted all my remain
ing strength, ordered a carriage, asked for water and a looking-glass,
in which, however, I could scarcely recognize myself, the greater
part of the skin of my face being left in the high road. It was not
till nature had replaced it by a new one, that my groom, — who was
sitting by me at the time of the accident, and was thrown into a
field by the road-side and but little hurt, — told me what strange cir
cumstances had attended the accident. The pole of the curricle had
splintered like a lance against the wagon: the light vehicle fell for
wards, and I with it. The stump of the pole had stuck into the
earth, and had fastened down my head. Upon me laid the horse
entangled in the traces, making the most furious efforts to get free,
and continually kicking with his hind feet against the broken pole,
which thus became my sole preserver, by receiving the blows which
would otherwise have dashed my head into a hundred pieces. This
lasted almost a quarter of an hour before they could disengage the
horse. From that day I never liked meeting funerals.
As postscript to these reminiscences of my past life, I must add
one comical incident. The boy I ran over recovered completely,
and six weeks after his accident and mine, his mother brought him
to me with rosy cheeks and dressed in his Sunday clothes. As I kiss
ed him and gave his mother a parting present, the poor woman ex
claimed with tears of joy, " Oh, Sir, I wish my boy could be run
over so every day of the week!" July 28th.
It was a long time since I had visited the City, and I accordingly
devoted yesterday to it. As I am, in my quality of Teutonic knight,
a beer-brewer, I turned my ' cab' to Barclay's brewery, which the
vastness of its dimensions renders almost romantic, and which is one
of the most curious sights in London.
From twelve to fifteen thousand barrels, that is about twenty thou
sand quarts* of beer, are brewed here daily. Everything is done by
machinery, which is all set in motion by a single steam-engine. The
beer is boiled in four vats, each of which holds three hundred bar
rels. The hops are first put into the vat or cauldron dry, and kept
stirring by a machine, that they may not burn. During this process
the sweet-wort flows in upon them. There is a curious apparatus for
cooling the beer in hot weather: — it is made to pass through a num
ber of pipes like those of an organ, through which a stream of cold
water is then let to flow, and so on, alternately. At last the beer
flows into a barrel as high as a house, of which there are ninety-nine
under gigantic sheds. You can't conceive the strange effect of seeing
a vessel holding six hundred thousand quarts tapped for you to drink
a glass of porter, which, 'par parenthese,' is excellent, and cold as
ice. These barrels are covered with a little hill of fresh sand, and
Fasser. Fass, a butt, barrel, tun, tub, &c— Grosse Quart. I do not know whe
ther these measures correspond to tlie English words, or whether I have used the
appropriate technical expressions. — Tiiassl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 197
preserve the beer fresh and good for a twelvemonth. It is drawn
off into smaller casks, and sent out to the consumer. The drawing
off is effected with great rapidity by means of leathern pipes, as the
smaller casks are arranged in readiness under the floor on which the
great ones stand.
A hundred and fifty horses, like elephants, one of which can draw a
hundred hundred-weight, are daily employed in carrying out the beer.
A single enormous chimney devours the smoke of the whole es
tablishment; and from the roof of the principal building you have a
very fine panoramic view of London.
I next proceeded to the West-India docks and warehouses, — >an
immeasurable work; one of those at the sight of which the most
cold-blooded spectator must feel astonishment, and a sort of awe at
the greatness and the might of England. What a capital lies herein
buildings, wares, and vessels! The admirably excavated basin,
which it took me half an hour to walk round, is thirty-six feet deep,
and surrounded by sheds and warehouses, some of which are five or
six stories high: some of them are built entirely of iron, the founda
tions only being of stone. This mode of building has however been
found to be dangerous, from the contraction and expansion of the
metal. In these boundless depositories there was sugar enough to
sweeten the whole adjoining basin, and rum enough to make half
England drunk. Two thousand artisans and overseers are common
ly employed daily, and the value of the goods here collected is esti
mated at twenty millions sterling; exclusive of the stores, which are
kept in great quantities in a storehouse, so that the breaking or spoil
ing of any of the tools delays the work only a few minutes. The
number of well-contrived tools and machines is wonderful. I look
ed on with great pleasure while blocks of mahogany and other fo
reign woods, many larger than the largest oak, were lifted up like
feathers, and deposited on drays or wagons as carefully as if they
had been the most brittle ware. Everything is on a colossal scale.
On each side of the basin lie rows of ships, most of them newly
painted. There are two basins, one for import and the other for ex
port. I was obliged to leave this interesting place sooner than I
wished, as the entrance-gate and all the warehouses are closed at four
o'clock. The gate-keeper does not take the slightest trouble to as
certain whether there is any one in the yard, so that it appeared to
me one would have to bivouac there for the night if one missed the
hour. The man very coolly assured me that if the King were there he
would not wait a minute; I made my escape therefore as quickly as
I could. On my way home I passed a booth where a man was calling out
that here were the famous German dwarf and his three dwarf chil
dren; the living skeleton; and, to conclude, the fattest girl that
ever was seen. I paid my shilling, and went in. After waiting a
quarter of an hour, till five other spectators arrived, the curtain was
drawn up, and the most impertinent ' charlatanerie' exhibited that
ever I witnessed. The living skeleton was a very ordinary sized
man, not much thinner than I. As an excuse for our disappoint-

198 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ment, we were assured that when he arrived from France he was
a skeleton, but that since he had eaten good English beef-steaks, it
had been found impossible to check his tendency to corpulence.
The fattest woman in the world was a perfect pendant to the
skeleton. She was not fatter than the Queen of Virginia Water.
Last came the so-called dwarfs — which were neither more nor less
than the little children of the ' Impressario,' stuck into a sort of
bird-cage, their faces shaded, and only their hands and feet left free.
With the former the little wretches made a horrible noise with great
bells. — Here closed the exhibition; — an English hoax, which no
Frenchman could have executed more burlesquely nor with more
effrontery. July 29th.
Since I became Mr. Deville's pupil I cannot help measuring the
skulls of all my acquaintances with my eye, before I open myself to
them; and to-day, like the man in Kotzebue's comedy, I examined
an English servant I was hiring, ' in optima forma.' Let us hope
the result will not be similar, — for the line drawn through the ear
gave good promise. And here it struck me that the common pro
verb (and how much popular truth do such often contain!) is per
fectly in accordance with Deville's principle — "He has it behind
the ear, beware of him!" (Er hat es hinter den Ohren, hiitet
euch vor ihm!)
Joking apart, I am perfectly convinced that, as with magnetism,
so with craniolog3r, people throw away the good with the bad* when
they treat it as a mere chimera. It may admit of many modifica
tions: but I have so fully proved the justice of the leading principles
upon my own skull, that I should not think people at all ridiculous
for paying some attention to it in educating their children — nor even
for using it to aid their own self-knowledge. I, at least, have gained
a more clear idea of myself by this means than I had before.
As I had been writing all day, I took advantage of the mild and
clear moonlight for my ride.
The night was quite Italian, and the roads lighted to a great dis
tance with lamps, within the region of which I remained, and rode
for several hours in the town and suburbs. The view from West
minster-bridge was most striking. The numerous lights on board
the vessels danced like Will-o'-the-Whisps, on the surface of the
Thames; and the many bridges spanned the noble stream as with
arches of light. Westminster Abbey alone was without any artificial
illumination. Only the loving moon, the betrothed of ruins and
Gothic temples, caressed with her pale beams the stone pinnacles
and ornaments, sought every deep nook with eager fondness, and
silvered the long glittering windows; while the roof and towers of
the lofty building reared themselves, still and cold, in black colour
less majesty, above the lights and the tumult of the city, into the
deep blue firmament.
• Literally, Bas Kind mit dem Bade verschutten — " To throw out the child with
the bath;" a common German proverb.- Thansl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 199
The streets remain busy till midnight: nay, I even saw a boy of
eight years old at the utmost, perfectly alone in a little child's car
riage drawn by a large dog, driving along full trot, and without the
slightest fear, among the latest carriages and stage-coaches. Such a
thing can be seen only in England, where children are independent
at eight, and hanged at twelve.
But good morning, dear Julia; it is time to go to bed. August 1st.
The heat is still very oppressive — the earth is like an ash-heap;
and if the macadamized streets were not kept watered by a continual
succession of large water-carts, the dust would be insufferable. But
this makes driving and riding pleasant still; and though the fashiona
ble time is over, shopping is very amusing: one is greatly tempted
to buy more than one wants; and as I have very little money just
now, I am obliged to call in fancy to my aid to procure me all I
covet for you and for myself.
I sent you some time ago a description of a very original man,
Sir L  M  . I was invited to his house to-day, to a most
luxurious dinner, fixed so long beforehand that a diplomatic guest
had been summoned across the seas, from Baden, by courier, a month
ago. He arrived punctually on the very morning, and seemed to
have brought a " British and foreign" appetite with him. He had
not forgotten to load himself with continental delicacies, to which,
as well as to the numerous excellent wines, the most exemplary jus
tice was done. One had need have a strong head to withstand such
things, but the air really makes a great deal of food and strong drink
more necessary than with us. A man who could at first hardly
drink a glass of English claret, (that is, mixed with brandy,) after a
time finds a whole bottle of port agree very well with his health,
and with the English fogs. But if our palates were especially con
sulted at this repast, there was no want of salt in the conversation.
An officer who had served in the Birman war told us many inte
resting details of that people.
Another man related an Irish bull, which appeared to me the
best I had heard — inasriiuch as the blunder was no less than a
man's cutting off his own head. The fact is however, as he asserted,
authentic, and occurred as follows: —
The peasants of Ulster use an enormous scythe, with the end of
the handle sharpened to a point, that they may stick it into the
ground. When they go home from work, they carry these formi
dable weapons over their shoulders, in such a manner that the edge
of the scythe lies round their neck. Two peasants were sauntering
home by the side of a river, when they spied a large salmon with
his head hidden under the roots of an old tree, and his tail lying out
into the stream. " Look, Paddy," said one, " at the stupid salmon!
he thinks because he can't see us that we can't see him: if I had but
my pike I would let him know the difference." " Och!" said the
other, creeping down the bank, "sure the scythe-handle will do for
that — here goes!" And so saying, he struck at the salmon; and hit

200 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
him truly enough, — only, unfortunately, with the same stroke he
took off his own head, which fell plump into the water before the
eyes of his astonished comrade. For a long time he could not un
derstand how it was that Paddy's head fell off so suddenly, and still
maintains that there was something not quite as it should be in the
business. I closed the day with the English Opera. At the end of the first
act a mine falls in and buries the principal persons of the piece alive.
In the last scene of the second act they reappear in the bowels of
the earth, nearly starved indeed, having lain there three days, and
utterly exhausted. This, however, proves no impediment to the
prima donna singing a long Polonaise air, to which there is a chorus
with trumpets, " Ah, we are lost, all hope is gone!" but, oh
miracle! the rocks fall asunder again, and open a wide entrance to
the light of day. All distress, and with it the distressing nonsense
of the piece, was at an end.
August 2nd.
Yesterday's debauch called my attention to an organ which Mr.
Deville did not include in his list — the organ of ' gourmandise,'
which immediately confines on that of murder, and is in fact, like
that, a species of destructiveness. I find I possess it in a considera
ble degree, and I only wish all the bumps and knobs on my skull
gave as innocent and agreeable results. It indicates not the mere
vulgar desire for eating and drinking, but enables its possessor to es
timate the delicate fragrance of wine, cr the inventive genius of a
cook. It is inimical to human happiness only when found in con
junction with a sentimental stomach, — which happily does not ap
pear to be the case with me.
To-day I saw an exhibition of an entire gallery of pictures em
broidered with the needle, and the work of one person: their excel
lence is really surprising. The name of the artist, the most patient
of women, is Miss Linwood. At a little distance the copies are very
like the originals, and the enormous prices she gets for them shows
that their merit is recognized. I heard that one such piece of tapestry,
after Carlo Dolce, sold for three thousand guineas. There was a por
trait of Napoleon during the Consulate, which must have been very
like him at that time, and was regarded by some Frenchmen present
with great admiration.
I next went to see the solar microscope, the magnifying power of
which is a million. What it shows is really enough to drive a man
of lively imagination mad. Nothing can be more horrible, — no
more frightful devilish figures could possibly be invented, — than the
hideous, disgusting water animalculas (invisible to the naked eye, or
even to glasses of inferior power,) which we daily swallow. They
looked like damned souls darting about their filthy pools with the ra
pidity of lightning, while every motion and gesture seemed to bespeak
deadly hate, horrid torture, warfare, and death.
As I was seized with a sight-seeing fit, and wished to efface the
shocking impressions of that infernal world by something more

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 201
agreeable, I visited three panoramas, — Rio Janeiro, Madrid, and
Geneva. The first is a singular and paradisaically luxuriant country, differ
ing completely from the forms and appearances of that which sur
round us. The second, in its treeless sandy plain, looks the picture
of blank stationariness and of the Inquisition: burning heat broods
over the whole scene like an 'auto da fe.' The third appeared to
me like an old acquaintance; and with a full heart I looked long at
the immovable and unchangeable fatherlandish friend, — the majes
tic Mont Blanc. August 8th.
Canning is dead. A man in the plenitude of his intellectual
power, who had but a few weeks ago arrived at the goal of his active
life, who had risen to be the ruler of England, and, in that quality,
unquestionably the most influential man in Europe; endowed with
a spirit of fire that would have guided the reins he held with a mighty
hand, and a soul capable of embracing the good of his species from
a station more elevated than any to which human ambition could
raise him.
One shock has overthrown this proud structure of many years.
And this high-spirited man was doomed to end his days by a sudden
and tragic death, amid fearful sufferings, the victim of a relentless
Destiny, who steps on with iron foot, treading down all that comes
in her way, heedless whether it be the young seedling, the swelling
blossom, the lordly tree, or the withering plant, that she crushes.
What will be the consequences of his death ? Years must elapse
before that will be seen: perhaps it will hasten on a conclusion
which seems to threaten us on many sides, and to which only a large-
minded, liberal, and enlightened statesman, like Canning, were capa
ble of giving unity and a favourable direction. It is not impossible
that the party which now so indecently and unfeelingly triumphs at
his untimely death, may be the first to be placed in real and immi
nent peril by that very event; for not in vain has Lord Chesterfield
said, with a far-seeing prophetic eye, " Je prevois que dans cent ans
d'ici les metiers de gentilhomme et de moine ne seront plus de la
moitie aussi lucratifs qu'ils le sont aujourd'hui."
But what do I care about politics ? Could I but always preserve
the due equipoise in myself, I should be content. Meantime Can
ning's death is now, of course, the talk of the town, and the details
of his sufferings are truly afflicting. The Saints, who hated him for
his liberal opinions, try to set it abroad that during his physical tor
ments he was converted — what they call converted. One of his
friends, on the other hand, who was by his bed-side for a considera
ble time, knew not how sufficiently to eulogize his stoical courage,
and the serenity with which he bore his cruel fate; — occupied to the
last moment with plans for the weal of England and of humanity,
and anxiously desiring to impress them once more on the heart of the
King. As the grave and the gay, the tragic and the frivolous, shake
26

202 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
hands here below, a very curious novel divides attention with this
great calamity. It is remarkable for its rather ' baroque,' but often
witty and faithful delineations of continental manners. I give you
the description of the beginning of a ball at Ems, as a sample of the
observations of Englishmen on our manners and customs.
" The company at the Archduke's fete was most select; that, is
to say, it consisted of every single person who was then at the baths:
those who had been presented to His Highness having the privi
lege of introducing any number of their friends: and those who had
no friend to introduce them, purchasing tickets at an enormous price
from Cracowsky — the wily Polish intendant. The entertainment
was most imperial; no expanse and no exertion were spared to make
the hired lodging-house look like an hereditary palace; and for a
week previous to the great evening, the whole of the neighbouring
town of Wisbaden,* the little capital of the duchy, had been put
under contribution. What a harvest for Cracowsky ! — What a com
mission from the restaurateur for supplying the refreshments ! —
What a per-centage on hired mirrors and dingy hangings !
" The Archduke, covered with orders, received every one with
the greatest condescension, and made to each of his guests a most
flattering speech. His suite, in new uniforms, simultaneously bow
ed directly the flattering speech was finished.
" ' Madame von Furstenburg, I feel the greatest pleasure in see
ing you. My greatest pleasure is to be surrounded by my friends.
Madame von Furstenburg, I trust that your amiable and delightful
family are quite well." [The party passed on.] — 'Cravatischeff!'
continued His Highness, inclining his head round to one of his aid-
de-camps; 'Cravatischeff! a very fine woman is Madame Aron Furs
tenburg. There are few women whom I more admire than Madame
von Furstenburg.' "
" 'Prince Saivinski, I feel the greatest pleasure in seeing you.
My greatest pleasure is to be surrounded by my friends. Poland
honours no one more than Prince Saivinski.' — 'Cravatischeff! a
remarkable bore is Prince Saivinski. There are few men of whom
I have a greater terror than Prince Saivinski.'"
" 'Baron von Konigstein, I feel the greatest pleasure in seeing
you. My greatest pleasure is to be surrounded by my friends.
Baron von Konigstein, I have not yet forgot the story of the fair
Venetian.' — ' Cravatischeff! an uncommonly pleasant fellow is Ba
ron von Konigstein. There are few men whose company I more
enjoy than Baron von Konigstein's.' "
" 'Count von Altenburgh, I feel the greatest pleasure in seeing
you. My greatest pleasure is to be surrounded by my friends.
You will not forget to give me your opinion of my Austrian troop.'
— 'Cravatischeff! a very good billiard-player is Count von Alten
burgh. There are few men whose play I'd sooner bet upon than
Count von Altenburgh's.' "
" < Lady Madeleine Trevor, I feel the greatest pleasure in seeing
* Misspelt in the original. — Thassl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 203
you. My greatest pleasure is to be surrounded by my friends. —
Miss Fane, your servant — Mr. Sherborne — Mr. St. George — Mr.
Grey.' — ' Cravatischeff! a most splendid woman is Lady Madeleine
Trevor. There is no woman whom I more admre than Lady Made
leine Trevor; — aiad, Cravatischeff! Miss Fane, too! a remarkably
fine girl is Miss Fane.' "
Stinging enough, is it not, Julia? I have met with few descrip
tions that have amused me more: and my translation, — extremely
good, is it not ? There are few translations that please me more
than my own.
In a serious style, too, the Author is not amiss.*
More practically does the celebrated Smollett write to a friend:
" I am old enough to have seen and convinced myself that we are all
the playthings of Destiny, and that it often depends on a trifle not
more important than' the toss-up of a halfpenny, whether a man
should raise himself to riches and honours, or pine away in misery
and want till he dies. August 15th.
I daily inspect the workmen in St. James's Park, formerly only a
sort of meadow for cows, and now converted into beautiful gardens,
according to a plan of Mr. Nash's. The water is also much better
distributed. I acquire a great deal of technical information here,
and admire the judicious division and series of the work, the inge
nious modes of transport, the movable iron railways, &c.
It is characteristic, that while the laws which protect private pro
perty are so strict that a man who climbs over a wall into a garden
runs the risk of being hanged, or otherwise grievously punished ;
that if it occurs in the night the proprietor may shoot him dead; —
with the public, wherever they have the shadow of a claim, it is
necessary to go to work as gingerly as you would with a raw egg.
This park is the property of the Crown, but has been open to the
public from remote ages; and Government does not dare to close it,
even temporarily, notwithstanding the improvements which the
King is now carrying on, (at the nation's cost, it is true.) A board
is put up on which is inscribed literally as follows: — " The public
are most respectfully requested, during the operations which are de
signed for the increase of their own gratification, not to injure the
carts and tools of the workmen, and to avoid as much as possible
the part where the men are at work." Very little attention, however,
is paid to this respectful and reasonable petition, and the carts and
barrows which lie empty when the men leave work are often used by
the boys to wheel each other about, and to play all sorts of tricks with.
The girls seesaw on the long planks, and many little wretches amuse
themselves with throwing stones in the water just at the very spot
where ladies are standing, who are of course so splashed as to be
obliged to hasten home. This brutal love of mischief is quite pe
culiar to the' English people, and forms the sole apology for the
* Here follows a short passage which I have not been able, on a hurried search,
to find. — Tkansl.

204 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
grudging inhumanity with which the opulent classes shut up their
charming pleasure-grounds. It is worth inquiring, however, whe
ther the moroseness of the rich was not the cause, instead of the
effect, of the mischievous temper of the poor. It is difficult for
people on the Continent to imagine to what a pitafc it goes.
The anxiety with which the rich English shut up their property
from the profaning eyes of the stranger is sometimes truly amusing,
but may chance to be painful. I was riding one day in the neigh
bourhood of London, — and attracted by the sight of a fine house
and grounds, I asked the porter who stood at the lodge, whether he
would allow me to look at the gardens? He had many scruples, but
at last he opened the gate, taking charge of my horse during the
time. I might have walked about for a quarter of an hour, and was
just looking at the neatly-kept pleasure-ground, when a somewhat
fat personage in his shirt appeared at a window of the house ; he
seemed to be running about in great distress, but at last threw open
the window with great vehemence, and whilst I heard the violent
ringing of a large bell, cried out to me with half-suppressed rage,
"Qui etes-vous, Monsieur? que cherchez-vous ici ?" I thought it
too ridiculous to shout back the answer from such a distance, and
soon found it unnecessary ; for a number of servants, alarmed by
the ringing of the bell, flocked together from all directions, one of
whom now repeated to me the question ' ex officio.' In a few words
I let the proprietor know by him that I was a foreigner who had
been attracted by fondness for gardening; that I had not climbed
over the wall, as he seemed to believe, but had entered through the
usual entrance, where my horse was still waiting; that I was heartily
sorry for having caused him such a shock in his illness, and only
wished that it might have no serious consequences, at the same time
assuring him of my best respects, and that I would immediately leave
the forbidden garden. I soon reached my horse, and rode off" laugh
ing, for this was the gay side of the affair. About a fortnight after,
I passed by chance near the same house: I approached the lodge
again, and rang the bell; another man appeared; and in a mischiev
ous fit I inquired after the health of his master, and whether I could
be permitted to see the garden? "God forbid!" was the answer,
" on no account!" I now heard from the servant, to my sincere grief,
that the poor fellow, his predecessor, had been dismissed with his
wife and children, though he had been in the service of the family
for many years, merely for having let a stranger enter without per
mission. Nevertheless this severe gentleman is one of the patent-
liberals of England. What would an illiberal one have done?
The walks and rides in the neighbourhood are now very inviting
again, for autumn has set in early. The scorched grass has resumed
its coat of bright green, and the trees hold their foliage longer and
fresher than with us, though they begin to change their colour ear
lier. Winter comes late, often not at all, to throw its broad white
mantle over them. The mowing of the grass, and cleaning and
sweeping of the gardens' and grounds never cease; indeed, as autumn

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 205
and winter are ' the season' in the country, that is just the time when
most care is bestowed upon them.
London is deserted by the fashionables; and that with such affec
tation, that many who are obliged to remain on business positively
conceal themselves. The streets in the west end of the town are
like those of a deserted city. * *
¥ % * vi.- * * * * -****
They are still infested with beggars, and with that most afflicting
sort of beggars who ply their melancholy trade in the night. Not
only English women, but foreigners here contract this shocking cus
tom. I was really made almost desperate by a withered French
woman, of whom I could not get rid, even by the usual shilling: —
" Encore un moment," exclaimed she; " je ne demande rien, c'est
seulement pour parler Francais, pour avoir une conversation raison-
nable, dont ces Anglais ne sont pas capables."
In the present solitude one has at least as much time to oneself as
one likes; one can work, and read the legion of newspapers at one's
leisure. The absurdities whicji daily appear in them on foreign af
fairs are almost incredible. To-day I found the following article:
" The admiration of the Emperor Alexander for Napoleon was for a
long time boundless. It is well known that at the theatre at Erfurth,
when Talma uttered the words
• L'amitie d'un grand homme est un bienfait des Dieux,'
Alexander leaned over to Napoleon and said, ' Ces paroles ont ete
ecrites pour moi.' — The following anecdote is probably less known.
We can vouch for the truth of it. Alexander one day expressed
to Duroc the intense desire he had to possess a pair of breeches of
his great ally the Emperor Napoleon. Duroc sounded his master
on this very extraordinary subject. Napoleon laughed heartily.
' Oh,' cried he, ' donnez lui tout ce qu'il veut, pourvu qu'il me reste
une paire pour changer.' This is authentic. We are also assured
that Alexander, who was very superstitious, never wore any other
breeches than Napoleon's in the field, during the campaigns of
1812-13." The day ended very pleasantly for me with the arrival of my
friend L  , for whom I now leave you, and close this letter (which
is far enough from being amusing or instructive in proportion to its
dreadful length,) with the old assurance, which to you I know will
want no charm of novelty, that, far or near, you are ever next to
my heart. Your faithful L  .

LETTER XVII.
London, Aug. 20, 1827.
Dear and faithful friend,
Curiosity led me again to-day to the Tunnel. I went in the
diving-bell down to the bed of the river, and spent half an hour

206 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
there, looking at the process of stopping the breach with sand-bags
and earth. Excepting a rather violent pain in my ears, I found it
more comfortable in our metal box, the deeper we sank. It has two
thick glass windows at the top; and near them two leathern pipes
which admit fresh air. The bell has no floor, — only a narrow board
on which to set your feet, and two strong benches on the sides. It
is lighted by lanterns. The workmen had capital water-boots, which
resist the wet four-and-twenty hours; and I was particularly delight
ed at writing the address of the maker in my pocket-book among
the fishes, " auf des Stromes tiefunterstem Grunde."
After having escaped safe and sound from the water, I was near
suffering a sad calamity from fire. I had gone for a minute into an
other room, and a candle which had burned down in the socket set
fire to the papers on my writing-table: before I could extinguish it,
many things very interesting to me were destroyed. Copies of let
ters, prints and drawings, an unfinished novel, (what a pity!) num
berless addresses, a part of my journal, — all became the prey of the
flames. I could not help laughing T^hen I saw that all the receipts
were left untouched, while the unpaid bills were consumed to the
last vestige. That's what I call an obliging fire. The great packet
of your letters is burnt round the edges, so that they look as if they
were written on mourning paper: — right again, for letters between
people who love each other, always mourn over the necessity for
writing them. The Vienna courier you wot of, who came charged
with a hundred thousand blessings, is turned negro; but his life is
happily saved, and his cinq-foil leaf is in full preservation. I send
him back to you as a witness and a messenger of the fire.
August 21st.
There is such an extent and variety of ' terra incognita' in this
illimitable London, that with no other guide than chance, one is
sure to fall upon something new and interesting. In this way I
found myself to-day in Lincoln's Inn Fields, a noble square, almost
a German mile from my lodging, surrounded with fine buildings,
and adorned with lofty trees and beautiful turf. The most consider
able edifice is that of the College of Surgeons, and contains a very
interesting museum. One of the gentlemen showed me the esta
blishment with great civility. The first thing which claimed my
attention was a very pretty little mermaid which had been exhibited
here for money some years ago, and was afterwards sold for a thou
sand pounds, when it was discovered that she was a deceptive con
trivance made out of a small ourang-outang and a salmon, joined
together in a most workmanlike manner. The existence of such
creatures remains, therefore, as much a problem as ever. Near to it
stood a real large ourang-outang, who lived here for a long time, and
performed many domestic services in the house. Mr. C  (so my
informant was called) assured me that he must regard this animal as
of a distinct genus, nearer to man than to the ape. He had lon<r
and attentively observed this individual, and had found in him the
most certain proofs of reflection and combination, evidently far be-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 207
yond the reach of instinct. Thus, he remarked that Mr. Dick (as
he called him) felt in gentlemen's pockets, if he were permitted, for
eatables; but if his search was unsuccessful, carefully replaced every
thing that did not answer his purpose, instead of throwing it away
or letting it fall, as all other monkeys do. He was so sensitive to
the slightest mark of displeasure, that he was depressed and unhappy
for days after being unkindly spoken to. He was observed, too, to
try of his own accord to assist the servants, if he saw them unusual
ly oppressed with work.
There were some preparations exhibiting almost incredible cases
of recoveries from wounds. The most extraordinary among them
was the breast of a man (which Mr. C  showed me, preserved in
spirits,) who had been so completely spitted by the shaft of a car
riage, that he could only be dragged from it by the efforts of several
persons. The shaft had passed close to the heart and lungs, which,
however, it only gently forced aside, without doing them the least
injury, and had broken the ribs before and behind. After the man
had been extricated from his horrible situation, he had strength
enough left to walk up two flights of stairs, and to lie down on a bed.
He lived fourteen years after the accident, sound and well; but the
surgeons had kept their eye upon him, and got possession of his body
as soon as he was dead. They have placed him in their museum,
together with the shaft, which had been kept in his family as a relic.
I was struck by a small, beautifully-formed greyhound, which was
built up in a cellar, and was found, after the lapse of many years,
perfectly dried. He looked as if carved out of gray sandstone, and
presented an affecting image of resignation, — rolled up as if in sleep,
and with such a mournful expression of his little head, that one could
not look at it without pity. A cat, starved and dried in the same
manner, looked8on the contrary savage and fiendish. Thus, thought
I, is gentleness beautiful even in suffering! It was a picture of the
good and the wicked in a like situation; and yet how different the
effects !
I must mention the skeleton of the Frenchman who was exhibit
ed here as ' the living skeleton,' his bones being really covered with
little more than skin. His stomach was smaller than that of a new
born child; and the unhappy creature was condemned to a prolonged
starvation, for he could not eat more than half a cup of broth a-day.
He was twenty years old, — died in London, and sold himself, while
yet alive, to the museum.
As I was driving home, I had taken a quantity of small money in
change at the turnpikes, and I amused myself in an odd humour by
letting a penny fall quietly out of the carriage every time I saw a
poor, ragged person. Not one of them perceived it; all passed over
it. And just so does Fortune with us! She drives continually
through the world in her chariot, and throws out her gifts blindfold.
How seldom do any of us see them, or stoop to pick them up! We
are generally seeking elsewhere at the lucky moment.
On my return home, I found a real gift of fate, and a very pre
cious one, — a long letter from you * "

208 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Herr von S  , whom you mention as one of the recent arrivals
at the baths, is an old acquaintance of mine, a strange original
whom we all liked, and yet could not resist making a butt of, and
who was continually meeting with adventures the most ludicrous
and the most serious. You have seen what a caricature he looks,
and that he is of all men the least formed to be a man ' a bonnes
fortunes.' When a young lieutenant, however, he was madly in
love with one of the most beautiful women of her time, Baroness
B  ; and one evening, on her torturing him to the utmost by
some biting jest, he ran a sword through his body before her eyes.
The weapon went through his lungs, so that a candle held to the
wound was blown out. Nevertheless our tragic madman was cured,
and Frau von B  was so touched by this proof of passion, that she
became less cruel to so desperate a lover. * * * *
Salthill, August 25th.
I have at length left town with L  , who will accompany me
for some days, after which I shall continue my travels alone. The
first resting-place is a delightful inn, like a gentleman's villa, in the
neighbourhood of Windsor. The prettiest veranda festooned with
roses and all sorts of creepers, and adorned with a quantity of
flowers in pots, covers the whole front; and a pleasure-ground and
flower-garden, in exquisite order, stretch before my window. From
hence I have a noble view of the gigantic Castle in the distance,
which, set in a frame of two massy horse-chestnut-trees, gleamed
like a fairy palace in the evening sun. The long rain had painted
everything emerald-green, and the sweet fresh country has the
most benign influence on my mind and spirits. I can talk of you
too, my good Julia, to L  , whose society is very agreeable to
me. To-morrow we mean to see a multitude of things. This even
ing, as it was late, we contented ourselves with a ramble in the
fields. August 26th.
Early in the morning we drove to Stoke Park, the residence of a
grandson of the celebrated Quaker, William Penn. In the house is
preserved a bit of the tree under which he concluded the treaty with
Indian chiefs. The park is fine, and contains the greatest variety of
deer either L  or I had ever seen, — black, white, striped, mot
tled, black with white spots on the forehead, and brown with white
feet. The park and gardenj though beautiful, presented nothing
remarkable. This we found in Dropmore, the seat of Lord Grenville, where
the most extraordinary trees and an enchanting flower-garden ex
cited all our attention. It was more properly two or three gardens;
— in richness of flowers, really unique; the beds partly cut in the
turf, partly surrounded with gravel. Each bed contained only one
sort of flower, which threw an indescribable richness of colour over
the whole picture. Countless geraniums of every sort and colour,
with many other flowers we hardly know, or of which we possess at

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 209
most only single specimens, were arranged in large and splendid
masses. The colours too were so admirably grouped that the eye
rested on them with extreme delight.
Yet a great part of the park consisted only of barren soil with
heather, — just like that of our woods. The turf was dry and scorch
ed, yet the high cultivation gave to the whole an air of great beauty,
and confirmed me in my persuasion that with money and patience
every soil may be overcome, — climate alone cannot.
After we had seen another park, which commanded some remark
ably fine views, we drove to Windsor to see the new part of the
Castle ' en detail.' Unfortunately, almost at the same minute the
King came up with his suite, in five phsetons drawn by poneys; so
that we were obliged to wait more than an hour till he drove off
again and we were permitted to enter.
In the interval we visited Eton College, an old establishment for
education founded by Henry the Sixth. Its exterior is that of a vast
and handsome Gothic building with a church attached to it; its inte
rior, of a simplicity hardly exceeded by our village schools. Bare
white walls, wooden benches, carved with the names of the scholars
who have studied here, (among which are those of Fox, Canning,
and other celebrated men,) are all that distinguish the room in which
the best-born youth of England are educated. According to the
rules of the foundation, the King's scholars have nothing day after
day but mutton. What could the royal founder propose to himself
by this singular law ? The library is very handsomely decorated,
and contains some interesting manuscripts.
On our return from Eton the King had driven away, and Mr.
Wyatville his architect, under whose direction the new part of the
Castle is erecting, had the kindness to give us detailed information
about every part. It is a vast work, and the only one of its kind
in England which is executed not only at a great cost and with
technical skill, but with uncommon taste, nay genius. The grandeur
and magnificence of the Castle, which, though not half finished, has
cost three millions of our money, are truly worthy of a King of Eng
land. Situated on a hill above the town, and commanding a beauti
ful view, while it presents a noble object from every side, its posi
tion gives it an immense advantage. Its historical interest, its high
antiquity, and its astonishing vastness and extent, unite to render it
single in the world.
The magnificence of the interior corresponds with the exterior.
Each of the separate panes of glass in the huge Gothic windows cost
twelve pounds sterling, and the eye is dazzled with velvet, silk, and
gilding. A high terrace on the side of the king's chamber, which
forms hot-houses in the inside, and on the outside looks only like a
high abrupt wall in the stern character of the rest of the building,
encloses the most charming garden and pleasure-ground. The four
great gates into the castle-yard are so admirably contrived, that each
encloses one of the most interesting points of the landscape as in a
frame. All the recent additions are, as I have already mentioned, so per-
27

210 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
fectly executed, that they are hardlyto be distinguished from the old
part; and I cannot blame the architectfor having faithfully imitated
even the less tasteful details. On the other hand, I musfconfess
that the internal decorations, spite of all their gorgeousness, appear
ed to me to leave much to wish for. They are enormously over
loaded in parts, and are not always either in keeping with the cha
racter of the building, or calculated to produce an agreeable effect.
August 28th.
left me yesterday, — sooner than he had intended. I am

extremely sorry for it; for so agreeable and friendly a companion
doubles every pleasure. I afterwards drove with an acquaintance
of the Guards to St. Leonard's Hill, belonging to Field-marshal
Lord H  , to whom E  had given me a letter.
The weather, which had been overcast and from time to time
rainy, was splendid; scarcely a cloud in the sky. On no more
beautiful day could I see a more beautiful place than St. Leonard's
Hill. These giant trees; this fresh wood, full of variety; these
enchanting views, both far and near; this delightful house, with the
most lovely of all flower-gardens; this luxuriant vegetation, and this
delicious retirement, from which, as from behind a curtain, you look
out upon a world of diversified beauty lying in the valley beneath,
— form a whole which has not its equal in England. The possessors
are a very agreeable old couple, unfortunately without children to
whom to transmit this paradise. The old lord seemed much pleased
at my enthusiasm for the beauties of the place, and invited me to
spend the following day, which I accepted with great pleasure.
To-day I was engaged to dine with my friend Captain B  at the
Guards' mess at Windsor, where I passed the evening, from six
o'clock till midnight.
At an early hour in the morning I was summoned by Lord
H  , who is Ranger of Windsor Park, and wished to show it me
before the King made his appearance. As soon as he rides out, the
private part of the grounds is hermetically sealed to every one, with
out exception, who does not belong to his own invited company. I
was rather late; the kind-hearted old lord scolded me a little, and
made me instantly get into a landau drawn by four noble horses, in
which we rolled rapidly through the high beech woods.
The King has had several roads cut, for his own special and pecu
liar use, through the most interesting parts of his immense park of
Windsor. We drove along one of them; and in half an hour reach
ed the royal stables, where the celebrated giraffe is kept. Here,
unhappily, we heard that the King's carriages had been ordered, and
indeed they stood already harnessed in the yard. There were seven,
of various forms, but all with very low wheels, almost as light as
children's carriages, and drawn by little poneys; the King's with
four, which he drives himself, — the others with two: most of the
poneys were of different colours. Lord H  beheld these equi
pages with dismay. He was afraid the King might meet us, and feel
' mal a son aise' at the sight of unexpected strangers — for the mon
arch's tastes are singular enough. It is unpleasant to him to see a

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 211
strange face, or indeed a human being of any kind whatsoever, within
his domain; and the Park is consequently (with the exception of the
high road which crosses it,) a perfect solitude. The King's favourite
spots are, for further security, thickly surrounded by screens of
wood, and plantations are daily laid out to add to the privacy and
concealment. In many places where the lay of the ground would
enable you to get a glimpse of the sanctuary within, three stages of
fence are planted one behind the other.
We hastened accordingly to secure a sight of the giraffe, which
was led out before us by two Moors who had accompanied her from
Africa. A wonderful creature indeed! You know her form; but
nothing can give an idea of the beauty of her eyes. Imagine some
thing midway between the eye of the finest Arab horse, and the
loveliest Southern girl, with long and coal-black lashes, and the most
exquisite beaming expression of tenderness and softness, united to
volcanic fire. The giraffe is attached to man, and is extremely
' gentle' and good-natured. Her appetite is good, for she daily
sucks the milk of three cows who were lying near her. She uses
her long bright-blue tongue like a trunk, in which way she took from
me my umbrella, which she liked so much that she would not give
it up again. Her walk was somewhat ungainly, from having sprain
ed her leg on board ship; but the Africans assured us that when in
perfect health she is very swift-footed. Lord H  hurried off,
for fear of the King; and after passing through a thickly-planted part
of the pleasure-ground attached to the ' Cottage,' which we only saw
from a distance, we directed our course to Virginia Water, the King's
favourite haunt. It is a large, artificial, but very natural-looking
lake, on which His Majesty almost daily fishes.
I was not a little surprised to see the whole country here assume
a new character, and one very uncommon in England, — that of my
beloved Fatherland: — fir- and pine-wood intermingled with oaks and
alders; and under foot our heather, and even our sand, in which this
year's plantations were completely dry and withered. I could have
given the King's gardeners some useful hints about planting in sand,
for I convinced myself that they do not at all understand the treat
ment of that sort of soil. — A little frigate lay rocking on the lake,
on whose banks were various little devices, — Chinese and Moorish
houses executed with taste and not caricatured. The haste with
which we drove along rendered it only possible to see things in a
transient, and for the most part distant manner. I was, however,
very glad to have gained at least a general idea of the whole.
My venerable host climbed up on the seat of the carriage, and
stood there, supported by his wife and me, to look about whether
the King might not be somewhere in sight; nor was he perfectly
tranquil till the gate of the sanctuary closed upon us.
On our way back we saw the King's hunters — beautiful animals,
as you may suppose, — and a peculiar breed of small elegant hounds,
which are not to be met with out of England. We returned with
good appetites for dinner, where I found several guests. Our hostess
is a very agreeable woman, and as ' parkomane' as myself. All the

212 LETTERS ON GERMANV,
noble trees in front of the house, between which glimpses of the
distant landscape appear like separate pictures, were planted by her
self forty years ago, and from that time to this only two have been
removed. Every day convinces me more and more that the wide
unbroken prospects which are here almost prohibited, destroy all
illusion. With the exception of some few very old parks, you find
hardly a house in England the view from which is not broken by-
scattered trees. Drawings deceive you, because the main object of
the draftsman generally is to show the architecture and size of the
building, and he consequently leaves out the trees.
A most useful contrivance in this garden was a gigantic umbrella
as large as a little tent, with an iron spike at the bottom to stick into
the ground. You could thus establish yourself in any spot shaded
from the sun.
I gladly accepted an invitation from my friendly host for the fol
lowing day, to meet the ladies of honour (Hofdamen*) of the Queen
of Wiirtemburg. After dinner we walked again, to see a cottage in
the low ground of the park. Enclosed on every side by hill and
wood, it forms a charming contrast to the handsome villa on the
height. Rode home (B  and I) by brilliant star-light. August 29th.
After paying a visit to Mrs. C  in Windsor, I returned to Lord
H  's, enjoying with new delight the noble oakwoods of his park,
at the entrance of which, the prettiest lodge, tastefully built of
trunks and branches of trees, and overgrown with roses, is a sort of
index to the lovely character of the whole. I found a large party
assembled; — the principal lady of honour (Oberhofmeisterin,) two
ladies in waiting (Hofdamen,*) and two equerries of the Queen of
Wiirtemburg, — all German: le Marquis de H  , a Frenchman,
with two sons and a daughter, (the latter a true ' Parisienne;') an
English clergyman, and another foreign nobleman.
The French party have judiciously put forward their cousinship
with the childless Peer, are very kindly received, live in the cottage
in the valley which I described yesterday, and have expectations of
inheriting this noble property, — so that the little French girl is al
ready regarded as ' a good match.'
The most interesting person to me in the whole company, how
ever, was the Countess herself. She is a most amiable old lady, full
of dignified courtesy, united to a very agreeable turn of mind. She
has seen much of life, and relates what she has seen in the most in
teresting manner. She told me many particulars concerning Lord
Byron, wiio passed much of his boyish time in her house, and was
then so untameable that she said she had had unspeakable trouble
with the daring, mischievous boy. She did not think him base, but
ill-tempered; for she observed that he always took a sort of pleasure
in giving pain, especially to women; though when he chose to be
" I do not know the exact equivalent of these titles. Hofdamen, literally is
Court -ladies. — Thansi..

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 213 '
amiable, she confessed that it was hardly possible to resist him. She
added, that whatever were the defects of his wife, he had certainly
treated her very ill, and had exercised a refinement of torture to
wards her; probably because she had formerly refused him, for
which he swore never-ending vengeance even on the day of his
marriage. I did not put implicit faith in this account, in spite of my great
respect for the narrator. The soul of a poet like Byron is hard to
judge; — the ordinary standard is quite inadequate to it, and very
few people have any other to apply.
Where one is much pleased, one generally pleases; and accord
ingly I was pressingly invited to spend a few days in this little par
adise. My restlessness is, however, as you know full well, equal
to my indolence; and as I am difficult to move from a place where I
have once fixed myself, ('temoin' my long unprofitable abode in
London,) I find it equally difficult to bring myself to remain where
the immediate interest is exhausted. I therefore gratefully declined
the invitation, and returned to Salthill. August 30th.
The terrace of Windsor Castle forms a delightful promenade for
the people of the town, and is frequently enlivened by the band of
the Guards. I walked there this morning with the pretty and ami
able Misses C  , and paid a visit with them to the ' chatelaine' of
the Palace, an old unmarried lady.
It is impossible to have a more delightful residence. Every win
dow commands a beautiful landscape. The venerable lady showed
me a stone in the wall of her bedroom, on which was a decayed in
scription. " This," said she, " was carved by a charming young
knight who pined here in captivity, just before his death; he was
suffocated under this very stone." " Good God!" said I, " are you
not afraid to sleep here? — suppose the young knight's ghost should ap
pear!" " Never fear!" exclaimed the sprightly old lady, "at my time
of life one is not so timid; I am safe from all young knights, living
or dead." We proceeded to the noble chapel, where divine service
was going on. The banners, swords, and coronets of the Knights
of the Garter proudly ranged around ; the melancholy light of the
coloured windows; the beautiful carvings in stone and wood ; the
reverential groups of hearers, — formed a fine picture only defaced
by some few objects: for instance, the ridiculous monument of the
Princess Charlotte, in which the four subordinate figures turn their
backs completely on the spectator; while on the other hand the
Princess appears in a twofold character, — extended as a corpse, and
ascending to heaven as an angel.
Lulled by the music, I gave myself up, in the quiet nook in which
I had niched myself, to my fancies, and, absorbed in the kingdom
of sound, soon forgot all around me. At last I thought myself dead,
and, yet I fancied myself a visitor of that Gothic chapel we wished
to build, dear Julia, and standing before my own tomb. In the cen
tre of the church, on a white marble sarcophagus, lay a figure wrapped

214 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
in thick folds of draperyr, with a wolf and a lamb at his feet. An
other pedestal of the same form was vacant. I approached, and read
the following inscriptions on the marble. On the end under the
head of the recumbent figure were the following words,
In thy bosom, O God!
Rests his imperishable spirit;
For the eternal law of life
Is death and resurrection.
At the opposite end was written;
His childhood was deprived of its greatest blessing, —
Loving education in the paternal house.
His youth was stormy, and vain, and foolish,
But never estranged from Nature and from God.
On the one side,
Serious and melancholy was his manhood; —
It would have been shrouded in night,
Had not a loving woman,
Like the sun, with clear benign beams,
Oft changed the dark night into cheerful day.
On the other side,
Length of days was denied him :
What were his works ancl his deeds !
They live and bloom around you.
What else he strove for, or attained, on earth, —
To others it availed much, to himself little.
And now I thought much of you, and of all I love, and I felt a
sort of pious sorrow for myself; — and as the sudden pause of the
music awoke me from my dream, the silent tears were actually upon
my cheek, so that I was almost ashamed to be seen. August 31st.
One is well served in England, — that is certain. I was invited to
dine at six at the Guard's mess which is very punctual, and sat writ
ing till late. The barracks are three miles from my inn, which is,
as usual, a post-house. I therefore told my servant to call for ' horses'
instantly. In less than a minute they were harnessed before the
door, and, in fifteen, driving like the wind, I was at table as the clock
struck six.
The military profession is on a far more social footing here than
with us, for the simple reason that the members of it are richer.
Though the service is as far as possible from being neglected, there
is not the slightest trace of pedantry; and, out of service, not the
least distinction between the colonel and the youngest lieutenant.
Every man takes as unrestrained a part in conversation as in any
other society. In the country the officers are all in uniform at mess,
but not in London, — with the exception of the officer ' du jour.'
After dinner, however, they all take their ease; and to-day I saw a
young lieutenant sit down in dressing-gown and slippers to play
whist with his colonel in uniform. These gentlemen have given me

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 215
a general invitation to their table as long as I remain in the neigh
bourhood, and are extremely friendly and cordial to me.
I had passed the morning in seeing Frogmore, and the pictures in
Windsor Castle. In the hall of the throne are several tolerable bat
tle-pieces, by West: the subjects are the feats of Edward the Third
and the Black Prince, — a throng of knights, snorting horses, ancient
armour and caparisons, lances, swords and banners, which form a
very appropriate decoration for a royal hall. In another room I was
struck by the very expressive portrait of the Duke of Savoy, — the
true Ideal of a ruler. Luther and Erasmus, by Holbein, are excel
lently paired, and yet contrasted: the acute and sarcastic counte
nance of the latter looks as if he were just about to utter the words
he wrote to the Pope, who reproached him with not keeping his
fasts: " Holy Father, my soul is Catholic, but my stomach is Pro
testant." The beauties of the Court of Charles the Second, who adorn a
whole wall, are well suited to lead a man into transgression of ano
ther kind. There is nothing remarkable at Frogmore. — The piece
of water is now only a swamp for frogs, though surrounded by
hedges of rose and hew. A complete encampment of light movable
tents on the turf had a pretty effect. September 3rd.
I have been prevailed upon to devote some days to the enjoyment
of a country life at the beautiful Lady G  's, a relation of Can
ning. At breakfast she told me that she was present some months ago
when Canning took leave of his mother (both being then in perfect
health) in these words: "Adieu, dear mother! in August we shall
meet again." In July the mother died suddenly, and in the begin
ning of August her son followed her.
Yesterday and the day before we drove to Egham races, which
are held on a plain surrounded by hills. I met many persons I
knew; was presented by the Duke of Clarence to the Queen of
Wurtemberg; betted successfully; and in the evening went to a
pic-nic ball in the little town, which, as with us, was fruitful in
country dandies and other amusing provincialisms.
To-day I walked nearly the whole day long with some young la
dies. Young Englishwomen are indefatigable walkers, through
thick and thin, over hill and dale, — so that it requires some ambi
tion to keep up with them.
In the park of a nabob we found an interesting curiosity; two
dwarf trees, transplanted from China, — elms a hundred years old,
with completely the shrivelled look of their age, and yet scarcely
two feet high. The secret of rearing such trees is unknown in Eu
rope. At last the high-spirited girls climbed over a fence of Windsor
Park, and disturbed the shades sacred to royal solitude with their
merry laugh. By this means I saw several forbidden parts of the
lovely scenery round Virginia Water, into which the anxious Lord

216 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
H  had not ventured; — had we been caught, it surely would not
have gone very hard with us in such company. Windsor, Sept. 5th.
During the four days of my stay we had become such cordial
friends, that I felt almost sad at parting. The ladies accompanied
me two or three miles before I got into the carriage. I drove away
somewhat ' triste,' and directed the post-boy to the barracks of the
Guards, where I arrived just in time for dinner. With the aid of
much champagne and claret, (for my long walk had made me
thirsty,) I consoled myself for the parting with my fair friends as
well as I could, and then drove with Captain B  to a ' soiree' at
Mrs. C  's. After tea, at about eleven o'clock of a splendid night,
in compliance with the wishes of the ladies, it was determined to
take a walk in the Park, to see the gigantic castle by moonlight from
a peculiarly favourable point. The walk was certainly rather long,
but it well rewarded us. The sky had flocks of sheep scattered over
its deep blue fields, (one of the officers, with more exactness than
poetry, compared it to curds and whey,) over which the light of the
lustrous moon was beautifully diffused. Our delight was soon rather
rudely interrupted by two sentinels with muskets, who challenged
and prepared to arrest us as trespassers and breakers of the peace.
(N. B. A company of twenty persons, principally ladies, and at least
seven officers of the Guards in full uniform!) At last they consented
to be satisfied with two officers whom they immediately took into
custody. How different from our manners! With us, officers would
have felt themselves dishonoured by the hard words the sentinels
used, and perhaps have thought it their duty to run them through on
the spot. Here, it appeared quite in order, and not the slightest at
tempt at resistance was made. The rest of us went home; and in
about an hour the two prisoners returned, having had to encounter
many delays before they could obtain their release. One of them,
Captain F  , laughed heartily while he told us that the' game
keeper had reproved him severely, and said " it was a shame that
officers, who were bound by their profession to repress all disorders,
should not have abstained from committing a trespass," and so forth.
"The man was not so much in the wrong," added he; " but ladies'
wishes must always be complied with, ' quand meme.' "
On returning to my inn I found my old B  , who came to re
ceive my orders in person before his final departure. I am very well
pleased with the Englishman whose character I investigated cranio-
logically, and therefore shall not miss my old countryman so much.
He is the bearer of a large plan of a garden, on which I lay out
stretched for an hour before I went to bed, to finish it; as Napoleon
used to lie on his maps and plans. He, however, with his rough
pencil drew blood; I, only water and flower-beds; — he fortifications,
I summer-houses; — he soldiers, and I trees.
In the sight of the All-seeing it may be the same whether his chil
dren play with cannon-balls or with nuts; but to men the difference
is considerable: — in their opinion, he who causes them to be shot by

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 217
thousands is far greater than he who only labours to promote their
enjoyment. A long index will illustrate my plan. Go hard to work to execute
what I lay before you, and gladden my return with the realization
of all my garden-dreams which have your approbation.
My intention is now to return to London for a few days, for the
purpose of seeing my horses embarked, and then to set out on my
long tour in the country. The Journal will therefore have a long
time to swell before I can send it you. Do not think, however, that
I grow negligent; for, as the illustrious and brilliant prince says,
" There are few things I enjoy more than writing to you."
Your L  .

LETTER XVIII.
London, Sept. 1th, 1827.
Dear friend,
I am, as you know, not strong in remembering anniversaries and
the like; but I know full well that to-morrow is the day on which I
left my poor Julia alone in B  . A year has rolled over us, and
we insects are still creeping on in the old track. But we love each
other as much as ever, and that is the main thing. We shall work
our way in time through those great heaps under which we are now
forced to toil so wearily; and perhaps reach the fresh grass and the
beautiful flowers on which the morning has scattered her diamonds,
and the gay sunbeams dance glittering in the wet crystal. ' Soyez
tranquille, nous doublerons encore un jour le Cap de bonne espe-
rance.' For some days I have written nothing about my sayings and do
ings, because they amounted only to this, — that I worked and wrote
daily with B  , dined with L  at the Travellers' Club, and
went to bed. Yesterday we had the company of another German at
dinner, Count  , who is come to buy horses. He seems to
have a good deal of money, and is young enough to enjoy it; ' au
reste,' the perfect picture of a good-natured country gentleman
(Landjunker), — of a truth, a most happy sort of man : — I only wish
I were one.
As to your opinion about parks, I must remark that the extent of
them, especially when properly rounded, can never be great enough.
Windsor park is the only one which has fully satisfied me as a whole,
and the reason for that is its enormous size. It realizes all I would
have; — a pleasant tract of country, within the bounds of which you
can live and do what you like, without privation or constraint; hunt,
fish, ride, drive, without ever feeling cramped; in which you never
see a point, except just at the entrance-gates, at which you remark,
Here is a boundary; and to which all the beauties of the surrounding
28

218 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
country to the remotest distance have been rendered tributary by a
cultivated taste.
In other respects you are right: one must not throw away good
and bad together ; and it is better to conceal many defects and limi
tations of the ground by skilfully-planned paths and plantations,
than to make disproportionate sacrifices to them.
My horses are safe on board, and sail to-day; though the beau
tiful Hyperion behaved like mad, dashed the box in which he was
enclosed into pieces like glass, and burst all the halters and straps
that confined him. He was within an inch of falling into the river,
and will probably give them a good deal of trouble on the passage,
though we have bound him like a wild beast. One can't blame the
poor animal for bein g frightened when the crane, like a giant's arm,
seized him and bore him into the air. Many, however, take it very
quietly, for even among horses there are Stoics.
There is nothing which needs really detain me now in London;
but Lady  is still here in the solitude, — and she is so attractive.
To quit such a friend were a sin, — the more so, as I have not the
least idea of falling in love with her. But is not the true unmixed
friendship of a charming woman something very sweet ? I have often
remarked how men destroy all friendship with women, because they
always think it incumbent on them to play the adorer; they thus
alarm their delicacy, and check at once that unsuspecting confidence
and ease which might otherwise subsist between them. I am well
contented with the mere friendship of an amiable woman, especially
when I can read it in her soft blue eyes, hear it from a mouth of
pearl and coral, and feel it in the kind pressure of a velvet hand.
To this portrait you have only to add the innocent look of a dove,
long dark-brown curling hair, a slender form, and the most beautiful
English complexion, and you have Lady  before your eyes.
Doncaster, Sept. 16 th.
1 might almost have dated from London, so rapidly have I
skimmed over these hundred and eighty miles; and yet I have had
time to get a sight of two celebrated houses of the time of Elizabeth,
though a transient one.
The first, Hatfield, which belonged to herself, and which she
frequently inhabited, is less magnificent than the second, Burleigh
House, which was built by her great minister Cecil. Hatfield is
built of brick; only the eyebrows of the windows, the corners, &c.
are of stone. The proportions are good and grand. There is no
thing remarkable in the park and garden, but a fine avenue of oaks,
which are reported to have been planted by the Queen herself.
I could only see the outside of Burleigh House; for though the
family were all absent, the ' chatelaine' was in no way to be moved
to desecrate the sabbath by showing the house to a foreigner. I re
gretted this the more, because there is a fine collection of pictures.
The ancient park is full of the finest trees; but the water, both here
and at Hatfield, stagnant and muddy. The house itself is in a con
fused style, Gothic below, and with chimneys like Corinthian pil-

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 219
lars. The great statesman must have had a very corrupt taste in
art. York, Sept. 11th.
Doncaster races are the most frequented in England, and the
course is far preferable to any in the country for elegance, fitness,
and commodious sight of the whole. The view of the race is more
agreeable, and less brief and transient; for from the lofty and ele
gant stand you distinctly overlook the whole course from beginning
to end. The horses run in a circle, and the same point serves as
starting-post and goal. The concourse of people, of handsome wo
men and fashionable company, was extraordinary. All the great
neighbouring nobility came in their gala equipages, — a very inte
resting sight to me, because I thus learned one sort of state observed
here in the country, which is very different from that in town. The
most distinguished equipage was that of the Duke of Devonshire,
and I describe his train to you as a notice for M  . The Duke's
party were seated in a full-bodied carriage drawn by six horses, the
harness and hammercloth of moderate richness, and the coachman in
intermediate livery, flaxen wig, and boots. The carriage was es
corted by twelve outriders; namely, four grooms mounted on horses
of different colours, with light saddles and bridles, four postilions on
carriage-horses exactly like those in the carriage, with harness-
reins, and postilions' saddles; lastly, four footmen in morning jack
ets, leathern breeches and top-boots, with saddle-cloths and holsters
embroidered with the Duke's arms. The order of the train was as fol
lows: first, two grooms; then two postilions; then the carriage with
its six beautiful horses which the coachman drove from the box, a
postilion riding the leader. On the left rode a footman; another
somewhat further back on the right ; behind the carriage two more
postilions, then two grooms, and lastly, two more footmen. The
little fellow who rode the leader was the only one in full state livery,
— yellow, blue, . black and silver, with a powdered wig, — rather a
theatrical dress, with the arms embroidered on his left sleeve.
The St Leger race, which took place to-day, has probably caused
many a sleepless night, for enormous sums have been lost. A little
mare, which was so lightly esteemed that the bets were fifteen to
one against her, was in first of twenty-six horses that ran. An ac
quaintance of mine won nine thousand pounds, and had he been
unsuccessful, would have lost hardly as many hundreds. Another
is said to have lost nearly everything he had, and, as it is asserted,
through the trickery of the owner of one of the horses.
Immediately after the races, which with their animated crowd and
thousand equipages afforded me a most striking exhibition of English
wealth, I drove further north, towards some object yet unknown to
myself, and arrived at one o'clock in the morning at this city of
York. During the whole ride I read by my lamp Madame de
Maintenon's Letters to the Princess des Ursins, which entertained
me extremely. Many passages are remarkably illustrative of the
manners of her age. The incognito Queen of course understands

220 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
court-life to the very bottom; and often reminded me strongly of a
good friend of yours, especially by her manner of affecting complete
ignorance of all that was passing, and of undervaluing her own in
fluence. She however shows great mildness and prudence, and such
extraordinary tact and good-breeding in all she says and does, that
one is constrained to think her more amiable than history represents
her. It is indeed always a bad thing to let an old woman govern,
whether in petticoats or breeches; but it was easier then than now,
for all ranks of people were obviously far more like great 'nai'fs'
children. They even made war in that spirit. Nay, they regarded
Almighty God as a Louis the Fourteenth in the highest ' potenzf
and, like true courtiers, When they were ' in articulo mortis,' they
left their earthly king in a moment, — taking no further notice
of him, — to devote themselves exclusively to that mightier Ruler,
whom they had hitherto neglected as too distant. One can distinct
ly perceive in these old ' Memoires,' that those who had been tole
rably successful at Court went out of the world with considerable
confidence in their 'savoir faire' in heaven; while those who were
in disgrace, suffered much greater fear of death, and severer stings
of conscience. It is quite impossible, now, to represent to oneself
such a Court or such an existence, faithfully; but perhaps, for our
particular class, it was not such a bad state of things. I fell into many
reflections on this eternal change in human affairs; and at length
breathed upon by that invisible spirit which pervades the Whole,
turned with loving greetings to the brilliant star of eve, which from
endless years had looked down upon all this struggle with pitying
tolerance and untroubled peace. September 19 th.
There are certainly some talents in me which it is a pity to think
0f * * * * * # * # * ' * *
Now all this is lost and thrown away (for one always serves oneself
badly,) like many better things: — for example, a wondrously beau
tiful tree in some American wilderness, which every spring decks
itself in vain with the richest foliage and the most fragrant blossoms,
where no human being can gladden his senses and his spirit by its
sweetness. Such an existence we call useless. What amiable ego
tism! — and under its unjust sentence I too must suffer, for those
above-mentioned virtues of mine are just as useless; — nay, my whole
person would probably be so, were I not of substantial use to the
post-boys and waiters, who take my money; and valuable to you,
my kind friend, ('je m'en flatte au moins,') on other grounds." So
that I do not live in the world absolutely and utterly for nothing;
and, as on the other hand I hurt nobody, my account stands tolera
bly fair after striking a balance.
This whole day I have been wandering about the town. I began
with the cathedral, which may be compared to that of Milan for the
richness of its ornaments as well as for its size. The founder was
Archbishop Scrope, (one of Shakspeare's personages,) whom Henry
the Fourth beheaded as a rebel in 1405. He lies buried in the

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND.

221

church; and in the chapter-house is a table covered with a piece of
tapestry belonging to him, and embroidered with his arms. It is
still in tolerable preservation. The windows in the church are
chiefly of old stained glass, only here and there repaired with new.
The carving in stone is everywhere admirable, and has all the deli
cacy and elegance of carved wood, representing all sorts of foliage,
animals, angels, &c. One of the great windows is not less than
seventy-five feet high and thirty-two broad. That at the other end
represents, by its strange stone ramifications, the veins of the human
heart, and, with its blood-red glass, produces a curious effect. One
of the side-windows is remarkable for being painted in imitation of
embroidery; it is like a gay carpet. In the choir is an old chair in
which several Kings of England were crowned. I sat down in it,
and found it, for stone, very comfortable; I dare say I should have
thought it still more so if it had been the preparation for a throne.
Near the church is a very pretty Gothic library, the arrangements
of which appeared to me very well contrived. Every book has three
numbers on the back. At the top, that of the shelf,- then that of the
compartment, and below, its own number; so that it can be found in
a moment. The numbers are on pretty little labels, and do not at all
deform the books. In one corner is a very light and convenient stair
case leading to the gallery, which runs about midway round the
room. The alphabetical catalogue is arranged as follows:
Page 20.

Form.

Letter C.

Edition.

Sbelf.

Compart ment.

Number.

8vo 4to
Folio
12mo

Cosmo, &c.
CavendishCoUey 
Corneille...

Verona 1591
London 1802
London 1760
Paris 1820

II. I.
XI. X.

7
5
3 6

189—192 52—55
1080—1082 920—930

This will suffice to make it clear to you; and as I know by expe
rience what a difficult matter the arranging of a library is, and how
many are the ways of doing it, I send you this scheme, as very well
suited to a small collection of books.
I could not get a sight of any of the rare books or manuscripts
kept here, as the librarian was absent. In a corner I found a very
curious drawing of the procession at the great Marlborough's funeral.
It is almost incredible how totally the dresses and customs have
altered even since that time. The aged clerk who conducted me
about, said he remembered when a boy to have seen soldiers with
long bag-wigs like those in the picture.
About three-quarters of a mile from the Minster, on a hill near to
the town, are the romantic ruins of St. Mary's Abbey, overgrown
with trees and ivy. The people here have the not very praiseworthy
project of erecting a public building on the same hill: they have even
begun to dig the foundation; in doing which they have come upon
some of the most beautiful remains of the old abbey, as perfect as if

222 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
executed yesterday. I saw several exquisite capitals still in the
earth, and in a neighbouring house, admirable bas-reliefs which have
been deposited there while the work is going on. We crossed the
river Ouse in a boat, and continued our walk along the top of the old
city wall, — a picturesque but rather impracticable way. The sur
rounding country is very fresh and green; and the numerous Gothic
towers of the town give great diversity and beauty to the prospect.
After a quarter of an hour's walk we reached the Micklegate, from
which the old barbican has been pulled down, but which has other
wise retained its original form. The gorgeous arms of York and
England glittered upon it with knightly splendour.
In an adjoining field a Roman tomb was discovered fifteen years
ago, and the owner who found it, now exhibits it in his cellar. The
arch, of Roman brick, is perfectly fresh; the skeleton, lying in a
stone coffin beneath, is pronounced by anatomists to be that of a
young woman; and, (which is saying a good deal at the end of two
thousand years,) she has still 'des beaux restes,' — splendid teeth,
and a beautifully formed skull. I examined the organs carefully, and
found all the most desirable qualities; — to such a degree, indeed, that
I could not help regretting making her acquaintance two thousand
years too late, or I should certainly have married her. A better or
ganized cranium I shall never find — that's certain. She does not
seem to have been rich, for nothing was found in her coffin but two
glass bottles, — very curious things in themselves, more perfect and
more like our glass than any I ever saw, except at Pompeii. It is
distinguishable from ours only by its silvery shine, and exhibits no
mark of having been blown, though no means have been discovered
of concealing such marks in any of our uncut glass. The British
Museum has offered' the possessor a large sum for these glasses. He
finds it, however, more advantageous to show the curiosities him
self, at a ' thaler' of our money a-head. *
We returned to the Micklegate, and proceeded with still more
difficulty along the crumbling wall, till, after half an hour's scram
bling, we came to a beautiful ruin called Clifford's Tower. This an
cient fortress plays a part in English history. On one occasion a
thousand Jews were burnt alive in it, — having no Rothschild then to
save them. At last, about a century ago, being used as a magazine
for gunpowder, it was blown up, and has ever since been abandoned
to the eating tooth of Time. But time not only destroys, but builds
up ; and thus as the ruins decayed, ivy, in which thousands of spar
rows nestle, curled itself around them like thick tresses; and in the
centre of the tower is a large nut-tree, which overtops the roofless
walls. The hill or mound on which the ruin stands was constructed
by the Romans; and a man who lately dug to a considerable depth
in search of treasure, found almost the whole foundation of it com
posed of bones of men and horses. Such is the earth — the universal
grave and cradle.
From ruins and death I proceeded to the living dead, who pine at
the foot of the hill — the poor prisoners in the county jail. Externally
their dwelling appears a palace. The interior has a very different

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 223
aspect; and my heart ached for the poor devils who were to sit the
whole winter through till March, in cells, which are clean, it is true,
but chill and damp, only on suspicion; with the pleasant prospect,
perhaps, of being hanged at the end. If they are acquitted, they
have no indemnification to expect. In the court in which the debt
ors were allowed to walk were two horses, a she-goat, and an ass.
In all the rooms and cells 1 visited, I observed the greatest cleanliness
and order. But the strangest peculiarity of this prison was a sort of
thieves's wardrobe, arranged with real elegance, like the wardrobe
of a theatre. A jailor, whose head was considerably overloaded
with drink, stammered out the following explanation:
" Here you see the wigs of the famous Granby, which disguised
him so, that for ten years he could never be caught. He was hang
ed here in 1786 — Here is the stake with which George Nayler was
knocked down two years ago on the road to Doncaster. He was
hanged here last spring. — Here is Stephen's 'knock-down,' with
which he killed six people at once. He was hanged here likewise
two years ago. — Here are the enormous iron leg-bolts, the only
things that would hold Fitzpatrick. He escaped seven times out of
the strongest prisons: but these leg-bolts, which I fastened on him
myself, were a little too heavy for him. (They were complete beams
of iron, which a horse could hardly have dragged along. ) He did
not wear them long, for two months afterwards, on the first of May,
— a beautiful morning 'twas, — he was sent to another world. —
Here are the machines with which Cook coined false money. He
was quite the gentleman — hanged in 1810."
" Pray," interrupted I, " what sort of a weapon is this immense
wooden mallet?"
"Oh!" grinned the old fellow, "that's innocent enough; that's
only what I break sugar with when I make negus, He, he, he! —
only I put it here ready."
The wardrobe was immediately adjoining his room, and seemed
an amateur collection, which owed its rise entirely to his own taste
and zeal. How various are the hobby-horses of men!
I am afraid you are already tired of this long walk, dear Julia; but
you must follow me a little further; nay, you must even consent to
climb from the depth to the highest height. I wished to see the
whole panorama of my walk at a glance, and selected for that pur
pose a Gothic tower of the finest proportions. It is of the most beau
tiful, elaborate architecture from top to bottom; and behind the
transparent tracery I had espied from a distance, with the aid of my
opera-glass, ladders which extremely tempted me to mount.
After a stout walk, — in the course of which we came to another
old gate, called the Nobles' Gate, which was built up fifty years ago
and is now re-opened to serve as a passage to the new cattle-market,
— we at length reached the desired tower, a part of the oldest church
in York. I had some trouble in finding the clerk, a black man,
more like a coal-heaver than a servant of the church, — but full of
goodwill. I asked him if one could get up to the fine galleries at
the top. " That I don't know," replied he, " for I never went up,

224 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
though I have been clerk these ten years. There are only old ladders,
and some are broken at the top, so that I don't think it possible."
This was enough to fire my adventurous soul; and I hastened up the
worst, darkest, narrowest, and most decayed winding staircase you
can imagine. We soon reached the ladders; we climbed them with
out halting, and came to the first landing-place. But here the clerk
and the ' laquais de place' hesitated to proceed. A high and cer
tainly very frail-looking ladder, wanting many staves, led to a small
square hole at the top (where, for a space of about six feet, the staves
were entirely gone;) through this you reached the roof. I was de
termined not to go back ' re infecta,' so I scrambled up, reached
the edge of the opening with my hands, and swung myself up with
some little difficulty. The view was indeed magnificent, and I ex
actly attained my chief end, — to see the noble Minster, (which is
so miserably encumbered by houses below,) perfectly free in all its
colossal majesty, like a line-of-battle ship among boats. The wind,
however, blew so terribly around my elevated post, and all seemed
in such a decaying state, that I could almost fancy the whole tower
rocked in the blast. By degrees I grew uncomfortable in this con
tinued storm. I began my descent, but found that far more difficult
than the ascent, as is generally the case in such places. But one
must not stay to think, if one begins to feel what the English call
' nervous.' Holding fast by my hands, therefore, I let my feet drop
like feelers in search of the highest stave, and very glad was I when
I found it. On my arrival at the bottom I was as black as the clerk.
Meanwhile it was the time of evening service in the Minster,
where a fine organ and well-selected music in so noble a building,
promised me a delightful resting-place. I hastened thither, and
dreamed away a delicious half-hour under the influence of sweet
sounds and melancholy; while this vast organ, — the tyrant of music,
as Heinze calls it, — rolled pealing through the immense aisles, and
the sweet voices of children, like the breath of spring, lulled the
awe-struck soul again to peace.
Almost in the twilight I visited the town-hall, where the Lord
Mayor (only London and York have Lord Mayors) holds his court
three times a week, and where the sessions are held every three
months. It is an old and handsome Gothic building. Near it are
two rooms for the barristers and attorneys (obern und untern Advo-
caten.) In the upper room the Lord Mayor's arms are emblazoned
in modern painted glass, — for every tradesman has arms here. One
can generally discover from them what is the calling of the possessor.
The mottos, however, are less business-like, and seem to me to affect
too noble an air.
I have now established the proper balance, that is to say, my hands
are as tired of writing as my feet of walking. It is time to give the
stomach some work to do. If I were Walter Scott, I would give
you the bill of fare; but as it is, I don't venture. Instead of it I
shall subjoin a word upon my after-dinner reading, which will be
furnished again by Madame de Maintenon.
It really touched me to see how vividly the poor woman paints

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 225
the melancholy uniformity, the bitter ' gene' of her life; and how
often and heartily she longs, with a force and a sincerity that cannot
be mistaken, for her dismissal from this stage, which, as she says,
" worse than all others, lasts from morning till night." Amidst
all her power and splendour, she still seems to regard death as the
most desirable of things; and indeed, after the long endless void, —
after the sacrifice of every personal feeling and inclination year after
year, one can imagine the mortal weariness of the spirit, longing
for its release. This explains the religious mania that took posses
sion of her, which was also characteristic of the childishness of the
age. Had a woman of Madame de Maintenon's talents lived at a
later period, Moliuistes and Jansenistes would hardly have succeed
ed in extorting a smile of contempt from her; but in her time it was
otherwise. Still she is in her way a great woman, as Louis the
Fourteenth is, in his, a great king, — in a little age. It was precisely
because it was little that it formed little things, — Court, society, &c.
— to far greater perfection than ours; and thence to the imaginative
mind, which contemplates with pleasure the Perfect in everything,
great or small, must ever present an attractive picture. Sept. 20th.
This morning I devoted to the gleanings, and visited the ancient
church of All Saints, where I found some admirable painted glass,
though in very bad preservation. There was a Virgin and Child, of
a beauty and sweetness of expression of which Raphael would not
have needed to be ashamed. I then went to another old church,
St. Mary's, where there is a strange gateway on which a number of
hieroglyphics and the signs of the zodiac are beautifully carved in
stone. As I had been introduced to the Archbishop of York in
London, I wrote him a note yesterday, and begged to be allowed to
pay my respects to him. He returned a most polite answer, beg
ging me to pass some days at his house. I however declined his
invitation to more than a dinner, and drove to his country-house at
five o'clock. I found a beautifully kept, luxuriant pleasure-ground,
and stately old Gothic structure in a peculiar style, which pleased
me much. It was not very large, but perfectly elegant; and at the
four corners of the flat roof stood four colossal eagles with out
stretched wings. Instead of the heavy battlements, which have a
good effect only in enormous masses, a beautiful sort of open-work
ornament in stone, at once rich and light, ran round the roof as a
parapet. That the interior corresponded in magnificence with the
exterior you may conclude from the ecclesiastical rank and wealth
of the possessor. The venerable Archbishop, still a very hale ac
tive man, conducted me about, and showed me his kitchen-gardens
and hot-houses, which are remarkably fine. They were as neat as
the most elegant drawing-room, — a thing which it would be impos
sible to make our gardeners understand. Not a trace of disorder or
dirt, of boards and tools lying about, dunghills near the paths, or the
like. On the walls were the choicest fruit-trees arranged in sym
metrical lines; among them currant-bushes which had attained to
29

226 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
such a growth by the removal of all the small under-branches, that
they were twelve feet high, and loaded to excess with bunches like
small grapes. In the hot-houses, in which pines and grenadillas (a
West-Indian fruit in the form of a little melon, and with a flavour
like that of a pomegranate,) grew luxuriantly, was a different sort of
vine in every window: all were thick-hung with fruit The fruit-
trees on the walls were covered with nets, and at a later season are
matted, so that one may pluck ripe fruit till January. One part of
the garden was full of ripe strawberries of a peculiar kind, and His
Grace assured me he had them in the open air till January. He
pointed out to me the Norman cress as a new vegetable of remark
ably fine flavour, and told me it might be cut in the snow.
The multitude of flowers still in blossom which edged the beds
of the kitchen-garden was striking. I know that this climate is
favourable to gardeners, nevertheless they must excel ours in the
management of flowers.
In the pleasure-ground I saw larches not only of enormous size,
but as thick in foliage as pines, and their pendent branches extend
ing twenty feet over the turf. I heard here, for the first time, that
it is thought very beneficial to trees of this tribe1 to touch the moist
earth with their branches, for that they draw great nourishment in
that way.
A dinner worthy of an Archbishop closed this agreeable evening.
I have told you that the wives of English Bishops do not share their
husbands' titles. The wife of the Archbishop of York is, however,
a ' Lady in her own right;' and what is more, a very agreeable wo
man. She has ten sons and three daughters. Scarborough, Sept. 21st.
I forgot to tell you a droll story that was related yesterday; the
strongest instance of ' distraction' (except that of the self-decapitat
ing Irishman,) you ever heard. Lord Seaford said, that his uncle,
the old Earl of Warwick, who was famous for fits of absence, tra
velled up to London one evening from Warwick Castle on important
business, which he settled to his satisfaction the following day, and
returned again in the night. He had hardly reached home, when he
fainted. All the family were alarmed, and asked his valet if his
Lord had been ill in London. " No," replied the man, " he has
been very well; but I really believe that he has forgotten to eat ever
since he was away." This was actually the case, and a plate of soup
soon restored His Lordship to his accustomed health.
I write to you from a sea bathing place that has the reputation of
being very beautiful. As yet I know nothing about it, for it was
pitch dark when I arrived. In the morning I hope to enjoy the
best possible view, for I am lodged in the fourth story, the house
being choke-full.
On my journey I visited Castle Howard, the seat of Lord Carlisle.
* Nadelholz: a generic word including all trees with leaves like a needle, — pine,
fir, larch, &c. — Transi.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 227
It is one of the English ' show places,' but does not please me in
the least. It was built by Vanbrugh, an architect of the time of
Louis the Fourteenth, who built Blenheim in the same bad French
taste. That, however, imposes by its mass, but Castle Howard
neither imposes nor pleases. The whole park, too, has something
to the last degree melancholy, stiff, and desolate. On a hill is a
large temple, the burial-place of the family. The coffins are placed
around in cells, most of which are still empty; so that the whole
looks like a bee-hive, only indeed more silent and tranquil. In the
castle are some fine pictures and antiques. Among the former, the
celebrated Three Marys of Annibal Caracci is particularly remark
able. This picture represents the dead Christ, behind whom his
mother has sunk fainting; the elder Mary hastens to her with a ges
ture of lamentation, while Mary Magdalene throws herself despair
ingly on the body. The gradation from actual death to fainting,
thence to the subdued grief of age, and lastly, to the living despair
of youth, is given with inimitable truth. Every limb in the body
of Christ appears truly dead: you see that the vital spirit has utterly
quitted this form, so motionless, cold, and stiff. On the contrary,
all is life and motion in the beautiful Magdalene, even to the very
hair; all is the vigour and fulness of life, excited by the bitterest
grief. — Opposite hangs Annibal's portrait by himself. It has very
striking features, but looks more like a 'highwayman' than an artist.
You, dear Julia, would have been most attracted by a collection of
drawings of the Lords and Ladies of the Court of Francis the First,
— fifty or sixty portraits: they were painted memoirs. Among the
antiques I was amused by a Goose of the Capitol in bronze, which
you fancy you hear cackling with its outstretched wings and open
bill. A picture of Henry the Eighth, by Holbein, in admirable
preservation, is worth mention; — otherwise nothing particularly
struck me. The well-known St. John by Domenichino is here,
and given out to be an original. If I mistake not, the real one is in
Germany. The park, planted in large stiff masses, is remarkably rich in arch
ways: I passed through about seven before I reached the house.
Over a muddy pond, not far from the Castle, is a stone bridge of five
or six arches, and over this bridge — no passage. It is only an ' ob
ject;' and that it may answer this description thoroughly, there is
not a tree or a bush near it or before it. It seems that the whole
grounds are just as they were laid out a hundred and twenty years
ago. Obelisks and pyramids are as thick as hops, and every view
ends with one, as a staring termination. One pyramid is, however,
of use, for it is an inn. Sept. 22nd.
If colds and consumptions are frequent in England, it is more to
be attributed to the habits of the people than the climate. They
have a peculiar predilection for walks on the wet grass; and in every
public room there are open windows, so that it is hardly possible to
bear the drafts. Even when they are shut the wind whistles through

228 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
them; for they are seldom substantial, and never double. The cli
mate too, however favourable to vegetation, is dreadful for men.
This morning, at nine o'clock, I rode out on a hired horse, in beau
tiful weather and a cloudless sky, and before I had been out an hour
the most soaking rain wetted me through and through. At last I
reached a village, where, in despair at not finding even a gate-way
under vvhich to take shelter, I sprang from my horse, and seeing a
cottage door open, went in, and found two old women cooking some
thing over a fire. In England, everything domestic is held so sa
cred and inviolable, that a man who enters a room without having
cautiously announced himself and begged pardon, instantly excites
alarm and displeasure. Although the cause of my intrusion ran in
pretty obvious streams from my hat and clothes, I was not very cor
dially received by the old ladies. But what was the rage and horror
of my hostesses ' malgre elles,' when my steed, whose sagacity would
have done honour to Nestor himself, walked in at the door, and before
anything could be done to stop him, took his station in the most
quiet and decorous manner before the chimney-piece, and with a
look of sly, affected stupidity, began to dry his dripping ears at the
fire. I thought the women would have died of rage, and I of laugh
ing. I had such compassion for my poor comrade in misfortune,
that I did not like to turn him out by force ; and so, — they scolding
and storming, I trying to appease them with gentle words, and the
more approved eloquence of other silver sounds, — we staid, half by
force, half by entreaty, till the storm was a little over, and we were
a little dried. The drying, however, was of small avail; for, at the
entrance to the romantic Forge Valley, storm and rain began afresh.
I surrendered myself to my fate, though wholly without defence,
and consoled myself with the beauties of the surrounding spot, — a
deep, narrow valley, clothed with rich wood, through which a rapid,
foaming streamlet took its way. By the side of the brook was a
good road. I remarked a pretty and simple way of enclosing a spring
between two large blocks of stone set upright, and a third laid
across. Through this rude portal the water gushed forth, and bound
ed on its course.
To avoid catching cold, if possible, I took a warm salt bath as
soon as I arrived, and then proceeded to the ' Sands,' — that is, the
part of the beach left by the tide; a very singular promenade. Sad
dle-horses, and carriages of all kinds, stand in numbers for hire; and
you may ride for miles on the very brink of the waves, over ground
like velvet. The old Castle of Scarborough on the one side, and a
fine iron bridge connecting two hills on the other, increase the pic
turesque character of the scene. I rode by the light of the evening
sun up to the Castle, from which the view is magnificent, and which
is itself an imposing object.
On the highest point of the ruin is an iron machine like a kibble,
which serves as a beacon. A large tar-barrel is placed in it and set
oil fire. It burns like a flaming torch the night through. The Cas
tle stands on a projecting rock, which rises to the height of a hundred

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 229
and fifty or two hundred feet perpendicular from the sea. Around
the Castle its summit is like a bowling-green. Sept. 23rd.
To-day I rode along the sea-coast to Filey, where there is a cele
brated bridge of rocks built into the sea by the hand of Nature. The
sea was blue, and covered with sails. At Filey I took a guide. We
passed along many strangely-shaped rocks, and came at length to
this bridge, which is in fact only a broad reef, running out about
three-quarters of a mile into the sea. The detached blocks were
thrown about in fantastic groups, and it was necessary to take some
care not to slip over their smooth-washed sides. The tide was com
ing in, and already covered a part of the reefs. After satisfying my
curiosity I scrambled back, and took my way through a pleasant
field to the nearest inn. Flamborough Head, Sept. 24th: — Evening.
Distances are calculated quite otherwise here than with us. My
respectable old mare, a hired one, brought me here very well, five
German miles in two hours. As soon as I arrived, I hired another
horse to ride a mile and a half (German) further, to see the light
house and cavern which render Flamborough Head remarkable. The
weather was most brilliant, with a good deal of wind, so that I hoped
this time to escape a wetting; but I was deceived ; for I had scarcely
reached the cliffs when I was regaled not only with the ' obligato'
drenching rain, but also with the accompaniment of a violent tem
pest. This, however, was an agreeable variety; for thunder and
lightning beheld from beetling cliffs overhanging a foaming sea are
worth encountering some inconvenience for. The custom-house
officer who accompanied me, very civilly brought me an umbrella,
seeing the lightness of my dress; but the storm, and the slippery
and perilous path at the edge of the precipice rendered it useless.
The sea has washed away the rocks in such a manner that many
stand like solitary towers or columns in the waves. They looked
like huge sea-spirits, — their whiteness rendered more glaring by the
inky sky. There are many caverns, to which there is access at low
water. It was now high-tide, however, and I was obliged to hire a
fishing-boat to take me to the largest of them. Inspired by the fresh
breeze, I took an oar for the first time in my life, and rowed hearti
ly: I find the exercise so pleasant that I shall certainly take it as
often as possible. The sea was so rough that I could not help think
ing we were in some danger, and expressed as much to my com
panion. He answered me very poetically; "OSir! do you think
life is not as sweet to me as it is to you, because I am only a poor
fisherman? As far as the mouth of the cavern there is no danger, but
we can't go in to-day." I was therefore obliged to content myself
vvith casting a glance into the huge arch-way, whence the foam flew
up like smoke, amid the howling and bellowing of the waves. As
the fisherman assured me that sea-water never gave cold, I mounted
my horse, still dripping from the salt wave, and rode to the light-

230 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
house. This was the more interesting to me, as I had till now but
a very imperfect conception of the construction of these buildings.*
An opportunity, which has presented itself, of sending this letter
safely to the Embassy, enables me to share my travels with you
thus far.
I therefore close it for the present, — always with Scheherezade's
condition of beginning again to-morrow.
1 Sans adieu' therefore, Your L  .

LETTER XIX.
Whitby, Sept. 25th.
Dear Julia,
I slept rather late after my yesterday's fatigues, and did not
leave Scarborough till two o'clock. The road to Whitby is very
hilly, and the aspect of the country singular. As far as the eye
can reach, neither tree, house, wall, nor hedge; — nothing but an
endless sea of wavy hills, often of a strange regularity of form, like
heaps of rubbish shot down, thickly overgrown with heather, which
at a near view presents the most beautiful shades of purple and red,
but at a distance sheds one uniform dingy brown over the whole
landscape, promising a rich harvest to grouse-shooters. Nothing
breaks the uniformity but a number of white spots moving slowly
here and there — the down sheep, with their black faces and fine
wool. About three miles from Whitby, as you descend from the
hilly country, the scene gradually changes, and near the town be
comes very romantic. Meanwhile English cleanliness and elegance
sensibly diminish. Whitby is exactly like an old German town;
without ' trottoirs,' equally dirty, and with as narrow streets.
Probably few strangers of any ' apparence' visit this miserable
place; or whether they took me for somebody else I know not, —
but so it was, that they besieged me like some strange animal, and
did not let me depart without an escort of at least a hundred people,
who crowded round me, very good-naturedly indeed, but rather too
pressingly, and examined me from head to foot I could not help
thinking of a droll anecdote the Duke of Leeds told me. This no
bleman was very affable with his tenants and people; one of them
came up to him one day when he was riding, and told him he had a
great favour to beg of him. The Duke asked him what it was. The
man replied, after some hesitation, that he had a little boy who
plagued him day and night to let him see the Duke, and that as His
Grace was now close to his cottage, he would perhaps do him the
great favour to let his son look at him. The Duke readily consent
ed, and rode laughing to the cottage, where the delighted father ran
* The minute description of the arrangements of the light-house is omitted, as
most English readers are acquainted with them  Tbans.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND, 231
in and fetched his child. The boy stood amazed, looking at the
middle-aged gentleman of not very commanding exterior before
him, of whose greatness and power he had heard so much; gazed at
him a long time; then touched him; and suddenly asked, "Can you
swim?" " No, my good boy," said the Duke. " Can you fly?" " No,
I can't fly, neither." " Then I like father's drake better, for he can
do both."
Whitby has a harbour shut in between very picturesque rocks,
with a handsome granite pier stretching far into the sea, from which
you have a fine view of the town. The ruins of the celebrated ab
bey, standing on an abrupt crag, are peculiarly beautiful. It was
founded by a King of Northumberland in the sixth century, and is
now the property of sonie private individual, who does nothing for
the preservation of this sublime memorial of ancient greatness. His
cattle feed among its mouldering walls, which are so choked with
dirt and rubbish that I could hardly approach to see them. I alight
ed by the light of the young moon, and was enchanted by the ro
mantic effect, — lofty columns, darting up into the air like the slen
der trunks of pines; long rows of windows in good preservation,
and many finely executed ornaments about them, still as perfect as
if the wind of the first autumn now played among their ample
arches. Other parts were quite altered and decayed, and many a
frightful face lay scattered about, grinning at me in the moonlight.
Near the abbey is a very ancient church, which is still used, and is
surrounded by hundreds of moss-grown gravestones.
I am lodged in a humble but very comfortable country inn, kept
by two sisters, whose civility is of that sort which springs from real
good-nature and zeal, and not from regard to pelf alone. As I asked
for a book, they brought me the Chronicle of Whitby, which I
turned over, while the wind roared as loudly without, as it does
round our good castle of M  . In this Chronicle is a valuation
of lands in the seventh century, in which Whitby, with its appurte
nances, is rated at sixty shillings!
I find from it, that the vast and magnificent abbey has been de
stroyed neither by fire nor by violence, but was delivered over by
more silent tyranny to the tooth of time. Henry the Eighth con
fiscated this with the rest, and sold it, even to the stones of the
building. Fortunately, after several houses in the town had been
built of the materials, an ancestor of the present possessor bought
what remained, which has ever since been left ' in statu quo.'
Guisborough: — Evening.
I had written a note to Lord Mulgrave, the proprietor of a great
alum-work, and of a beautiful house and park on the sea-shore, beg
ging permission to see them. He sent me a very polite answer,
and a groom on horseback to conduct me. This aggravated the yes
terday's misery; and the chief magistrate of the little town now
thought fit to becompliment me by tlie mission of two of his col
leagues, who were also secretaries of the Museum, which they pro
posed to show me. As it contains many very curious fossils found

232 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
in this neighbourhood, I accepted their offer. Half the town was
collected again, and followed us, with an ' arriere garde' of a very
noisy 'jeunesse.' In the Museum I found a number of the members
assembled, and a blooming company of ladies, from whose attractive
faces I was continually forced to turn away my eyes to look at a
crocodile or a petrified fish. The two secretaries had divided the
duties between them: — one did the honours of the fish and amphi
bia; the other of the quadrupeds, birds, and minerals: and both were
so zealous that I should see everything in their respective depart
ments, while some dilettanti were no less eager to show me other
things, that I had need of the hundred eyes of Argus to take in all.
The thing which interested me the most was an Esquimaux canoe
with the fishing apparatus complete, presented by Captain Parry.
It is made entirely of whalebone and seal-skins, and so light that one
can scarcely conceive how it can encounter the sea. It is tolerably
long ; but in the centre, at its greatest breadth, scarcely a foot across;
the whole is enclosed like a box, with the exception of a round hole
in the middle, in which the Esquimaux sits and balances his little
bark with a double oar. The petrifactions of all kinds, as well of
existing as of antediluvian animals and plants, are extremely nume
rous and fine, and the large crocodile, almost perfect, is certainly
' unique' in its kind. The gentlemen insisted on accompanying me
back to my inn, whither we were attended by the usual ' cortege.'
As I drove off, a dreadful hurrah resounded, and several of the chil
dren of both sexes did not quit me till they found it impossible to
keep pace with the horses.
I now drove slowly along the beach, conducted by Lord Mul-
grave's servant. I alighted to walk, and amused myself with pick
ing up little stones of the most brilliant colours which covered the
beach. In an hour we reached the alum-work, which lies in the most
romantic situation, between the abrupt cliffs overhanging the sea. I
examined it all very minutely, as you will see by the accompanying
letter to the A  D  .
I had to go back along a path which seemed fit only for goats, and
of the inconveniences of which the overseer had advertised me.
Sometimes it was scarcely a foot broad, and at its side rose a smooth
alum rock of two hundred feet perpendicular height. Along such
paths, many of which intersect the rocks, the men work, and hew
away the alum ore which lies near the surface. This affords the
strangest spectacle you can imagine:' the men appear to hang to the
wall of rock like swallows, and are often obliged to be pulled up by
ropes. Below, in the valley, are large cars for carrying away the
ore, which is incessantly heard clattering down the rocks. It took
me two hours to see all; and I then drove to the house, where Lord
Mulgrave's son (the earl himself being ill of the gout) regaled me
very hospitably with an excellent luncheon, and conducted me about
the park. It is indebted for its greatest beauties to Nature, to whose
rocks, brooks, and wooded glens, you have access through very ju
diciously-cut roads, some German miles in length. From the house
you look from under high oaks and beeches along a velvet turf, upon

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 233
the sea, covered with a hundred sails. One of the greatest orna
ments of the park is the old castle, — a ruin believed to have been
originally a Roman fort, and afterwards the castle of the Saxon
prince Wanda. At a later period it was given to the ancestor of the
present family by King John, as a reward for the murder of the
young prince, so touchingly described by Shakspeare. The view
from the old battlements is wild and picturesque. In the new castle,
which was built fifty years ago in the Gothic style, I was much
struck with the portrait of a female ancestor of the present earl, who
must have been lovely and no less original; for she is painted in
deep mourning, and yet she sits smiling at a window with this in
scription in old English: " Since my husband's love was but a jest,
so is my mourning but a jest"
Young Mr. Phipps told me that a strange accident occurred on a
ridge of slate-rocks which run into the sea near the house. — Two
girls were sitting on a cliff with their backs to the sea; a sharp frag
ment of the slate split off from the rock high above them, and fall
ing with increasing velocity cut off the head of one of them, (who was
earnestly talking to the other,) so clean, that it rolled to a distance
on the sand, while the trunk remained unmoved. The parents are
still living in the village. Ripon, Sept. 21th.
I slept through the night very well in my carriage, breakfasted in
the garden of a pretty inn, and then hastened to Studley Park, which
contains the famous ruins of Fountain's Abbey, esteemed the largest
and most beauitful in England. They far exceeded my expectation,
as did the park. — I must describe them to you as I saw them.
The way leads through a majestic wood, first to a steep hill, and
then, at an abrupt turn, to a green valley about three or four hun
dred feet wide, in the centre of which is a little river broken into
various natural waterfalls. On one side of the valley is a considera
ble chain of hills, overgrown with venerable ashes, beeches, and
oaks; on the other, an abrupt wall of rock overhung with trailing
plants, and also crowned with old trees. The whole end of the val
ley is closed by the ruins and the lofty towers of the abbey. You
will easily form some conception of the vastness of these ruins, when
I tell you that the buildings belonging to the abbey, when entire
covered fifteen acres of ground, and that the ruins now cover four.
The nave of the church, great part of the walls of which are still
standing, is three hundred and fifty-one feet in length, the oriel
window fifty feet high, and the tower, though partly fallen down, a
hundred and sixty-six feet high. The architecture is of the best
period — the twelfth and thirteenth centuries — -as simple as it is
grand. A gateway leads from the church to the cloister, three hun
dred feet long and forty -two wide; a second to the cloister garden,
which is cultivated as a flower-garden by its present possessor, and
surrounded by various picturesque ruins, — the library, court and
chapter-house. The vaulted ceiling of the latter, like the Romer in
Marienburg, is supported by a single pillar in the centre. The
30

234 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
groined roof of the kitchen is constructed, with consummate skill,
without any support. Near it is the magnificent confectory, a hun
dred and eight feet long and forty -five wide: — this was, of course,
the crown and glory of the abbey, which was famed for its luxury
and dissoluteness. In the church are many monuments — one of
Lord Mowbray in full chain armour, carved in stone; further on,
several abbots; and lastly, a stone coffin, which contained the mor
tal remains of Harry Percy. Above it is an angel, in good preser
vation, and beneath it the date 1283, very distinct. At the top of
the tower is a Latin inscription in gigantic Gothic letters, which pro
claims from on high these beautiful and appropriate words, " Glory
and praise to God alone through all ages!" The whole ruin is hung
with draperies of ivy and creeping plants, and majestic trees here
and there wave their tops above it. The river winds by, and a few
steps further on, turns the old abbey-mill, which is still in use; as if
to teach the lesson, that when power and magnificence pass away,
the useful retains its modest existence. At a short distance behind
the abbey stands the old dwelling of the proprietor, which was built
out of the fallen stones of the ruins in the sixteenth century. This,
too, is highly picturesque, though of course in a far less noble style.
Its walled gardens with their high-cut yew hedges, and regular, trim
flower-beds; and the mixture of objects comparatively modern, yet
now fast acquiring a claim to antiquity, give the fancy an agreeable
and spacious field to expatiate in. Here are perhaps the oldest yews
in England. One, which is thought to be a thousand years old, is
thirty feet in circumference in the thickest part of its stem. Among
the carvings in the house are those of two old knights taken from
the abbey, with the inscription, probably modern, ' Sic transit gloria
mundi.' The decay of Fountain's Abbey, too, is to be attributed to
the suppression of monasteries under Henry the Eighth.
Leaving the abbey, in half an hour you reach a beautiful and fine
ly kept pleasure-ground, which is rendered peculiarly delightful by
its diversity of hill and vale, noble trees, and well-placed clumps;
though rather encumbered with a multitude of old-fashioned sum
mer-houses, temples, and worthless leaden statues. In one of these
temples, dedicated to the Gods of antiquity, stands a bust of — Nero!
But these slight defects might easily be removed, while such a com
bination of natural beauty can rarely be met with. At the end of
the deer-park stands the house of the proprietress, an elderly single
lady of large fortune. I met her in the garden, and was invited by
her to luncheon, which I gladly accepted, as my long walk had made
me very hungry.
To return to the ruin. — Giving way to my critical vein, I must
add one thing, — which is, that while too little care is bestowed
upon Whitby, too much is bestowed upon this. Not a loose stone
lies on the ground, which is mowed as smooth as a carpet. The old
cloister garden is laid out in a too modern taste; and were this poetic
structure mine, I would immediately set about creating a little more
artificial wildness about it; for the whole ought to partake of that

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 235
air of half-decayed grandeur which has the greatest power over the
imagination. After my return to Ripon I visited the church there — another
beautiful remnant of antiquity, with a choir full of the richest carv
ings. There is a subterranean arched room — a sort of catacomb
adorned with skulls and bones, — in which I busied myself a long
while with my favourite craniological researches. Among these
human ruins was a skull so strikingly like my own, that it even
struck the clerk. What may the old boy have been? — perhaps my
self in another garment? Nobody could give me any account of this
house of bone. There was the genuine French skull of an emigrant
priest, which the clerk himself had smuggled in. He looked so po
lite and so talkative, that I fancied he would have said, ' Monsieur,
j'ai I'honneur de vous presenter mes respects ; vous etes trop poli
de venir nous rendre visite. Nous avons si rarement l'occasion de
causer ici!' It was a well-bred skull — that you saw at the first glance;
my portrait, on the other hand, looked very thoughtful and silent.
It would be odd enough if one thus stood over one's own old bones.
Harrowgale, Sept. 28th.
This bathing-place is much after the fashion of ours, and more so
cial than most of the English ones. People meet at ' table d'hote,'
at tea, and at the waters, and thus easily become acquainted. The
place consists of two villages, both pretty and cheerful, and situated
in a beautiful fertile country. Unfortunately, the weather is now
dreadful: it rains incessantly; and the sulphureous water I drank to
day has made me so ill that I cannot leave my room. September 29th.
These waters do not agree with me at all ; nevertheless, I made
my way to-day to the World's End, a short walk here, — ' The
World's End' being only a neighbouring village, with a pretty view
into — the world's beginning; for as it is round, you may make it
begin and end where you will. At ' table d'hote' I met about se
venty other persons. Though the season is nearly over, there are
still about a thousand visitors, most of them of the middle classes ;
for Harrowgate is not one of the fashionable watering-places, though
it seems to me far more pleasant than the most fashionable Brighton.
An old General of eighty, who was my neighbour at dinner, inte
rested me extremely. He had met with Frederick the Great, Kau
nitz, the Emperor Joseph, Mirabeau, and Napoleon, on various oc
casions of his life, and told me many interesting particulars about
them. He had likewise been Governor of Surinam ajad of the Isle
of France; had commanded for a long time in India, and was now
what we call General of Infantry, (next rank to a Field-Marshal.)
All this would give him a high station with us: — here, no such
thing; and this he remarked himself. " Here," said he, "the aris
tocracy is every thing: without family influence, without connexion,
without some person of rank by whom a man may be pushed, he
may indeed attain a high rank in the army ; but, except under some

236 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
very peculiar circumstances, this gives him no consideration. I am
only a baronet," added he; " yet that empty and trifling hereditary
title gives me more consideration than my long services or my high
military rank; and I am not called General, — or, as I should be with
you, ' Euer Excellent,' — but Sir Charles."
After dinner the company re-assembled to tea, which ended with
a little dance. Leeds, Oct. 1st.
I remained in Harrowgate so long, chiefly in expectation of let
ters from you, as I had given L  that address. To-day, then, I
found one on my return from my walk: you can think the joy it
gave me.
I have accompanied you in thought to Dresden, and drunk your
health before the illuminated letters of your name, lt is one of my
strange peculiarities, that though I was four years in garrison at
D  , I never saw either Pillnitz or Moritzburg ; so that your de
scription of the latter, with the old Landvoigt, was very interesting
to me.
You reproach me with liking better to write than to speak upon
certain subjects. You are right on the whole. But this affair, — and
indeed all sorts of petitioning, — is so contrary to my nature, that I
speak awkwardly and ill, and do better if I write. Besides, failure
is not so disagreeable. — But back to my journey.
The magnificent seats in England are really almost countless. One
must confine oneself to the most remarkable. Ten miles from Har
rowgate I found Harewood Park, a delightful residence ; — fine na
tural wood, with glens, rocks, a copious mountain stream, the ruin of
an old castle on a hill, — all situated in the richest country, and with
distant views of the Cumberland mountains.
The scene was enlivened in a striking manner. Just as I drove
past (he house, I saw the possessor, Lord Harewood, with his pack
of a hundred hounds, his red-coated huntsmen, and a number of
high-mettled horses coming down a hill, on their return from a
fox-hunt. I could not avoid going up to him to explain the cause
of my being here. I found a tall handsome man, of remarkably win
ning air, in appearance and manner young and active, in years
(which one must be assured of to believe it,) sixty-five. He re
ceived me with singular courtesy, said he had had the pleasure of
seeing me several times in London, (' je n'en savais pas un mot,')
and begged me to allow him to show me his park. I entreated him
not to give himself the trouble, after the toils of the chase (in which
men generally ride five or six German miles full gallop, and leap
fifty or sixty hedges and ditches:) but all my entreaties were vain ;
and this fine old man accompanied me, up hill and down dale, over
the whole of his princely domain. What interested me most, as be
ing new to me, was the kennel. Here I saw a hundred and fifty
dogs in two perfectly clean rooms, each containing a large bed for
seventy-five dogs, and each having its own enclosure in front.
There was not the slightest offensive smell, nor the least dirt. In

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 237
each yard was a tub with running water, and a man armed with a
broom, whose whole business it is to keep the ground continually
washed, for which purpose he can let the water flow over it at plea
sure. The dogs are accustomed to perfect obedience, and keep
their bed and room very clean. It is a great art to feed them pro
perly; for to sustain their great exertions, they must be kept very
lean, and yet their flesh ought to be as firm as iron. This was per
fectly accomplished here; and there could not be a more beautiful
sight than these slender, obedient, and happy-looking animals, half
of whom were just returned from the chase, and yet seemed quite
unwearied. They all lay however on their huge common bed, and
looked at us affectionately, wagging their tails; while the other half
sprang eagerly and wildly forward, into their court. The stables
too, built in a quadrangle at a little distance from the house, were
very fine, and contained about thirty noble horses. My carriage
had followed, and Lord Harewood now gave the postilion instruc
tions which way to drive through the park, that I might see the
most beautiful points, and then sauntered home accompanied by two
great Water-dogs and a jet-black spaniel. He was in fox-hunting
costume, — a scarlet coat that looks like a livery.
I forgot to say that we had first made a tour through the house,
which is richly and handsomely furnished, and contains family pic
tures by Vandyk, Reynolds, and Lawrence, the three best painters
of England in their several centuries. There was one work of art
in the principal apartment quite peculiar, — red curtains painted on
wood, so admirably executed that Rauch himself would have been
astounded at the flow of the drapery. Though I was told what they
were, I could scarcely believe it till I convinced myself by the touch,
so completely deceptive was the imitation of the silken stuff. An
other uncommon decoration consisted in having the ceilings of all
the rooms of the same designs as the carpets; a very expensive thing,
if, as I imagine, the carpets were all woven after the pattern of the
ceilings. The long drive through the park, a good league, was very delight
ful. The road lay at first along the lake, with a majestic view of
the house, and then through the wood to the river, which forms
various cascades and little lakes. The wood itself was full of variety,
— now thick and almost impervious to the view; then grove-like;
then open patches with a dense enclosure; or young copse from
which deer were peeping out; or anon a long and narrow vista to
the distant mountains.
A nobleman thus situated is a dignified representative of his class;
and it is very natural that, thus favoured by nature and by fortune,
he should appear kind, benevolent, respectable, and happy, like
this noble Earl, whose image will always afford me as delightful and
refreshing a subject of recollection, as the beautiful landscape it
graces. Very different from the impression of the day, and yet not Jess
agreeable, was that of the evening. I reached the great manufactur
ing town of Leeds just in the twilight. A transparent cloud of smoke

238 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
was diffused over the whole space which it occupies, on and between
several hills; a hundred red fires shot upwards into the sky, and as
many towering chimneys poured forth columns of black smoke.
The huge manufactories, five stories high, in which every window
was illuminated, had a grand and striking effect. Here the toiling
artisan labours far into the night. And that some romantic features
might not be wanting in the whirl of business and the illumination of
industry, two ancient Gothic churches reared their heads above the
mass of houses, and the moon poured her silver light upon their
towers, and seemed to clamp the hard glare of the busy crowd below,
with her serene majesty.
Leeds has near 120,000 inhabitants, and yet no representatives in
parliament, — because it is a new town: while, as it is well known,
many a wretched ruined village sends two members, who are, of
course, the creatures of the proprietor. Glaring and monstrous as is
this nuisance, the statesmen of England have not yet dared to abate
it; perhaps because they fear that any change in so complicated a
piece of machinery may be a dangerous operation, to which recourse
should be had only in extreme necessity. Late in the Evening.
I have adapted myself to many English customs, — among others,
to cold dinners. As a change they are sometimes wholesome, and,
being completely national, are almost always of excellent quality.
To-day my solitary table was covered with no less than the following
varieties; a cold ham, an awful ' roast beef,' a leg of mutton, a piece
of roast veal, a hare pie, a partridge, three sorts of pickle, cauli
flowers cooked in water, potatoes, butter, and cheese. That this
would have been meat enough to feed a whole party of German bur
ghers, 'saute aux yeux.' October 2nd.
The first thing I saw this morning before my windows was the
refined contrivance of a grocer, who had not been satisfied with ex
hibiting, like most of his brethren, a number of Chinese teachests,
mandarins, and vases, but had put a piece of clockwork in his win
dow, a stately automaton Turk diligently grinding coffee. From
hence I proceeded on my further tour. First I visited the Market-
hall, a beautiful building, in which the market is held under a glass
roof; then the Cloth-hall, an immense room entirely filled with cloth
of all sorts and colours ; and lastly, the largest cloth manufactory of
the place, which is worked by three steam-engines. Here you begin
with the raw material (the sorting of the wool,) and finish with the
perfect cloth; so that if you took a tailor with you, you might bring
your wool in the manufactory in the morning, and come out with a
coat made of it in the evening. Our friend R  actually perform
ed this feat, and wore the coat for a long time with great predilec
tion. The various machines are ingenious in the highest degree; but
the stench and the unwholesome air, as well as the dust in many of
the operations, must be very unhealthy to the poor workmen, who

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 239
moreover were all of a dark blue colour. The young man who
showed me the manufactory said, however, that the cotton manufac
tories were much more unhealthy, from the fine and subtle dust; that
in them a workman seldom reached his fiftieth year, whereas here
there were instances of men of sixty. The Gothic churches which
yesterday produced such an effect at a distance, presented nothing
remarkable on a nearer inspection; and the town itself, enveloped in
an everlasting fog produced by the smoke, which never ceases day
nor night, is the most disagreeable place you can imagine.
Rotherham: — Evening.
Continuing my journey, I made the first halt at Templenewsome,
a house of Elizabeth's time, belonging to the Dowager Marchioness
of Hertford. This edifice has a great singularity; instead of battle
ments, a stone gallery surrounds the roof, consisting of letters which
compose a sentence from the Bible. The park is melancholy, and
the furniture of the house old-fashioned, without being interesting.
I found nothing remarkable in the picture-gallery, but in the other
rooms there were some interesting portraits: both the Guises, the
uncles of Mary of Scotland; General Monk, who is strikingly like
our old friend Thielemann; and Lord Darnley (Mary's husband,) to
whom this castle belonged; it hangs in the room in which he was
born. I had a very bad headache; for which reason, perhaps, a
second park, Stainbrook, appeared to me dreary and uncomfortable,
nor could I admire the pictures. The road then led me through a
series of manufacturing places, which looked like burning towns
and villages. Rotherham itself, where 1 now am, is celebrated for
its great iron-works, and I intend to see some of them to-morrow, if
my illness goes off. October 3rd.
After having walked half a German mile to the largest iron-work,
I unluckily found the engine stopped, in consequence of the furnace
having received some damage yesterday. I could therefore see but
little, and went a mile further on to the steel-works. Here the
steam-engine had just got out of order, and the operations were
likewise suspended. So I wandered on again to the thread and linen
manufactory; and my own astonishment, as well as that of my guide,
was not small, when we perceived no signs of working here also,
and heard that the great spindle had been broken in the morning.
With this extraordinary ' guignon' ended by useless efforts to in
struct myself for to-day; indeed there was no time to make any
more. Sheffield: — Evening.
I rode from Rotherham to Wentworth House, the seat of Lord
Fitzwilliam, another truly regal domain, for extent, richness, and
splendour; but (like many English parks) melancholy and monoto
nous; the immense tracts of grass, with a few scattered trees, and
the tame sheep-like deer grazing upon them, in time become intole-

240 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
rable. Certainly, it is a most tasteless custom to have these green
deserts extend on one side up to the very houses; it makes them
look like enchanted palaces, inhabited by deer instead of men. It
is the easier to give oneself up to this notion since there is seldom a
human being to be seen outside the house which is usually shut up,
so that you are often obliged, to ring at the door for a quarter of an
hour before you can get admittance, or the Lady ' Chatelaine' ap
pears to play the cicerone, and receive her fee. Wentworth House
is adorned with many valuable statues and pictures. Amongst others,
a beautiful picture by Vandyk, representing the builder of the cas
tle, Lord Strafford, just as sentence of death has been announced to
him: he is holding the fatal scroll in his hand, and dictating to his
secretary his last will. Another picture represents his son, a beau
tiful boy of sixteen, in a most becoming mourning dress, — black
with rich lace, fawn-coloured boots, a tight enamelled collar, a short
cloak, a rich sword, and a scarf ' en bandouliere.'
The picture of a race-horse as large as life, painted on gray linen,
and placed in a niche without a frame, really deceived me; I thought
it alive. This horse won so much, that the former lord built a
quadrangle of magnificent stables, the most complete I have seen in
this country, with the money. In these stables, which contain also
a riding-school, stand sixty beautiful and picked horses.
An excellent portrait of the vain and ambitious Cardinal Wolsey,
and one of the fickle Duke of Buckingham, are very interesting.
The housekeeper, pointing to the portrait of Harvey, said: "This
is the man who invented the circulation of the blood." One would
like to make that man's acquaintance.
In the flower-gardens I found some beautiful parts; amongst
others, an enclosure made of wire-fence, running along the gay par
terres, peopled with foreign birds, a clear brook flowing through it,
and planted with evergreens, on which the feathered inhabitants
could sport at pleasure.
Several black swans, which have already reared four young ones,
were swimming on a small pond near it. They seem to be com
pletely accustomed to this climate. I was struck by a common
beech on the banks of the water, which, by early polling, had com
pletely changed its character. It was very low, but its branches
stretched out on all sides, so as to cover an immense space, and form
a regular leafy tent of unequalled beauty. A fir, polled in the same
manner, had attained a beauty far greater than that of its natural
growth. I arrived in good time at Sheffield, where, from the quantity of
smoke, the sun appeared shorn of his beams. I looked at the as
tonishing productions in cutlery; as, for instance, a knife with a
hundred and eighty blades; scissars which cut perfectly and can be
used, though hardly visible with the naked eye, &c. &c. In defiance
of superstition, I bought you needles and scissars enough for your
whole life, with some other newly-invented trifles, which I am sure
will please you.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 241
Nottingham, Oct. 4th.
I rode the whole night, and saw only from a distance, and by
moonlight, Newstead Abbey, Lord Byron's birth-place and family
seat, now much neglected.
Besides the Gothic church (of which nearly every English town
possesses one, more or less beautiful,) there is not much to be seen
in Nottingham; a remarkable manufactory of net excepted, where
the steam-engines do all the work, and only a single man stands by
the machinery to take care that nothing goes wrong.
It is most strange to see the iron monsters begin to work, as if
moved by invisible hands, and the most beautiful lace, stretched in
a frame, comes slowly forth at the top, neat and finished; while the
spindles, with the raw thread wound round them, keep on their per
petual motion below; the whole unaided, as I have said, by a single
human hand.
It was just the time of the Fair, which had drawn together a great
number of curiosities; among others, a beautiful collection of wild
beasts. Two Bengal tigers, of an enormous size, were so perfectly
tame, that even ladies and children were allowed to enter their cage,
or the animals were let out in the riding- school where the collection
was exhibited. No dog could be more gentle; but I doubt whether
our police would have suffered such experiments. A remarkable
animal was the horned horse, or Nyl Ghau, from the Himalaya
mountains, — handsome and fleet, and in some respects very strange
ly formed. The beautiful wild ass of Persia, which they say is
swifter and more untireable than a horse, and can live for weeks
without food, was new to me. There were also here, as in the
collection of animals on the Pfaueninsel near Berlin, a giant and a
dwarf. London, Oct. 6 th.
Before I left Nottingham I visited the neighbouring seat of Lord
Middleton, which is worth seeing. The park offered little remark
able. There was a curious old picture — a faithful portrait of the
house and gardens as they existed two hundred years ago. It is
very interesting; the more so, as you see the family in the strangest
dresses, with a great company and numerous attendants, walking in
the garden, and as the noble owner therein represented is the same
who is so often mentioned in connexion with the celebrated ghost
story. Every one ought to have pictures of this kind painted for
his successors; the comparisons they suggest are always amusing,
and sometimes instructive.
I reached St. Albans in the night, and saw the celebrated Abbey
by the light of the moon and of lanterns. The clerk was quickly
awakened, and conducted me thither. I first admired the exterior
of the building, built by the Saxons, in the eighth century, of in
destructible Roman bricks, and then entered the imposing interior.
The nave of the church is doubtless one of the largest in the world;
it is more than six hundred feet long. There are many beautiful
31

242 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
stone carvings; and although little could be distinctly seen by so
feeble a light, the general effect by this strange and uncertain illumi
nation, vvith our dark' figures in the middle, and the sounds of the
midnight bell from the tower, was most romantic and awful.
This was still more the case when we descended into the vault
where, in an open leaden coffin, lies the skeleton of the Duke of
Gloucester who was poisoned six hundred years ago by Cardinal
Beaufort. Time has rendered it as brown and smooth as polished
mahogany; and curious antiquarians have already robbed it of seve
ral bones. The clerk, who was an Irishman, seized one of the leg-
bones without ceremony, and brandishing it in the air like a cudgel,
he remarked that this bone had become so beautiful and hard with time,
that it would make an excellent shillelah. What would the haughty-
Duke have said, if he could have known how his remains would be
treated by such ignoble hands ? The magnificent oak ceiling, more
than 1000 years old, is a glorious proof of the solid architecture of
those times. It is still as beautiful and perfect as if there were no
cyphers after the unit. The painted windows, with the golden
tomb of St. Alban, were unhappily almost entirely destroyed in
Cromwell's time.
I reached London early enough to repose half the night ; and my
first business in the morning was to finish this letter, already swollen
to a packet. In a few hours I hope it will be on its way.
Do not be impatient therefore; and receive this letter with the
same affectionate indulgence as its numerous predecessors. Your faithful L  .

LETTER XX.
London, Nov. 1st, 1827.
A Frenchman says; "L'illusion fut inventec pour le bonheur
des models; elle leur fait presqu' autant de bien que 1'esperance."
If this is true, happy man is my dole, for I am never at a loss for
illusions or hopes.
Some of these have certainly been thrown to the winds by your
letter; but be of good courage, there is already a fresh crop of new
ones springing up as fast as mushrooms. — More of them anon.
Concerning the intolerable, sleepy President, 1 cannot possibly
write from hence. Besides, as a dandy would say, the man is not
' fashionable' enough. And indeed you manage all these affairs so
admirably, that it were a shame not to leave them entirely to you.
This is selfishness on my part, but of a pardonable sort, since it is
advantageous to us both ***** #
* * -r * * *******
During the last few days I have made a little excursion to Brigh
ton, taking a circuitous route back. Arundel Castle, the seat of the
Duke of Norfolk, was one of the objects of my curiosity. It has

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 243
some points of resemblance to Warwick, but is far inferior to it,
though of equal antiquity. Here also is an artificial mound and
keep, at the eastern end. The view from the top of the round
ruined tower must be magnificent, but to-day the fog rendered it im
possible to see it; indeed I could not even distinguish the terrace
gardens surrounding the castle: I therefore consoled myself in the
company of a dozen large tame horned-owls, which inhabit what
was once the warder's room. One of them has been here these fifty
years, is very amiable, and barked when he wanted anything, ex
actly like a dog. The English are great lovers of animals, — a taste
in which I entirely sympathize. Thus, in many parks you find
colonies of rooks, which hover round the house or castle in vast
flights, and are in very good keeping with an ancient castle and its
towering trees; though their cawing is not the most agreeable music
in the world. The interior of Arundel Castle has nothing very dis
tinguished. The numerous painted windows are modern; and
among the family pictures only one struck me, — that of the accom
plished Lord Surrey, put to death by Henry the Eighth, the cos
tume of which was very singular.
The library is small, but very magnificent; wainscoted with cedar,
and ornamented with beautiful carving and painting; in short, it
wanted nothing but books, of which there were not more than a few
hundreds. A very large but very simple hall, called the Barons' Hall, has a
great number of painted windows, the merit of which is not remark
able. In the apartments there was a quantity of old furniture, pre
served with great care to prevent its falling to pieces, in its frail con
dition. This fashion is now general in England. Things which
we should throw away as old-fashioned and worm-eaten, here fetch
high prices, and new ones are often made after the old patterns. In
venerable mansions, when not destructive of convenience, they have
a very good effect. In modern buildings they are ludicrous.
The old part of the castle is said to have been a Roman fort, and
many Roman bricks are found in the walls. In later times it was still
a place of defence, and sustained several sieges. The modern part,
in the style of the ancient, was built by the predecessor of the pre
sent duke, and cost, as I was told, eight hundred thousand pounds.
The same thing might certainly have been done in Germany for
three hundred thousand reichsthalers. The garden appeared to me
diversified and extensive, and the park is said to be very noble and
picturesque, but the horrid weather hindered me from seeing it. In
the evening I drove to Petworth, where there is another fine house.
I write from the inn, where I was settled in a few minutes as if at
home, for my travelling arrangements and conveniences have been
greatly perfected since my residence in England.
Petworth House, Oct. 26.
Colonel C  came to my inn early this morning, and reproach
ed me with not driving straight to the house of his father-in-law,

244 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Lord E — : — , the owner of Petworth House. He pressed me so
kindly to spend at least a day there, that I could not refuse. My
luggage was soon transported thither, and I as quickly installed in
my room. It is a fine modern palace, with a noble collection of pic
tures and antiques, and a large park which contains a celebrated
stud. I was peculiarly struck with three of the pictures, — Henry
the Eighth, a full-length, by Holbein, remarkable for the exquisite
painting of the dress and ornaments, and the fresh, masterly colour
ing: a portrait of the immortal Newton, which is far less distinguish
ed for its expression of intelligence, than for its pre-eminently ele
gant and gentlemanly air; and one of Maurice of Orange, so like our
poet Houwald, that it might pass for him. The mixture of statues
and pictures which is common here, is disadvantageous to both.
Among he curiosities is a family relic. — the great sword of Harry
Percy, an ancestor of Lord E  's. The library served, as usual,
as drawing-room, — a very rational and agreeable plan. It was fitted
up according to your taste, — only the best modern books, in elegant
bindings; for all others there was another room upstairs.
The freedom in this house was perfect, which rendered it doubly
agreeable to me. One really feels not the slightest ' gene.' There
were many guests of both sexes. The host himself is a learned and
accomplished connoisseur in art, and at the same time a very conspi
cuous and successful man ' on the turf.' In his stud I saw a horse
about thirty years old, (' Whalebone,) who was obliged to be sup
ported by several grooms when he attempted to walk, and whose
foals, still unborn, fetch enormous sums. That's what I call a glo
rious old age. ' Au reste,' the regulations of the stud are very dif
ferent here from ours. With all your appetite for knowledge, how
ever, this 'thema' might interest you little, so that I shall go on
to other matters.
On the following day, arrived the Duchess of St. A  , a woman
whose ever ascending fortunes have been remarkable enough. The
earliest recollections of her infancy are those of a deserted, starving,
shivering child, in a solitary barn in an English village. Thence
she was taken by a band of gipsies; — quitting them, she entered a
strolling company of players. By her agreeable person, high spi
rits, and original humour, she gained some reputation in her new
profession, gradually secured patronage and friends, and lived in
long and undisturbed connexion with a rich banker, who at length
married her, and at his death left her seventy thousand a year. This
enormous fortune afterwards promoted her to be the wife of the third
English Duke, and (by a curious coincidence) the descendant of the
celebrated actress Nell Gwynne, to whose charms the Duke owes
his title, in the same manner as his wife has acquired hers.
She is a very good-natured woman, who is not ashamed to speak
of the past, — on the contrary, alludes to it perhaps rather too much.
•"'. * ->- * * * * * *
After an agreeable visit of three days, I returned hither, and novv
celebrate my birthday in the profoundest solitude, with closed doors.
Three-fourths of my melancholy fits I may certainly ascribe to the

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 245
month in vvhich I first saw the light. May-children are far more
cheerful: I never saw a hypochondriacal son of the Spring. A song
called Prognostica once fell into my hands: I am very sorry I did
not keep it; for it told a man's fortune according to the month of
his birth. I only remember that those born in October were to have
a melancholy temper, and that the prophecy began thus: —
" Ein Junge geboren im Monat October
Wird ein Critiker, und das ein recht grober."*
I leave you now for a great dinner at Prince E  's, for I will
not devote the whole day to solitude; I am too superstitious for that.
Adieu! November 4th.
In my quality of Chevalier de St Louis, I was invited to-day to a
great dinner at Prince P  's, in commemoration of the Saint's
day, or the 'jour de fete' of the King of France, — I really don't
know which. After it, I went to see the Continuation of Don
Juan at Drury Lane. 'Of course' the first act was laid in hell,
where Don Juan immediately seduces the Furies, and at last even
the devil's grandmother, for which offence he is forcibly ejected by
His Satanic Majesty. Just as he reaches the picturesque shores of
the fire-rolling Styx, Charon is in the act of ferrying over three
female souls from London. While they are landing, Don Juan oc
cupies the old ferryman's attention with changing a bank-note (for
paper money is current in the infernal regions,) seizes the moment
to make off with them from the shore, and conducts them back to
earth. Arrived in London, he has his usual adventures, — duels,
elopements, &c. ; the equestrian statue at Charing Cross invites him
to tea; but his creditors carry him off to the King's Bench, whence
he is delivered by marrying a rich wife, in whom he at length finds
that full punishment for all his sins which hell could not afford.
Madame Vestris as Don Juan is the prettiest and most seductive
young fellow you can imagine, and, it is easy to see, does not want
practice. The piece amused me. Still more amusing was a new novel
vvhich I found on my table, the scene of which is laid in the year
2200, — not a very new idea, certainly.
It represents the religion of England as once more Catholic, the
government an absolute monarchy, and universal education so dif
fused, that learning is become the common property of the lower
classes. Every artisan works upon mathematical or chemical prin
ciples. Footmen and cooks, with such names as Abelard and He-
loisa, speak in the style of the Jenaer Literaturzeitung. On the
other hand, it is the fashion among the higher classes, by way of dis
tinguishing themselves from the ' plebs,' to use the most vulgar lan
guage and expressions, and carefully to conceal any knowledge that
goes beyond reading and writign. There is some wit in this idea,
" A boy born in the month of October
Will be a critic, and a right surly one.— .Tbajstsl.

246 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
and perhaps it is prophetic. The habits of life of this class are also
very simple. Few and homely dishes appear on all their tables, and
luxury is to be met with only at those of the servants. That air-
balloons are the common conveyances, and that steam governs the
world, are matters of course.
A German professor, however, makes a discovery in galvanism,
by which he is enabled to bring the dead to life; and the mummy of
King Cheops, recently found in a pyramid which had remained un
opened, is the first person on whom this experiment is tried. How
the living mummy comes to England, and how horribly he behaves
there, you may read when the novel is translated into German. 'Au
reste,' I often feel like a mummy myself, — bound hand and foot, and
eagerly waiting my release. Nov. 5th.
Such a fog covered the whole town this morning that I could not
see to breakfast without candles. Going out till evening was not to
be thought of. I was invited to dinner at  : P  was there
too, to whom she generally shows great hostility, I know not why.
To-day, with his usual ' etourderie,' he ruined himself forever. The
lady has, as you may remember, rather a red nose, which the mali
cious have ascribed to the custom with which General Pillett re
proaches Englishwomen. P  probably did not know this, and
remarked that she mixed a dark liquid with her wine. In the inno
cence — or the wickedness — of his heart, he asked her whether she
was so much of an Englishwoman as to mix her wine with Cognac.
lt was not till he remarked the redness diffuse itself over her whole
face, and the embarrassment of those who sat near, that he was con
scious of his ' bevue ;' for the innocent beverage was toast-and-wa-
ter. This suggested to me the ludicrous directions given by a book
of Rules for good Behaviour, written in our pedantic national man
ner. " When you go into a company," says the author, " be sure
to inform yourself accurately beforehand concerning the persons you
are likely to meet; their parentage, connections, foibles, faults, and
peculiarities ; so that you may not, on the one hand, say anything
unknowingly which may touch a sore place, and on the other, may
be able to flatter in an easy and appropriate manner."
Laughably expressed enough, and difficult to accomplish, but not
a bad precept!
There was a great deal of political talk, particularly of this dash
ing commencement of a war, by the destruction of the Turkish
fleet. How inconsistent is the language of Englishmen on this subject!
But ever since the fall of Napoleon the leading politicians do not
seem to know rightly what they would be at. The miserable re
sults of their Congresses do not satisfy even them; but yet there has
appeared no original mind capable of making these meetings con
duce to more important consequences; no master-will to guide them;
and the fate of Europe depends no longer on its leaders, but on
chance. Canning was but a transient vision; and how are his sue-

" Rien de plus triste qu'un bon mot
Qui se perd dans t'orielle d'une sot.':

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 247
cessors employed? The destruction of the fleet, of an old and faithful
ally, without a declaration of war, is the best proof; though, as man
and Philhellene, I heartily rejoice at it.
But amid all these political abortions, this tottering and vacillating
of all parts, we shall certainly live to witness still more extraordina
ry things; — perhaps combinations which have hitherto been deemed
impossible. This is partly to be ascribed to Canning himself, — for
his plans were not matured; and a man of eminent genius is always
detrimental to his successors when they are pygmies. The present
Ministers have completely the air of wishing to lead England slow
ly into the pit which Canning dug for others.
Even the very storm which they have been gathering on the boun
daries of Asia will perhaps burst most furiously over the centre of
Europe. I hope however the God of the thunder will be with
us. The future prospects of Prussia appear to my anticipations
far higher and more glorious than any fate has yet granted her;
only let her never lose sight of her motto, " Vorwdrts."
On returning home I found your letter, which amused me much;
especially K  's sallies, vainly bottled up in Paris to be let loose
in S  , where they find so little success; for indeed you are
right, And that he may experience often enough. Oct. 29th.
As one has now time to go to the theatre, and the best actors
are playing, I devote many of my evenings to this aesthetic pas
time. Last night I saw with renewed pleasure Kemble's artist
like representation of Falstaff, about which I once wrote to you.
I must however mention, that his dress of white and red, — very
' recherche,' though a little worn, combined with his handsome
curling white hair and beard, — gave him a happy mixture of the
gentleman and the droll, which in my opinion greatly heighten
ed, and, so to say, refined the effect.
'Generally speaking, the costume was excellent; — on the other
hand it must be admitted to be an unpardonable destruction of all
illusion, that as soon as Henry the Fourth with his splendid Court
and his train of knights, brilliant in steel and gold, quit the stage,
two servants in theatrical liveries, with shoes and red stockings,
come on to take away the throne. I found it just as impossible
to reconcile myself to hearing Lord Percy address the King, who
was sitting at the back of the stage, for a quarter of an hour, during
the whole of which time I never could catch sight of anything but
his back. It is remarkable that the most celebrated actors here re
gularly affect this offensive practice; while with us they run into the
contrary fault, and the ' primo amoroso' during the most ardent de
claration of love, turns his back on his mistress to ogle the audience.
To hit the right medium is certainly difficult, and the stage arrange

ments ought to assist the actor.

248 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Of the character of Percy, German actors generally make a sort
of mad calf, who behaves both towards his wife and towards the
King as if he had been bitten by a mad dog. These men don't know
when to soften, and when to heighten the effects of the poet. Young
understands this thoroughly, and knows perfectly how to unite the
stormy vehemence of the youth with the dignity of the hero and the
high bearing of the prince. He suffered the electric fire to dart in
lightnings from the thunder-cloud, but not to degenerate into a pelt
ing hail-storm. They appear to me, too, to act together here, better
than on the German stage, and many of the scenic arrangements
seemed to me judicious.
To give you one example: — you remember (for we once saw this
play together at Berlin) the scene in which the King receives Per
cy's messengers. You thought it so indecorous that Falstaff should
be continually pressing forward before, and up to, the King, and
rudely interrupting him every moment with his jokes. The cause
of this was, that our actors think so much more of their persons than
of their parts. Herr D  feels himself 'every inch a King' in
comparison with Herr M  ; and forgets whom they severally re
present at the moment. Here Shakspeare is better understood, and
the scene more appropriately represented. The King stands with
the ambassadors in the front of the stage; the Court is scattered in
groups; and mid way .on one side are the Prince and Falstaff. The lat
ter cracks his jokes, as a half-privileged buffoon; but rather addresses
them in an under voice to the Prince than directly to the King:
when addressed by him, he immediately assumes the respectful atti
tude suited to his station, and does not affect to fraternize with his
sovereign as with an equal.
In this manner you can give in to the illusion- of seeing a Court
before you; in the other, you think yourself still in Eastcheap. The
actors here live in better society and have more tact. Nov. 23rd.
It is curious enough that men regard that alone as a wonder which
is at a distance from them, in time or space; the daily wonders near
them thejr pass by unheeded. Yet we must be now living in the
days of the Arabian Nights, for I have seen a creature to-day far
surpassing all the fantastic beings of that time.
Listen what are the monster's characteristics. In the first place,
its food is the cheapest possible, for it eats nothing but wood or
coals. When not actually at work, it requires none. It never
sleeps, nor is weary; it is subject to no diseases, if well organized
at first, and never refuses its work till it is become incapable by
great length of service. It is equally active in all climates, and un
dertakes every kind of labour without a murmur. Here it is a miner,
there a sailor, a cotton-spinner, a weaver, a smith, or a miller; — in
deed it performs the business of each and ail of them; and though a
small creature, it draws ninety tons of goods, or a whole regiment
of soldiers packed into carriages, with a swiftness exceeding that of
the fleetest stage-coaches. At the same time it marks its own mea-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 249
sured steps on a tablet fixed in front of it. It regulates, too, the
degree of warmth necessary to its well-being: it has a strange power
of oiling its inmost joints when they are stiff, and of removing at
pleasure all injurious air which might find its way into its system; —
but should anything become deranged in it, it immediately warns its
master by the loud ringing of a bell. Lastly, it is so docile, spite of
its immense strength (nearly equal to that of six hundred horses,)
that a child of four years old is able in a moment to arrest its mighty
labours, by the pressure of his little finger.
Would people formerly have believed that such a ministering spi
rit could be summoned by anything but Solomon's signet? or did
ever a witch burnt for sorcery produce its equal?
Now a new wonder. Only magnetize five hundred gold pieces
with a strong will to change them into such a creature, and, after a
few preliminary ceremonies, you will see him established in your
service. The spirit ascends in vapour, but never vanishes. He
remains your lawful slave for life. — Such are the miracles of our
times, which perhaps surpass many of the most extraordinary of
former ages.
I spent the evening at the house of Lady C  B  , who has
just finished a new novel, called "Flirtation." I talked very
frankly to her about it, for she is a clever and a good woman. *
********* I don't know whether I told you that I lodge at the house of a
dress-maker in Albemarle-street, who has collected around her a
perfect garland of English, French, and Italian girls. All is deco
rum itself; but there are many talents among them which can be
turned to account — among others, that of a French girl, who has a
genius for cooking, and has thus enabled me to entertain my kind
friend L  in my own little home. Dinner, concert (droll enough
it was, for the performers were all ' couturieres'), a little dance for
the young ladies, a great many artificial flowers, a great many lights,
a very few intimate friends; — in short, a sort of rural fete in this
busy town. The poor girls were delighted, and it was almost morn
ing before they went to bed, though the duenna kept faithful watch
and ward to the last moment. I was greatly praised and thanked by
all; though in their hearts they no doubt liked my young friend
L  much better. Nov. 28th.
A great actor, — a true master of his art, certainly stands very
high. What knowledge and power he must have! How much
genius must he unite with corporeal grace and address! — how much
creative power, with the most perfect knowledge of wearisome
'routine!' /'This evening, for the first time since my residence here, I saw
"Macbeth, — perhaps the most sublime and perfect of Shakspeare's
tragedies. Macready, who has lately returned from America, play
ed the part admirably. The passages in which he appeared to me
peculiarly true and powerful, were, first, the night-scene in which
32

250 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
he comes on the stage after the murder of Duncan, with the bloody
dagger, and tells his wife that he has done the deed. He carried on
the whole conversation in a low voice, as the nature of the incident
requires; — like a whisper in the dark, — yet so distinctly, and with
such a fearful expression, that all the terrors of night and crime pass
with the sound into the hearer's very soul. Not less excellent was
the difficult part with Banquo's ghost. The fine passage —
"What man dare, I dare.
Approach, then, like the rugged Russian bear,
The arm'd rhinoceros, or Hyrcanian tiger;
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble. Or be alive again,
And dare me to the desert with thy sword;
If trembling I inhibit, then protest me
The baby of a girl. Hence, terrible shadow!
Unreal mockery, hence!" &c.
with great judgment he began with all the vehemence of desperation ;
then, overcome by terror, dropped his voice lower and lower, till
the last words were tremulous and inarticulate. Then, uttering a
subdued cry of mortal horror, he suddenly cast his mantle over his
face and sank back half-lifeless on his seat. He thus produced the
most appalling effect. As man, you felt tremblingly with him, that
our most daring courage can oppose nothing to the terrors of another
world; — you saw no trace of the stage-hero, who troubles himself
little about nature; and, playing only to produce effect on the galle
ries, seeks his highest triumph in an ascending scale of noise and
fury. Macready was admirable, too, in the last act ; in which con
science and fear are equally deadened and exhausted, and rigid apathy
has taken the place of both; when tlie last judgment breaks over
the head of the sinner in three rapidly succeeding strokes, — the
death of the Queen, the fulfilment of the delusive predictions of
the witches, and Macduff's terrific declaration that he is not born of
woman. What had previously tortured Macbeth's spirit — had made him
murmur at his condition, or struggle against the goadings of his con
science, — can now only strike him with momentary terror, like a
lightning flash. He is weary of himself and of existence; and fight
ing, as he says in bitter scorn, ' bear-like,' he falls at length, a great
criminal — but withal a king and a hero.
Equally masterly was the combat with Macduff, in which inferior
actors commonly fail; — nothing hurried, yet all the fire, nay, all the
horror, of the end, — of the final rage and despair.
I shall never forget the ludicrous effect of this scene at the first
performance of Spiker's translation at Berlin. Macbeth and his
antagonist set upon each other in such a manner, that, without in
tending it, they got behind the scenes before their dialogue was at
an end; whence the words "Hold — enough!" (what went before
them being inaudible,) sounded as if Macbeth was run down, and
had cried, (holding out his sword and deprecating any further fight
ing^). " Leave off — hold — enough!"
Xady Macbeth, though played by a second-rate actress, — for, alas ;

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 251
since the departure of Mrs. Siddons and Miss O'Neil there is no
first-rate — pleased me better in her feeble delineation of the charac
ter, than many would-be-great ' artistes' of our fatherland, whose
affected manner is suited to no single character in Shakspeare.
I do not, however, entirely participate in Tieck's well-known
view of this character. I would fain go still deeper into it. Scarcely
any man understands how the love of a woman sees everything
solely as it regards or affects the beloved object; and thence, for a
time at least, knows virtue or vice only with relation to him.
Lady Macbeth, represented as a furious Megasra who uses her
husband only as an instrument of her own ambition, is wanting in
all inward truth, and, still more, in all interest. Such a woman
would be incapable of that profound feeling of her own crime and
misery so fearfully expressed in the sleeping scene; it is only in the
presence of her husband, and in order to give him courage, that she
always seems the stronger; that she shows neither fear nor remorse;
that she jests at them in him, and seeks to deafen herself to their
voice in her own heart.
She is certainly not a gentle, feminine character; but womanly
love to her husband is nevertheless the leading motive of her actions.
As the poet reveals to us her secret agonies in that night scene, so
likewise does he suffer us to perceive that Macbeth had long ago be
trayed to her those ambitious wishes lurking in his breast, which he
had scarcely confessed to himself: and thus it is that the witches
choose Macbeth as their own, — as worms and moths attack what is
already diseased and decaying, — only because they find him ripe for
their purpose. She knows, then, the inmost desires of his heart;
to satisfy him, she hurries with passionate vehemence to his aid,
and, with all the devoted impetuosity of a woman, far outstrips even
his thoughts. The more Macbeth falters and draws back — half act
ing a part with himself and with her, — the more is her zeal quick
ened; she represents herself, to herself and to him, more cruel, more
hard-hearted than she is; and works herself up by artificial excite
ments, only that she may inspire him with the courage and determi
nation necessarjr to accomplish his ends. To him she is ready to
sacrifice not only all that stands between Macbeth and his wishes, but
herself; the peace of her own conscience — nay, all womanly thoughts
and feelings towards others; and to call the powers of darkness to
aid and strengthen her.
It is only when viewed in this manner that her character appears
to me dramatic, or the progress of the piece psychologically true.
Viewed in the other light, we find nothing in it but a caricature —
a thing impossible to Shakspeare's creative spirit, which always
paints possible men, and not unnatural monsters or demons of the
fancy. And thus do they mutually urge each down the precipice; for nei
ther, singly, would have fallen so far; — Macbeth, however, mani
festly with greater selfishness; and therefore is his end, like his tor
ment, the more painful.
It is a great advantage to the performance of this piece when the

252 LETTERS ON GERMAN r,
part of Macbeth, and not that of the Lady, falls to the. actor of ge
nius. Of that I was strongly convinced to-day. If Lady Macbeth,
by superiority of acting, is converted into the principal character,
the whole tragedy is contemplated in a false point of view. It is
something quite other than the real one, and loses the greatest part
of its interest, when we see a ferocious amazon, and a hero under her
slipper who suffers himself to be used as a mere tool of her projects.
No, — in him lies the germ of the sin from the beginning; his wife
does but help him: he is by no means a man of originally noble
temper, who, seduced by the witches, becomes a monster ; — but, as
in Romeo and Juliet the passion of love is led from the innocent
childishness of its first budding, in a mind too susceptible of its
power, through all the stages of delight, to despair and death, — so
in Macbeth the subject of the picture is self-seeking ambition fos
tered by powers of evil, passing from an innocence that was but ap
parent, and the fame of an honoured hero, to the blood-thirstiness of
the tiger, and to the end of a hunted wild beast. Nevertheless, the
man in whose soul the poison works is gifted with so many lofty quali
ties, that we can follow the struggle and the developement with
sympathy. What an inconceivable enjoyment would it be to see
such a work of genius represented by great actors throughout, where
none were a mere subordinate! This however could be accom
plished only by spirits, as in Hofmann's ghostly representation of
Don Juan.
You will perhaps find much that is incongruous in these views;
but recollect that great poets work like Nature herself. To every
man they assume the garb and colour of his own mind, and thence
admit of various interpretations. They are so rich, that they dis
tribute their gifts among a thousand poor, and yet have abundance
in reserve. '.,
Many of the stage arrangements were very praiseworthy. For
instance, the two murderers whom Macbeth hires to murder Banquo,
are not, as on our stage, ragged ruffians, — by the side of whom the
King, in his regal ornaments and the immediate vicinity of his
Court, exhibits a ridiculous contrast, and who could never find ac
cess to a palace in such a dress; but of decent appearance and beha
viour, — villains, but not beggars.
The old Scottish costume is thoroughly handsome, and is proba
bly more true to the times, certainly more picturesque, than with
us. The apparition of Banquo, as well as the ivhole disposition of
the table, was infinitely better. In this the Berlin manager made a
ludicrous 'bevue.' When the King questions the murderers con
cerning Banquo's death, one of them answers,
" My lord, his throat is cut."
This was taken so literally, that a most disgusting pasteboard figure
appears at table with the throat cut from ear to ear. The ascent and
descent of this monster is so near akin to a puppet-show, that, with
all the good-will in the world to keep one's countenance, one can
hardly manage it. Here the entrance of the ghost is so cleverly

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 253
concealed by the bustle of the guests taking their seats at several ta
bles, that it is not till the King prepares to sit down that the dread
ful form seated in his place, is suddenly visible to him and to the
audience. Two bloody wounds deface his pale countenance (of
course it is the actor himself who played Banquo), without render
ing it ludicrous by nearly severing the head from the body; and
when he looks up fixedly at the King from the festive tables, sur
rounded by the busy tumult of the guests, then nods to him, and
slowly sinks into the earth, the illusion is as perfect as the effect is
fearful and thrilling.
But, to be just, I must mention one ridiculous thing that occurred
here. After the murder of the King, when there is a knocking at
the door, Lady Macbeth says to her husband —
"  Hark, more knocking!
Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us,
And show us to be watchers."
Now 'nightgown' does indeed mean dressing-gown; but yet I
could scarcely believe my eyes, when Macready entered in a fashion
able flowered chintz dressing-gown, perhaps the one he usually
wears,) loosely thrown over his steel armour, which was seen glit
tering at every movement of his body, and in this curious costume
drew his sword to kill the chamberlains who were sleeping near the
King. I did not observe that this struck anybody; indeed the interest
was generally so slight, the noise and mischief so incessant, that it
is difficult to understand how such distinguished artists can form
themselves, with so brutal, indifferent, and ignorant an audience as
they have almost always before them. As I told you, the English
theatre is not fashionable, and is scarcely ever visited by what is
called ' good company.' The only advantage in this state of things
is, that actors are not spoiled by that indulgence which is so ruinous
to them in Germany. \
The Freischiitz was berformed the same evening — after Macbeth.
Weber, like Mozart, must be content to be ' travaille' by Mr.
Bishop, with his abridgements and additions. It is a positive afflic
tion and misery to hear them: and not only the music, but the fable,
is robbed of all its character. It is not Agatha's lover, but the suc
cessful marksman, who comes to the wolf's glen and sings Caspar's
favourite song. The devil, in long red drapery, dances a regular
shawl-dance before he carries off Caspar to hell, which is very pleas
ingly represented by cascades of fire, scarlet ' coulisses,' and heaps
of skeletons.
Here then the comparison with Germany is as much to our ad
vantage as it is the contrary in tragedy. I wish however, the mat
ter were reversed.
Dec. 2nd.
I wrote you word lately, that I was better; since that time I have
been almost constantly unwell. One ought never to boast of any-

254 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
thing, as the old women say; for, adds Walter Scott, " it is unlucky
to announce things which are not yet certain." This indeed I have
often experienced. As to my health, it is as unintelligible as all the
rest of me.
You doubtless wonder that I remain in London in this thankless
season; but I have still friends here — besides, I have settled into this
quiet life, which is only interrupted by the noise and clatter of the
little troop of couturieres' in the house; the theatre too has begun
to interest me, and the serenity of this seclusion refreshes me after
the former tumult. It is indeed so quiet and solitary, that, like the
celebrated prisoner in the Bastille, I have formed a ' liaison' with a
mouse, — a darling little creature, and doubtless an enchanted ' lady:'
when I am at work, she glides timidly out of her hole, looks at me
from a distance with her little eyes twinkling like stars, becomes
tamer every day; and enticed by bits of cake which I regularly de
posit six inches from her residence, in the right corner of my room.
— At this moment she is eating one with great grace — and now she
frisks about the room quite at her ease. But what do I hear ? an
incessant loud cry in the street! Mousey has fled in terror to her
corner. " What is the matter ?" said I; "what an infernal noise!" "War
is proclaimed — a second edition of The Times is cried about the
streets." " War, with whom ?" ' I don't know.' This is one
branch of trade among the poor devils in London: when they can
contrive nothing else, they cry some ' great news,' and sell an old
paper to the curious for sixpence; you seize it in a hurry, you un
derstand nothing clearly, you look at the date, and laugh at finding
you have been taken in.
As is always the case when I live alone, I have unfortunately so
completely turned day into night, that I seldom breakfast before
four in the afternoon, dine at ten or eleven after the play, and walk
or ride in the night. It is generally not only finer but (' mirabile
dictu') brighter in the night. The days are so foggy that even if
there are lamps and candles you can't see them a yard off; but in
the night the gas-lights sparkle like diamonds, and the moon shines
as bright as in Italy. As I galloped home last night through the
wide and quiet streets, white and coal-black clouds coursed each
other swiftly over her face, and afforded a singularly wild and en
chanting spectacle. The air was serene and mild; for the late cold
has been succeeded by almost spring weather.
Except L  and the standing dishes at the clubs, I see few per
sons but Prince P  , who is accused hereof great haughtiness and
brusquerie. They likewise whisper that he is a very Blue Beard
to his poor wife, and that he shut her up for six years in a solitary-
castle in a wood, so that at last, wearied by ill treatment, she was
obliged to consent to a separation. What say you, good Julia, to
this unhappy fate of your best friend ?
How strangely, however, do rumours and calumnies sometimes
arise! How little can we foresee the inconceivable heterogeneous
consequences of human actions! What quite unexpected rocks peril

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 255
our course! Nay, in the moral as in the physical world, we often
see tares arise where wheat was sown, while beautiful flowers and
fragrant herbs spriug out of the dunghill.
I have received your long letter, and give you my heartiest
thanks for it. Do not be displeased that I so seldom answer in de
tail, but in some sort pay off the sum of the passages, the neglect of
which you reproach me with. Be assured that not a word is lost
upon me. Remember that one gives no other answer to the rose for
its precious fragrance, than to inhale it with delight. To dissect it
would not enhance our pleasure. ' Au reste,' I regret that I have
now neither the materials nor the disposition to send you such roses
in return. The wall is as bare before me as a white sheet — no kind
of' ombre Chinoise' will appear upon it. Woolmers, Dec. 11 th.
Sir G  0  , formerly English ambassador to Persia, had
invited me to his country house, whither I drove this morning.
I arrived late, in darkness and rain, and was obliged to dress in
stantly to go to a ball at Hatfield, which Lady Salisbury gives on a
certain day of the week to the neighbourhood, during the whole
time of her residence in the country. The going there is therefore
received as a sort of call, and no invitations are sent. Sir G 
took his whole party, among whom was Lord Strangford, the well-
known ambassador to Constantinople.
You remember that on my return from my northern excursion I
saw Hatfield ' en passant' I found the interior as imposing and re
spectable, from its air of antiquity, as the exterior. You enter a hall
hung with banners and armour; then climb a singular staircase, with
carved figures of apes, dogs, monks, &c, and reach a long and rather
narrow gallery, in which the dancing was going on. The walls are
of old oak 'boiserie,' with curious old-fashioned silver chandeliers
fixed to them. At one end of this gallery is a library, and at the
other a splendid room with deep metal ornaments depending from
the panels of the ceiling, and an enormously high chimney-piece
surmounted by a statue of King James. The ' local' was very
beautiful, but the ball dull enough, and the company rather too rural.
At two o'clock all was over, and I very glad; for, weary and
' ennuye,' I longed for rest.
The next morning I delighted myself with a review of the various
Persian curiosities which decorated the rooms. I was particularly
struck by a splendid manuscript, with miniatures, which excelled
all the illuminations of the middle ages in Europe, and were often
more correct in drawing. The subject of the book is the history of
Tamerlane's family, and is said to have cost two thousand pounds in
Persia. It is a present from the Shah. Doors inlaid with precious
metals; sofas and carpets of curious velvet, embroidered with gold
and silver; above all, a golden dish splendidly enamelled, and many
finely-worked ' bijoux,' show that if the Persians are behind us in
many things, they surpass us in some.
The weather has cleared a little, and enticed me to a solitary walk.

256 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Noble trees, a little river, and a grove, under whose thick shade a
remarkably copious spring gushes forth as if from the centre of the
earth, are the chief beauties of the park. When I returned, it was
two o'clock, the hour of luncheon; after which Sir Gore showed me
his Arabian horses, and some of them were quickly saddled for a
ride. The groom had little else to do than to jump off and on his
horse to open the gates which interrupted our course every minute.
This is the case in most English parks, and still more in fields,
which makes riding, except on the high roads, somewhat trouble
some. In the afternoon we had music. The daughter of the house
and Mrs. F  distinguished themselves as admirable pianistes.
The hearers were, however, perfectly unconstrained; they went and
came, talked or listened, just as they felt inclined.
When the ladies had retired to dress, Sir Gore and Lord Strang-
ford told us many anecdotes of the East — a theme of which I never
tire. Both these gentlemen are great partisans of the Turks, and
Lord Strangford spoke of the Sultan as a very enlightened man. He
was probably, he said, the first ambassador from any Christian power
who had had several private conferences with the Grand Signior.
At these a singular etiquette was observed: the Sultan received him
in the garden of the Seraglio, in the dress of an officer of his body
guard, and in that character always addressed Lord Strangford with
the greatest deference in the third person; Lord Strangford did not
venture to let it appear that he recognized him. He declared that
the Sultan was better informed about Russia than a great many
European politicians, and knew perfectly well what he was under
taking.* After dinner, at which we had some Oriental dishes, and I drank
genuine Schiraz for the first time in my life, (no very pleasant wine,
by the by, for it tastes of the goat-skins,) we had music again, and
' des petits jeux.' As these latter were not remarkably successful,
the whole party went to bed in good time. December 12th.
I have bought a coal-black horse, a thing as wild as a roe, of my
host's Arab breed; and to give him a longer trial, we rode over to pay
a visit to Lady Cowper, who lives in the neighbourhood. The park
and house of Pansanger are well worth seeing, especially the picture-
gallery, which contains two of Raphael's early Madonnas; and a
singularly fine portrait of Marshal Turenne on horseback, by Rem
brandt. Lady Cowper received us in her boudoir, which led imme
diately into a beautiful garden, even now gay with flowers, on the
other side of which are green-houses, and a dairy in the form of a
temple. Pansanger is celebrated for the largest oak in England. It is nine
teen feet and a half in circumference six feet from the ground, and is
at the same time very straight and lofty, though its branches reach to
a great extent on all sides. We have larger oaks than this in Ger
many. * Judging from the results, he must have seen cause to alter his opinion.— Editoe.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 257
To reconnoitre the country still more fully, we afterwards made
a second visit to Hatfield, which I viewed more accurately.
The whole house, including kitchen and wash-house, is heated by
one steam-engine. The Dowager Marchioness, the most active wo
man in England of her age, did the honours herself, and led us about
into every hole and corner. The chapel contains some admirable
old painted glass, — buried in Cromwell's time, to which it is indebt
ed for its escape when the frantic iconoclasts destroyed all the church
windows. In one of the rooms was a fine portrait of Charles the
Twelfth, — that ' Don Quixote en grand,' who, but for Pultawa,
would perhaps have become a second Alexander. In the present
stables (formerly the house,) Elizabeth lived a captive during the
reign of her sister Mary. The Queen ordered a very lofty pointed
chimney, surmounted with an iron rod, to be built on a gable oppo
site to her sister's window, and caused it to be insinuated to her that
this rod was destined to receive her head. So the Marchioness told
us. The chimney is still standing, and is thickly overgrown with
ivy; but Elizabeth, to feast on the delightful contrast in after years,
when she could contemplate the threatening pinnacle with more
agreeable feelings, built the new palace close to it. The house is
poor in works of art, and the park rich only in large avenues of oaks
and in rooks; otherwise dreary, and without water, except a nasty
green standing pool near the house. December 13th.
In my host's house is a singular picture-gallery, — a Persian one,
which contains some very curious things. The portraits of the pre
sent Shah, and of his son Abbas, are the most interesting. The yel
low dress of the former, covered with precious stones of every kind,
and his enormous black beard, form a very characteristic picture of
this Son of the Sky and of the Sun. His son, however, excels him
in beauty of feature; but he is almost too simply dressed, and the
pointed sheepskin cap is not becoming. The late Persian ambassa
dor to England completes the trio. He was a very handsome man,
and fell into European manners and customs with such ease, that the
English speak of him as a perfect Lovelace. On his return home he
proved himself nowise 'discret,' but compromised several English
ladies of rank in a shameful manner.
Some large dressed dolls gave a faithful idea of the fair sex in Per
sia, with long hair painted red or blue, arched and painted eyebrows,
large languishing eyes of fire, pretty gauze pantaloons, and gold
rings round the ankles.
Lady 0  told us many amusing details of the Harem, which I
reserve till we meet, that I may not exhaust all my resources.
Many things in Persia seem to be very agreeable, many the very
reverse; among them the scorpions and insects.
These things we are free from in our temperate climates. Let us
all therefore be contented in them; a wish which I cordially form
for you and me. Your L  .
33

25S LETTERS ON GERMANY,

LETTER XXI. London, Dec. 16, 1827.
Dear Julia,
After writing some verses in the W  album, in which Ara
bian steeds, Timour's magnificence, Cecil, Elizabeth, and the fair
beauties of Teheran, met in agreeable confusion, I took leave of my
kind hosts, and returned to London. The same evening L 
took me to a singular exhibition.
In a suburb, a good German mile from my lodging, we entered a
sort of barn; dirty, with no other ceiling than the rough roof,
through which the moon peeped here and there. In the middle was
a boarded place, about twelve feet square, surrounded by a strong
wooden breastwork: round this was a gallery filled with the lowest
vulgar and with perilous-looking faces of both sexes. A ladder led
up to a higher gallery, for the patrician part of the spectators, which
was let out at three shillings a seat. There was a strange contrast
between the 'local' and a crystal lustre hanging from one of the
balks of the roof lighted with thick wax candles; as well as between
the ' fashionables' and the populace among whom they were scat
tered, who — the latter I mean — were continually offering and taking
bets of from twenty to fifty pounds. The subject of these was a fine
terrier, the illustrious Billy, who pledged himself to the public to
kill a bundred rats in ten minutes. As yet the arena was empty, and
there was an anxious, fearful pause; while in the lower gallery huge
pots of beer circulated from mouth to mouth, and tobacco smoke
ascended in dense clouds. At length appeared a strong man, bearing
a sack looking like a sack of potatoes, but in fact containing the hun
dred live rats. These he set at liberty in one moment by untying the
knot, scattered them about the place, and rapidly made his retreat
into a corner. At a given signal Bill}' rushed in, and set about his
murderous work with incredible fury. As soon as a rat lay lifeless,
Billy's faithful esquire picked him up and put him in the sack;
among these some might be only senseless, or perhaps there might
be some old practitioners who feigned themselves dead at the first
bite. However, be that as it may, Billy won in nine minutes and
a quarter, according to all the watches; in which time a hundred
dead, or apparently dead, rats were replaced in their old quarters —
the sack. This was the first act. In the second, the heroic Billy,
(who was greeted with the continual shouts of an enraptured audi
ence,) fought with a badger. Each of the combatants had a second,
who held him by the tail. Only one bite or gripe was allowed; then
they were separated, and immediately let loose again. Billy had
always the best of it, and the poor badger's ears streamed with blood.
In this combat, too, Billy was bound to seize the badger fast in a
certain number of minutes, — I don't recollect how many. This he
accomplished in brilliant style, but retired at last greatly exhausted.
The amusements ended with bear-baiting, in which the bear treat
ed some dogs extremely ill, and seemed to suffer little himself. It

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 259
was evident through the whole, that the managers were too chary of
their animals to expose them in 'earnest; I therefore, as I said, sus
pected from the beginning some hidden talents for representation —
even in the rats.
In a few months, cock-fights will be held in the same place. I
shall send you a description of them. Dec. 21st.
There are unquestionably three natures in man, — a vegetable one,
which is content merely to exist: an animal, which destroys ; and
an intellectual, which creates. Many are satisfied with the first,
most lay claim to the second, and a few to the third. I must con
fess, alas! that my life here belongs to Class I., at which I am often
discontented enough: ' but I can't help it.'
You have heard of the English Roscius. A new little wonder of
this kind has appeared, and the maturity of his early talent is really
astonishing. Master Burke (so this little fellow is called) acts at the
Surrey Theatre. Though only ten years old, he played five or six
very different parts, with a humour, • apparent familiarity with the
stage, ' aplomb,' volubility of utterance, accurate memory, and sup
pleness and power over his little person, which are perfectly amaz
ing. What struck me most, however, was, that in a little interlude
he acted his own natural part, — a boy often years old, — with such
uncommon truth that the genuine ' naivete' of childhood he repre
sented, could be nothing but the inspiration of genius,— it is impos
sible it could be the result of reflection in such a child. He began
with the part of an Italian music-master, in which he displayed ex
traordinary mastery of the violin, and that not only in acquired dex
terity, but in the good taste of his playing, and a fulness and beauty
of tone seldom equalled. You perceived in his whole performance
that he was born a musician. Next followed a learned pedant; then
a rough captain of a ship; and so on; — every part admirably filled,
and the by-play, in which so many fail, peculiarly easy, clever, and
appropriate. His last character was Napoleon, — the only one in
which he failed; and this failure was exactly the thing that put the
crown to my admiration. It is characteristic of true genius, that in
the meagre, absurd, and foolish, it appears foolish too; and this part
was the quintessence of bad taste and stupidity. It is the same in
life. Turn Lessing into a courtier, for instance, or Napoleon into
R  Lieutenant, and you will see how miserably each will fill his
part. Generally speaking, the important thing is that every man should
be in his right place. If he is, some excellence will scarcely ever
fail to be developed in him. Thus, for instance, my genius consists
in a fancy, so to say, practically applicable; I have nothing to do but
to wind it up like a watch, not only to find myself immediately at
home in every actual situation, but, employing it as a stimulus, to
throw myself headlong down any conceivable precipice. If I get
hurt in the fall, I can use it again as a restorative, by the unexpect
ed discovery of some wonderful piece of luck or other. Now is this

260 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
the consequence of an accidental physical organization, or of an ac
quired power, — acquired perhaps through a hundred preceding gene
rations? Had this spiritual individual whom I call myself, any pre
vious existence connected with another form? and does it endure in
dependent, or does it lose itself again in the universal Whole, after the
bursting of that bubble which the eternal fermentation of the uni
verse throws up?
Is — as many will have it — the history of the world (or what
passes in time), as well as of nature (or what passes in space,) prede
termined through its whole course, according to the immutable laws
of a guiding will? and does it end like a drama in the victory of
good over evil? — or does the free power of the spirit fashion its own
future, uncertain in all its incidents, and only subject to the condi
tions necessary to its existence? — ' That is the question!' Meantime,
thus much appears to me clear; — that, by the adoption of the former
hypothesis,' — turn it which way we will, — we are all, more or less,
mere finely-constructed puppets: it is only according to the second,
that we remain free spirits. I will not deny that there is in me an
unconquerable, instinctive feeling, like the deepest consciousness of
self, which impels me to the latter belief. This may possibly be an
inspiration of the devil! Yet he does not lead me so far astray, as
that I do not, with profound humility and gratitude, ascribe this, our
mysterious being, to that great incomprehensible Creator, the object
of my highest and deepest love. But forasmuch as our origin is god
like, we must live on, independently, in God. Hear what Angelius
Silesius, the pious Catholic, says on this subject
" Soil ich mein letztes End, und ersten Anfang finden,
So muss ich mich in Gott und Gott in mir ergrunden;
Und werden das, war er, ich muss ein Schein im Schein,
Ich muss ein Wert im Wort, ein Gott im Gotte seyn.*
For this very reason is the doctrine intolerable to me, that man
was formerly in a more exalted and perfect state than now; but has
gradually degenerated, and must labour up again, through sin and
misery, till he reach his pristine perfection. How much more accord
ant with all the laws of nature, — how much more consistent with
the character of an eternal, most high, all-pervading, all-rulino- Love
and Justice, is it, to imagine that the human race (which I regard as
one) advances, from a beginning necessarily imperfect, onward and
onward towards perfection, by its own energy; although indeed the
germ of that energy be implanted by the love of the Most Highest!
The golden age of mankind, says the Duke de St Simon, very just
ly, is not behind, but before us. Our age might be called (rather for
the will than the power) the mystic age. True mysticism is indeed
rare; but it must be confessed that it is a most skilful and profitable
invention of the worldly-wise, to throw a cloak of titular mysticism
over absurdity itself. Behind this curtain, unhappily, lurk many
* I make no attempt to translate this, because the mere words would convey no
idea to English readers; and I have no inclination to write, nor probably they to
read, a commentary. — Thahsl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 261
things, — even that original sin which our modern mystics dwell
upon so much.
Some years ago I was in a very intelligent party, though small in
number, — consisting only of a lady and two gentlemen. An argu
ment arose concerning original sin. The lady and I declared our
selves against the doctrine, — the two gentlemen, for it, though per
haps, more for the sake of letting off some intellectual fireworks
than from conviction. "Yes," said our antagonists at length, " the
doctrine of original sin is doubtless true: like the new French Char
ter, it was the impulse towards knowledge forcing its way. With
the gratification of this impulse came evil into the world ; which,
however, was also necessary to our purification, — to our own merit,
— the only thing truly meritorious." "On this interpretation," re
plied I, turning to my ally, "we maybe content to admit it; for
this is only our own meaning in other words, — a schooling — the ne
cessary transition from bad to better, by the help of our own expe
rience and acquired wisdom." " Certainly," added the lady; "only
then you ought not to call it hereditary sin."* " ' Gnadige Frau,' "
answered one of our antagonists, " we will not quarrel about the
name; if you like it better, we will call it hereditary nobility for
the future."
After all these profound and subtle reflections, I made the dis
covery to-day that the most frivolous people of the world do actually
reflect on their own minds and characters. An Austrian of rank
who has been here some time, did me the favour to give me the fol
lowing counsels of practical philosophy, which I must record literal
ly for the sake of their originality.
" I hold nothing to be more silly," said he, " than to annoy one
self about the future. Look ye, — when I came here it was just
summer, and the season was over. Now another man would have
been annoyed at having arrived just at such a bad time; but I thought
it would pass over, and — just so — you see we 're got to November.
In the mean time Esterhazy took me into the country, where I en
joyed myself amazingly; and now there is one more month bad,
and then 'twill be full again: the balls and the routs will begin,— and
what can I wish better? Should not I have been a perfect fool, now,
to distress myself without a cause? Am I not right? We must live
in the world just like a H  , and never think too much of the
future."t * The Germans do not say original sin, but hereditary sin (Erbsunde). — Erbadel
(hereditary nobility) being formed exactly in the same manner, there is a sort of
jeu de mots, which the words in use here will not represent. — Traxsi..
¦f" For tlie curious in Austrian philosophy and philology I subjoin the original of
the above, which loses, unhappily, its zest in plain English, as it would in good
German. — Tbaksl.
" Nix is halt dammer," sagte er, " als sich um de Zukunft gr&me! Schaun's, als
i hierher kam, war's grade Sommer, und die Season schon vorbei. Nu hatt' en
Andrer sich gegramt, grad in so schlechter Zeit herkommen zu seyn; aber i dacht,
's wird sich schon hinziehen, und richtig, 's hat sich bis zum November hingezogen !
Unterdessen hat mich der Esterhazy ufs Land genemmen, wo i mich gar herrlich
amusirt hab, und nu is noch a Monat schlecht, dann wird's wieder full, die Balle
und die Routs gehn an, und i kann's nie mehr besser wanschen ! War' i nu nich a
rechter Narr gewesen, mi zu grame ohne Noth? hab i ni recht? Man muss in der
Welt grad wie ne H  leben und nimmer zuviel an die Zukunft denken."

262 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
I admit, indeed, that this practical gentleman and I are of very
different natures; and doubtless many a philosopher by profession
must regard my lucubrations with about as much pity as I do the
Austrian's. And yet the result is, alas! the same with all: the only
uncertainty is, which is the majority. Probably they who think
themselves the cleverest. Dec. 28th.
I have received the unpleasant intelligence that the vessel on board
which I sent you all the seeds and flowers I had bought, has been
wrecked off Heligoland, and but few of the hands saved. Friend
L  has also lost a great part of his effects. This is the only ves
sel that has been lost in those seas this year, and has doubtless the
folly of sailing on a Friday to thank for it You laugh ; but that
day has a peculiar quality, and I too have a dread of it; for in the
inexplicable embodied picture of the days of the week which my
fancy has involuntarily painted, that is the only one coal-black.
Perhaps you'd like to know, now I am upon the subject, the colours
of the others. It is a mystical sort of secret. Well then; Sunday
is yellow, Monday blue, Tuesday brown, Wednesday and Saturday
brick-red, Thursday ash-gray. All these day-persons have also an
extraordinary and appropriate spiritual body, — that is, transparent,
without any determinate form or size.
But to return to Friday. — The American Secretary of Legation
lately told me what follows.
"The superstition that Friday is an unlucky day," said he, "is
firmly rooted in the minds of our seamen to this hour. An enlight
ened merchant in Connecticut conceived the wish, a few years ago,
to do his utmost to weaken an impression which has often very in
convenient results. He therefore had a new ship laid on the stocks
on a Friday: on a Friday she was launched; he named her Friday;
and by his orders she sailed on her first voyage on a Friday. Un
happily for the effect of his well-meant experiment, nothing was
ever heard of the vessel or crew from that day to this."
Yesterday I received your letter.
That your jewel, as you affectionately call him, should be not only
overlooked by many in the world, but with great satisfaction trodden
underfoot, arises naturally enough from this, — that he is polished
only on some few sides; and if one of these does not happen to
strike the eye of the passer-by, he is 'comme de raison,' regarded
as a mere common pebble; and, if it happens that one of his sharp
points gives pain, is trodden down as much as possible. He is valued
only by here and there a connoisseur, and by the possessor, — who
overvalues him.
Your description of the English family in B  made me laugh;
the originals for such portraits are common enough in the world of
London. The ' tournure' of the ladies, with few exceptions, is in
deed as awkward as what you have seen in B  ; but long enjoyed
and boundless wealth, old historic names, and stately invincible re
serve, give to the aristocratical society of England something im-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 263
posing, — especially to a North-German nobleman, who is so small
a personage. Do not take to heart the little disaster you tell me of.
What are these but insignificant clouds, so long as the sun of the
mind shines clear in our inward heaven? You should seek more amuse.
ment. Go to W  , to H  , to L  . We ought not to visit peo
ple only when we stand in need of them ; if we do, they cannot believe
that we love and value them, but only that we use them; — and yet
could these three but see our hearts, they would learn to know and
to love us better, than by words or visits. As to the park, I'm afraid
you have murdered venerable age in cold blood, like a cruel tyrant as
you are. So then, limes that had seen three centuries fell unwilling
martyrs to a clear view. That is certainly in the spirit of the age.
Henceforward, however, I give you my instructions only to plant;
plant as much as you like, but remove nothing that is there. By-
and-by I shall come myself and sever the tares from the wheat
Dec. 31st.
Don Miguel of Portugal is arrived, and I was presented to him
this morning. Nobody was present but the ' corps diplomatique'
and a few foreigners. The young Prince is not ill-looking, and in
deed resembles Napoleon; but his manner was rather embarrassed.
He wore seven stars, and seven great orders over his coat. His com
plexion is like the olive of his fatherland, and the expression of his
countenance rather melancholy than otherwise. Jan. 1st, 182S.
My best wishes and a hearty kiss at the beginning of a new year.
Perhaps this is the good year which we have been so long expect
ing, like the Jews their Messias, in vain. I ushered it in at least
very cheerfully. We spent yesterday at Sir L  M  's, who
had invited five or six very pretty girls, and at midnight we drank
a toast to the new year. L  and I took occasion to introduce the
German mode of saluting the ladies, to which, after the prescribed
quantity of resistance, they consented.
To-day I ate part of a Hanoverian roe (there are none in Eng
land) at Count Miinster's country-house. Somebody, by way of
Christmas present, fired a blunderbuss into the large window of his
sitting-room at the very moment the Countess was distributing her
Christmas gifts to her children.* The shot had pierced the looking-
glasses like pasteboard, in a hundred little holes, without breaking
one of them. Fortunately the Christmas presents were placed so
far from the window that the shot did not reach the spot. Nobody
can guess who was the perpetrator of this horrid act.
Don Miguel's arrival makes London alive. To-night there was a
soiree at the Duke of Clarence's, and to-morrow there will be a
great ball at Lady K  's. The Prince seems to be a universal
* ' Ihren Kindern den heiligen Christ besckeerte.' The presents which it is the
universal custom in Germany to make to children on a Christmas eve, are given in
the name of the infant Christ; — the Chrislldndchen so dear to all German children. —
Tkansi..

264 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
favourite; and now that he is more at home here, has something
very calm and gentlemanlike in his ' tournure;' though it strikes me
that in the back-ground, behind his great affability, lurks more than
one ' arriere pensee.' Portuguese etiquette is so rigorous, that our
good Marquis P  is obliged to kneel down every morning when
he first sees the Prince. Jan. 3rd.
I pass over yesterday's fete at Prince E  's to tell you about
this evening's pantomime, which Don Miguel honoured with his
presence. He was in a more awkward predicament than the late
Elector of Hessen Cassel at Berlin, when, at the opening chorus of
"Long life to the Amazon Queen," he got up and returned thanks.
The people here, to whom Don Miguel had been represented as a
ferocious tyrant, and who saw the formidable monster appear in the
shape of a pretty young fellow, have passed from aversion to fond
ness, and receive the Prince everywhere with enthusiasm. So it
happened to-day in the theatre: Don Miguel immediately rose with
his Portuguese and English suite, and returned thanks most courte
ously. Shortly after the curtain drew up, and now arose a fresh
violent clapping at the beautiful scenery. Again Don Miguel rose
and bowed his thanks: surprised and somewhat perplexed, the au
dience, however, overlooked the mistake, and greeted him with
fresh cheers. But now appeared the favourite buffoon, in the person
of a great ourang-outang, with all the suppleness of Mazurier. Loud
er than ever resounded the enthusiastic applause; and again Don
Miguel arose and bowed his thanks. This time, however, the com
pliment was only answered by a hearty laugh; and one of his Eng
lish attendants, Lord M  C  , without ceremony seized the
Infant by the arm and motioned to him to resume his seat. No
doubt, however, Don Miguel and the favourite actor will long remain
involuntarily associated in the public mind. Jan. 6 th.
We float in a sea of fetes. Yesterday the beautiful Marchioness
gave her's; to-day was the admired Princess L  's, which lasted
till six o'clock. People are busied from morning till night in amus
ing the Prince. It is agreeable enough to be this privileged sort of
person, whom the highest and the lowest, the wisest and the silliest,
are all doing their utmost to please.
In the midst of this ' trouble' I received another letter from you
through L  , and rejoiced in the hundred-thousandth assurance of
your love, an assurance of which I shall certainly not be tired before
the millionth, and shall then exclaim, ' L'appetit vient en mangeant!'
Just as little tired, it seems, are people here with these fetes. While
the dark clouds are gathering heavier and heavier around their ho
rizon, our diplomates dance and dine, and meet the threatening storm
with jests and laughter; and the great and the elevated are mingled
with the vulgar and the commonplace, as in Shakspeare's faithful
mirrors of life.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 265
My own spirits are favourably excited by all this, and my mind
is in a healthy and vigorous state. My masculine soul (for I have a
feminine one of my own, besides yours, which belongs to me) is
just now ' du jour;' and when that is the case, I always feel more
free and independent, and less sensitive to external influences. This
state of mind is quite the right one for a residence here, for English
men are like their flints, — cold, angular, and furnished with cutting
edges; but the steel succeeds in striking live sparks out of them,
thus producing light by a friendly antagonism.
Generally speaking, I am too indolent, or rather, too little excited
by them, to be either willing or able to act as steel to any of the in
dividuals who surround me ; but I have, at least, opposed to their
pride still greater pride, and thus softened some and repulsed others.
Both were just what I wished; for the craniologist said of me very
truly, that I was endowed with a strong tendency to creativeness;
and such minds can only love those which act with the same elective
affinities as themselves; or those which, in a subordinate station,
are useful instruments on which to play the melodies of their own
composition. All others are either opposite to, or remote from them.
Jan. 11th.
The last party given in honour of Don Miguel took place to-night
at the Dutch Ambassador's, to which little incident one might hang
all sorts of interesting historical reminiscences. Both Portugal and
Holland, though so small in territorial extent, were once great pow
ers. The one took the road of freedom, the other that of slavery,
and yet both are become equally insignificant; nor does their inter
nal prosperity and happiness seem very greatly to differ. But I will
leave these considerations, and substitute for them a few words in
praise of the amiable Ambassadress, whose French vivacity has not
yet given place to the melancholy, ponderous follies of English
fashion. Her house, too, is one of the few which one may visit in
an evening in the Continental fashion, uninvited, and be sure to find
conversation. When Madame de F  was living in Tournay
before her marriage, my beloved ' chef,' the old Grand Duke of
W  , lived in her parents' house for some time during the war
of deliverance,* and used jestingly to call the charming daughter
his favourite aide-de-camp. As I had filled that post, I had to
plead a sort of comradeship, an honour I am the less disposed to
forego my claim to, as her husband is a very agreeable man, equally
distinguished for the goodness of his heart and the soundness of his
head. I ate a German dinner to-day at Count Miinster's who from time
to time regales us with a wild Hanoverian. To-day it was a noble
boar, with that royal sauce invented by George the Fourth, of which
it is written in the Almanac des Gourmands, 'qu'avec une telle
sauce on mangerait son pere.' Over and above this delicacy, we
* Befreiungshrieg. The war against Napoleon is commonly known by that name
in Germany  Transl. 34

266 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
were treated with a good anecdote by Sir Walter Scott. He said he
one day met an Irish beggar in the street, who asked him for six
pence; Sir Walter could not find one, and at last gave him a shilling,
saying, with a laugh, "But mind now, you owe me sixpence."
" Och, sure enough!" said the beggar, "and God grant you may
live till I pay you."
Before I went to bed I read over your last letter again. You have
entered completely into my view of the character of Macbeth, and
the few words you say about it and about the performance of our
actors are masterly. It is strange, but true, that acting is every
where degenerated. Surely this lies in the selfish, mechanical, un-
poetical spirit of our times.
Equally true is your remark on the high society of B  ; that
the wit, and even the learning, which display themselves so ostenta
tiously there, have nothing of that good-humoured attaching charac
ter which is necessary to give to both the true social charm. The
warm heart's pulse is wanting in that arid soil; — the people can't
help it; — and when they hunt after Fancy, she always appears to
them, as she did to Hofmann, in the form of a horrible lay-figure, or
of a spectre. Your friend, who does not fare .much better, was also,
unhappily, born in the sand: but I think the metallic exhalations
which issued from the shafts, the flaming breath of the gnomes from
beneath, the dark solitude of the pine-forests above, and the whisper
of the Dryads from amid their thick branches, surrounded his cradle,
and shed over the poor child some foreign and beneficent influences.
The ' parforce' members of the new Parforce hunt* made me
laugh heartily. They are the best contrast to the volunteers of the
Landwehr. I am myself a sincere advocate of the latter, because I
love our King from my heart; and to serve him is not only a duty,
but a real enjoyment, in my estimation. When I return, therefore,
I shall very willingly suffer ' une douce violence,' and accompany
the ' parforce' hunt, were it only from respect and attachment to
the elegant and amiable Prince who is the leader of it. The field
horsemanship, almost forgotten among us, will thus be revived; and
England daily teaches me, that habit and amusements connected
with danger and hardship have a very favourable effect on the youth
of a nation, and consequently on its whole character. January 14th.
I drove into the City this morning with Count B  and a son
of the celebrated Madame Tallien, to see the India House, where
there are many remarkable curiosities. Among them is Tippoo
Saib's dream-book, in which he daily wrote his dreams and their
interpretation with his o\yn hand, and to which he, like Wallenstein,
might mainly ascribe his fall. His armour, a part of his golden
throne, and an odd sort of barrel-organ, are also preserved here.
The latter is concealed in the belly of a very well-represented metal
* A parforce jagd is, in one word, a hunt; for jagd, like chasse, includes shooting
and other field-sports; but, as will be seen, I could not leave out the parforce with
out destroying the sentence. — Tbansl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 267
tiger, of natural colours and size. Under the tiger lies an English
man in scarlet uniform, whom he is tearing to pieces; and by turn
ing the handle, the cries and moans of a man in the agonies of death,
terrifically interspersed with the roaring and growling of the tiger,
are imitated with great truth. This is a highly characteristic instru
ment, and greatly assists our judgment of that formidable foe of the
English, who took the stripes of the tiger as his coat of arms, and
was wont to say that he would rather live one day as a tiger going
out to seek his prey, than a century as a quiet grazing sheep.
Daniel's magnificent work on the celebrated temple of Ellora,
hewn in the solid rock, interested me uncommonly. The age of
these majestic remains is completely unknown. It is highly curious,
and in full conformity with Merkel's hypothesis, that the most an
cient civilization of the earth originated with the negro races, that
the statue of the deity in the sanctuary of the oldest temple of Budd
ha, distinctly exhibits the peculiar features and woolly hair of a
negro. A large stone from the ruins of Persepolis, entirely covered
with the yet-undeciphered arrow-writing; large Chinese paintings;
huge Chinese lanterns; a very large plan of the city of Calcutta, and
some beautiful Persian illuminated manuscripts, are among the great
est curiosities of this collection. We then visited the warehouses,
where you may buy all sorts of Indian goods uncommonly cheap,
provided you ship them immediately for the Continent, in which
case they pay no duty to the Government. Shawls, which with us
would cost at least a hundred louis d'ors, are here to be bought in
abundance for forty. The most beautiful I ever saw, and of a fine
ness and magnificence which would make it a most enviable posses
sion in the eyes of our ladies, was only a hundred and fifty guineas :
but shawls are not much worn in England, and are thought little of;
so that nearly all these are sent abroad. January 16th.
The new steam-carriage is completed, and goes five miles in half
an hour on trial in the Regent's Park. But there was something to
repair every moment. I was one of the first of the curious who tried
it; but found the smell of oiled iron, which makes steam-boats so un
pleasant, far more insufferable here.. Stranger still is another vehi
cle to which I yesterday entrusted my person. It is nothing less
than a carriage drawn by a kite, — and what's more, a paper kite very
like those which children fly. This is the invention of a school
master, who is so skilful in the guidance of his vehicle, that he can
get on very fairly with a half wind, but with a completely fair one
and on good road, he goes an English mile in three-quarters of a
minute. The sensation is very agreeable, for you glide over the lit
tle unevennesses of the road as if carried over them. The inventor
proposes to traverse the African deserts in this manner, and with
this view has contrived a place behind, in which a poney stands, like
a footman, and in case of a calm can be harnessed in! What is to be
done for forage, indeed, is not thoroughly clear, but the schoolmas
ter reckons upon regular trade winds in those regions. As a coun-

268 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
try diversion, the invention is, at all events, greatly to be recom
mended; and I therefore send you herewith a ' brochure ' announc
ing it, with explanatory plates, after which you can commission
some amateur among your own schoolmasters to make a similar
attempt. I devoted the evening to a pantomime, the strange extravagance of
which was sustained by such admirable scenery and machinery, that
you could think yourself in fairy-land, without any great effort.
Such pretty nonsense is delightful. For instance, an immeasurable
rushy bog in the kingdom of the Frogs, the inhabitants of which are
most accurately represented by clever actors; and a temple of glow
worms, which in wildhess of fancy, and wonderful brilliancy, sur
passes any Chinese firework. Brighton, Jan. 23rd.
Fashion is a great tyrant; and however clearly I see this, I suffer
myself to be ruled by her as others are. She led me hither a few
days ago, to the agreeable Miss J  , the discreet Lady L  ,
the charming F  , &c. &c.
I am already wearied again with balls and dinners, and have re
sumed my coquetry with the sea, the only poetical object in this
prosaic place. I walked just now, after leaving a ' rout' at the
further end of the town, for half an hour on its shore, amid the
thundering and foaming of the coming tide. The stars looked down
in all their brightness; eternal repose reigned above; and wild tu
mult and ceaseless agitation below; — heaven and earth in their truest
emblems. How beautiful, how beneficent, how fearful, how per
turbing, is this universe! — this universe, whose beginning and end
we know not; whose extent is illimitable; before whose infinite
series, on every side, even Fancy sinks to earth, veiling herself with
reverential awe. Ah, my dear Julia! Love alone finds an exit from
this labyrinth. Does not Gothe, too, say,
" Gltlcklich allein ist die Secle die liebt!" Jan. 24th.
We have had a fine day's hunting here. The weather was re
markably clear and sunny, and at least a hundred red coats took the
field. Such a sight is certainly full of interest; the many fine horses;
the elegantly dressed huntsmen; fifty or sixty beautiful hounds fol
lowing Reynard over stock and stone; the wild mounted troop be
hind; the rapid change of wood and hill and valley; the cries and
shouts — it is a miniature war.
The country here is very hilly, and at one time the hounds ran
up so steep and long a hill, that most of the horses were unable to
follow them, and those that did, panted like the bellows of a smithy.
But when we had once reached the top, the ' coup d'ceil' was glori
ous ; you looked down upon the whole, from the fox to the last
straggler, all in full movement, with one glance; and besides that,
oyer a rich valley to the left, which extends to London, and to the
right over the sea gleaming like a mirror beneath the bright sun.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 269
The first fox we took; the second reached Malapartus* in safety,
and thus escaped his pursuers. Almost all these hunts are main
tained by subscription. The pack here, for instance, consisted of
eighty dogs and three huntsmen, with their nine horses, costs 1,050/.
a year, which is divided among five-and-twenty subscribers. Any
man who has a mind may ride with them. Thus it costs each sub
scriber not more than forty-two pounds a year. The shares, how
ever, are by no means equally divided. The rich give much, the
poor little, according to their means. Some give as much as two
hundred a year, some not above ten; and I think this scheme would
be a very good one to introduce into Germany, especially for poor
men. The most striking thing, however, in the whole business, to
German eyes, is the sight of the black-coated parsons, flying over
hedge and ditch. I am told they often go to the church, ready
booted and spurred, with the hunting-whip in their hands, throw on
the surplice, marry, christen, or bury, with all conceivable velocity,
jump on their horses at the church-door, and off— tally-ho! They
told me of a famous clerical fox-hunter, who always carried a tame
fox in his pocket, that if they did not happen to find one, they might
be sure of a run. The animal was so well trained that he amused
the hounds for a time; and when he was tired of running, took re
fuge in his inviolable retreat — which was no other than the altar of
the parish church. There was a hole broken for him in the church-
wall, and a comfortable bed made under the steps. This is right
English religion. Feb. 6th.
I caught a cold which brought on a violent nervous fever. This
has confined me to my bed for a fortnight, and weakened me to an
extraordinary degree. It has not been wholly unattended with dan
ger; but my physician assures me that is quite past; therefore do not
be alarmed. Strange that, in a complaint so exhausting,, one should
be so indifferent to the thought of death! It appears to us only like
rest and slumber; and I fervently wish myself such a slow and gra
dual approach of my dissolution from the body, whenever my time
comes. As one that delights in observing, I would fain, so to say,
see and feel myself die, as far as that is possible; that is, watch my
own sensations and thoughts with full possession of my faculties, and
thus taste existence up to the very last moment. A sudden death
appears to me something vulgar, — animal; a slow one alone, with
perfect consciousness of its approach, refined, noble, — human. 1
hope moreover to die very tranquilly; for although I have never at
tained to sanctity of life, I have held fast to the Loving and the Good,
and have loved mankind, though not perhaps many individual men.
Thus, though not yet ripe for heaven, I wish extremely, according
to my doctrine of metempsychosis, to become once more an inha
bitant of this beloved earth. The planet is beautiful and interesting
enough to like to rove about in it in ever-renewed human shape.
* This refers to the ancient fable of Reinecke Fuchs. — Tbansl.

270 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
But if it be ordered otherwise, I am content. From God and his
universe we cannot be cut off; and it is not probable that we shall
become more foolish or more wicked ; but rather, wiser and better.
The sting of death to me would be the thought of your sorrow ;
and yet, perhaps, without the certainty of your love I could not die
so happy and resigned: — it is so sweet a feeling in death, that we
leave some one behind who will cherish our memory with tender
ness, and in and with whom we shall still live, so long as his eyes
remain open to the light. Is this selfishness ?
As we are talking of dying, I must mention a melancholy inci
dent. Do you remember a Scottish chieftain, of whom I told you
during my last visit to Brighton ? — -a somewhat fantastic, but power
ful and original Highlander. In the full pride of manly strength he
has ceased to live. He was on board a steam-boat with his two
daughters, and shortly before landing received such a blow on the
head from one of the yards, that he fell into a fit of delirium on the
spot, sprang into the sea, and swam to shore, where he soon after
expired. This end has a certain kindred tragic character with the
history of an ancestor he told me of with such pride, to which he
traced the origin of his arms — a bloody hand on a field azure. — This
is the tradition:
Two brothers who were engaged in an expedition against some
Scottish island had entered into an agreement, that he who should
first touch the land with flesh and blood (a Scotch expression) should
remain undisputed lord of it. Approaching the shore with all the
force with which they could ply their oars, they came to a part
where the projecting rocks barred all nearer approach; and both
brothers, with their followers, dashed into the sea to swim to the isl
and. As the elder saw that the younger was getting before him, he
drew his short sword, laid his left hand on a point of rock, cut it off
with one stroke, took it up by the fingers and threw it bleeding, past
his brother, on the shore: " God is my witness," cried, he " that my
flesh and blood have first touched this land." And thus was he king
of the island, which his descendants ruled for centuries with unlimited
sway. Feb 8th.
The doctor finds me very patient — Good God! I have been taught
patience — and to be just, adversity is an admirable school for the
spirit. Adversity, however, if we look deep enough, arises only
from those faults in us, which are corrected by it; and we may un
conditionally affirm, that if men began and persevered in an unde-
viating course of reasonable and virtuous conduct, they would scarce
ly know suffering: — but their pleasures must then become so subtle
and ethereal, that they would set but little value on any thing earth
ly. No more dinners, — at which to get indigestions. No more
fame, — which they hunt after with such delighted vanity: no more
of love's sweet and perilous risks; no pomp or show for the sake of
surpassing others: it would be at last — God forgive me for saying
so! — a very humdrum life — a dead calm, under an outward show of

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 271
perfection. The essence of life, on the contrary, is motion and con
trast. It would therefore be the greatest derangement and annoy
ance if we were all to become perfectly reasonable. But I don't
think the danger very pressing. — You see my illness has not altered
me: I should not have told you anything about it, but that this letter
must go before I am quite recovered. You may, however, read it
with perfect tranquillity of mind, and be assured that I mean to en
joy everything that a benevolent Creator has bestowed upon us, to
my very latest breath ; whether halfpence, or guineas ; houses of
cards, or palaces ; soap-bubbles, or rank and dignities, — as time and
circumstance present them ; — and at last even death itself, and
whatever here or elsewhere may follow it. The severer virtuesjust
show their beautiful roots. Thus, for instance, I really enjoy my
present temperance ; I feel an ethereal lightness from it, and am
more elevated than usual above all that is animal. Other egaremenis
are wholly out of the question; and all this gives me a foretaste of
that purer pleasure to come—old age. For in certain things — let us
but confess it frankly and freely — the wicked Frenchman is half in
the right: — ' que c'est le vice qui nous quitte, et bien rarement nous
qui quittons le vice.' Feb. 9th.
I never had a physician who was so kind — to the apothecary; —
two doses a day. I live upon nothing else ; but, as I am unhappily
ill in earnest, I take what is sent me with great resignation. I miss
terribly such a nurse as you are ; and my dry, hard landlady, who
has frequently offered her services very civilly, would be a poor
substitute. Meanwhile I read a great deal, and am in very good
spirits. If I were disposed to give myself up to melancholy self-
tormentings, 1 could find negative as well as positive grounds for
them. Now that I am confined to the house, the weather is uni
formly most beautiful: but as I have set the hands of my spiritual watch
in a quite other direction, I am on the contrary, very thankful to see
the bright sun daily ; — very thankful that, spite of his glory and ma
jesty, he disdains not to warm my room from early morning; to
greet me all day with friendly beams, which clothe everything in a
robe of gold; and in the evening, that he takes the trouble to paint
the wildest pictures in the clouds that hang over the sea, deep blue,
flaming amber, or purple, — for me, poor invalid! who sit wrapt up
at a large window: and at length, when taking leave, shows himself
in such splendour, that the remembrance of it long afterwards robs
the dusky shades of night of that gloomy impression which they are
wont to leave on the spirit of the solitary and the suffering. And
thus has everything two sides. There is nothing at which the fool
may not fall into despair, or the wise man feel satisfaction and enjoy
ment Feb. 10th.
A letter from you always causes me the greatest delight, as you
know; but how much more in my present state! Judge, therefore, with

272 LETTERS ON GERMANY,

¦*

what delight yours was received to-day. *
i* * ^ * * -*• * * * * * *
* -******# i # * *
F  is very wrong to refuse what was offered to him. It were
madness for a shipwrecked man, struggling with the waves and near
ly exhausted, to disdain a fishing-boat which presented itself to save
him, that he might wait for a three-decker. It is certainly possible
that such an one is already coming round that point; and at the mo
ment when the boat has borne him away to some meaner destination,
may heave in sight with all her canvass set. But we are not om
niscient; we must treat the chances which the concatenation of
events offers us, according to probability, not to possibility.
My presents please you, then? Now God bless them! Little plea
sures are as good as great ones; and we ought diligently to study the
art of creating to ourselves such, far oftener than we do; there is
abundance of cheap materials for the purpose: but no superstition
must intrude — like that which you express about the scissars. Good
Julia, the scissars are not yet invented which can cut our love; —
they must be crab-like, and with a backward action cutaway all me
mory of the past. Now I must scold you for another thing. To
what end did I send you all that beautiful coloured ' blotting-paper,'
if you relapse into the horrid fashion of strewing sand on your pa
per, which is as unknown in England as sanded floors? Several
ounces of this ingredient in your correspondence flew in my face
when I opened your letter. Will you, too, throw dust* in my eyes,
dear Julia? and has Jeremiah brought you a new serious sand-box
for the purpose from B  ?
I am very industrious, and employ my leisure in putting in order
several volumes of my life-atlas. The whole day long I arrange,
cut, write, (for you know there's a commentary to every picture) —
in short all that a poor sick man can do to pass time. Behold, with
your mind's eye, twenty folio volumes of the classic work standing
in our library, and ourselves, grown old and bowed, sitting before
them, rather doting, but still triumphing in the glorious old times.
Young shot-up things are laughing by stealth behind our backs ; fly
ing out and in; and when one of them, asks " What are the old
people about?" another answers, "0! they are sitting poring over
their picture-bible, and have no eyes nor ears for anything else."
Now this is what I should like to live to see, and it always seems to
me as if it must come to this. What lies between, however — that
indeed God only knows.
Bellows now cut a great figure in the newspapers. An ass, poi
soned by way of experiment, was restored to life by continual blow
ing into his lungs ; and the Houses of Parliament are going to be fur
nished with pure air during the whole session by means of a great
pair of bellows. As an infallible remedy against suffocation, nothing
* The Germans say, " Sand in die Augen streuen," to scatter sand (not dust) in
the eyes. Here, as in so many other cases, difference of idiom destroys a 'jeu de
mots.' — Tbajssl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 273
more is necessary than to hold the patient by the nose, and blow
common atmospheric air into his lungs, with the bellows out of the
chimney corner. There will therefore be a greater number of puff-
ed-up people in England now than ever. Feb. 12th.
My illness has hindered me from going to Scotland, for which I
had prepared everything, and received many invitations; and now
the expected arrival of W  and the beginning of the season will
keep me in London. To-day for the first time my doctor let me go
out: and I took my way to Stranmore Park, which is at no great
distance, that I might enjoy fresh air and the pleasure of a romantic
walk. I was, however,- not permitted to enter the garden, though 1
sent in my card. We are more liberal, indeed, — but this stern re-
pulsiveness has its advantages: — it gives more value both to the
thing itself, and to the permission to see it, when you do obtain it.
'A propos,' this reminds me of your new steward. It is desirable
for us to keep him; nevertheless I beg you to behave to him a little
as the lady of Stranmore did to me. Don't be too ' empressee' in your
kindness; that, if he deserves it, you may leave yourself the power
of increasing it. Be kind, but with dignity; always shading off the su
perior station which you must necessarily maintain with regard to him.
Don't try to attach him by indulgence or over-civil behaviour, but by
confidence, which does him honour; and also by substantial advan
tages, which in the end never fail to have their effect upon people, let
them say, or even think, as they will. But you must address yourself
no less to his ambition: keep it always awake by discreet concessions,
by gratitude for proofs of zeal, and no less by gentle reproof when
ever you think it necessary; that he may see you have a judgment.
As an honourable man, he will then not fail to conduct our affairs
with the same interest as if they were his own. Lastly, take care
not to fatigue him, in his province of supervision, with details: don't
attempt to exercise control over him in every trifle, and keep vigi
lant watch to support his authority over those under him, no less
than your own over himself; — in those cases only where you see
reason to fear that something important is amiss, do not delay an in
stant to require a full explanation. In very weighty cases that admit
of delay, you will of course consult me. Herewith does Polonius
conclude his exhortations. Feb. 15th.
The short flight was premature, for it did not agree with me.
The charming weather, too, is become horrible. A snow-storm
now flogs the sea under my windows, so that it foams and roars again
for rage, and its billows dash over the high pier up to the houses.
In the midst of this thunder I yesterday began to write my me
moirs, and finished eight sheets, which I send you herewith.
I have also taken advantage of this time to go through Lesage's
historical Atlas again; and I cannot say that during my whole illness
I ever felt a moment's ennui. Indeed the perfect repose and pas-
35

274 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
sionless calm of such a period refreshes my soul. My body will
soon be restored also; and then, as soon as the sky clears a little,
I think to return once more to the haunts of men. A  ,* to
whom I sent your letter, desires her best love to you. From her
great intimacy with the future Queen, she is treated quite like a
' Princesse du Sang.' She begins to feel her own importance a
little; her former shy, timid ' tournure' is altered much to her ad
vantage, and she has learned to assume a certain air without losing
her affability. The sun of fortune and favour changes a human being,
as the sun of heaven does a plant which faded in darkness, and now
raises its drooping head in his bright beams, and penetrated by the
genial warmth opens fragrant blossoms to the light. We, dear Ju
lia, still lie in the cellar, like hyacinth roots; but the gardener can
place us in a more favourable soil and brighter sun in the spring — if
it please him. Feb. 20th.
I have been out — and behold everything is become strange wher
ever I went. My acquaintances were almost all gone, and in the
houses and promenades new faces met me. The bare country alone
I found in its former state, except that the green fields were manured
— with oyster-shells. Miss  ,• a not very young, but rich' and
' agreeable' lady, told me that the papers here had spoken of me
as lying at the point of death, while the London ' Morning -Post'
introduced me as dancing at Almack's, which certainly looks rather
spectral. This good-natured Miss  is still full of acknowledge
ments for a ticket I once got her for Almack's, and played and sang
her thanks to me rather more than the weak state of my nerves could
bear. I took my leave, but soon fell into the hands of two other
Philomels who are also belated here.
As soon as my strength is quite restored I shall return to London,
and can now, with a good conscience, and without fear of causing
you anxiety, despatch this long letter.
The short meaning of many words is ever the same — the hearty
love of Your L  .

LETTER XXII.
London, Feb. 28th, 1828.
I must go back to mention to you an acquaintance I made at
Brighton, which in one point of view is interesting. You have no
doubt heard that an ancestor of the Thelluson family made a will,
* Adelaide, Princess Carolath, born Countess von Pappenheim; daughter of the
Noble Lady to whom these Letters are addressed, by the Bavarian General-of-divi-
sion Count von Pappenheim, and mentioned in a former part of the work under the
name of Emily  Tbaksl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 275
according to which his property was to accumulate for a hundred and
fifty years, interest upon interest, and the then existing young Thel
luson to come into possession of the whole. In twenty years this
term will expire; and I saw the present Mr. Thelluson, a man of
forty, who has very little; and his son, a pretty boy of eight, who
is probably destined in his twenty-eighth year to be master of twelve
millions sterling, — ninety-four millions of our money. An Act of
Parliament has prohibited all such wills for the future; but could not
invalidate this, though great efforts were made to do so. So enor
mous a fortune certainly invests a private man with a very unnatu
ral degree of power. However, I could not help heartily wishing
good luck to the little fellow, with his splendid hopes. There is
really something grand in having such enormous wealth; for it can
not be denied that money is the representative of most things in the
world. What marvellous objects might be attained by such a for
tune well applied!
Next to this young Croesus ' in spe,' I was interested by a man of
very original character, Colonel C  , who was here some days.
Lady M  directed my attention to him, and told me as follows:
"When I was young, the elegant middle-aged man you see there,
was one of the most admired beaux of the metropolis. After he had
run through all his fortune, with the exception of a few thousand
pounds, chance one day led him before a map of America, and the
thought suddenly struck him that he would go there and turn back
woodsman. He examined the map, and fixed on a solitary spot on
Lake Erie, sold all his effects the same week, married his servant to
a pretty young girl, embarked with them, and arrived in safety at
the spot he had chosen in the primeval woods, where he lived for a
few days by hunting, and slept under the leafy canopy: with the
help of some backwoodsmen he soon built a log-house, which he
still inhabits. He acquired a considerable influence over the set
tlers scattered around him, which he employed in encouraging
them to their joint labours, and rendered himself peculiarly agree
able to them by playing the part of cook, and preparing palatable
food instead of the half-raw meat they used to eat. He sees an
increasing and attached population spring up around him, is pro
prietor of a little principality in extent, calculates his income at
ten thousand a year, and comes regularly every tenth year, for
' one season,' to England, where he lives, as formerly, with all the
' aisance' of a fashionable man of the world, and then returns to
his woods.
My first visit in the metropolis was to Countess M  , who,
1 malgre ses quarantes ans,' has added another child to her dozen
during my absence. I dined there, and admired a beautiful present
of plate from the King, the workmanship of which is finer here than
anywhere, so that the cost of the labour is often ten times that of
the metal. At dinner the Count told a curious anecdote, character
istic of the administration of justice in this country.
" A man whom I know," said he, "had his pocket-handkerchief
stolen in the street. He seized the thief, and, being the stronger,

276 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
held him fast, though not without receiving several violent blows ;
and at length gave him into the charge of a police officer who came
up. The transaction was perfectly clear, and passed in the presence
of many witnesses; and the delinquent, if prosecuted, would have
been transported. His wife went to the gentleman, begged for
mercy on her knees: the thief himself, who was not an uneducated
man, wrote the most moving letters, — and who will wonder that he
at length found pity? On the appointed day the prosecutor staid
away, and the criminal was accordingly acquitted.
" The gentleman paid dearly enough for his ill-timed compassion.
A fortnight after this transaction, he was prosecuted, by the very
man who picked his pocket, for an assault, which was proved on the
testimony of several witnesses. The defendant replied, that it was
certainly true that he had seized the man, but that he had done so
only because he had caught him in the act of picking his pocket.
But as the criminal had already been acquitted of this, and no man
can be twice tried for the same offence, no notice was taken of the
justification. In short, it cost the too generous sufferer about a hun
dred pounds, which he had to pay partly to the man who robbed
him, and partly to the Court." The whole company thought this
sort of justice monstrous; but an old Englishman defended it with
great warmth and pertinacity. " I think," exclaimed he earnestly,
" that the incident just related, exactly goes to illustrate the wisdom
of our laws in the most striking manner. All laws and judicial au
thorities are instituted solely for the purpose of preventing crime.
This is also the sole end of punishment. The receiver of stolen
goods is therefore, in the eye of the law, nearly as guilty as the thief;
and he who knowingly tries to rescue a criminal from the grasp of
the law, is almost as pernicious to the community as the criminal
himself. That man who, perhaps, began his career of crime with
the stealing of this pocket-handkerchief, and therefore ought to have
been withdrawn from society for penitence and amendment, now,
emboldened by success, is probably planning a larger theft, — per
haps a murder. Who ought to bear the blame? This very gentle
man, — who has been deservedly punished for his illegal pity. He
who thrusts his hand uncalled for and inconsiderately between the
wheels of a useful machine, must not wonder if he breaks his
fingers." The English are, it must be confessed, most skilful sophists, when
ever their usages are called in question. The most distinguished
man among thern, however, Brougham, lately made a speech of six
hours long, which treated entirely of tlie defects and abuses of Eng
lish law. The most stupendous of these seemed to be, that there is
now in ' the Court of Chancery' the enormous sum of fifty millions
sterling, which has no actual determined owner. A suit in this
Courtis become proverbial for something interminable; and there is
a very diverting caricature, which bears the inscription, ' A Chan
cery Suit' At first a young man handsomely dressed, and in high
blooming health, fills the hat of a starved skeleton of a lawyer with
guineas, by way of retaining fee. A long, long procession of men

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 277
and things follows; and at last we see the young man as a ragged
broken-down beggar, asking alms of the lawyer, now grown as fat
as a tun, which the latter scornfully refuses. ' Helas, c'est encore
tout comme chez nous,' only in more corpulent proportions.
On many things, however, which appear to foreigners most exas
perating, they ought to take care not to form too hasty a judgment,
since abuses and even obvious original defects are often only the in
evitable shadows of a far greater light;- — as, for instance, bribery at
elections, — perhaps even the 'rotten boroughs,' and the acknow
ledged dependence of a considerable portion of the members of par
liament on Government, by means of ' patronage,' and so forth. It
seems to be quite a question whether any Ministry could stand with
out these means, apparently so pernicious. It is, however, something
gained, that a Government should not have that conceded in theory
(as it is in despotic states) which nevertheless, perhaps, they cannot
quite dispense with in practice; — as the preacher's life never quite
comes up to his doctrine. We must not forget that an approach to
perfection is all that can be expected from human things; and there
fore reformers ought carefully to keep in mind ' que le mieux est
l'ennemi du bien.' Nevertheless, I think I see many indications
that England is advancing towards a reform; and indeed, that it is,
from various causes, quite inevitable. Whether it will end advan
tageously for her, or not, is another question. Perhaps the very
necessity is a proof that she has outlived her highest greatness, and
is already declining.
In the evening I visited the Adelphi Theatre, where a juggler ex
hibited his feats of art in a very new manner, under the title of
' Conversazioni.' He stood surrounded by various tables and ma
chines on the stage, and began with a history of his journey in the
Diligence: into this he introduced various characters and anecdotes,
sang songs, and interspersed his narrative with tricks, or optical de
ceptions, or phantasmagoria, as appropriate incidents, — a good idea
enough, which increases the interest of such exhibitions. His dex
terity and certainty as a juggler were moreover as remarkable as his
good dramatic acting and his memory. He concluded with playing
on the musical glasses; not only in the harmonica style, but waltzes
and the like; and even- introduced long shakes, which he executed
admirably.
March 9 th.
The season already asserts its prerogative. The streets swarm with
elegant equipages; the shops spread forth fresh treasures; all the
houses are full, and all prices raised doubly and trebly. Mr. Peel
the Minister gave a brilliant soiree this evening to the Duchess of
Clarence. His house is decorated with many fine pictures, among
which is Rubens' famous ' Chapeau de paille.' Mr. Peel gave fifteen
thousand reichsthalers for this picture — a half-length.
I went with Prince E  yesterday to see the small private col
lection of a clergyman (Mr. Carr,) which consists of not above thirty
pictures, has cost him twenty thousand pounds, and is quite worth

278 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
it. There are as many master-pieces as pictures, — the only true sort
of collection for a private man, who does not use his gallery for in
struction in the art, but for enjoyment.
Here is a Garoffolo, of such unearthly transparency and brightness,
of so holy and deep a poetry, that you think you behold a picture of
Eden, not of this earth; and a large Claude, also of the highest order
of beauty, in which the smallness of the means employed are as won
derful as the extraordinary effects produced. In an adjoining room
were some beautiful landscapes by Domenichino and Annibal Caracci.
The richness of composition, the deepness and' freshness of inven
tion, were adorned with such a fantastic charm and such variety of
details, that I could have lost myself all day long in these strange
regions, with their broad watery mirrors; their islands, groves and
pretty huts; their deep blue mountains, and forests of spectral dark
ness. In a third room you reach the crown of the whole collection,
a picture by Leonardo da Vinci, in which he has represented, in the
three persons of the Saviour, Peter and John, the Ideal of youth,
manhood, and old age; all of a beauty, truth and perfection, which
leaves nothing to desire. It is the only head of Christ, of all I ever
saw, which fully satisfies me: it is as strikingly expressive of gran
deur and force of mind, as of purity and meekness; while at the
same time it unites this speaking expression with perfect ideal beauty.
The grouping of the whole, too, is so satisfactory to the eye; the
colouring so brilliant and so fresh ; the execution, down to the
smallest details, so masterly, — that one feels a fulness of delight such
as few works of art bestow.*' But nothing remains of the exquisite
pleasure of contemplating such a work, save a cold dissection of it
by words. I will therefore quit the subject; only I wish to make
connoisseurs better acquainted with this choice collection.
There is an exhibition of battles by General Lejeune, which he
first fought, and then painted. They show great talent and power.
In the battle of the Moskwa, the theatrical Murat and his suite form
the principal group; he, streaming with feathers, ringlets, fringe,
and embroidery, — standing, with his self-satisfied air, under a fire of
musketry: he is in the act of giving the order to the French and
Saxon cuirassiers for that murderous attack, and the storming of a
battery of forty guns, which cost so many their lives, and among
them my beloved friend H  . The King is just about to put
himself at the head of them. Who could then have predicted that
he would so soon be ignominiously beaten by a mob, and shot as a
criminal ?
Deeply affecting, though too horrible for art, is the figure of an
Austrian staff-officer at the battle of Marengo, who has been shot
through the belly, so that the bowels are lying on the ground. The
unfortunate wretch, to escape from his insufferable torture, has en
treated a French ' gens d'arme' to lend him his pistol, which he is
* A learned antiquarian once told me that the old painters generally painted on
a ground of chalk, and used preparations for fixing their colours, whence they are so
permanent, fresh, and brilliant. Strange that people don't give themselves the
trouble to try this experiment!

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 279
putting to his mouth with a look of despair, while the owner of the
weapon turns away shuddering.
In another picture is the onslaught of a party of Spanish guerillas
on a French detachment. You see a most romantic pass in the
mountains of Catalonia, remarkable for four stone oxen, the erection
of which is ascribed to Hannibal. At their feet lie two or three
skeletons of French cuirassiers, still in full armour. Not a soul
escaped this slaughter except General Lejeqne himself, and this only
by a half-miracle; — three of the guns aimed at him missed, which
the Empecinado superstitiously took for a warning, and commanded
the men not to fire at him again. You see General Lejeune strip
ped naked; one murderer has caught him by the hair, another is
treading on his body, and the arms of the others are pointed against
him; while his servants and a soldier, pierced through and through
by pikes and swords, breathe their last at his side.
The battle of the Nile, — where the Mamelukes, in half-frantic
flight, spur their noble Arabian horses from a high hill down into the
river, whence but a few reach the opposite bank, — has also a very
romantic effect. March 13th.
I forgot to tell you that about a fortnight ago the elegant little
Brunswick Theatre, scarcely finished, fell in during the rehearsal of
a new piece, and destroyed a great many lives. I went to look at
the ruins yesterday; the carcasses of two cart-horses, which had been
crushed in the street, were still lying under the rubbish. It was a
fearful sight. Only one single box remained standing; in this, Far-
ren the actor saved himself, by his coolness in not stirring from the
spot. — Thence he saw the whole horrible catastrophe, — only too
real and unexpected a tragedy.
In the whirl of the season it's all forgotten. Yet this tumultuous
life furnishes far less stuff for thought than might be imagined; and
what it does furnish, is soon forgotten in the confusion.
A family dinner at the great R  's, who has been likened to
the Sultan, because the one is the Ruler of all Believers, and the
other the Believer in all Rulers, occurred as a variety. This man
has really something very original about him. He was peculiarly
merry to-day; ordered the servant to bring his new Austrian consu
lar uniform, which " his friend M  ch," as he said, had sent him
from Vienna; showed it to us, and even suffered himself to be per
suaded to try it on before the looking-glass, and to walk about in it
And, as virtuosi when they have once begun never know when to
stop, he now sent for other magnificent Court dresses, and changed
his toilette several times, as if he had been on the stage; — and that
with such child-like good-nature and naivete, that I could only com
pare such a golden hero with Henry the Fourth, found by the foreign
ambassadors acting as horse to his little son.
It was, 'au reste,' rather droll to see how this otherwise serious
tradesman-like man tried to assume the various bendings and bow
ings, and the light and gracious air, of a courtier; and, not in the

280 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
least disconcerted by our laughing, assured us, with as much confi
dence as joviality, that N  M  R  , if he liked, could act
any part; and, with the help of five or six glasses of wine extra,
could make as good a figure at Court as the best of them.
An acquaintance I made a few days ago had a very different sort
of interest for me, — I mean that of General Mina. You have seen
several portraits of him, all of which represent him with huge mus-
tachios and wild features,, like a ferocious captain of brigands. Think
then of my astonishment at seeing, in the hero of Spain, a mild,
simple, and singularly modest man, without the slightest trace of
what is called a military 'tournure;' on the contrary, like a coun
try schoolmaster or farmer, with an open good-natured countenance,
and blushing at every compliment paid him, like a girl. When he
grew animated with conversation, I, however, remarked a change
in his features and a lightning of his dark eye, which betrayed the
spirit within.
He is in very good preservation, and has scarcely the air of a man
of forty, though his short hair is quite white; but this by no means
makes him look old, — it only gives him the appearance of being
powdered. He said, in the course of conversation, that he never
had that luxuriant bush of hair to boasi, which people are so fond
of bestowing upon him, and that he had often laughed at the
caricatures which he saw of himself in the shop-windows.
There were two other distinguished Spaniards present: Arguelles,
— Minister under the Constitutional Government, and the most ce
lebrated popular orator of Spain, — a man of most prepossessing ap
pearance and polished manners; and General Valdez, Commandant
of Cadiz during the last siege. It was he who took the beloved Ferdi
nand on board his ship (he being then senior Admiral of the Fleet)
to the French camp. Though, as he said, before and during the voy
age the King overwhelmed him with caresses, repeatedly expressed
his thanks for the treatment he had received in Cadiz, and made
great promises for the future, the fate of poor Valdez was already
sealed. " The moment the King quitted my ship," continued Val
dez, " his behaviour suddenly changed ; and as soon as he felt him
self secure, he cast a piercing look of triumph and of long suppress
ed rage at me. I knew this look, and instantly took my resolution.
Without waiting to deliberate or take leave, 1 sprang on board my
ship, and set sail instantly for Cadiz. I thus probably escaped death:
but my exile here, in poverty and wretchedness, — far from my un
happy country, — is, for a man of sixty, accustomed to wealth and
greatness, perhaps a greater evil."
I must now take you again to the theatre, and in the company,
too, of the celebrated Lord L  , an old acquaintance of mine, who,
after his varied and busy career, now preserves himself by daily
washing with vinegar ; whereas he used formerly to pickle others in
a sauce as sour and pungent as that of the former ' Confiseur' of the
Elegante Zeitung, both in writing and by word of mouth. We
talked of past times ; and as we reached the door of Drury Lane,

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 281
he recited some wild but beautiful verses of Moore's, t * *
******* ***«*
They are nearly as follows, in my usual halting verse — translations
of the moment, i; *********
*#* *#*****#*
No bad motto for Desdemona, which awaited us; though truly the
Moor's was a fearful return for such devoted love.
Before I go to the performance itself, let me make a few general
remarks. It is a constantly contested point in Germany, whether Shakspeare
should be given in a literal translation, in a free one, or in a still
freer paraphrase. I decide for the second; premising that the li
berty should be restricted to this, — unfettered scope in the spirit of
the German tongue, — even though a play of wit or words should oc
casionally be lost by the means. But to alter in any considerable
degree the course of the play ; to omit scenes ; to give to Shakspeare
words and ideas perfectly foreign to him, — can only deform and mu
tilate him, even when done by the greatest poet. People say Shak
speare is better to read than to see, and cannot be performed in a li
teral translation without carrying us back to the infancy of the scenic
art; since, as they maintain, theatrical representations in Shakspeare's
time were no more than stories in dialogue, with some attempt at
costume. I will not go into the question of the accuracy of this as
sertion ; but thus much I know, — that the representation of Romeo
and Juliet, Macbeth, Hamlet, and Othello, on the English stage, —
all which pieces are given with slight omissions, and in which things
generally supposed the most shocking to taste and probability, even
the obligato king's trumpeters, are not wanting, — nevertheless leave
a feeling of such full and untroubled satisfaction on my mind, as
reading or hearing read (even by Tieck, the best reader I know of,)
never had the power to produce in the most distant degree; — nay,
still more, I confess that it is only since I have seen them here, that
I have been sensible of all Shakspeare's gigantic proportions in their
full amplitude. It is true, that to produce this, a degree of concert
on the part of all the actors and an excellence in those who support
the chief characters are necessary, which are wholly wanting in Ger
many; — for Macbeths in Berlin, (as Clauren would say,) and Mac-
beths in London, are as different sort of people as Shakspeare him
self and his excellent commentator Franz Horn. The first actors
here, such as Kean, Kemble, Young, &c, are, as I have elsewhere
remarked, men of great cultivation, who have seen the best society,
and devoted their lives to the earnest study of their great national
poet. They seldom act any other characters than his, and do not
¦j- The verses alluded to are these:
" Oh what were Love made for, if 'tis not the same
Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame ?
I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart;
I but know that I love thee — whatever thou art. "
\ The translation seems to be inferior to the others by the Author and hardly
worth copying. — Tbansl. 36

282 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
mix up a tragic hero with one of Iffland's Geheimenrdthe (privy
councillors,) nor Talbot with Herr von Langsalm, nor appear to-day
in Othello, and to-morrow in Wollmarkt.
It strikes one as very singular, that in appearance, and to a great
extent in reality, the public before whom these distinguished artists
have to present themselves is so rude, ignorant and unmannerly.
Yet perhaps this very thing may produce a good effect on them. As
the truly virtuous love virtue, so must an English actor love his art,
— for its own sake alone, — and trouble himself little about his recep
tion: in the end, he is thus most sure to obtain universal applause.
And indeed I must confess that, spite of all this roughness, there is
a portion of English audiences which has at bottom sounder taste
and sense than the feeble, hyper-refined people of our German me
tropolitan towns; nay, even among the vulgar crowd there is an in
visible church of the initiated, whose existence never suffers the sa
cred fire in the breast of the actors to be wholly extinguished: it is
not very busy in public criticism, but has a mighty effect in so
ciety. Many Germans don't like to be told that other nations excel us in
anything: and truly I perceive the fact with great regret: but that
must not prevent my speaking out my conviction, that, as we have
no dramatic poet of Shakspeare's calibre, so we possess no actor ca
pable of making his characters live before our eyes in their full sig-
nificancy. It was not always so, as it is asserted; and I myself have
retained impressions, received in my earliest youth from Fleck and
Unzelmann, which have never been renewed in Germany. Schro
der and-tEckhof seem to have stood yet higher; and I remember
with singular pleasure the enthusiastic descriptions given me of
them by old Archenholz, who had also seen Garrick. He thought
Schroder at least Garrick's equal.
That in order to form anything like a correct judgment of foreign
actors, we must first in some degree throw ourselves in thought into
their nationality;* must accustom ourselves to many of their man
ners and usages, which, like many turns of their language, always
affect us as strange, however well we may understand them, — will
be admitted by every thinking man. At first, these causes always
more or less distract the attention; and I never saw more than one
individual who, (if I may use the expression,) had a perfectly cos
mopolitan organization, — the perhaps never-equalled, certainly ne
ver-surpassed, Miss O'Neil. In her it was only the pure abstract
human mind and soul that spoke; — nation, time, and external ap
pearance, vanished from the thoughts in an ecstasy which carried all
before it.
But back to the present.
We saw Othello, then; in which the combined acting of the three
greatest dramatic artists of England afforded me a high intellectual
* " Uns in ihrer Nationalitat hineinzudenken," (to think ourselves forth into their
nationality); — a compound word which may give some faint idea of the advantages
a writer in the German language must ever possess over his translator. — Transl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 283
treat, and has elicited this somewhat long 'expectoration;' but
caused me to feel most painfully the want of the above-mentioned
heroine. Had she been there, I should, have witnessed the highest
point of all theatrical representation, ' Kean, Young, and Kemble,
compose the ruling triumvirate of the English stage. The first has
without doubt the most genius; the second is brilliant and sustained
in his acting; the third, though less distinguished in the highest tra
gedy, uniformly dignified and intelligent. This representation of
Othello was the first time of their playing together. It was indeed
a rare enjoyment! Othello and Shylock are Kean's greatest parts. It
is amazing with what profound knowledge of the human heart he not
only portrays the passion of jealousy, — first slumbering, then gradu
ally awaking, and ending in madness; but with what wondrous accu
racy he catches the Southern nature of the Moor, — the peculiar cha
racteristics of the race, and never for a moment loses sight of them.
In the midst of the high and noble bearing of the hero, something
animal occasionally peeps forth that makes us shudder, while on the
other hand it gives force to his agonizing torment, and places it bo
dily before our eyes. The simplicity of his acting at first, the ab
sence of all bragging about his past achievements, and his intense
love for the woman of his choice, win the hearts of the spectators as
they have won that of Desdemona: the ugly Moor is forgotten in the
complete, heroic man; till, amid the torments of lacerating jealousy,
that hidden fierce nature slowly reveals itself to our eyes; and at
length we think we see before us a raging tiger, rather than a being
of like nature with ourselves. I was here confirmed anew in my
persuasion, that a great poet, still more than a moderate one, stands
in need of a great actor to make him perfectly understood and esti
mated. In Berlin, for instance, the strangling scene was not only
ludicrous, but really indecent Here, the blood froze in one's veins;
and even the boisterous and turbulent English public was for a time
speechless, motionless — as if struck by lightning. Nay, I must
acknowledge that sometimes during the tragedy, Othello's long tor
ment, which the fiend-like Iago with such devilish calmness doles
out to him drop by drop, was so painful, and the terror of what I
knew was to follow grew upon me so involuntarily, that I turned
away my face as from a scene too horrible to contemplate. Young's
Iago is a masterpiece, and his acting first made this character tho
roughly clear to me. It is, perhaps — and here I must recant, at
least in this one case, an assertion I made before — Iago is perhaps,
contrary to Shakspeare's usual custom, not a character quite founded
in nature, but rather a brilliant conception of the poet: — but then
with what astonishing consistency is it carried through! He is an
incarnate fiend; a being nourished with gall and bitterness, capable
neither of love nor joy; who regards evil as his element; the philo
sophizing on himself, the contemplating and full and clear set
ting forth of his own atrocities, as his only enjoyment. The tie
which binds him to human-kind is feeble; it is only revenge for the
suspected injury done him by the Moor: and even this seems but a
sort of pretext which he makes to himself with the last expiring

284 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
breath of moral sensibility, and his genuine delight in torture and
distress ever the real and leading motive. And yet even this mon
ster is not utterly revolting. His intellectual superiority, his cou
rage, his consistency, and, at the last, his firmness in extremity,
never suffer the consummate villain to sink into abject, vulgar degra
dation. Iago is a hero, compared to Kotzebue's models of virtue.
Completely in this sense Young played the character: his manners
are gloomy and morose, but noble; no smile passes over his lips, and
his jests lose nothing by this dryness: certain of his power, he treats
all with calm superiority, but with well-defined ' nuances:' to his
wife he is simply rough and domineering; to Roderigo, authoritative
and humorous; to Cassio, polite and friendly; to the Moor, reve
rential and attached, but always serious and dignified. Kemble, on
his part, played Cassio as admirably; and perfectly as Shakspeare
describes him ; " a man, framed to make women false ;" young, gay,
gallant, of a noble mein, good-natured character, and polished man
ners. — Desdemona, unhappily, was but moderately represented; and
yet the touching contrast of her gentle, patient, womanly devoted-
ness, with the Moor's burning passion, was not utterly lost.
Kean played Othello in the dress of a Moorish King out of the
Bible, — in sandals, and a long silk talar, which is manifestly absurd.
But one soon forgets his dress in his glorious acting. \
Your faithful L  .

LETTER XXIII.
London, March 24th, 1828.
Beloved Friend,
Among the most aristocratical parties are to be numbered the con
certs of one of the most liberal members of the Opposition, — .an an
omaly often to be found here ; where a certain vague general libe
ralism goes hand-in-hand with the narrowest pride and most arro
gant conceit of class; and where the haughtiest man in his own house
possesses the reputation of the most liberal in public life.
Very amusing parties are also given by a Duchess, whose brevet
is so new that she is reckoned a plebeian by the exclusives: — such an
one took place to-day. On the second floor there was an excellent
concert, on the first a ball, and on the ground-floor constant eating.
At the dinner which preceded, the servants waited in white kid
gloves, — an imitation of another fashionable Duke. This almost dis
gusted me, for I could not get out of my head the lazaretto, and
other disagreeable cutaneous associations.
More rich in intellectual enjoyment was my yesterday's dinner at
the Duke of Somerset's, a man of very various accomplishments.
At table, a celebrated parliamentary orator told some strange things:
among others, he said that he had lately been a member of a Com
mission for investigating the connexion between the police and the
thieves, about which so many complaints have been made. It came

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 285
out, that a Society existed in London, completely organized with
' bureaux,' ' clerks,' &c, which directed thefts and coining on a large
scale, supported those who were taken, and afforded powerful assist
ance both offensive and defensive, &c. He asserted, that at the head
of this association were not only several people in respectable sta
tions, and members of Parliament, but even a well-known Peer of
the realm. The proofs were of a kind that left no room for doubt;
but to avoid the dreadful scandal, the Ministry had determined to
let the matter drop. One sees that in free countries things go for
ward which we don't so much as dream of.
A lover of natural history afterwards read us a lecture on toads,
which, in their sphere, seemed to me as odd sort of people as the
foregoing. March 21th.
I am just come back from the Levee, which was very numerously
attended. The King was obliged to sit, on account of his gout, but
looked very well. The Duke of Wellington returned thanks for
his elevation to the Premiership by falling on both knees, whereas
it is usual only to kneel on one. His gratitude was probably dou
ble, on account of his double quality of Prime Minister and former
Commander-in-Chief, as the caricatures represent him, — the left half
of his body dressed as a courtier, the right as field-marshal, but
laughing on both sides of his face. As, with the exception of the
' grande entree,' almost everybody is admitted to these levees if
they can but appear in the prescribed dress, there cannot be better
sport for the lovers of caricatures. The unaccustomed dress, and
no less unwonted splendour of royalty, raise the national awkward
ness and embarrassment to their highest pitch. Our charming well
drilled court-ladies would often distrust their own eyes.
As soon as I had changed my dress, I rode in the most delightful
spring weather in the still solitary Regent's Park, where hundreds
of almond-trees are in blossom; and visited the menagerie lately
established there, which presents a model worthy of imitation.
There is nothing over-done, and at the same time a neatness, which
assuredly can be attained nowhere but in England. Here I saw a
tiger-cat, a creature which seemed to me a perfect model of beauty
and elegance among quadrupeds.
I afterwards went to a grand dinner at the Marquis of Thomond's,
an Irish peer, at which I met one of the most conspicuous Tories in
England, the Duke of N  . I must confess he has not much the
look of a genius; and the whole party was so stiffly English, that I
heartily rejoiced at being seated next to Princess P  , whose lively
good-natured ultra prattle appeared to me, to-day, as agreeable as if
it had been the most intellectual conversation in the world.
1 concluded the evening with a ball at the Marquis of Beresford's,
in honour of the Marchioness de Louly, sister of Don Miguel,
who however seemed not a little bored. She speaks only Portu
guese, and therefore could converse with scarcely anybody but the
host.

286 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
The Marshal himself is a striking soldierlike-looking man, against
whom party spirit has been very unjustly directed, fie is a man of
resolute character, as well as of attractive manners, such as many
Governments, beside the Portuguese, might employ to advantage;
strong as a lion, and prudent as a serpent. He considers Don Mi
guel's claim to the throne of Portugal as better founded than that of
his brother; and maintains, that in judging of persons and events in
other countries, we must resort to a totally different standard from
that which we employ in our own. He says that Don Miguel's
education was so neglected, that in his three-and-twentieth year he
could not write; that much therefore could not be expected from such
a prince; but that he had some brilliant natural qualities, and that the
newspapers were not to be implicitly believed. This latter asser
tion, at least, I am not inclined to doubt. April 1th.
I thought it a real blessing to-day to dine in the country, quite
' sans gene,' at H  Lodge, the pretty villa of the Duchess of St.
A  . In front of the house, which stands on the slope of a hill,
bloomed a splendid star of crocuses and other early flowers, in the
midst of the bright green turf, surrounding a marble fountain; while
over the tops of the trees the giant city lay dimly seen in the valley,
like a ' fata montana' of the New Jerusalem in a gauze mist. The
dinner was, as usual, excellent; and after dinner we had a concert
in a beautiful green-house filled with flowers and fruits. I sat at
table next to a lineal descendant of Charles the Second, a relation of
the Duke's, — for about half a dozen English Peers spring from mis
tresses of the merry monarch, and bear the royal arms quartered
with their own, of which they are not a little proud.
It is still very cold, but yet leaves and flowers break forth vigor
ously, — a sight that would enrapture me at home, but here gives me
a heart sickness that is often hardly endurable. Nevertheless I do
not choose to sit down again on the old golden seat of thorns, but
will rather seek out a smooth and comfortable common stool, on
whicli I may repose in freedom.  Park, April 9th.

I came here yesterday, and am with a large party at the house of
a very ' fashionable' lady. The house is as tastefully and richly
adorned as possible, but too stately and too portentous in its beauty
to be truly agreeable, at least to me. Besides, there is a certain
L  here, a patent witling, whose every word the extremely
good-natured company holds itself bound to admire: people affect
great liking for him, from fear of his evil tongue. Such intellectual
bullies are my mortal abhorrence; especially when, like this, to a
repulsive exterior they unite all the gall and acrimony of satire,
without any of its grace. They appear in human society like ve
nomous insects, whom, from some pitiable weakness, we assist in
feeding on the blood of others, so that they do not suck our own.
The still life about me speaks more to my heart than the human

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 287
beings; especially the sweet flowers which are placed in pretty
vases and receptacles of all sorts in all the apartments. Among the
pictures, I admired a Joseph leading the little Jesus, by Morillo. In
the beautiful child lies the germ of the future greatness and god-like
nature of the Redeemer: as yet it slumbers dimly, but is wonder
fully expressed in the prophetic beaming of the eye. Joseph ap
pears a plain simple man, in the full vigour of middle age, betraying
dignity of character though not of station: — the landscape is wild
and original, and cherubs' heads peep sweetly forth out of the dark
clouds. This picture, the owner told me, cost him two thousand
five hundred pounds.
I was much pleased with a conservatory for palms, built almost
entirely of glass, — so transparent that it looks like a house of ice.
The country life here is in some respects too social for my taste.
If, for instance, you wish to read, you go into the library, where
you are seldom alone: — if you have letters to write, you sit ata great
common writing-table just as much in public; they are then put into
a box with holes, and taken by a servant to the Post. To do all
this in your own room is not usual, and therefore surprises and an
noys people. Many a foreigner would like to breakfast in his own
room; but this he cannot well do, unless he pleads illness. With all
the freedom and absence of useless ceremonies and tedious compli
menting, there is yet, for a person accustomed to our habits, a con
siderable degree of constraint, which the continual necessity of speak
ing in a foreign tongue renders more oppressive. London, April 12th.
I took my leave of  Park this morning just as an April storm
was clearing off, breathed the spring air with delight, and looked
with ecstasy at the brilliant green and the bursting buds, — a sight
of which I am never weary. Spring indemnifies our northern
climes for all the discomfort of their winter; for this awakening of
young Nature is accompanied with far less coquetry on her part in
the South.
I was invited again to dinner at the Duchess of St. A  's coun
try-house, where a very agreeable surprise awaited me. I arrived
late, and was placed between my hostess and a tall, very simple, but
benevolent looking man of middle age, who spoke broad Scotch, —
a dialect anything but agreeable; and would probably have struck
me for nothing else, had 1 not soon discovered that I was sitting
next to — the Great Unknown. It was not long ere many a sally of
dry, poignant wit fell from his lips, and many an anecdote, told in
the most unpretending manner, which, without seeming brilliant,
was yet striking. His eye, too, glanced, whenever he was animated,,
with such a clear, good-natured lustre, and that with such an expres
sion of true-hearted kindness and natural feeling, that it was impos
sible not to conceive a sort of love for him. Towards the end of
dinner he and Sir Francis Burdett told ghost-stories, half-terrible,
half-humorous, admirably, one against the other. This at last en
couraged me to tell your famous key story, which I embellished a

288 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
little in the ' denouement' It had great success; and it would be
droll enough if you were to find it in the next romance of the pro
lific Scotchman.
He afterwards recited a curious old inscription which he had re
cently discovered in the churchyard of Melrose Abbey. It was as
follows: " The earth goes on the earth, glittering in gold,
The earth goes to the earth sooner than it would;
The earth builds on the earth castles and towers,
The earth says to the earth — All this is ours."
When translated, something like this:
" Erd' geht auf Erde glanzend in Gold,
Erd' geht zur Erde fruher denn wollt';
Erd' baut auf Erde Schlosser von Stein,
Erd' sagt zur Erde — Alles ist mein!"
True enough; for earth we were, are, and shall be.
A little concert concluded the evening; in which the very pretty
daughter of the great bard, — a healthy-looking Highland beauty, —
took part; and Miss Stephens sang nothing but Scotch ballads. It
was not till late in the night that I reached London and enriched my
book of memoranda with a sketch of Sir Walter Scott — very like,
for which I am indebted to the kindness of my hostess. As none
of the engravings I have seen resemble him, I shall send you a copy
with this letter. April 21th.
The ' trouble' of this day was very monotonous; only a dinner at
the Spanish ambassador's furnished me with one agreeable recollec
tion. A Spanish girl, full of fire and beauty, sang boleros in such
a manner that they awakened a completely new musical sense in
me. If I may judge from them, and from a fandango I once saw
danced, Spanish society must be very different from ours, and far
more ' piquante.'
Yesterday I was invited ' to meet the Dukes of Clarence and Sus
sex,' declined the honour for the sake of meeting Mademoiselle
H  at our friend B  's. I had not seen her, and great and
small are now at her feet.
She is indeed an enchanting creature, and very dangerous to all
who are either new in the world, or who have nothing to think of
but their own pleasure. It is impossible to conceive a more unstu
died and yet effective inborn coquetry, (if I ma}' use the expres
sion,) so child-like, so engaging, ' et cependant le diable n'y perd
rien.' She seemed to seize my weak side as well as that of every other
man, immediately, and talked to me, though without the slightest ap
parent design, only of what was likely to be appropriate and agreeable
to me. The tones of my fatherland, too, fell from her pretty mouth
in the stream of conversation, like pearls and diamonds, and the

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 289
loveliest blue eyes lightened upon them like a spring sun behind a
thin veil of clouds.
" To-morrow Kean plays Richard the Third," said she carelessly.
"The Duke of D  has offered me his box; — would you like
to accompany me?" That such an invitation will supersede all others,
follows of course. April 28th.
Never did I see or hear less of a play than this evening, and yet
I must confess never did one appear to me shorter. Spite of the
presence of a ' gouvernante,' and a visit from Mr. Kemble between
the acts, there was scarcely a pause in our conversation, which so
many reminiscences of home rendered doubly interesting.
This agreeable ' excitement,' too, lasted, on my side, during the
ball which followed at the fashionable Lady Tankerville's; for I felt
less ' ennuye' than usual at these heartless wooden parties. Forgive
me if I write only these few words, for Helios is leaving his bed and
I must go to mine. April 29th.
Everything here is in colossal dimensions, even the workshop of
my tailor, which is like a manufactory. You go to ask about the
fate of a coat you have ordered; you find yourself surrounded by
hundreds of bales of cloth ; and as many workmen ; — a secretary ap
pears with great formality, and politely asks the day on which it was
ordered. As soon as you have told him, he makes a sign for two folios
to be brought, in which he pores for a short time. " Sir," is at last the
answer, " to-morrow at twenty minutes past eleven the ' frac' will be
so far advanced that you can try it on in the dressing-room. There
are several of these rooms, decorated with large looking-glasses and
' Psyches,' continually occupied by fitters, where the wealthy tailor
in person makes a dozen alterations without ever betraying the least
impatience or ill-humour.
As soon as justice was done to the 'frac,' I continued my walk,
and came to a butcher's shop ; where not only are the most beautiful
garlands, pyramids, and other fanciful forms constructed of raw
meat, and elegant vessels filled with ice give out the most delightful
coolness, but a play-bill hangs behind every leg of mutton, and the
favourite newspapers lie on the polished tables.
A few houses further on, a dealer in sea-monsters competes with
him, and sits, like King Fish in the fairy tale, between the marble and
the fountain. He would however find it difficult to rival his celebrated
colleague Crockford, who understands how to catch something better
than common fish.
This person is a man of genius, who has raised himself from the
estate of a poor fishmonger, to that of the scourge, and at the same
time the favourite, of the rich and fashionable world. He is a gam
bler, who has won millions,* and with them has built a gaming pa-
* Of German money, of course, is meant. — Trassl.
37

290 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
lace on the plan of the ' salons' at Paris, but with a truly Asiatic
splendour almost surpassing that of royalty. Everything is in the
now revived taste of the time of Louis the Fourteenth ; decorated
with tasteless excrescences, excess of gilding, confused mixture of
stucco painting, &c, — a turn of fashion very consistent in a country
where the nobility grows more and more like that of the time of
Louis the Fourteenth.
Crockford's cook is the celebrated Ude, practically and theoreti
cally the best in Europe. The table and attendance are in the high
est perfection, combined with ' un jeu d'enfer,' at which twenty thou
sand pounds and more has often been lost in one evening, by one man.
The company forms a club; admission is very difficult to obtain; and
although games at hazard are illegal in England, most of the Minis
ters are members, and the Duke of Wellington, the Premier, one of
the managers of this gaming club.
May 2nd.
Yesterday, the wedding day of the Duchess of St. A  , was
celebrated by a very pleasant rural fete at her villa. In the middle
of the bowling-green was a Maypole decorated with garlands and
ribands, and gaily-dressed peasants in the old English costume
danced around it. The company wandered about in the house and
garden as they liked; many shot with bows and arrows; others
danced under tents, swung, or played all sorts of games, or wander
ed in the shade of thick shrubberies; till at five o'clock a few blasts
of a trumpet announced a splendid breakfast, at which all the delica
cies and costly viands that luxury could furnish, were served in the
greatest profusion.
Many servants were dressed in fancy dresses as gardeners; and
garlands of fresh flowers were hung upon all the bushes, which pro
duced an indescribably rich effect. The day, too, was so singularly
fine that I was able, for the first time, to see London quite clear from
fog, and only slightly obscured by smoke.
As night drew on, the effect of the garlands of flowers was renew
ed by many-coloured lamps, tastefully distributed amid the trees, or
half hidden among the thick shrubs. It was past midnight when
breakfast ended.
There was a concert, and then a ball, at which the lovely German
waltzer outshone all her rivals, — and with the most unpretending air,
as if she did not perceive one of her conquests. Perhaps there never
was a woman who had the art of appearing more innocent and child
like; and certainly this captivating sort of coquetry is the greatest
charm, though not, perhaps, the greatest merit, of women.
May 8th.
For a week past two or three concerts have resounded in my ears
every evening, or, as they here more properly say, every night.
They are all on a sudden become a perfect rage, from the highest
and most exclusive down to the herd of ' nobodies.' Mesdames
Pasta, Caradori, Sontag, Brambilla, Messrs, Zuchelli, Pellegrini,

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 291
and Curioni, sing for ever and ever the same airs and duets; which,
however, people seem never tired of hearing, They often sing —
doubtless tired themselves of the eternal monotony — very negli
gently, but that makes no difference whatever. The ears that hear
them are seldom very musically organized, and are only awakened
by ' fashion;' and those who are in the centre of the crowd certainly
can often hardly distinguish whether the Bassist or the Prima
Donna is singing, but must fall into ecstasies like the rest, notwith
standing. For the performers, this 'furore' is profitable enough.
Sontag, for instance, in every party in which she is heard at all,
receives forty pounds, sometimes a hundred: and occasionally she
attends two or three in an evening. Pasta, whose singing is, to my
taste, sweeter, grander, more tragic, rivals her; the others, though
their merit is considerable, are in a subordinate rank.
Besides these, Moschelles, Pixis, the two Bohrers, ' enfin' a herd
of virtuosi, are here, all flocking to English gold, like moths around
a candle. Not that they burn themselves; on the contrary, the wo
men, at least, kindle fresh flames, right and left, which are some
times even more profitable than their art.
The concerts at Prince Leopold's are generally the most agreea
ble, and the insufferable squeezing is somewhat avoided in his large
rooms. This Prince is less popular than he deserves; for the Eng
lish can't forgive him for being a foreigner.
May 9th.
Riding with M  , we accidentally came through a charming
country to Strawberry-Hill, — the house built by Horace Walpole,
which he mentions so often in his letters, and which has been wholly
unaltered and little inhabited since his death. It is the first attempt
at modern Gothic in England — quite in the ' clinquant' taste of that
time ; the stone-work imitated in wood, and a great deal more that
glitters without being gold. There are, however, many real trea
sures of art and curiosities. Among them is a magnificent prayer-
book set with jewels, filled with drawings by Raphael and his pupils ;
Cardinal Wolsey's hat; a very expressive portrait of Madame du
Defiant, Walpole's blind and witty friend; and a picture of the cele
brated Lady Mary Wortley Montague in a Turkish dress.
As everything is to be found in England, I met with an English
man of rank, to-day, who has endeavoured to introduce German
habits, German domestic arrangements, and a German tone of society
into his house. This is Earl S  , who lived in our fatherland for
a long time in rather narrow circumstances, and suddenly came into
a very large fortune. The only thing in the English taste was the
crimson liveries of his people, with canary-coloured inexpressibles
and stockings; — all the rest was German ; even the hour of dining
was an approach to ours. The length of the dinner was in the high
est degree wearisome to me ; I sat upon thorns, especially as I was
expected elsewhere.
In spite of my ill-humour, however, I could not help laughing at
the Wienerisch (Vienna dialect) of my Austrian neighbour.

292 LETTERS ON GERMANY, May 16th.
I have been spending some days in the country at the Epsom
races. The scene was very lively; all the roads full of swiftly-roll
ing equipages; and a large green hill in the middle of the plain,
around which the races are held, so thickly covered with a thousand
unharnessed carriages, and a motley crowd of horsemen and foot-
passengers, that I never saw a more picturesque popular festival. —
Novv set this picture in the frame of a pretty cultivated landscape,
with a sky full of dark clouds, much rain, and rare but hot gleams of
sunshine. I returned yesterday, that I might not miss a party at the King's
to-day, to which I was invited — an event here looked upon as an ex
traordinary ' bonne fortune.' — You must not associate any idea of
Court with it: but it is certain that the Ideal of a fashionable house
cannot be more completely realized. Every comfort and every ele
gance of a private gentleman is united in the most tasteful and sub
stantial manner with royal magnificence; and the monarch himself
is, as is well known, prouder of nothing than of the title of "the
first gentleman in England."
May 30th.
Though the everlasting whirl leaves little leisure, (and once drawn
into the vortex it is not easy to extricate one's-self, even though one
may find no pleasure in it,) I yet find a moment, from time to time,
for more quiet and more durable enjoyment.
In one such, I lately visited a most interesting collection of pic
tures; — all portraits of persons eminent in English history. It was
remarkable how frequently most of them corresponded in features
and expression with the picture history has left us of them. The
celebrated Lord Burleigh had moreover a striking resemblance to
the great State Chancellor (Staats Kanzler) of Prussia, though he
is greatly disguised by his head-dress, which is like an old wife's
cap. James the First was divertingly true to his character; as was
also his ambassador, the eccentric knight who so delightfully de
clares in his memoirs, that wherever he went, he charmed both men
and women; and that his nature was like that of no other man, for
that both he and all descended from him sent forth an atmosphere
of the most agreeable natural fragrance.
I then went to another collection, consisting of modern paintings
in water-colours, in which branch of art the English have certainly
attained to a singular perfection. One is astonished at the glow and
depth of colouring they produce. The Scotch landscapes were re
markably fine: there was a Sunset in the Highlands which rivalled
Claude in truth; and a Twilight on Loch Lomond, a poem full of
romantic beauty. I had still time for a long ride, in the course of
which, committing myself as usual to the guidance of chance, I came
upon a most enchanting park, such as only the climate of England
can produce. The gardens lay, in all their indescribable glow of
beauty, in a narrow and fertile green valley full of high trees, under
which three silver springs gushed forth, and flowing away in mean-

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 293
dering brooks, took their course in all directions amid impervious
thickets of blooming rhododendrons and azaleas.
My delight in such scenes is ever saddened by the regret that
you cannot behold them with me: your fine and accurate taste would
draw from them a thousand ideas of new and lovelier creations; ei
ther by the skilful grouping of colours, or by graceful forms, or by
the distribution of light, the effect of which may be so greatly en
hanced by judicious thinning or massing of the foliage.
The pleasant remembrance of this morning must diffuse itself over
the rest of the day, which was filled by a dinner at Lady P  's,
distinguished for her love of good cheer; two balls at residences of
British and foreign diplomacy; and a concert at Lord Grosvenor's.
This was given, it is true, in a gallery of fine pictures; but on such
an occasion they hardly give one more pleasure than any other hang
ings. June 6th.
One of the most interesting houses to me is that of a noble Scot,
the Earl of W  , a lineal descendant of Macduff. In his armoury
is a branch of a tree said to be of Birnam Wood; probably a relic of
the same quality as most others. Blessed is he who can believe in
them! The family is most accomplished, and the Scotch mind is
more nearly akin to the German than the English is. The amiable
daughters taught me a new manner of preserving faithful and lasting
portraits of feathered favourites: — the feathers are pulled off, and
pasted on card-board or varnished wood, together with the legs and
beak ; this produces a bas-relief of great truth, and not exposed to de
struction. Charles the Tenth spent some time in Scotland, at Lord W  's,
and left him an old maitre d'hotel, who, drolly enough, is called
Bonneau, like him of the Pucelle; and is one of that nearly extinct
domestic race of ' hommes de confiance' who are now never seen but
on the stage, and hardly there. As such, and having been twenty-
five years ' en fonction,' he is allowed occasionally to put in a word,
— quite contrary to English manners, which do not permit servants
to make the slightest approach to their masters, except in the way
of their service. I have really found few things more amusing than
this old Frenchman's stories about Court and society; his world, in
fact, terminated with those times of which we can now scarcely form
an idea. That the singular old man is only a 'maitre d'hotel' de
tracts nothing from the interest ; for he has seen more of the great
world, and observed it better, than many of higher rank.
When I paid my visit to Lady W  this morning, she had just
received a great cargo of curiosities from one of her sons, who is
travelling in South America. Among them was a lion-monkey,
with a tail and mane like those of the king of beasts, on a body not
larger than that of a rat. Instead of the disagreeable smell of most
of his tribe, this little fellow exhales musk and cinnamon; and, like
the knight I lately mentioned, perfumed the room like a pastille. A
very complete collection of serpents, and another of butterflies, ex-

294 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
hibited colours such as are only painted by the rising and setting
sun. I dined at Lady F  -'s, where a curious incident occurred. Her
husband was formerly Governor of the Isle of France, where a black-
woman sold her a fortune-telling book, which, as she asserted, had be
longed to the Empress Josephine before her departure for France, and
in which she had read her future greatness and subsequent fall. Lady
F  produced it at tea, and invited the company to interrogate
Destiny according to the prescribed method. — Now listen to the an
swers it gave, which are really remarkable. Madame de Rothschild
was the first: she asked, whether her wishes would be fulfilled? She
received for answer, " Weary not Fate with wishes; one who has
received so much ought to be satisfied."
Mr. Spring Rice, a distinguished Member of Parliament, and one
of the most zealous champions of Catholic emancipation, (a subject
in which everybody here takes a strong interest, either for or
against,) next asked if this Bill would pass the Upper House, in
which it was to be finally debated on the morrow? — I must interrupt
my narrative to tell you that it is well known that it will not pass,
but it is as universally believed that next session the desired object
must be attained. " You will have no success this time," was the
laconic reply. A young American lady was now urged to inquire
whether she would soon be married. The answer was, " Not in this
hemisphere." Next came my turn, and I asked whether what now
so strongly agitated my heart were for my happiness. " Let the in
clination drop," replied the magic book, " for you will find it is nei
ther real nor permanent." The company, who of course had no
guess at my real meaning in this question, made themselves very
merry about the answer I had received, and insisted upon my pro
posing another. I therefore asked, " Will Fortune be more favour
able to me in more serious projects?" "Seek," was the reply, " and
you will find; persevere, and you will obtain."
Without seeking, I found this evening something very agreeable ;
for I was presented by the Duchess of Clarence to her mother, the
Duchess of Meiningen; a most amiable woman, of true German cha
racter; whom neither years nor rank have been able to rob of her
' naif natural manners, — perhaps the surest proof of a pure and
lovely mind. This worthy mother of an honoured daughter must
be a welcome guest to the English, who are much attached to their
future Queen, and accordingly they pay her the greatest attentions.
Pity, that high as well as low are generally too deficient in grace of
manners, or felicity of address, to be able to act the drama of socie
ty on such occasions, so as to render the whole a pleasing or elegant
spectacle! a drawing-room and a presentation at Court here are as lu
dicrous as the levee of a Biirgermeister of the ancient Free Imperial
cities of our fatherland; and all the pride and pomp of aristocracy
disappears in the childish ' embarras' of these ' ladies,' loaded, — not
adorned, — with diamonds and fine clothes. In ' neglige,' and when
they move at ease in their own houses and their accustomed circle,
young Englishwomen often appear to great advantage: in ' parure'

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 295
and large parties, scarcely ever; for an uncontrollable timidity, de
structive of all grace, so paralyses even their intellectual powers, that
a rational conversation with them would certainly be a most difficult
matter to obtain.
Of all the women of Europe, I therefore hold them to be the most
agreeable and 'comfortable' wives; and at the same time the most
incapable of presenting themselves with grace, address, or presence
of mind; and the least fitted to embellish society. In this judgment
the praise manifestly far outweighs the censure. June 16th.
To-day I was present at an interesting breakfast, given by the
Pigeon Club. This title by no means implies that the members are
gentle and harmless as doves:'* — on the contrary, they are the wildest
young fellows in England, and the poor pigeons have nothing to do
with the matter but to be shot at. The arena was a large grass-plat
surrounded by a wall. On one side was a row of tents; in the largest
of which a table was spread with viands, from one o'clock till six,
and furnished with a constant supply of iced moselle and champagne.
About a hundred members and some guests were present; and they
shot, ate and drank, by turns. The pigeons were placed in a row,
eight at a time. Cords are fastened to the doors of their houses,
which meet at the shooting-stand; when one is pulled it opens the
door, and the pigeon flies out. The man who shot last pulls for his
successor, — but standing behind him, so that the latter cannot see
which cord he pulls, and is therefore uncertain which of the eight
pigeons will fly out: if the pigeon falls within the wall after his
fire, it is reckoned his; if not, it does not count Every man has a
double-barrelled gun, and may use both barrels.
The two most famous shots in England, are Captain de Roos and
Mr. Osbaldistone. They shot for a wager of a thousand pounds,
which is not yet decided. Neither missed once; and Captain de
Roos's birds never fell twelve paces from the spot, and scarcely
fluttered, but dropped like stones almost the moment he fired.
Never did I see such admirable shooting. A pretty little spaniel be
longing to the Club fetched every pigeon, and performed his duty
like a machine, without either delay, neglect, or hurry. At last the
whole party shot for a golden vase of two hundred pounds value,
(the annual prize of the Club,) which was won by Captain de Roos.
I did not get away from this jolly breakfast till seven o'clock,
when I went to a little theatre, as yet unknown to me, called Sad
ler's Wells, which is a good three-quarters of a mile (German) from
my dwelling. I went in a hackney coach. When I wanted to go
home, towards one o'clock, I could find no coach in this out-of-the-
* Owing to the adoption of the French word pigeon, instead of tlie English word
dove, this sentence loses its point. I did not however venture to astonish my read
ers by translating Tauben-club, Dove-club, though that would have done more jus
tice to the author's meaning. In Norfolk and Suffolk, where some very pure En
glish is still preserved among the "vulgar," dove, or as they call it dow, is still the
common appellative of the whole genus,— as in the cognate language. — Trassl.

296 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
way place, and all the houses were shut. This was the more dis
agreeable, as I had really not the least idea in what part of the town
I was. After wandering about the streets in vain for half an hour in search
of a coach, I resigned myself to the idea of finding my way home on
foot, with the aid of a watchman, when a stage coach came by which
was going my way, and with which I happily regained my Penates
about two o'clock. — The peculiarity of this theatre is that it contains
real water, in which element the actors splash and dabble about by
the hour together, like ducks or water rats: 'au reste,' nothing can
surpass the nonsense of the melodrame, nor the horror of the sing
ing by which it was accompanied. June 20th.
I have been to another fancy ball, which has left only a melan
choly impression on my mind. I remarked a pale man wrapped in
a plain black domino, on whose countenance indescribable traces of
the bitterest mental suffering were imprinted. It was not long be
fore I asked L  about him, and he told me as follows:
" This truly pitiable man might serve as the hero of a fearful ro
mance. If it can be said of anyone that he was born to misfortune,
that is the man. Early in life he lost his large property by the
fraudulent bankruptcy of a friend. A hundred times since has For
tune approached him, but only to mock him with hopes which were
invariably dashed from him at the decisive moment: in almost every
case it was some insignificant trifle — the delay of a letter — some
easy mistake — some indisposition, slight in itself but disastrous in its
consequences, that wrecked everything ; apparently, always by hi3
own fault, and yet, in fact, a tissue woven by mocking, malignant
spirits. " For a long time past he has made no more attempts to alter his
condition; he seeks no improvement of his lot, persuaded beforehand,
by long and cruel experience, that nothing can ever succeed with
him. I have known him from youth up. Though guileless and
unoffending as a child, the world in general deems him malignant;
though one of the most upright of men, false and intriguing; he is
shunned and dreaded, though never did a heart beat more warmly
for the weal of others. The girl he adored committed suicide in
consequence of his suspected infidelity. He found himself, by a
series of unheard-of circumstances, accused of the murder of his
brother, near whom he was found bleeding, having risked his life in
his defence: — he was saved from an ignominious death only by the
King's pardon; and it was not till some time afterwards that the
proofs of his innocence came to light. Lastly, a woman with whom
he was betrayed into marriage by an infamous and long protracted
system of deceit, ran away with another man, and artfully contrived
that, in the eyes of the world, the greater portion of the blame
should rest with him. — All confidence in himself thus utterly crushed
and blighted, every hope in destiny or in men annihilated, he lives
among them like an unsympathizing, unconnected ghost, — a heart-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 297
rending example that there are beings who (as far as this life is con
cerned) seem to be sold to the Devil before their birth; for when
the curse of destiny has once scathed a man, it not only raises up to
him enemies at every step, but robs him of the confidence and, in
time, of the hearts of his friends; till at length the unhappy one,
crushed, rejected, and trodden under foot on every side, lays down
his weary, wounded head, and dies ; while his last sigh appears to
the pitiless crowd an assumption, and an intolerable discord. Wo to
the unlucky! Threefold wo to them! For to them there is neither
virtue, nor wisdom, nor skill, nor joy! There is but one good for
them; and that is — death." June 25th.
There is certainly something pleasant in having so many invita
tions at your disposal every day; and, if you are not pleased in one
place, in being able immediately to seek out company that suits you
better. Here and there, too, one finds something new, piquant, and
interesting. Yesterday, at Prince L  's, for instance, I met with
a second Ninon de l'Enclos. Certainly nobody would take Lady
A  , to be more than forty, and yet I vvas assured she is near
eighty. Nothing in her appears forced or unnatural, but every
thing youthful ; figure, dress, air, vivacity of manners, grace and
elasticity of limb, as far as this is discernible at a party, — all about her
is perfectly young, and scarcely a wrinkle in her face. She. has
never made herself anxious, and has lived a very gay life from her
youth up: she ran away from. her husband twice, on which account
she quitted England for a long time, and spent her large fortune in
Paris. Altogether she is a very ' amiable' person, more French than
English in her deportment, and quite 'du grand monde.' The
science of the toilet she has studied profoundly, and has made some
important discoveries in it. From all I could see of the results,
I should be very glad to impart them to you and my other fair
friends. Next day, the Duke of S  gave a ' dejeune champetre' at his
villa, at which invention was racked for something new in an enter
tainment of the kind. His whole house was hung with beautiful
' hautelisse' and gay Chinese hangings; — a multitude of sofas, easy-
chairs, ' chaises longues,' mirrors, &c, in all parts of the garden as
well as of the rooms; besides a little encampment of tents of white
and rose-coloured muslin, which had a beautiful effect, set in the
emerald-green of the grounds.
In the evening, followed, as usual, an illumination, consisting
chiefly of single lamps, half-hidden in tree and bush, like so many
ruddy fruits or bright glow-worms, enticing the loving or the lonely.
Those who preferred noisy to quiet pleasures also found their heart's
desire. Here, a large part of the company was dancing in a wide
tent, the way to which lay under a bowery archway of roses, bril
liantly illuminated; — there, resounded a delightful concert, executed
by the best performers from the Italian Opera. Italian weather, too,
38

298 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
happily shone on this fete from beginning to end; any little mis
chievous spirit of air might have totally ruined it.
I have now so disposed my affairs that I shall be able to quit
England in a month at furthest, to make a longer tour in Wales, and
more especially in Ireland; which latter country, according to all I
hear of it, excites my interest much more than even Scotland. Yet
I am sorry that illness first, and the distractions of the metropolis
afterwards, have robbed me of the sight of that country. It is an
omission I must enter in my book of sins, which, alas! contains so
many under the same head — Indolence — that terrible foe of man!
Certainly that French Marshal in Louis the Fourteenth's time, — a
time so unfavourable to ' parvenus,' — answered rightly, when he
was asked, how it was possible that he could have raised himself to
the highest dignities of his profession from the condition of a com
mon soldier," Only by this means," said he; " I never deferred till
to-morrow what I could do to-day."
Almost under the same head may be classed Indecision, that other
hereditary foe of the species, which another celebrated Marshal, Su-
varoff, hated so much, that, with the usual exaggeration of his cha
racter, he instantly withdrew all favour from a man who replied to
any question he asked him, " I don't know."
' Non mi ricordo' does better; and according to my principles I
apply this to all the above-named sins, when once they are commit
ted. We ought daily to repeat to ourselves, The past is dead, the
future only lives. May it smile upon us, dearest Julia!
Your faithful L  .

LETTER XXIV. Cobham Hall, June 30th.
Beloved Friend,
After I had sent away my letter to you, and made an excursion
into the country with some ladies, I drove to a party at the Duke of
Clarence's, where there was, this time, such a genuine English
squeeze, that I and several others could by no means get in; and
went away, after waiting half an hour, ' re infecta,' to console our
selves at another ball. The mass in the first room was so jammed
together that several men put on their hats, that they might have
their arms more at liberty for active service. Ladies, covered with
jewels, were regularly ' milled,' and fell, or rather stood, fainting:
cries, groans, curses, and sighs, were the only sounds to be heard.
Some only laughed ; and, inhuman as it was, I must accuse myself
of having been among these latter; for really it was too droll to hear
this called society. To say truth, I never saw anything equal to it
before. Early the next morning I rode to Cobham Hall, to spend a few
days there on occasion of Lord D  's birthday, which was cele
brated to-day in a rural and unpretending manner. Excepting my-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 299
self, there was no one but the family, which was increased by the
presence of the elder son and his beautiful and charming wife, who
usually reside in Ireland. All was ordered for domestic enjoyment.
We dined early, in order that we might be present at a supper in the
open air, which Lord D  gave to all his labourers, about a hun
dred in number. It was managed with the greatest decorum. We
sat next to the iron fence in the pleasure-ground, and the tables for
the people were placed on the new-mown grass. First, about fifty
young girls, from the Lancasterian school which Lady D  has
established in the Park, were regaled with tea and cakes. They
were all dressed alike, and very prettily too: they were children of
from six to fourteen. After them came the labourers, and seated
themselves at a long table plentifully furnished with enormous
dishes of roast beef, vegetables, and pudding. Each brought his
own knife and fork and earthen pot. The servants of the house set
on the dinner, did the honours, and poured out the beer from great
watering-pots. The village musicians played all the while, and
were really better than ours; they were also better dressed. On the
other hand, the labourers did not look so well or so neat as our
Wends in their Sunday clothes. No one was invited except those
who constantly work for Lord D  . The health of every mem
ber of the family was drunk with nine times nine; on which our old
coachman Child, (now in Lord D  's service,) who is a kind of
English improvisatore, got upon the middle of the table, and deli
vered a most comical speech in verse, in which- 1 was introduced,
and truly with this wish, —
To have always plenty of gold,
And never to become old;
the double impossibility of which sounded rather ironical.
During all this time, and till it was dark, the little girls danced
and skipped about incessantly, with great gravity, on the grass, with
out any sort of plan or connectedness, like puppets, — whether the
music played or not. Our party in the pleasure-ground was at length
a'.tacked by the dancing mania; and I myself constrained to break
my vow, for I could not possibly refuse to dance with such a partner
as Lady D  . July 4th.
I have not been so happy and amused for a long time as here. In
the morning I make excursions in the beautiful country, or drive in
Lady D  's little one-horse phaeton about the fields and park,
without road or path; and in the evening I, like the rest, take only
just so much part in the conversation as I like. Yesterday after
dinner we all sat (nine persons) at least a couple of hours together
in the library, reading, — each, of course I mean, in his own book,
— without one single word being spoken. At which peripatetic
silence we at last, all by common consent, laughed. We thought of
the Englishman at Paris, who maintained ' que parler c'etoit gater

300 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
la conversation.' After visiting the Lancasterian school I mention-
, ed, — where one person teaches sixty girls, some of whom come from
the remotest parts of Lord D  's estate, many miles, daily — I
rode to Rochester to see the fine ruin of the old castle. What has
not been destroyed by violence stands like a rock, from the time of
William the Conqueror. The remains of the eating-hall, with its
colossal pillars united by richly ornamented Saxon arches, are sin
gularly fine. The stone ornaments were all carved in Normandy,
and sent hither by water. I mounted the highest point of the ruin,
whence I had a noble view of the union of the Thames and the
Medway, the towns of Rochester and Chatham, with the dock-yards
of the latter, and a richly cultivated country.
At dinner our company received an addition, — Mr. and Mrs.
P  , Mr. M  , and a nephew of Lord D  's. Mrs. P 
told a good anecdote of Kemble the actor. On a professional tour
in the provinces, he acted in a piece in which a camel is introduced.
He told the ' decorateur' that, as he had just seen, there was a camel
actually in the town, and that he had better therefore go and look at
it, that he might make his artificial one as like it as possible. The
man seemed extremely annoyed, and replied, he was sorry gentle
men in London thought people in the country were so ignorant; for
his part, he flattered himself that, without going to look at anything,
he should produce a more natural camel this evening than any that
was walking about the streets.
The following day we rode out, and this time in company with
the ladies, after which we went on the water in Lord D  's ele
gant yacht. I was to drive the party down to the Thames, four-in-
hand, in which I have had so little practice of late years, that at a
crossway the leaders, in spite of my efforts, ran their heads against
a stage-coach driving across us: — this occasioned a scream in both
the carriages, which greatly incensed old Child, who looks upon me
as his pupil.
Thus, like the great Corsican, in one day I lost all my renown in
the high art of guiding the reins — from the throne, ycleped ruling,
— from the box, driving. I was therefore obliged to abdicate the
latter, since the ladies maintained that my possession of this exalted
seat was attended with too much danger to them. This mortified
me so sorely, that when we got on board the yacht I climbed up the
shrouds, and seated myself at the mast-head, where, fanned by a
mild zephyr, I admired at my ease the ever-changing prospect, and
philosophized on my downfall. July 5th.
After I had vigorously assisted in hewing out some new prospects
in the thicket, (at which we all lent a hand,) and planned a road
through the park which is to be so far honoured as to bear my name,
I took a cordial leave of this most estimable family, (who might
serve as a pattern to the nobility of any country,) and returned to
London, provided with many letters of introduction for Ireland.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 301
July 8th.
As before I depart I mean to send you all sorts of things, with my
horses, carriage and birds, (of the latter you will receive a complete
cargo of the rarest sorts,) I have had enough to do to-day to com
plete my purchases. In the course of this occupation I fell upon an
exhibition of machinery and manufactures, among which are many
interesting things; as, for instance, a machine which draws of itself,
(if I may say so,) all the objects visible within its horizon, in per
spective: a piano-forte which, besides serving the usual purpose,
plays (extra) a hundred pieces by itself, which you may accompany
with extemporary 'fantasie' on the keys: a very compendious do
mestic telegraph, which spares the servants half their labour, and us
nearly all their burdensome presence: a washing machine, which re
quires only one woman to wash a great quantity of linen: a most
elegant churn, with which you can make butter on your breakfast
table in two minutes; and other novelties of the like kind.
From hence I drove to the greatest nursery garden in the neigh
bourhood of London, which I had long wished to see. The multi
fold wants of such a number of rich people raise private undertakings
to a magnitude and extent in England which they reach nowhere
else. On such a scale I found a collection of green-houses in this
garden. In many were small leaden tubes, carried along the edges
of the glass roof, — three or four on each side: the tubes are perfo
rated with very small holes: by only turning a cock, a stream of
water is carried through them; and in one moment the whole house
is filled with a thick shower, just like natural rain. This makes the
labour of watering almost unnecessary, has a much more powerful
and uniform effect, and only requires some aid where the leaves are
too large and thick to allow the rain to penetrate.
Without going into the details of the innumerable sorts of pines,
roses, &c, I must only remark, that in the department of esculent
vegetables, there were four hundred and thirty-five sorts of salad,
two hundred and sixty-one of peas, and two hundred and forty of
potatoes, — and all other articles of garden commerce in the same
proportion. On my way back I met the Tyrolers, who had been making holi
day, and asked my old acquaintance (the girl) how she was pleased
with her stay here. She declared with enthusiasm that her Saint
must have brought her here; for that they had made 10001. sterling
in a few months, which they had earned — hard money — only with
singing their dozen songs.
Prince Esterhazy has made this Gejodle* the fashion here, — and
fashion in England is everything. Sontag and Pasta, .with their
wonderful talents, have chiefly this to thank for their success — they
were the fashion; for Weber, who did not understand the art of mak
ing himself fashionable, gained, as is well known, almost nothing; —
* The peculiar Alpine cry at the end of tlie Tyrol songs, which is heard to an
immense distance, is called the Jodie — Transl.

302 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
the two Bohrers, Kiesewetter, and other men of real genius, were not
more fortunate.
While I am talking of fashion, it seems a suitable occasion, before
I quit England, to enter a little more at large on the subject of the
structure and tone of English society, which is certainly rather more
striking to a stranger in this admired land, than fog, steam-engines,
or stage-eoaches. It is not necessary to remark here, that in such
general descriptions only the most prominent and reigning pecu
liarities are taken into consideration, and that, in the censure which
is passed on the whole, the hundred honourable exceptions which
exhibit the praiseworthy contrast in such full perfection, are left
wholly out of the account.
England is now — viewed, certainly, with relation to a totally dif
ferent universal spirit of the age — in a similar state to that of France
thirty years before the revolution. And it will fall out with her as
with her great rival, if she does not avert the storm by radical but
continuous reform. Nearly-allied fundamental evils are present here,
as there. On the one side, the undue preponderance, misused power,
inflexible stony arrogance, and heartless frivolity of the great; on
the other, selfishness and rapacity are grown into the national cha
racter of the mass of the people. Religion no longer dwells in the
heart and spirit, but is become, a dead form ; notwithstanding the
most unenlightened spirit of Catholicism, — with fewer ceremonies,
indeed, but combined with like intolerance, and a similar hierarchy;
and which besides the bigotry and the pride of Rome, has this over
and above, that it possesses an enormous share of the property of the
country.* Like causes have also given an analogous tone and direction to
what is pre-eminently called, Society. Experience will confirm this
to every man who has access to what is called high life in England;
and it will be highly interesting to him to observe how different a
growth and aspect the same plant has assumed in France and Eng
land, in consequence of the original difference of the soil; for in
France it grew rather out of chivalry and poetry, combined with the
dominant vanity of the nation, with levity of character, and a real
delight in social existence: — in England, out of a brutal feudal
tyranny, the commercial prosperity of later years, an ill-humour and
moroseness innate in the nation, and a cold stony self-love.
People on the Continent generally foym to themselves a more or
less republican picture of English society. In the public life of the
nation this is certainly very observable, — as also in their domestic
habits, in which selfishness is strangely prevalent. Grown-up chil
dren and parents soon become almost strangers; and what we call
* It is very extraordinary that English writers should constantly torture them
selves to discover the causes of the enormous poor-rates, and of the more and more
artificial and threatening state of the working classes, when there exists so obvious
a discouragement to the outlay of capital and industry on land, (some of which
with us would be called good, but here is esteemed not worth cultivation,) as
tithes: — a man does not care to devote his capital and his sweat to a priest  Em-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 303
domestic life* is therefore applicable only to husband, wife, and lit
tle children living in immediate dependence on their father; as soon
as they grow up, a republican coldness and estrangement take place
between them and their parents. An English poet maintains, that
the love of a grandfather to his grandchildren arises from this —
that in his grown-up sons he sees only greedy and hostile heirs, — in
his grandchildren, the future enemies of his enemies. The very
thought could never have arisen but in an English brain!
In the relations and tone of society, on the other hand, from the
highest step to the very lowest, not a trace of any element of repub
licanism is to be found. Here, everything is in the highest degree
ultra-aristocratic — it is caste-like. The present so-called great world
would probably have taken a different form and character if a Court,
in the continental sense of the word, had given tone and direction in
the highest instance.
Such a one, however, does not here exist. The Kings of England
live like private men; most of the high officers about the Court are
little more than nominal, and are seldom assembled except on occa
sions of great ceremony. Now, as somewhere in society a focus
must be organized, from which the highest light and the highest au
thority in all matters connected with society must emanate, the rich
aristocracy seemed here called to assume this station.
It was, however, spite of all its wealth and puissance, not yet quali
fied to maintain such a station unquestioned. The English nobility,
haughty as it is, can scarcely measure itself against the French in
, antiquity and purity of blood (if any value is to be attached to such
things), and in no degree against the higher German nobility, which
is for the most part intact.t It dazzles only by the old historic names
so wisely retained, which appear through the whole of English
history like standing masks; though new families, often of very mean
and even discreditable extraction (such as descendants of mistresses,
and the like,) are continually concealed behind them. The Eng
lish aristocracy has indeed the most solid advantages over those of
all other countries — from its real wealth, and yet more from the share
in the legislative power allotted to it by the Constitution: but as it
is not upon these grounds that it chooses to assert or to justify its
supremacy, but precisely upon its assumed noble blood and higher
extraction, the pretension must, unquestionably, appear to the rest
of the world doubly ludicrous. The members of the aristocracy pro
bably had an instinctive feeling of this; and thus, by a tacit conven
tion — not nobility, not wealth, but an entirely new power was placed
on the throne, as supreme and absolute sovereign — Fashion: a god
dess vvho in England alone, reigns in person, (if I may so express
myself,) with despotic and inexorable sway, — though always repre
sented to mortal eyes by a few clever usurpers of either sex.
* Hauslichkeit. We have not the word— unhappily. — Thansl.
f Th»- curious in such matters may find some amusement in the inquiry, whether
or not there exist in England one drop of stiftfahiges blut—of that sort, namely,
common throughout Germany, which can prove its seventy-two quarterings. —
Transl.

304 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
The spirit oi caste, which, emanating from this source, descends
through all stages of society in'greater or less force, has received here
a power, consistency and full developement, wholly unexampled in
any other country. The having visited on an intimate footing in a
lower class is sufficient to ensure you an extremely cold reception in
the very next step of the ladder; and no Brahmin can shrink with
more horror from all contact with a Paria, than an ' Exclusive' from
intercourse with a 'Nobody.' — Every class of society, as well as
every field, in England is separated from every other by a hedge of
thorns. Each has its own manners and turns of expression, — its
' cant' language, as it is called, and, above all, a supreme and abso
lute contempt for all below it. Of course every reflecting person
sees at a glance, that a society so constituted must necessarily become
eminently provincial (kleinstddtisch, i.e. small-townish) in its seve
ral coteries; and this strikingly distinguishes it from the large and
cosmopolitan society of Paris.
Now, although the aristocracy, as I have remarked, does not stand
as such on the pinnacle of this strange edifice, it yet exercises great
influence over it. It is indeed difficult to become fashionable with
out being of good descent; but it by no means follows, that a man
is so in virtue of being well born — still less of being rich. It sounds
ludicrous to say, (but yet it is true,) that the present King for in
stance, is a very fashionable man; that his father was not in the least
degree so, and that none of his brothers have any pretension to
fashion; — which unquestionably is highly to their honour: for no
man who has any personal claims to distinction, would be frivolous
enough long to have either the power or the will to maintain him
self in that category. On the other hand, it would be a doubtful and
critical matter to affirm decidedly what are the qualities which se
cure the highest places in that exalted sphere. You see alternately
the most heterogeneous qualities occupy a post in it; and political
motives, in a country like this, cannot be entirely without influence:
yet I believe that caprice and luck, and, above all, women, here, as
in the rest of the world, do more than anything else.
On the whole, fashionable Englishmen, however unable they may
be to lay aside their native heaviness and pedantry, certainly betray
the most intense desire to rival the dissolute frivolity and ' jactance'
of the old Court of France in their fullest extent ; while in exactly
the same proportion the French now seek to exchange this character
for old English earnestness, and daily advance towards higher and
more dignified purposes and views of existence.
A London Exclusive of the present day is in truth nothing more
than a bad, flat, dull impression of a ' roue' of the Regency and a
courtier of Louis the Fifteenth: both have, in common, selfishness,
levity, boundless vanity, and an utter want of heart; both think
they can set themselves above everything by means of contempt, de
rision and insolence; both creep in the dust before one idol alone —
the Frenchman of the last age, before his King — the Englishman of
this, before any acknowledged ruler in the empire of fashion. But
what a contrast if we look further! In France, the absence of all mo-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 305
rality and honesty was at least in some degree atoned for by the most
refined courtesy; the poverty of soul, by wit and agreeableness; the
impertinence of considering themselves as something better than
other people, rendered bearable by finished elegance and politeness
of manners; and egotistical vanity in some measure justified, or at
least excused, by the brilliancy of an imposing Court, a high-bred
air and address, the perfect art of polished intercourse, winning
' aisance,' and a conversation captivating by its wit and lightness. —
What of all this has the English ' dandy' to offer?
His highest triumph is to appear with the most wooden manners,
as little polished as will suffice to avoid castigation; nay, to contrive
even his civilities so, that they are as near as may be to affronts: —
this indeed is the style of deportment which confers upon him the
greatest celebrity. Instead of a noble, high-bred ease, — to have the
courage to offend against every restraint of decorum; to invert the
relation in which our sex stands to women, so that they appear the
attacking, and he the passive or defensive party; — to treat his best
friends, if they cease to have the stamp and authority of fashion, as
if he did not know them, — " to cut them," as the technical phrase
goes; to delight in the ineffably ' fade' jargon, and the affectation of
his ' set;' and always to know what is ' the thing:' — these are pretty
nearly the accomplishments which form a young ' lion' of the world
of fashion. If he has moreover a remarkably pretty mistress, and
if it has also happened to him to induce some foolish woman to sacri
fice herself on the altar of fashion, and to desert husband and chil
dren for him, his reputation reaches its highest ' nimbus.' If, added
to this, he spends a great deal of money, if he is young, and if his
name is in the ' Peerage,' he can hardly fail to play a transient part;
at any rate he possesses in full measure all the ingredients that go to
make a Richelieu of our days. That his conversation consists only
of the most trivial local jests and scandal, which he whispers into
the ear of a woman in a large party, without deigning to remark
that there is anybody in the room but himself and the happy object
of his delicate attentions ; that with men he can talk only of gam
bling or of sporting; that, except a few fashionable phrases which
the shallowest head can the most easily retain, he is deplorably ig
norant; that his awkward ' tournure' goes not beyond the ' noncha
lance' of a plough-boy, who stretches himself at his length on the
ale-house settle; and that his grace is very like that of a bear which
has been taught to dance, — all this does not rob his crown of a single
jewel. Worse still is it, that, notwithstanding the high-bred rudeness of
his exterior, the moral condition of his inward man must, to be
fashionable, stand far lower. That cheating is prevalent in the va
rious kinds of play which are here the order of the day, and that
when long successfully practised it gives a sort of ' relief,' is noto
rious: but it is still more striking, that no attempt is made to con
ceal that ' crasse' selfishness which lies at the bottom of such trans
actions, — nay, that it is openly avowed as the only rational princi
ple of action, and ' good-nature' is laughed at and despised as the
39

306 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
' comble' of vulgarity. This is the case in no other country: in all
others, people are ashamed of such modes of thinking, even if they
are wretched enough to hold them. " We are a selfish people,"
said a favourite leader of fashion, " I confess; and I do believe that
what in other countries is called ' amor patriae' is amongst us nothing
but a huge conglomeration of love of ourselves: but I am glad of
it; I like selfishness; there's good sense in it;" — and he added,
not satirically, but quite in earnest, "Good-nature is quite 'mauvais
ton' in London; and really it is a bad style to take up, and will
never do."
It is true that if you choose to analyze and hunt down every feel
ing with the greatest subtlety, you may discover a sort of selfish
ness at the very bottom of everything; but in all other nations a
noble shame throws a veil over it; as there are instincts very natu
ral and innocent, which are yet concealed even by the most un
civilized. Here, however, people are so little ashamed of the most ' crasse'
self-love, that an Englishman of rank once instructed me that a good
' fox-hunter' must let nothing stop him, or distract his attention
when following the fox; and if his own father should be thrown in
leaping a ditch, and lie there, should, he said, ' if he could'nt help
it,' leap his horse over him, and trouble himself no more about him
till the end of the chase.*
With all this, our pattern 'dandy' has not the least independence,
even in his bad qualities: he is the trembling slave of fashion, even
in the extremest trifles; and the obsequious, servile satellite of the
fortunate individuals who are higher than himself. Were virtue
and modesty suddenly to become the fashion, nobody would be
more exemplary, — difficult as would be the task to accomplish.
Destitute of all originality, and without a thought he can properly
call his own, he may be compared to a clay figure, which, for a
while, deceives one with all the properties of a human being, but
returns into its native mud as soon as you discover that it has not a
soul. Whoever reads the best of the recent English novels — those by
the author of Pelham — may be able to abstract from them a tolerably
just idea of English fashionable society; provided (N. B.) he does
not forget to deduct qualities which national self-love has claimed,
though quite erroneously: — namely, grace for its 'roues,' — seduc
tive manners and amusing conversation for its ' dandies.' I mixed
for awhile with those who dwell on the very pinnacle of this fool's
world of fashion; with those who inhabit its middle regions, and
with those who have pitched their tents at its foot, whence they turn
longing, lingering looks at the unattainable summit; but rarely did
I ever find a vestige of that attractive art of social life, that perfect
equipoise of all the social talents, which diffuses a feeling of com
placency over all within its sphere; — as far removed from stiffness
* Certainly the motto of the Paris Society, ' Aide toi, le ciel t'aidera,' has never
been carried so far ' in praxi.' — Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 307
and prudery as from rudeness and license, which speaks with equal
charm to the heart and the head, and continually excites, while it
never wearies; an art of which the French so long remained the sole
masters and models.
Instead of this, I saw in the fashionable world only too frequently,
and with few exceptions, a profound vulgarity of thought; an im
morality little veiled or adorned; the most undisguised arrogance;
and the coarsest neglect of all kindly feelings and attentions haugh
tily assumed, for the sake of shining in a false and despicable ' re
finement,' even more inane and intolerable to a healthy mind, than
the awkward and ludicrous stiffness of the most declared No
bodies. It has been said that vice and poverty are the most revolt
ing combination: — since I have been in England, vice and boorish
rudeness seem to me to form a still more disgusting union.
¦* * * * * * * * *
Passing over some of the most remarkable English rulers of fash
ion, I must mention one foreign potentate, who has placed herself
on the same throne with the highest.
The haughty and masculine spirit of this lady, which, when she
chooses, she knows how to conceal under the most engaging affabi
lity, combined with all the diplomatic craftiness of her station, have
enabled her to set her foot on the neck of English supremacy; but
she has not been able to give to the court that surrounds her and
bows blindly to all her decrees, either her wit and tact, or her high
born air, or that repulsive politeness to all, which is the ' ne plus
ultra' of the manner which it is the main object of an Exclusive's
life to attain. The distance in these respects between her and her
associates in sovereignty is almost burlesque; yet they rule side by
side in Olympus. But even the immortal gods have to encounter
opposition; and thus we find a gigantic antagonist in the monarch of
the nether world.
*********
At his house are to be seen many of the ' Dii minores gentium,' such
as actresses turned into duchesses and countesses, &c. who are not
admitted into the circle ' par excellence.'
*********
A high degree of influence is also possessed by a foreign ambassador;
and without doubt he would possess the very highest, if the best
tone, kind-hearted amiability, high rank, the finest taste, and (not
withstanding an assumed English ' tournure') a perfect absence of
that heaviness and pedantry, of which English fashionables can
never divest themselves, constituted the sole claims to pre-eminence.
But it is precisely because he is too far removed from the English,
both by that native amiability which continually gains an involun
tary conquest over his 'Anglo manie,' and by his German cordia
lity, that he excites their envy rather than their admiration; and
though ' recherche' by most, because he is the fashion, remains a
strange meteor in their system, whom they attack where they can,
and whom, at all events, they cannot take to their hearts as they do
their own Jupiter Ammon, nor acknowledge in him ' autorite sans

308 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
replique' with that blind submission they pay, to their Autocratess.
Perhaps the wife of the ambassador might easily have played the
part of that lady, whom she excels in beauty as well as in youth;
and for a time the chances stood equal between them; but she was
too heedless, too natural and good-tempered to obtain a definitive
conquest. However high therefore be her place in the fashionable
world, her rival has unquestionably achieved the highest. Nobody
who knows the causes will think the loser the less amiable.
Among the other female rulers of the first category, I must men
tion one or two whom no one may omit who seeks entrance into the
sanctuary. At the very top, is a no longer young but still lovely
Countess; one of the very few Englishwomen of whom it can be
said, that she possesses a perfect, and truly distinguished ' tournure.'
With her natural gifts she would, in any other country, have been
thoroughly amiable and delightful; but here none can escape the
deadening impress of that spirit of caste, so utterly blighting to all
that is lovely and loving in the human heart. * *
********* In the age of innocence of the English world of fashion, when the
natives as yet were fain to copy continental manners, and had not
attained to that independence which now asserts its claim to serve as
model to other countries, a Dandy governed by means of his coat;
and the celebrated Brummel tyrannized over town and country, by
this simple instrument, during long years of glory. But this is no
longer the case: the sublime Exclusive, on the contrary, affects a
certain inattention to his dress, which is almost always alike; and is
quite above running after or inventing new fashions: his dress is at
most distinguished only for exquisite neatness and delicacy of tex
ture. Far other qualities are now necessary to constitute a man of
fashion. He must, as formerly in France, have the reputation of a
heartless seducer, and be a dangerous man. But as, with all the
good-will in the world, it is not so easy for men of graceless man
ners and invincible awkwardness to rival the brilliant charm and
captivating address of the Frenchman of the ' Vieille Cour,' it is
necessary, like Tartuffe, to play the soft and insidious hypocrite ;
with the subdued voice which is now the fashion, and false words,
to make a way in the dark to unprincipled acts; — such as false play,
or the ' gulling' of a novice in every species of sport, in which so
many young Englishmen find despair and suicide, where they sought
recreation and excitement; — where these arts are not applicable, to
seek, by all sorts of intrigue, to destroy the fortune and reputation
of those who stand in their way, or, at the least, to rob them of all
influence in exclusive society.
He who is intimately acquainted with England's dark side, will
not accuse me of exaggeration in this description. * *

*

Let a man's moral and intellectual qualities be what they may, if he
is the fashion, he can say or do nothing that will not be received
with admiration and applause. His words are oracles; his wit must
be exquisite, since he has received his patent for it from fashionable

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 309
society; and where Fashion speaks, the free Englishman is a slave.
Besides, the vulgar feel that in all matters of art, talent or taste,
they are no very competent judges; they therefore think it safer
blindly to applaud a ' bon mot' when they see it has made their
superiors laugh; or to repeat an opinion which has proceeded from
privileged lips: — just as the public were in the third heavens with
ecstasy for a whole winter at a party of Tyrolese ballad-singers, and
rained down money, which the green butcher-family pocketed with
a laugh. * * *
*********
The far-famed Almack's, and the unrivalled puissance of the Lady-
Patronesses, I have already described to you. I must add two sig
nal acts of their power.
In a fit of pretty ill-humour these high and mighty Ladies ordered
that no person who came after midnight should be admitted. Soon
after, the Duke of Wellington came from the House of Lords a few
minutes too late, and thought he should be certain to find an excep
tion in his favour. ' Point du tout' — the hero of Waterloo could
not carry this fortress, and was obliged to retreat.
Another time the Lady-Patronesses issued a decree, that only
gentlemen who were bow-legged should be permitted to appear in
loose pantaloons: all others were ordered to wear breeches;— in
England, where the very name is forbidden, certainly a bold decree.
The dread of the new tribunal of Inquisition was so great, that at
first even this edict was obeyed. But a reaction followed. A great
number of gentlemen appeared at the door in the prohibited panta
loons, and demanded admittance on the plea of crooked legs, of
which they declared themselves guilty; and, in case they were not
believed, invited the Lady-Patronesses to convince themselves of the
fact by personal inspection. From that time the Ladies have winked
at this offending portion of male attire. July 10th.
To-morrow I hope to be able to take my way to wider and freer
regions; and it will be some time before I resume the pent-up life of
a city. Lord Byron somewhere says of himself, that his soul never en
joyed its full activity but in solitude. This truth is applicable to
lesser people, for it is just so with me. In wearisome society I am
but half conscious of a soul: and I am oppressed by the horrible
thought — Now, if possible, you must be 'amiable.' On the other
hand, I am, as you know, least alone when alone; for then do I the
least miss your society, my best of friends!
However distant you may be, my spirit hovers around your wak
ing and your dreaming hours; and over sea and mountain my heart
feels the affectionate pulse of yours. L  .

310 LETTERS ON GERMANY,

LETTER XXV.
Cheltenham, July 12, 1828.
My Dear Julia,
I left London at two o'clock in the morning, very ill and out
of spirits; in harmony with the weather, which was perfectly (a
1'Anglaise.' It blew a hurricane, and rained waterspouts. About
eight o'clock, however, the sky cleared. I had been lulled into a
gentle slumber by the rapid and easy roll of the carriage ; all nature
shone with an emerald brightness, and a delicious fragrance poured
in at the open windows from every field and flower; and your care
worn, melancholy friend was again, in a few moments, the light-
hearted child rejoicing in the beautiful world, and in its mighty and
merciful Creator. Travelling in England is, indeed, most delightful.
Could I but witness your pleasure in it! Could I but feel my own
doubled by your participation! It rained occasionally . through the
day, but I was little incommoded by this in a close carriage, and
found the air mild and balmy. The former part of the country
through which our road lay, teemed with all the luxuriant vegeta
tion of the most beautiful park; the next presented boundless corn
fields without hedges, which is a rarity in England; and the last
nearly resembled the rich plains of Lombardy. I passed many large
parks, which, however, weather being uncertain, and time limited, I
left unvisited. It is not easy, after my long park and garden chase
through half England, to find anything new of this kind. In Ciren
cester I visited a beautiful Gothic church of great antiquity, with
windows of coloured glass in pretty good preservation, and curious
grotesque carvings. It is a grievous pity that the Gothic churches
in England, without exception, are defaced by tasteless modern grave
stones and monuments.
Late in the evening I reached Cheltenham, an extremely pretty
watering-place, of an elegance nowhere to be found on the continent.
Even the splendid gas-lights and the new villa-looking houses, each
surrounded by its little flower-garden, put the mind into a cheerful
and agreeable tone. I arrived, too, just in the hour when the con
test between the light of day and the artificial illumination produces
a peculiar and, to me, pleasing effect. As I entered the inn, which
I might almost call magnificent, and ascended the snow-white stone
staircase, ornamented with a gilt bronze railing, and trod on fresh
and brilliant carpets, lighted by two servants to my room, I gave
myself up, ' con amore,' to the feeling of ' comfort' which can be
found in perfection nowhere but in England. In this point of view,
it is a country completely made for a misanthrope like myself; —
since all that is unconnected with social life, all that a man can pro
cure with money, is excellent and perfect in its kind; and he may
enjoy it isolated, without any other human being troubling himself
about him.
A larger mass of varied and manifold enjoyments may certainly
be found in England than it is possible to procure with us. Not in

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 311
vain have wise institutions long prevailed here. What especially
soothes and gladdens the philanthropist is the spectacle of the supe
rior comfort and more elevated condition in the scale of existence,
universally prevailing. What with us are called luxuries, are here
looked upon as necessaries, and are diffused over all classes. Hence
arise, even in the smallest and most ordinary details, an endeavour
after elegance, an elaborate finish and neatness; in a word, a success
ful combination of the beautiful with the useful, which is entirely
unknown to our lower classes.
The distress, in truth, consisted in this; that the people, instead
of having three or four meals a day, with tea, cold meat, bread and
butter, beef-steaks or roast meat, were now obliged to content them
selves with two, consisting only of meat and potatoes. It was, how
ever, just harvest-time, and the want of labourers in the fields so
great, that the farmers gave almost any wages. Nevertheless, I was
assured that the mechanics would rather destroy all the machinery
and actually starve, than bring themselves to take a sickle in their
hands, or bind a sheaf: so intractable and obstinate are the English
common people rendered by their universal comfort, and the cer
tainty of obtaining employment if they vigorously seek it. From
what I have now told you, you may imagine what deductions you
ought to make from newspaper articles. July 13th.
This morning I visited some of the public walks, which fell short
of my expectations; and drank the waters, which have some resem
blance to those of Carlsbad. I found them very heating. The doc
tors here say, as ours do, that they must be drunk early in the morn
ing, or they lose a great part of their efficacy. The joke is, how
ever, that here, early begins exactly where it ends with us, namely,
at ten o'clock.
The weather is unfortunately not favourable; cold and stormy,
after a continuance of heat pretty long for England. For travelling,
however, it is not bad; at least I find myself in far better spirits than
in London, and am in great delight at the anticipation of the beauti
ful scenery of Wales, towards which I am now bending my course.
I entreat you to be with me, at least in thought, and let our spirits
journey together over sea and land, look down from the summits of
mountains and enjoy the sweet repose of valleys; for I doubt not
that spirits, in forms as infinitely various as infinity itself is bound
less, rejoice, throughout all worlds, in the beauty of God's magnifi
cent creation.
I will first lead you to the seven sources of the Thames, which
arises two or three miles from Cheltenham. I set out on this ex
cursion in ' a Fly' (a kind of small landau, drawn by one horse,) on
the top of which I sat, that I might enjoy the beautiful prospect
from the highest station.
After a long ascent, you come to some solitary grassy hills; on the
top of these, under the shade of two or three alders, is a little group
of plashy springs, which trickle away, forming, as far as the eye can

312 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
follow them, an insignificant brook. Such is the modest infancy of
the proud Thames. I felt a tide of poetry come over my mind, as I
thought, how, but a few hours ago, and but a few miles hence, I had
seen these same waters covered with a thousand vessels; how this
glorious stream, in its short course, bears on its bosom more ships,
more treasures, and more human beings, than any of its colossal
brethren; how the capital of the world lies on its banks, and by her
omnipotent commerce may be almost said to rule the four quarters
of the globe. With reverential admiration I looked down on the
gushing drops, and compared them, one while with Napoleon, who,
obscurely born in Ajaccio, in a few years made all the thrones of
the earth tremble; — then with the avalanche, which, loosened from
its bed under the foot of a sparrow, in five minutes buries a village;
— then with Rothschild, whose father sold ribands, and without
whose assistance no power in Europe seems now able to carry on
war. My driver, who was at the same time an accredited Cheltenham
cicerone, took me from this spot to a high hill called Lackington
Hill, from which there is a celebrated view, with the appendage of
a pleasant inn for the accommodation of visitors. Hidden under a
bower of roses* my eye commanded an extent of seventy English
miles; — a rich plain studded with towns and villages, among which
the cathedral of Gloucester is the most striking and stately object.
Behind it rose two ridges, the Malvern Hills and above them the
Welsh mountains. Beautiful as was all around me, the distant blue
mountains, bathed in air, awoke in me only an intense longing after
home. How gladly should I have flown to your side with the aid
of Fortunatus's cap!
Up to this time black clouds had chased each other across the hea
vens ; just as 1 turned away from the prospect the sun provokingly
broke forth: it lighted me through a beautiful beech-wood to the
charming seat of Mr. Todd, who has built a smiling village in the
midst of the leafy shade, consisting of straw-roofed cottages and
pretty moss houses. In the centre of a green level turf stands a no
ble lime-tree, surrounded by three tiers of benches for as many ge
nerations. Not far distant, on the withered trunk of a tree, is a sun
dial, and on the edge of the hill overlooking the valley, a rural seat,
sheltered by a little arched roof covered with heather, and its sides
tastefully interwoven with roots. On holidays it is often covered
with evergreens and flowers, and lighted at evening with gay lamps.
In the neighbouring park, which has many distinguishing beauties,
are the ruins of a Roman villa: they were accidentally discovered
about eight years ago by the sudden sinking in of a tree. Some
baths are still in good preservation, as are also two tessellated floors;
they are however of rather coarse workmanship, and bear no com
parison with those discovered at Pompeii. The walls are in part
_* It is one of the greatest beauties of English landscape, that during the whole
winter almost every house is adorned with the luxuriant blossoms and garlands of
the monthly rose.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 313
covered with red and blue stucco, two inches thick, and the brick
pipes for conveying heat are of a quality and durability now une
qualled. About three quarters of a mile further on, the Roman road
is distinctly to be traced, and a portion of it is indeed in actual use:
it is to be distinguished from the English road chiefly by its run
ning, like a north-German ' Chaussee,' in a perfectly straight line.
It is to be hoped, however, that the taste of the Romans was too
good to allow them to enclose their roads between two endless rows
of Lombardy poplars, and thus inflict a twofold torture of monoto
ny on the unfortunate traveller. How different from an English
road, which winds around the hills in soft and graceful sweeps,
avoiding deep valleys or reverend trees, instead of following the one
inveterate idea of a straight line, at a sixfold cost, through thick and
thin, over hill and valley.
On my return to Cheltenham, I passed through a large village,
where I visited for the first time what is here called a tea-garden.
The ingenuity with which a small space is made to contain a hun
dred little niches, benches, and picturesque, nay, often romantic
seats, is quite extraordinary, and forms a curious contrast with the
phlegm of the gaily dressed multitude who rather garnish than ani
mate the scene.
As it was rather early when I reached the town, I took advantage
of the beautiful evening to visit more of the mineral waters, and I
found that in the morning I had stumbled on the least important.
These establishments are extremely splendid, ornamented with mar
ble decorations, and still more with flowers, green-houses and pretty
plantations. As soon as a thing is the fashion in England it becomes
the subject of enormous speculation. This is to such a degree the
case here, that the value of an acre of land in the neighbourhood of
the town has risen within fifteen years from forty to a thousand
guineas. The gardens and grounds which are destined to be places
of public resort and amusement, are here, and I think rightly, laid
out in a totally different style from the gardens and parks of private
gentlemen. Broad and shady walks, and distinct open spaces, are
rather to be aimed at, than picturesque views, or a large and land
scape-like whole. Their manner of planting shady walks pleases
me. A strip of ground about five feet wide, on each side the way,
is dug and thickly planted with a mixture of various trees and
shrubs. The most flourishing trees are afterwards left to grow, and
the others are kept down by the shears as irregular underwood. Be
tween this and the top of the high trees the prospect is as it were set
in a beautiful frame; the whole is fuller and more luxuriant; and
wherever the country is uninteresting, it may be shut out by merely
suffering the underwood to grow. Worcester, July 14th.
Yesterday, 'entre la poire et le fromage,' I received the twice-
declined visit of the master of the ceremonies, — the gentleman who
does the honour of the baths, and exercises a considerable authority
over the company of an English watering-place, in virtue of which
40

314 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
he welcomes strangers with most anti-English officiousness and pom
posity, and manifests great care and zeal for their entertainment. An
Englishman invested with such a character has mauvais jeu, and
vividly recalls the ass in the fable, who tried to imitate the caresses
of the lapdog. I could not get rid of my visitor till he had swal
lowed some bottles of claret with me, and devoured all the dessert
the house afforded. At length he took his leave, first extorting from
me a promise that I would honour the ball of the following evening
with my presence. However, I had so little inclination for company
and new acquaintances, that I made ' faux bond,' and left Chelten
ham early in the morning.
The country continued most lovely, the near ground full of soft
meadows and deep green clumps of trees; the horizon bounded by
the mountains, which at every mile grew in magnitude and distinct
ness of outline. At almost every stage I passed a considerable
town, which was never without its towering Gothic church. The
situation of Tewksbury struck me as peculiarly delightful. Nothing
can be more tranquil, more pastoral; and yet all these blooming
plains were bloody battle-fields in the times of the countless civil
wars of England, whence they retain the names, now so inappropri
ate, of Bloody Field, Field of Bones, &c.
Worcester, where I am now writing, the chief city of the county,
has nothing remarkable except its magnificent cathedral; the win
dows contain but small remains of ancient painted glass: to these,
new has been added, which is very little inferior either in softness
or brilliancy to the old. In the middle of the nave King John is
buried: his effigy in stone reposes on the tomb; the oldest monu
ment of an English king which Great Britain contains. The tomb
was opened some years ago, when the skeleton was found in good
preservation, and in precisely the same dress as that represented in
the statue: as soon as it came in contact with the air, the materials
of which it was composed crumbled into dust; the sword was en
tirely consumed by rust, and only its handle remained.
Another very interesting monument is that of a Templar, of the
year 1220, with this Norman inscription: " Ici gist syr guilleaume
de harcourt fys robert de harcourt, et de Isabel de camvile." The
figure of the knight (whose costume, by-the-by, is totally different
from that of Count Bruhl's Templar at Berlin*) is an admirable
piece of sculpture, and reposes with an ease and ' abandon' which
would do no discredit to antique art: his dress consists of boots or
stockings (whichever you choose to call them) of mail, and golden
spurs; the knee is naked; above the knee is again covered with
mail, which so completely encloses the whole body, and even the
head, that only the face is visible. Over this shirt of mail is a long
red mantle, falling in folds below the calf; and over this a black
baldrick, from which hangs a sword in a red scabbard: the left arm
• Count Brahl is Inspector of Theatres at Berlin, and in virtue of that office ex
ercises surveillance over the costumes, on the correctness of which he piques him
self. — Transl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 315
supports a narrow pointed shield bearing the family arms, and not
the cross of the Temple. This is found only on the tomb. The
whole figure is, as you perceive, painted, and the colours are from
time to time renewed.
As the greatest of all curiosities, strangers are shown Prince
Arthur's tomb, the intricate stone tracery of vvhich is really like the
most exquisite carvings in wood or ivory. On one side of the
chapel are fine rows of small figures, one above another. The order
is as follows: on the lowest row the abbesses; above them bishops;
above them kings; then saints; and at the top of all, angels. 'Quant
a moi, qui ne suis encore ni saint, ni ange, souffrez que je vous quitte
pour mon diner.' Llangollen, July 15th.
If I had the honour to be the wandering Jew (who of course must
have money ad libitum), I should most certainly spend the great
est part of my immortality on the high road, and specially in Eng
land. ' 'Tis so delightful' for a man of my opinions and character.
In the first place, no human being troubles or constrains me. Where-
ever I pay well, I am the first person (always an agreeable feeling
for the lordly sons of men), and meet with none but smiling faces
and obliging people, full of zeal to serve me. Continued motion,
without fatigue, keeps the body in health, and the rapidly succeed
ing changes in beautiful, free nature have the same strengthening in
fluence on the mind. I must confess that I am partly of Dr. Johnson's
opinion: — he maintained that the greatest human felicity was to
drive rapidly over an English road in a good postchaise, with a
pretty woman by one's side.
It is one of the most agreeable sensations in the world to me to
roll along in a comfortable carriage, and to stretch myself out at my
ease while my eye feasts on the ever-changing pictures, like those of
a magic lantern. As they pass, they awaken fancies serious and
gay, tragic and comic; and I find an intense pleasure in filling up the
sketches thus presented to my eye. What strange fantastic shapes
often start up with the. rapidity of lightning, and flit before my mind
like figures in the clouds. Then if my fancy droops her wings, I
read and sleep in my carriage. I am little troubled with, my bag
gage, which from long practice is so well arranged that I can get at
everything I want in a moment, without tormenting my servants.
Sometimes, when the weather is fine and the country beautiful, I
walk for miles together; in short, I can desire no more perfect free
dom than I enjoy here. Lastly, it is no slight pleasure that I can
close the day by devoting a tranquil hour to conversing with the
friend of my heart on all that has passed before me.
But to return to my narrative. — I travelled all night, after witness
ing an extraordinary sport of nature in the clouds. From the top of
a hill I saw what appeared to me a gigantic range of black moun
tains, and at its foot a boundless lake: it was long before I could per
suade myself that it was only an illusion, created by mist and cloud.
The sky above was of an uniform light gray; upon it lay a coal-black

316 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
mass of clouds thrown together in the form of the wildest moun
tains, the upper edge of which shaped itself into a bold and abrupt
outline, while the lower was trans-sected by a horizontal line of
mist. This wore the appearance of a boundless extent of silvery
water; and, as the green foreground of sunny wooded plains which
lay beneath my feet was immediately bounded by it, the illusion
was indeed complete. As I descended the hill, step by step, the
magic picture faded from before my eyes.
The most beautiful reality, however, awaited me this morning in
Wales. The vision of clouds seemed to have been the harbinger of
the magnificence of the vale of Llangollen, — a spot which, in my
opinion, far surpasses all the beauties of the Rhine-land, and has,
moreover, a character quite its own, from the unusual forms of the
peaked tops and rugged declivities of its mountains. The Dee, a
rapid stream, winds through the green valley in a thousand fantastic
bendings overhung with thick underwood. On each side, high
mountains rise abruptly from the plain, and are crowned with antique
ruins, modern country-houses, manufactories, whose towering chim
neys send out columns of thick smoke, or with grotesque groups of
upright rocks. The vegetation is everywhere rich, and hill and vale
are filled with lofty trees, whose varied hues add so infinitely to the
beauty and picturesque effect of a landscape. In the midst of this
luxuriant nature, arises, with a grandeur heightened by contrast, a
single long, black, bare range of mountains, clothed only with thick,
dark heather, and from time to time skirting the high road. This
magnificent road, which from London to Holyhead, a distance of
two hundred miles,* is as even as a ' parquet,' here runs along the
side of the left range of mountains, at about their middle elevation
and following all their windings; so that in riding along at a brisk
trot or gallop, the traveller is presented at every minute with a com
pletely new prospect; and without changing his position, overlooks
the valley now before him, now behind, now at his side. On one
side is an aqueduct of twenty-five slender arches, a work which
would have done honour to Rome. Through this a second river
is led over the valley and across the Dee, at an elevation of a hun
dred and twenty feet above the bed of the natural stream. A few
miles further on, the little town of Llangollen offers a delightful rest
ing-place, and is deservedly much resorted to.
There is a beautiful view from the churchyard near the inn: here
I climbed upon a tomb, and stood for half an hour enjoying with
deep and grateful delight the beauties so richly spread before me.
Immediately below me bloomed a terraced garden, filled vvith vine,
honey-suckle, rose, and a hundred gay flowers, which descended to
the very edge of the foaming stream. On the right hand, my eye
followed the crisped waves in their restless murmuring course
through the overhanging thicket ; before me rose two lines of wood,
divided by a strip of meadow-land filled with grazing cattle; and
* Where the contrary is not specified, the reader will understand English miles,
four and a half of which go to a German mile. — Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 317
high above all, rose the bare conical peak of a mountain crowned by
the ruins of the old Welsh castle Dinas^Bran, or the Crow's Fortress.
On the left, the stone houses of the town lie scattered along the val
ley; the river forms a considerable waterfall near the picturesque
bridge, while three colossal rocks rise immediately behind it like
giant guards, and shut out all the more distant wonders of this en
chanting region.
Permit me now to turn to some less refined and romantic, but not
less real, enjoyments of sense — to my own room; where my appe
tite, enormously sharpened by the mountain air, was most agreeably
invited by the aspect of the smoking coffee, fresh Guinea-fowls' eggs,
deep yellow mountain butter, thick cream, ' toasted muffins' (a deli
cate sort of cake eaten hot with butter), and lastly, two red spotted
trout just caught; all placed on a snow-white table-cloth of Irish da
mask; — a breakfast which Walter Scott's heroes in ' the highlands'
might have been thankful to receive at the hands of that great paint
er of human necessities. ' Je devore deja un ceufi' — Adieu.
Bangor. — Evening.
The rain, which with short intervals accompanied me from Lon
don, remained constant to me to-day ; but the weather seems now
inclined to change for the better. I have all sorts of things to tell
you, and a very interesting day to recount. Before I left Llangollen
I recollected the two celebrated ladies who have inhabited this val
ley for more than half a century, and of whom I had heard once as
a child, and again recently in London. You have doubtless heard
your father talk of them, — 'si non voila. leur historie.' Fifty-six
years ago, two young, pretty and fashionable ladies, Lady Eleanor
Butler, and the daughter of the late Lord Ponsoiiby, took it in
their heads to hate men, to love only each other, and to live from
that hour in some remote hermitage. The resolution was imme
diately executed ; and from that time neither lady has ever passed a
night out of their cottage. On the other hand, no one who is pre
sentable travels in Wales unprovided with an introduction to them.
It is affirmed that the ' scandal' of the great world interests them as
much as when they lived in it; and that their curiosity to know
what passes has preserved all its freshness. I had compliments to
deliver to them from several ladies, but I had neglected to furnish
myself with a letter. 1 therefore sent my card, determined if they
declined my visit, as I was led to fear, to storm the cottage. Here,
as elsewhere, however, in England, a title easily opened the door,
and I immediately received a gracious invitation to a second break
fast. ' Passing along a charming road, through a trim and pretty
pleasure-ground, in a quarter of an hour I reached a small but taste
ful Gothic cottage, situated directly opposite to Dinas Bran, various
glimpses of which were visible through openings cut in the trees. I
alighted, and was received at the door by the two ladies. Fortu
nately I was already prepared by hearsay for their peculiarities ; I
might otherwise have found it difficult to repress some expression of
astonishment. Imagine two ladies, the eldest of whom, Lady

318 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Eleanor, a short robust woman, begins to feel her years a little, being
now eighty-three; the other, a tall and imposing person, esteems
herself still youthful, being only seventy -four. Both wore their still
abundant hair combed straight back and powdered, a round man's
hat, a man's cravat and waistcoat, but in the place of ' inexpressi
bles,'* a short petticoat and boots: the whole covered by a coat of
blue cloth, of a cut quite peculiar, — a sort of middle term between a
man's coat and a lady's riding-habit. Over this, Lady Eleanor wore,
first, the grand cordon of the order of St. Louis across her shoulder;
secondly, the same order around her neck; thirdly, the small cross
of the same in her button-hole, and, 'pour comble de gloire,' a
golden lily of nearly the natural size, as a star, — all, as she said, pre
sents of the Bourbon family. So far the whole effect was somewhat
ludicrous. But now, you must imagine both ladies with that agreea
ble ' aisance,' that air of the world of the ' ancien regime,' courteous
and entertaining, without the slightest affectation; speaking French
as well as any Englishwoman of my acquaintance; and, above all,
with that essentially polite, unconstrained, and simply cheerful man
ner of the good society of that day, which, in our serious hard-work
ing age of business, appears to be going to utter decay. I was really
affected with a melancholy sort of pleasure in contemplating it in the
persons of the amiable old ladies, who are among the last of its living
representatives; nor could I witness without lively sympathy the un
interrupted, natural and affectionate attention with which the younger
treated her somewhat infirmer friend, and anticipated all her wants.
The charm of such actions lies chiefly in the manner in which they
are performed, — in things which appear small and insignificant, but
which are never lost upon a susceptible heart.
I began by saying that I esteemed myself fortunate in being per
mitted to deliver to the fair recluses the compliments with which I
was charged by my grandfather, who had had the honour of visiting
them fifty years ago. Their beauty indeed they had lost, but not
their memory: they remembered the C — C — very well, immedi
ately produced an old memorial of him, and only expressed their
wonder that so young a man was dead already. Not only the vene
rable ladies, but their house, was full of interest; indeed it contained
some real treasures. There is scarcely a remarkable person of the
last half century who has not sent them a portrait or some curiosity
or antique as a token of remembrance. The collection of these, a
well furnished library, a delightful situation, an equable, tranquil
life, and perfect friendship and union, — these have been their pos
sessions; and if we may judge by their robust old age and their
•cheerful temper, they have not chosen amiss.
I had made my visit to them in a tremendous rain, which conti
nued undiminished as I proceeded on my journey past the ruins of
an abbey, and then by the palace of Owen Glendower, a personage
* Inexpressibles is the name which this article of dress has received in England,
where "in good society" a woman sometimes leaves her husband and children and
runs off with her lover, but is always too decorous to be able to endure the sound
of the word breeches  Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 319
whom you must remember from my Shakspearian readings at
M  . The variety of the scenery is extraordinary; sometimes
you are hemmed in by a chaotic heap of mountains, of every form;
in a few minutes you have so extensive a view before you
that you could almost believe yourself in a level country; the scene
shifts again, and you are in a road enclosed and overshadowed by
wood. Further on, the stream turns a peaceful mill, and immedi
ately after rushes foaming over masses of rock, and forms a magnifi
cent waterfall.
But the vale of Llangollen is only the proem to the true epopea,
the high mountain district. After quitting the waterfall and riding
for about half an hour through a nearly level country, all at once, a
little beyond the inn at Cernioge Maur, you enter the holy of holies.
Huge black rocks form a sublime amphitheatre, and their jagged and
rent peaks seem to float in the clouds. Below, at a depth of eight
hundred feet of perpendicular rock, the mountain torrent forces its
difficult way, leaping headlong from chasm to chasm. Before me
lay mountains rising one above another in endless perspective. I
was so enchanted that I exclaimed aloud with delight. And in the
midst of such scenery, it is impossible to say enough in praise of
the road, which, avoiding every great inequality of surface, allows
the traveller to enjoy at his ease all the ' belles horreurs' of this
mountain region. Wherever it is not protected by the rocks, it is
fenced by low walls; at equal distances are niches neatly walled in,
in which are deposited the stones for mending the roads: this has a
much better effect than the open heaps by the sides of our roads.
The mountain region of Wales has a very peculiar character,
which it is difficult to compare with any other. Its height is about
that of the Riesengebirg, but it is infinitely grander in form, richer
in striking and picturesquely grouped peaks. The vegetation is
more varied in plants, though there is less wood, and it contains ri
vers and lakes, in which the Riesengebirg is quite deficient. On the
other hand, it wants the majestic, impervious forests of the abode of
Riibczahl;* and in some places cultivation has already occupied the
middle ground in a manner which would harmonize better with the
beautiful than with the sublime. The road from Capel Cerig to within
a few miles of Bangor is, however, wild and rugged as can be desired;
and broad masses of red and yellow heath flowers, ferns and other
plants vvhich do not bloom in our severe climate, clothe the rocks
and replace the trees which do not flourish at such an elevation. But
the most striking variety of the picture is produced by the strange,
wild and colossal forms of the mountains themselves; some of them
are much more like clouds than solid masses. The peak of Trivaen
is surmounted by such extraordinary basaltic pillars, that travellers
can hardly be persuaded they are not men: they are only mountain
spirits, keeping the everlasting station to which Merlin condemned
them. I was .struck with the good taste which had rendered all the houses
* A mountain spirit. See Musaus's Popular Tales.— Trahs.

320 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
along the high-road so perfectly in keeping with the scenery: they
are built of rough stone of a. reddish colour, roofed with slate, in a
heavy, simple style of architecture, and enclosed by iron gates, the
gratings of which are so disposed as to represent the intersecting
rays of two suns. The post-boy pointed out to me the remains of a
Druidical castle, into which, as my guide-book informed me, Carac-
tacus retired after his defeat, at Caer Caredoc. The Welsh language
sounds like the cawing of rooks. Almost all their names begin with
C, pronounced with a guttural explosion which no foreign organs
can imitate. The ruin is converted into two or three inhabited huts,
nor are the boundaries of the original building even distinguish
able. A more remarkable object is a rock a little further on, in the form
of a bishop with crozier and mitre, as if he had just started from the
caverns of the mountain to preach Christianity to the heathen.
Whence comes it that when Nature plays these sportive tricks, the
effect is almost always sublime; when Art seeks to imitate them, it is
invariably ludicrous ?
A minor ' tormento' in this region is the multitude of children,
who start up and vanish like gnomes: they pursue the carriage, beg
ging with inconceivable pertinacity. Wearied by their importuni
ty, I had made a positive determination not to give anything to any
body; a single deviation from which rule insures your never being
rid of them for a moment. However, one little girl vanquished all
my resolutions by her perseverance: she ran at least a German mile,
up hill and down dale, at a brisk trot, sometimes gaining upon me
a little by a foot-path, but never losing sight of me for a minute.
She ran by the side of the carriage, uttering the same incessant tone
of plaintive lamentation, like the cry of a sea-mew, which at length
became so intolerable to me that I surrendered, and purchased my
deliverance from my untireable pursuer at the price of a shilling.
The ill-boding tone had however taken such possession of my ear,
that I could not get rid of it for the whole day. August 16th.
I have slept admirably, and am now sitting at the window of an
inn on the sea-shore, and enjoying the sight of the ships cutting the
transparent waters in every direction. On the landward rises a cas
tle built of black marble, surrounded by ancient oaks.
As I am very comfortably housed, I shall make this inn my head
quarters, and begin my excursions by this castle. I found here, very
unexpectedly, an amusing countryman. You know the clever A 
who is so thin, and yet exhibits such magnificent calves, so elegant
ly dressed, and yet so frugal, so good-natured, and yet so sarcastic,
so English, and yet so German. Well, this same A  , ate a se
cond breakfast with me, without any visible diminution of appetite
from the former one; and, in return, regaled me with the most di
verting conversation. He came from S  , concerning which he
told me as follows.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 321
JEST AND EARNEST.
You know, my dear friend, that in Vienna, every man who can
eat a roast fowl, and (N. B.) pay for it, receives the title of Euer
Gnaden (Your Grace.) In S  ,* on the other hand, every man
who has a whole coat is called, in dubio, Herr Rath (Counsellor;)
or still better, Herr Geheimer Rath (Privy Counsellor.) They do
not trouble themselves with the distinctions, between an actual and a
nominal Rath, a half, (that is a pensioned,) or a whole, (that is a full-
payed,) and a payless Rath, a titular nullity. The attributes and
functions of this mysterious Counsellorship are wonderfully various.
In the first place comes the invalid statesman in the Resident, who,
from respect for his declining years, and as a reward for living over
half a century, has been invested with the yellow griffin; or a pro
vincial chief president, more remarkable for his prepossessions in his
own behalf than for his public labours, whom his services on occa
sion of the visit of some foreign sovereign have raised to honours
and to orders. Here we find the vigorous prop of the finances, or
that ' rara avis,' a man of influence near the throne, yet as full of mo
desty as of merit: there a vegetating Excellent, who knows noother
occupation than that of going from house to house dishing up anti
quated jokes and jeux de mots, which for half a century have enjoy
ed the uninterrupted privilege of delighting ' la creme de la bonnie
societe' in the capital. Next we see it in the person of one who is
equally delightful as man and as poet, and who has never trodden
any but the straight forward path. A little further we recognize it
in the form of a less brilliant but more comprehensive genius, which,
although consecrated to Themis, has an acute eye for the glories of
the theatrical, as well as the celestial stars. This Proteus then trans
forms itself into a Cameralist, celebrated for his breed of sheep and
his political economy, who manures his fields; — then into a physi
cian, who performs a similar good office on the churchyard. It is
also to be found in the invincible Landwehr; nay even the post,t
the lottery, &c, cannot exist without it The court-philosopher, and
court-theologian, all shake hands as Geheime Rathe; for so they are,
have been, or shall be hereafter: in short, no nation under the sun
is more richly provided with counsel, and truly of the most privy
kind; for such is the modesty of these countless counsellors, that
many of them keep their talents buried in the most profound se
crecy. It is, hovvever, a real pleasure to see with what unconstrained and
touching ' bonhommie' they bandy titles and compliments, every one
exalting the other, and awaiting in return a grateful reciprocity of
good offices.
The various adjuncts and applications of the poor word geboren
(born) must doubtless for ever remain a mystical enigma to all fo-
* By S  , the author apparently means Berlin. — Trans.
f In everv nation the post ought to be extra-post. Many people indeed regret
that the greater part of the State-machine is not driven by it. This might give it
a jog, and put an end to the halt which it has made for half a century. — Editor.
41

322 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
reigners who endeavour to acquire the German language. Without
plunging deeper into this labyrinth, I will only mention for their
information, that with us the meanest beggar will no longer conde
scend to be merely geboren; that. Edelgeboren/* (nobly born) begins to
be a sensible affront to the lower order of official persons; and Wohl-
geboren (well born) no less so to the higher, but not noble function
aries. For my part, I am very careful to write to my tailor,
" Hochwohlgeborner He'rr" (High-well-born Sir.) He was more
over a very distinguished man, a descendant of our old friend Ro
binson Crusoe, who has attained to historic importance by the daring
and inimitable cut of uniforms: he was therefore deserving, at the
least, of an order of merit t
That no restraint may be imposed on this arbitrary distribution and
assumption of titles, matters are so favourably arranged, that with
all this avidity for rank, there exists no real and fixed order of rank,
either determined by the court, or by birth, or grounded on opinion
and custom, so general and rooted in the nation as to have nearly
the force of law. Sometimes it is birth, oftener place; sometimes
merit, sometimes favour, sometimes irresistible impudence which
seizes precedence wherever accident or circumstances offer it. This
gives occasion to many strange anomalies, which an old nobleman
like myself, a Baron von Tunderdendronk, " qui ne sauroit compter
le nombre de ses anes," as general P  said, cannot understand.
Complaints, affronts, and anxieties are therefore endless in society.
There is only a certain lively and excellent old lady, who has the
sole and proper art of maintaining the first place almost everywhere,
and under all circumstances. She unites great talents with remark
able bodily strength and bravery; and by means of these mingled
advantages, sometimes by wit, sometimes by unimaginable rudeness;
sometimes, when nothing else will do, by a hearty push, she takes
and maintains precedency at court and on all gala occasions. I know
from good authority that Countess Kackelack, at one of our courts
(for you know we have many,) felt herself slighted and aggrieved
by a certain court party, and by the advice of her friend the Starost
von Piickling addressed a petition directly to our upright and equi
table ruler, praying that her place might be officially determined.
It was allotted immediately after that of the Princess Bona, who
(for once, on account of the services of her late husband,) is in pos
session of the first. The Grand-Marshal (Grosswurdentrdger,
Grand-dignity-bearer) Prince Weise, brought her the order, and
added, "But, my dear Countess, you must yield precedence to
Baroness Stolz, for with your slender person what can you do against
her? A single blow from her elbow lames you for ever. Do there-
* The English reader must be told, what to him will sound strangely enough,
that " Wohlgeboren" is a higher title than "Edelgeboren."— Translator.
f I am acquainted with other qualities of this 'artiste,' which would do honour
to many of the ' industriel' noblemen of our time. For instance, he sends in his
bill only once in five years, and is the most magnanimous of creditors. ' Avis aux
lecteurs.'

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 323
fore let her go first; for you know even the police is afraid of her
since the famous challenge she put forth some years ago."
Everything must yield to force; and this shows how difficult it
is to secure precedence to mere merit without universal and declared
rules: — merit is so relative. If a minister or a general is a great
man, — who can deny that the best of cooks, the loveliest of opera-
dancers, has great merit? merit which, as history teaches us, mon
archs and states have recognized and honoured.
In England, where antiquity of title gives precedence (be it re
marked, by-the-by, the safest and best adapted to a monarchy,*) the
great Field Marshal and Prime Minister Wellington must yield pre
cedence to the little Duke of St. Albans, (who is known, indeed,
but not very illustrious,) because the latter is an older Duke; that is
to say, the services of his progenitress Nell Gwynn, an actress and
mistress of Charles II., are of more ancient date than those of the
Duke of Wellington, and consequently entitle her descendants to all
the rights of precedence over the great general.
In our capital it is otherwise. We are generally too well accus
tomed to bad eating to estimate very highly the merits of a good
cook, and are of late universally become so virtuous that nobody has
a mistress. As to rewarding merit, that is a thing which does not
often come under contemplation.!
What really and mainly gives rank and consideration here, is to
be a servant of the state or of the court, ' n'importe lequel et com
ment' " Beati possidentes." The good old German proverb ap
plies here, " When God gives a place, he gives brains to fill it."
The Bureaucracy has taken the place of the Aristocracy, and will
perhaps soon become equally hereditary. Even now the Govern
ment itself cannot dismiss any of its ' employes' without regular
trial and judgment: every man regards his place as his most stable
property, and it is not to be wondered at that place-holders laud this
state of things to the skies. Strange, that nevertheless all states
which have a free constitution, — all, in which it is a recognized prin
ciple that the nation, and not any privileged class — not even that of
its official servants — is the main object, — follow a totally opposite
system .%
* N. B. When the nobility is fitly constituted; that is to say, when it is a true na
tional nobility, such as England in part possesses, or such as Grftvell well describes
in his "Regent." — Editor.
-j- My departed friend doubtless means to apply this to a certain class of function
aries, who, for good reasons, love nothing so well as mediocrity; for if I guess the
scene aright, nowhere is merit more nobly honoured in the highest places. Of this
the whole nation recently saw a most gratifying example in the affectionate respect
paid to a revered statesman, whose merits are as exalted as his station. If there
is a man who doubts of the former, it can be no other than himself. — Editok.
\ If I were not certain that my friend wrote this passage in the year 1827, I
should take it to be a reminiscence of President Jackson's first speech. The Pre
sident proposes that all the public officers of the United States (with very few ex
ceptions) be changed every fifth year. "Eheu jam satis!" What would our
Regierungs R&the (Government counsellors) say to sush a scheme? Entire general
commissions broken up, in the fullest sense of the word, at a blow ! For who knows
whether, at the end of five years, they would be thought worth the money they
cost, and renewed at all? — Editob.

324 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
The middle classes are, in another way, happy in their disregard
ed state: they enjoy their competence 'con amore,' and, as the salt
of life, they indulge themselves now and then with a lawsuit, for
which the ministers of justice afford them every possible facility.
The merchant, whether Christian or prae-Christian, finds his account
in this, and, if he knows how to come at it, useful patronage. Indeed
to have a great deal of money is almost as good as to be a wirklicher
Geheimerath (actual privy counsellor:)* and rich bankers, who keep
a good house, are reckoned among the privileged classes, and not
unfrequently for these high deserts elevated to nobility.
In this manner, all manage to get something; the unfortunate
nobles, especially those of ancient date, are the only people with
whom it goes hard. Without money, without any land of which he
has the free disposal, his titles affording an example of infinite multi
plication, and his hereditary estates of infinite division, without any
share in the legislation, long stripped of his ancient endowments and
benefices, t unnecessarily and unfairly annoyed by the authorities,
his ill-supported claims often bringing upon him not only ridicule
and contempt, but hostility and persecution, the nobleman has, as
member of a Corporation, lost all dignity and importance in the
eyes of the people, and he retains scarcely any other distinction than
that of serving as the only stuff out of which to make chamberlains
and lords in waiting, in the respective courts of the capital; — doubt
less always a most enviable lot.
This last truth is duly known to many; and a great deal of talent
has been displayed thereupon by a celebrated authoress, who was
some time ago engaged in a sort of amicable rivalry with her husband
on the field of romance, — a contest which used to produce two or
three works of that nature, consisting of as many volumes each,
every Leipsig fair, to the great joy of the public. The most extra
ordinary part of the story is, that the works of the husband were
characterized by the overflowing tenderness of a female pen; those
of the wife, on the contrary, by a somewhat unwieldy quantity of
masculine knowledge, a lead which even the alchemical hand of an
amiable and accomplished prince could not turn to gold. The works
of both, especially the former, have outlived their vogue; and the
graceful and child-like simplicity of the Northern heroes, who tilted
at each other with tenderness, looked on their slain friend with clear
blue eyes, and imprinted upon his lips the kiss of peace; nay, even
their wondrous steeds, who galloped over precipitous crags and
swam after their lords through seas, have been forced, spite of all their
* Privy counsellors who have any functions, are distinguished from those who
have none by the addition to their title of wirklicher (real, actual).  Transi.
f The intention of this law was noble and liberal, though it cut the knot rather
roughly. But how _ has it been executed? A book might be written, ought to be
written, on this subject. The execution of this business is precisely in the style of
a certain Herr von Wanze, who, in the disguise of a farmer, taught the opulent
peasant Pharao at Kirmesse.* "You put down your money," said he, "and I
deal the cards right and left. What falls to the left I win; what falls to the right
you lose." — Editor. * A village festival —Trcmsl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 325
marvellous gifts, to give way to Walter Scott's unbreeched High
landers. The poetical young lords of the chamber, and the learned tea-par
ties of the noble lady, had long before been deserted as somewhat
insipid. In such a tea-party did Ahasverus, (as we read in the me
moirs of the Devil,) after his long and restless wanderings, first find
repose, and sink into a refreshing sleep. Since that time, the thick
volumes of the distinguished authoress have dwindled to small tales,
— pretty ephemera, — which live but a day indeed, but are well re
quited by the honour of circulating exclusively in courts and ante
chambers, among princes, ladies in waiting, and maids of honour,
lords of the chamber, equerries and grooms of the chambers (for
nothing within the precinct of a court is to be treated lightly.)
Haunted rooms were lately introduced, but the ghosts were so dull
and fades, so like white-washed boards, ' avec un bel airde famille,'
that the utmost they could do was to make one think of a cold shud
der, never to excite one. The most piquant of all these stories was
unquestionably that which ' persiflloit' fhe society of the capital, in
which poor Viola played a very suspicious part, and a fashionable
lady was introduced, who sold her for a large sum to an illustrious
person. This story was justly called moral, for it excited in every
person of good feeling, who read it, detestation of calumny and of
hasty condemnations. The ill-natured, however, were delighted
with it for other reasons; and so in one way or other it was not with
out value. It might fairly be called a master-piece when compared
with the "tales of the middle ages," full of virtue and distress, of
Christianity and indecency, of Italianism and Germanism, which the
necessities of journal and almanack-literature call into existence by
myriads, and of which we may say with Schiller, "When people
are gorged with vice, set virtue on the table." These do not reach
either the one or the other; but, from the beginning to the end, one
suffers the moral ' pendant' of a so-called medical cure by nausea.
After enduring all sorts of allusions, the whole thing burns in the
pan, and so far from being fit to bring to table, the unfortunate
reader is for a long time disgusted with all food whatsoever.*
But to return to the learned and amiable lady, of whom we were
just speaking. At the time I was in those regions, a strange swarm
of insects sported in the wintry sun of her courtly and literary cele
brity, ycleped in the great world a coterie, which, I believe, estab
lishes it as a principle (vvho has not principles now-a-days?), that
nobles have really and truly a different sort of blood in their veins
from that of other men; and that if a common tree can be ennobled
* It is but fair, however, to say that the exceptions to this description are many.
When for instance Gothe does not disdain to send forth "a man of forty" among;
the minors; when Tieck takes pity upon us, and gives us a real genuine " Novelle,-"
when L. Shefer moves our heart and spirit by his wild lightnings; Kruse makes a
criminal trial graceful and attractive; or some Therese, Friederike, &c. discloses
the otherwise impenetrable mysteries of the female heart (not to mention the varied
merits of our other best tale-writers); — it is evident that there are workmen who
could supply excellent and perfect wares if the whole manufacture were not spoil
ed by the established machinery. — Editor.

326 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
at all, it can be only by the process of grafting; for instance, by the
insertion of some illegitimate scion of a noble stock. They teach that
this nobility should remain, before all things, pure and distinct; it
must dishonour itself neither by trade nor by any speculations of
public utility, which latter offence has lately been denounced as the
cause of the decay of the nobility of the land by a certain Frau von
Tonne in a very voluminous work. To dabble a little in authorship
and artistship is lawful (even for money, nay for burghers' money,)
seeing that artists* occupy a sort of middle region between the no
ble and the bourgeois. A constitutional high nobility and a repre
sentative government are by no means to the taste of this party; from
the very natural reason that under any such terrible system, men,
the date of whose nobility is known to nobody but themselves, and
whose encumbered estates are split up into portions of microscopic
invisibility, would be condemned to the horror of being compelled
to take their seat in the Chamber of Commons (where else ?). Who
can blame them, therefore, under circumstances, for preferring the
chambers of princes, especially if they can lord it there? Which
Heaven forfend ! lt is to be hoped they will remain merely titular,
and not actual privy counsellors and lords of the bedchamber. Evening.
I could bear no longer to sit still in my room, while the castle op
posite to my windows tempted me forth. As soon therefore as
A  had taken his departure, I procured a mountain pony and
rode out in high spirits. This remarkable edifice was built by the
proprietor of the slate quarries, situated about three miles distant,
which bring him a yearly income of 40,000/. He has laid out a
part in the most delightful situation on the sea-shore; and has pur
sued the strange but admirably executed idea of erecting every
building within its enclosure in the old Saxon style of architecture.
The English falsely ascribe the introduction of this style to the An
glo-Saxons: it arose in the time of the emperors of Saxon line; and
it is quite certain that none of the numerous Saxon remains are to
be traced to an earlier date. The high wall, which surrounds the
park in a circuit of at teast a German mile, has a very singular ap
pearance; pointed masses of slate three or four feet high, and of ir
regular shape, are built upright into the top of the wall. At every
entrance a fortress-like gate with a portcullis frowns on the intruder,
— no inapt symbol, by-the-by, of the illiberality of the present race
of Englishmen, who shut their parks and gardens more closely than
we do our sitting-rooms. The favoured visitor must then cross a
drawbridge before he passes the gate-way of the imposing castle.
The black marble of the island of Anglesea, rudely hewn, harmo
nizes admirably with the majestic character of the surrounding sce
nery. The pure Saxon style is preserved in the minutest details,
* It is only in English that the word artist is absurdly restricted to painters,
sculptors, and engravers. An artist is, in the German sense, a man who cultivates
the fine arts, — poetry, painting, music, &c, — Thaitsl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 327
even in the servants' rooms and meanest parts of the building. In
the eating-hall I found an imitation of the castle of William the Con
queror, at Rochester, which I formerly described to you. What
could then be accomplished only by a mighty monarch, is now exe
cuted, as a plaything, — only with increased size, magnificence and
expense, — by a simple country-gentleman, whose father very likely
sold cheeses. So do times change!
The ground-plan of the building, which the architect had the po
liteness to show me, gave occasion to certain'domestic details, which
I am glad to be able to communicate to you; because nearly all large
English country-houses are constructed on the same plan; and be
cause in this, as in many other things, the nice perception of the
useful and commodious, the exquisite adaptation of means to ends,
which distinguishes the English, is conspicuous. The servants never
wait in the ante-room, — here called the hall, — which, like the over
ture of an opera, is designed to express the character of the whole:
it is generally decorated with statues or pictures, and, like the ele
gant staircase and the various apartments, is appropriated to the use
of the family and guests, who have the good taste rather to wait on
themselves than to have an attendant spirit always at their heels.
The servants live in a large room in a remote part of the house,
generally on the ground-floor, where all, male and female, eat to
gether, and where the bells of the whole house are placed. They
are suspended in a row on the wall, numbered so that it is immedi
ately seen in what room any one has rung: a sort of pendulum* is
attached to each, which continues to vibrate for ten minutes after the
sound has ceased to remind the sluggish of their duty. The females
of the establishment have also a large common room, in which, when
they have nothing else to do, they sew, knit, and spin: close to this,
is a closet for washing the glass and china which comes within their
province. Each of them, as well as of the man-servants, has her
separate bed-chamber in the highest story. Only the ' housekeeper'
and the ' butler' have distinct apartments below. Immediately ad
joining that of the housekeeper, is a room where coffee is made, and
the store-room containing everything requisite for breakfast, which
important meal, in England, belongs specially to her department.
On the other side of the building is the washing establishment, with
a small court-yard attached; it consists of three rooms, the first for
washing, the second for ironing, the third, which is considerably
loftier, and heated by steam, for drying the linen in bad weather.
Near the butler's room is his pantry, a spacious fire-proof room, with
closets on every side for the reception of the plate, which he cleans
here, and the glass and china used at dinner, which must be deliver
ed back into his custody as soon as it is washed by the women. All
these arrangements are executed with the greatest punctuality. A
locked staircase leads from the pantry into the beer and wine cellar,
which is likewise under the butler's jurisdiction.
* This pendulum may be used by acute servants as a sort of thermo- or hygro
meter of the patience of their respective masters and mistresses. — Editor.

328 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
I followed a very romantic road, which led me through the park,
and then along the bank of a beautifully wooded mountain stream,
and in about an hour arrived at the slate quarry, which lies in the
midst of the mountains, six miles from the castle. From what I
have already told you, you may imagine what a vast work this is.
Five or six high terraces of great extent rise one above another on
the side of the mountain; along these swarm men, machines, trains
of a hundred wagons attached together and rolling rapidly along the
iron railways, cranes drawing up heavy loads, water courses, &c. It
took me a considerable time to give even a hasty glance at this busy
and complicated scene. In order to reach a remote part of the works,
where they were then blasting rocks with gunpowder,— a process
which I had a great desire to see, — I was obliged to lie down in one
of the little iron wagons which serve for the conveyance of the slate,
and are drawn by means of a windlass through a gallery hewn in the
solid rock, only four feet in height, four hundred paces in length, and
pitch dark. It is a most disagreeable sensation to be dragged through
this narrow passage at full speed, and in Egyptian darkness, after
having had ample opportunity of seeing at the entrance the thousand
abrupt jagged projections by which one is surrounded. Few stran
gers make the experiment, spite of the tranquillizing assurances of
the guide who rides before. It is impossible to get rid of the idea
that if one came in contact with any of these salient points, one
would, in all probability, make one's egress without a head. After
passing through this gallery, I had to walk along a path at the- edge
of *the precipice, only two feet wide, and without any railing or de
fence ; then to pass through a second low cavern, when I reached
the fearfully magnificent scene of operations.
It was like a subterranean world! Above the blasted walls of slate,
smooth as a mirror, and several hundred feet high, scarcely enough
of the blue heaven was visible to enable me to distinguish mid-day
from twilight. The earth on which we stood was likewise blasted
rock; just in the middle was a deep cleft six or eight feet wide.
Some children of the workmen were amusing themselves in leaping
across this chasm, for the sake of earning a few pence. The per
pendicular sides were hung with men, who looked like dark birds,
striking the rock with their long picks, and throwing down masses
of slate which fell with a aharp and clattering sound. But on a sud
den the whole mountain seemed to totter, loud cries of warning re
echoed from various points, — the mine was sprung. A large mass
of rock loosened itself slowly and majestically from above, fell down
with a mighty plunge, and while dust and splinters darkened the air
like smoke, the thunder rang around in wild echoes. These opera
tions, which are of almost daily necessity in one part or other of the
quarry, are so dangerous, that, according to the statement of the
overseer himself, they calculate on an average of an hundred and
fifty men wounded, and seven or eight killed in a year. An hospi
tal, exclusively devoted to the workmen on this property, receives
the wounded; and on my way I had met, without being aware of it,
the body of one who had fallen the clay before yesterday; ' car c'est

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 329
comme un champ de bataille.' The people who escorted it were so
smartly dressed and so decorated with flowers, that I at first took
the procession for a wedding, and was shocked when, in answer to
my inquiry for the bridegroom, one of the attendants pointed in
silence to the coffin which followed at some distance. The overseer
assured me that half these accidents were owing to the indifference
of the men, who are too careless to remove in time, and to a sufficient
distance, though at every explosion they have full warning given
them. The slate invariably splits in sharp-edged flakes, so that an
inconsiderable piece thrown to a great distance, is often sufficient to
cut a man's hand, leg, or even head, clean off". On one occasion, this
last, as I was assured, actually happened.
As we ourselves were not far enough from the ' foyer,' I instantly
obeyed the signal, and turned on the left through the infernal gal
lery, to inspect the more peaceful operations: these are extremely
varied and interesting. Paper cannot be cut more neatly and rapidly
than slates are here; and no deal board can split more easily and de
licately than the blocks which the workmen with one single stroke
of the mallet divide into slices, from three to four feet in breadth,
as thin as the thinnest pasteboard. The rough blocks come from the
region I have just described, down Parisian ' montagnes russes' to
the stone-hewers; and, as in those, the downward impetus of the
loaded wagons sends them up again when empty. The iron railways
are not here, as they commonly are, concave, but convex, and the
wagon wheels correspond. July 11th.
The day has passed in rest, writing, and reading; so that it affords
few materials. But before I go to bed I must indulge the delightful
habit of chatting with you. I was just thinking of home, and our
honoured friend L  , who is now travelling, and has sent me a
whole volume of his former lucubrations. Shall I send you a spe
cimen? Listen then.
"REFLECTIONS OP A PIOUS SOUL OP SANDOM1R, OR SANDOMICH.*
" 1. On occasion of the quantity of Schnapps drunk at my ex
pense by the Saxon postilions.
"How much better is our country in all respects than any other!
Really one witnesses strange things! For instance, it is certainly
an extraordinary circumstance,-^and yet after repeated experience I
cannot doubt it, — that when the horses here are tired and lazy,
(which alas! is too often the case,) the postilion has only to drink
Schnapps, to render them brisk and active. The wisdom of Nature
and her hidden powers are unfathomable! The above-mentioned
* The inhabitants themselves cannot perfectly decide which termination is the
rightf T This is ajoke which will be understood only by thosewhoare acquainted with the peculiaritiesof
the Berlin dialect. The inhabitants conUnually confound verbs which govern the dative 7mV(to me,) with
those which require the accusative mich (me ;) for which they are much laughed at by the rest of Ger
many. The first syllable of course alludes to the sandy plain in which Berlin stands. — Transl.
42

330 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
phenomenon may perhaps be elucidated by the well-known fact, that
wine begins to ferment in the cask when the vine blossoms.* At
the last stage before Torgau, my companion Count S  , Lieute
nant of the Guards, from Potsdam, upon whom the light of Grace
hath not yet broken, and who consequently is unduly moved by
worldly things, was so angry with the postilion that he shook his
stick at him, and called him a Saxon dog. '0 Lord! no, sir,' an
swered the fellow stupidly; ' there you're mistaken — we have been
Prussian dogs these ten years and more.' This is a plain proof that
the people here are entirely destitute of that high civilization which
prevails among us.
" 2. After my signal deliverance on the 6th of July, 1S27.
" For four weeks I have not been able to write! With thankful
ness and deep inward feeling I now take up my pen for the first
time, to set forth the wonderful dispensation 1 have experienced.
As I was travelling to M  last month, I was overturned directly
before the door of the toll-house, and broke my right arm. My first
exclamation — I confess it to my shame — was a shocking curse: but
my second, thanks, fervent thanks to the Creator that I had broken
my arm and not my neck. In such events we clearly perceive the
' unfathomable ways' and the protecting arm of Providence, which
is ever at hand to help us at the moment of need. Did not my life
hang upon a hair? and was it not the Lord's pleasure herein to give
me an -impressive proof that it depends on him alone to close my
eyes for ever, or still to preserve my young life, which perhaps (for
what is impossible to him?) is reserved for great and weighty things?
Yes, ye philosophers, with heartfelt joy and triumph do I feel it,
Faith alone makes us happy.
" 3. On occasion of my being nearly drowned in the Elbe, near
Torgau. " Certain it is that we ought not to venture into the water till we
can swim, as a Grecian sage hath very justly remarked. I was so
imprudent as to bathe yesterday without having acquired this art,
(for I ever kept myself far aloof from all revolutionary gymnastics
and exercises of that sort,) and being seized with cramp in the calf
of my leg, and consequently somewhat frightened, I should perhaps
now be among the dead, had it not been for a man whom Heaven
led in this direction, exactly at this time, for my preservation.
Can I be blind at such repeated proofs of special interposition in my
favour? The whole Elbe is, nevertheless, become rather disagree
able to me. I strive with this as a blameable feeling, since we ought
to recollect how useful this river is to many of our fellow-creatures.t
The remark has I believe been made before, but it nevertheless is
not the less worthy of attention— that wherever we find a large city,
we almost invariably find a great river by the side of it;— but so
* _N. B. Not to forget to ask our learned Professor Blindemann what he thinks of
this interpretation.
f Among others, to the Commissioners of the Elbe Navigation, who have just
made such a noble end of their labours, and have all received Orders for the same.
I wonder whether Providence will also bestow an Order on me?

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 331
wisely, so graciously has a kind Providence arranged all things for
our good, though we men acknowledge it but too seldom! Yes,
Nature, like a good mother, has taken care for all. To the bee she
gave her sting, to the beaver his tail, to the lion his strength, to the
ass patience; but to man his lofty understanding, and — on subjects
which this, with our deceitful reason, cannot reach — divine revela
tions. 0 how thankful do I always feel when I think rightly on
this! I, who moreover have so much more cause than numbers of
my brethren to be thankful for the manifold bodily and mental ad
vantages I enjoy. May I never forget them! — Amen.
"4. On occasion of my being forced to pay Abraham the Jew
my twice prolonged bill, with ' ulterum tanlum.'
" I have been sorely disquieted by the doubt, whether the Jews
are really to remain to the end of the world; and, in spite of the
curse which lies upon them, scattered and oppressed as they are on
earth, to continue for ever to cheat us so astonishingly as they do.
"Yet is not this very doubt a sin? since we are assured in many
holy books that this will certainly be the case. Besides, the conver
sion of these misguided wretches is now proceeding from our coun
try, whence the greatest light formerly went forth. But alas! here
a new fearful doubt besets me: Will all the inhabitants of the earth
ever be called Christians? It is indeed so declared: but in the course
of my learned studies I lately met with a calculation which, to my
horror, showed me that out of eight hundred millions of souls on the
earth, only two hundred millions are called by the true name. Let
us hope, however, that the worthy and admirable Bible Societies will
do their part, and not weary. The English cannot be truly in earnest
in this matter, seeing that as yet they have hardly made a convert
in India. It is probable that they, as usual, have only political ends
in view.* I read lately that a Hindoo audaciously answered a mis-
* To add a word in earnest: I would ask, who does not honour the humane mo
tives which gave rise to the Bible and Missionary societies? But are these, even were
they not subject, as unfortunately too often happens, to the most scandalous abuses,
the right means to the end? The result in almost every case teaches us the direct
contrary. It ought to be considered that God sent Christianity as the second cove
nant; the first was based entirely upon earthly interests and despotic power.
If I did not fear to appear to treat the matter too lightly, I should almost be in
clined to say that we ought to begin by converting savages into Jews, before we at
tempt to make them Christians. This would also harmonize in a peculiar way with
that powerful lever, commercial interest. Men would be civihzed much more
quickly by the business of buying and selling, than by Paul's Epistles to the Corin
thians. This might also serve as an index or guide; and the conformity of such a course
with the laws of nature would be proved by repeated experience, wherever the
same process were to be gone through. To try to make men Christians who are in so
low a state of civilization as the almost merely animal inhabitants of parts of Africa,
appears to me nearly as unreasonable as to send teachers of European languages
to the apes. To this stage of human culture two things are applicable, self-interest,
and force beneficently employed: and in this point of view, even conversions by
the sword are not so injudicious and absurd as those by Bible Societies; always pro
vided, that they are accomplished without unnecessaiy cruelty, and undertaken
from truly benevolent motives.f (It is assumed, be it observed, that we have a vo-
f It cannot be denied that the most efficient attempts at conversion, and those which left the most
permanent consequences, were those of Charlemagne, and o( the Spaniards in South America. It was
only a pity that the Spaniards forced their own idolatry upon men who were, in act, better Christians
than themselves.

332 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
sionary who was trying to convert him, 'I shall not suffer myself to
be converted to Christianity by you, till you consent to be converted
to the religion of Brama by me. I believe in the truth of my reli
gion, as you believe in the truth of yours ; and what is right for one,
is fair for the other. Some fables and abuses may perhaps have
crept into. both, but they are of the same family.' What dreadful
views! I myself, who, — I say it without vain-glory, — persuaded an
old Jew, whose trade had fallen off, to be baptized, (for which I
still allow him a pension,) sought also to contribute my mite by the
spiritual change of a real Indian, who after many wonderful adven
tures had been driven into our hyperborean regions, where the
Herrnhuters had long, though vainly, laboured at his conversion.
He heard me very patiently; and, to say the truth, I was so carried
away by the momentous nature of the circumstance, that I wonder
ed at my own eloquence. But what was the result? he smiled at
me, took my gift, shook his head like a Chinese idol, and left me
without an answer.
" P. S. I have just heard, to my inexpressible horror, that, the
Jew I converted is dead; and being seized on his death-bed by pangs
of conscience (would anybody think it possible?) turned Jew again.
" 5. On returning from Madame R  's funeral.
" A most remarkable incident occurred here a few days ago.
About ten years since a pretty and, what is far more important, a
cation and a right to endeavour to raise people to our stage of civilization without
any will of theirs; but this we shall not discuss here.)
The other method, namely, to work upon savages by their own present and ob
vious interest, can be accomplished only by trade, and appears the most just and
mild of all; but it must also be accompanied by a certain degree of compulsion and
constraint, to produce any rapid and permanent results. The worst effect of tlie
attempts to hasten on the universality of Christianity is doubtless this; that as soon
as the savages come in collision with Christians, they must perceive that the lat
ter, — whether governments, corporations, or individuals — while they preach benevo
lence, do in fact, in almost every case, acthostilely both to each other and to them.
Their simple understandings, which are not rectified by higher culture, can in-no
way reconcile this contradiction. And as they, like children, take in little of a new
faith but the mythos, it is not much to be wondered at if the liberals or freethinkers
among them exclaim, " Fable for fable, murder for murder, slave-dealing for slave-
dealing, where is the difference?" Had the Christian powers really abolished the
slave-trade, and destroyed the nests of robbers which, to the shame of Europe, still
exist on the coast of Africa; — had England, instead of sending one solitary traveller
after another (men who made themselves ridiculous and contemptible by displaying
their Anglo-Christian arrogance without the means of supporting it,) to be assassi
nated by the natives, or to die of the climate, — sent into tlie interior an expedition
fitted to command respect, and seasoned by a previous residence on the coast; —
had this expedition been so constituted as, by its dignity and by beneficent compul
sion, to give a more humane character to trade; and had it sought to remove all ob
stacles to this object, even were it sometimes by force of arms;  it is indubitable
that a great part of Africa would at this moment be infinitely more civilized than it
will be by centuries of missions and Bible importations. Some may ask, ' A quoi
bon tout cela?' others, what right we have to meddle in other people's affairs? The
answer to these questions would lead us too far. For my own part, I confess I so
far agree with the Jesuits, that 1 acknowledge that a noble end, — that is, a project
calculated for the greatest possible advantage of others^ and united with the power
of carrying it into effect, — sanctifies all appropriate means which are, in the same
sense, noble, so far at least as open force is concerned; for deceit, treachery, and
dishonesty can never lead to good. — Edit.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 333
pious young woman served in a confectioner's shop. Although ex
posed by her sweet occupation to many temptations, (for all young
men who frequent confectioners' shops have not my morals,) she
would listen to no one; and found all her pleasure in godliness. She
never missed a prayer-meeting at President S  's, or at any other
house where she could gain admittance; and above all, went to
church at least once every Sunday. One Sunday however, (it was St.
Martin's day if I mistake not,) she forgot her duty and staid at home,
busied with worldly attire. Then did the Tempter draw near in
the form of a young man, to whom she had long been secretly at
tached. It seems probable that on that fatal day he made great ad
vances in her favour, since they were shortly after married. At first
they lived very happily, and had several children. By degrees she
exhibited a sensible falling off in piety, in consequence of the cares
and distractions of married life. The unhappy woman appeared
greatly attached to her duties as wife and mother, and henceforth
preferred them to the comfort of prayer-meetings and pious read
ings. But the consequences of her carnal-mindedness soon appear
ed: her husband was/assailed by numerous and, as I am assured,
otherwise undeserved misfortunes; some of her children died; the
whole family fell into poverty; and the husband, at length, into the
deepest melancholy. Last Sunday, exactly on the tenth anniversary
of that fatal Sunday on which the misguided girl did not go to
church, her husband in a paroxysm of madness horribly murdered
himself and his wife. — Here may be seen that the divine wrath if
slow, is so much the more sure. I refrain from all severe animad
versions: — but he who is not rendered serious by this warning, who
does not see how sinful and dangerous it is to neglect, even for once,
regular attendance at church, is truly an object of my pity. He can
be made wise only by his own suffering; and well is it for him if he
become so in time!
" 6. On my last disappointment at D  .

" I am very unfortunate in love, — a circumstance which it is diffi
cult to understand ; but it is nevertheless true that another of my best
laid plans has miscarried!
" For a long time I had loved Miss M  with all the fire of my
impetuous character. I did not venture to declare it ; but my eyes,
which I fixed upon her for hours with languishing tenderness, spoke
too plainly not to be understood. Nevertheless, I had never been
able to win aught but a scornful smile from my adored fair ; when
an important epoch, viz. her eighteenth birthday, arrived. I deter
mined now to lay storm to her heart by some distinguished act of
gallantry — which I could do with the greater propriety, and without
any stings of conscience, since I never entertain any but the most
virtuous designs. I now meditated long what to choose ; — roses,
and all sorts of botanical presents, as fruit and the like, are so com
mon-place; — dress would not do, for that would have looked like an
insinuation that I thought her vain; — still less could I offer her any
thing costly, which would have appeared an indirect accusation of a

334 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
mercenary spirit: I dared not choose a pious hymn-book, or other
godly work, lest I should sinfully profane what is holy by using it
with an earthly aim; — no, it must be something tender, and contain
ing a delicate allusion to our situation. Suddenly, like a flash of
lightning in a dark night, the thought occurred to me that the season
of new herrings was at hand. The word electrified me, and, with
the wonted rapidity of my conceptions, I instantly saw the meaning
which lay hidden. I immediately sent an estafette to Berlin, where,
as is well known, everything new is to be had, in order, if possible,
to get the above-mentioned creatures of the Lord before the annual
advertisement of them appeared in the two blotting-paper journals of
that city. Everything succeeded according to my wishes: — ere
many days had elapsed, a couple lay before me. I had them laid
upon some leaves of artificial ' forget-me-not,' instead of parsley, and
once more reflected upon all that their mute language (I mean the
herrings') could convey.
"It would perhaps appear too far-fetched were I to urge how her
ring resembles hymen ; these words having clearly an etymological
relation, since both begin with a great H,* and a little n occurs in
both. But there was one circumstance which spoke plainer, viz.
that they were a couple — the principal point of view from which they
were to be regarded. The blue colour, which reminds us of heaven,
signified our mutual gentleness and meekness ; and the strong salt
wherewith they were salted, the acuteness of our understandings, and
our attic wit. The unfading leaves cried aloud, ' Forget me not!' and
at the same time clearly alluded to that never-fading delight we should
find in each other! But in my opinion the crown of the whole was
the pretty play of words which is in the name itself — herring — here-
ring. It was impossible for me to declare my love and my honour
able intentions more plainly, and at the same time more delicately,
(in every sense of the word, for new herrings are a great delicacy
in Prussia and Saxony.) To make all doubly sure, however, 1 laid
on them a beautiful rose, painted and cut out of Chinese rice-paper,
in the leaves of which I concealed with a trembling hand the first
effort of my youthful muse, in which I expressed all these tender
and delicate ideas.
"Who could believe that all would be in vain! The mother an
swered me in plain prose, briefly and carelessly, that her daughter
was very sorry that she had ahvays had an idiosyncratical antipathy
to herrings ; so strong indeed, that she had not been able to sit out
the last play of the celebrated Wilibald Alexis, having accidentally
heard that his real name was Herring. She therefore sent me back
my fish and the accompanying poetry, with many thanks for my good
intentions. " Happily, godliness consoles a spirit truly possessed by it for
everything ; but I was obliged to read the Bible two hours before I
recovered my accustomed patience and composure. I read for my
edification the history of Jonas ; and although the whale which swal-
* In German all substantives begin with a capital letter. — Tbansl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 335
lowed him was so very large, it continually disappeared in my fancy
before the luckless herrings.
" In my anger (which alas! I have not yet completely conquered)
I must now censure some things in the two blotting-paper periodicals
above mentioned. They ought not only to strive after a more cor
rect orthography in their advertisements, but to pay some attention
to the sense. In a collection of national curiosities made by a Berlin
friend of mine, I find two of the above-named newspapers, contain
ing the two following notices of deaths inserted by the same unfortu
nate father; and an old advertisement of a concert.
1. 'This day the Lord, on his journey through Tettow, took to
himself my youngest son Fritz, with his teeth.
2. (A month later.) ' This day the Lord again took to himself
my daughter Agnes to eternal blessedness. '
3. ' On Monday a concert will be given at the theatre. The receipts
are to serve as the basis of a fund destined for the support of our
countrymen who fell in defence of their country.'
" Now I ask anybody whether this is not making death ludicrous,
— certainly a grievous sin, even when done unintentionally."
So far friend L  .
But the night grows pale — already the morning dawns. I must
say therefore, like Moore, it is day — therefore good night. I send
you this long letter, which an acquaintance takes to London to-mor
row morning, through our embassy ; and with it a hearty kiss, which
I hope the P  custom-house will suffer to pass undisputed.
Your faithful L  .

LETTER XXVI.
Caernarvon, July 19th, 1S2S.
My Beloved Friend,
I am now returned, dog-tired, from ascending Snowdon, the
highest mountain in England, Scotland, and Wales; which indeed
is not saying much. Excuse me till morning, when I will give you
a faithful relation of my ' fata.' Meantime, good night. July 20th.
As soon as I had committed the packet for you to Mr. S-

with the strongest injunctions to care, I left Bangor as quickly as
four post-horses could convey me. On the way I visited some iron-
foundries, which, however, I shall spare you, as I observed notiiing
new in them. I was rather unwell when I arrived at the inn at
Caernarvon, where a most beautiful girl with long black hair, the
daughter of the absent host, did the honours with great grace and
sweetness. The following morning at 9 o'clock I set out in tolerable
weather on a ' char-a-banc,' drawn by two horses of the country.
My driver was a little boy who did not understand a word of Eng
lish. He drove like mad, ' en train de chasse,' over the narrow

336 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
cross-roads of this rocky country. All my shouts and expostulations
were vain, or seemed to be interpreted by him in the very contrary
sense from what I intended; so that we went nine miles from the
lake of Llanberis in less than half an hour, over stock and stone: I
do not understand how the horses and carriage bore it. By the fish
ermen's huts which lie scattered along the shore, I found a gentler
mode of conveyance, a pretty little boat, in which I embarked with
two robust mountaineers. Snowdon now lay before us, but unfor
tunately had, as the country-people say, put on his night-cap, while
the lower mountains around shone in the brightest sunshine. It is
not more than about four thousand feet high, but has a very imposing
aspect, in consequence of its immediate rise from the shore of the
lake, whereas most other mountains of the same class spring from a
base of considerable elevation. From the point where we embarked,
to the little inn at the foot of Snowdon, the lake is three miles over;
and as the wind was very high, our voyage was rough and tedious.
The water of the lake is black as ink; the mountains bare and
strewed with rock, and only varied by occasional small green glens:
here and there are a few stunted trees, but the general aspect is wild
and desert. Not far from the small church of Llanberis is the so-
called Holy Well, inhabited by a solitary trout of enormous size,
who has for centuries been exhibited to strangers. Frequently, how
ever, he will not be tempted from his hiding-place ; and the coun
try-people think it an unlucky omen if he appears immediately. As
I am an enemy of all oracles, I did not visit it. My companions
also told me a history of a wondrous amazon of gigantic strength,
who long led a wild masculine sort of life here: and described to me
certain enormous bees, which the Welsh admire and venerate so
much that they think them natives of Paradise. Excellent salmon
are caught here: the manner of catching them is strange ; they are
hunted by small dogs trained to the sport, who drag them out of the
mud into which they occasionally creep.
As soon as I arrived at the inn I secured a ' poney' (a small moun
tain horse), and a guide, and hastened to set out, in hope that the
threatening clouds would break about noon. Unfortunately, the
very contrary happened; — it grew darker and darker, and before
I had climbed half an hour, followed by my guide leading the
poney, one uniform mantle enshrouded hill and valley; and a
heavy rain, against which my umbrella did not long protect me,
beat upon us. We at length took refuge in the ruins of an old cas
tle; and after I had laboriously climbed a decayed winding staircase
I reached the remains of a balcony, where I found shelter under a
dense mass of ivy. Everything around me wore an air of profound
gloom ; the crumbling walls, the wind which moaned plaintively
through their fissures, the monotonous dropping of the rain, and the
disagreeable termination of my hopes conspired to throw me into a
melancholy frame of mind. I thought with a sigh, how nothing, —
not even the smallest trifle, — falls out as I wish it ; — how all that I
undertake looks ill-timed and eccentric as soon as /undertake it; so
that everywhere, as here, what others accomplish in light and sun-

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 337
shine, I must toil through in storm and fain. Impatiently I left the
old walls, and once more climbed the mountain. The weather was,
however, now so terrible, and the increasing storm so dangerous
even, that we were once more compelled to seek shelter in a mise
rable ruinous hut. The inside was filled with smoke, in the midst
of which sat an old woman spinning in silence, while some half-
naked children lay on the ground, gnawing dry crusts of bread. The
whole family seemed hardly conscious of my entrance; at least they
made no pause or change in their occupations. For a moment the
children stared stupidly and incuriously at me, and then fell again
into the apathy of wretchedness. I seated myself on the round table,
the only piece of furniture in the house, and once more gave audi
ence to my thoughts, which were not the most exhilarating. Mean
while, as the storm raged more furiously, my guide earnestly ad
vised me to turn back. This would doubtless have been the most rea
sonable course, particularly as we had not yet ascended a third way
up the mountain. But as I had long resolved to drink your health,
dear Julia, on the summit of Snowdon, in champagne, and had
brought a bottle with me from Caernarvon for that express purpose,
it, seemed to me of ill omen to give it up. With the cheerfulness
which a firm determination and fixed purpose, whether in great
things or small, never fails to impart, I said, laughing, to my guide,
" If it were to rain stones instead of water, I would not turn back till
I had been at the fop of Snowdon." I made the poor old woman a
little present, which she received with apathy. The road was be
come extremely difficult; it lay over loose and smooth stones washed
by the rain, or over very slippery turf. I admired how my active
sturdy little beast, shod as he was with smooth English shoes, could
step so securely forward on such a road.
Meanwhile it soon became so piercingly cold, that, drenched as I
was by the rain, I could keep my seat no longer. I am so out of prac
tice in climbing, that I was sometimes nearly overpowered by wea
riness ; but as the Knight in the Romance of old Spiess was cheered
by the sound of the bells of the twelve sleeping virgins, so I was
continually exhorted to perseverance by the " ma — ma" of the
mountain sheep, who were feeding in hundreds on the thin herbage
around me. I thought of our pet lamb at home, and stepped vigor
ously onward, till at the end of an hour I had recovered from my
fatigue, and felt fresher than at setting out. I was not compensated
for my sufferings by the view, for, shrouded as I was in clouds, I
could hardly see twenty paces before me. In this mysterious ' clair
obscur' I reached the wished-for summit, the way to which lies over
a narrow irregular wall of rocks. A pile of stones, in the centre of
which is a wooden pillar, marks the highest point.
I thought 1 met my wraith, a3 a young man emerged from the
mist who precisely resembled me, that is to say what I was when I
wandered over the Swiss Alps sixteen years ago. He had, like my
self, a light knapsack on his back, a sturdy staff in his hand, and a
substantial dress, vvhich may be called the classical costume of moun
tain travellers, cbntrasting as strongly with my London boots, stiff
43

338 LETTERS ON GERMANY?
cravat, and tight frock-coat, as the youthful freshness of his face wifh
the yellow, city hue of mine. He looked like the young son of Na
ture; I like the ' ci-devant jeune homme.' He had ascended the
mountain from the other side, and, without stopping, asked me
eagerly how far it was to the inn and what sort of road it was. As
soon as I had given him the information he desired, he bounded
away over the rocks, singing carelessly, and soon disappeared from
my sight. I scratched my name near a thousand others on a block
of stone, took out the drinking-horn whicli my host had lent me, and
ordered the guide to draw the cork of my bottle of Champagne. It
must have contained an unusual portion of fixed air, for the cork
flew higher than the top of the pillar by which we stood; and you
may therefore, without imitating Munchausen, assert, that when I
drank your health on the 17th of July, 1S28, the cork of the Cham
pagne bottle flew four thousand feet above the level of the sea. I
filled the horn to the foaming brim, and shouted with stentor voice
into the dim obscure, Long life to Julia! with nine times nine (in
the English style). Three times I emptied the cup; and thirsty
and exhausted as I was, never did I relish Champagne more. After
my libation was completed, the prayers I sent up were not words,
but profound emotions; the most fervent amongst which was the
wish, that it might be Heaven's will to grant happiness on earth to
you, and then, ' if possible,' to me; — and see, a pretty lamb sprang
forth from the cloudy veil, and the mist opened and rolled away,
and before us lay the earth suddenly gilded by a momentary gleam
of sunshine. But in a minute the curtain fell again, — an emblem of
my destiny: the beautiful and the desirable — the gilded earth— ap
pear now and then like delusive meteors before me: as soon as I
seek to grasp them, they vapish like dreams.
As there was no hope that the weather would become permanently
clear in these elevated regions, we resolved to return. I found my
self so strengthened that I not only felt no trace of weariness, but
experienced a feeling unknown for years, in which walking and run
ning, so far from being irksome, are in themselves a source of elastic
enjoyment. I sprang, therefore, like my youthful double, so rapid
ly over the rocks and down the wet rushy slopes, that in a few mi
nutes I accomplished a portion of the way which it had taken me an
hour and a half to ascend. I emerged at length from the intermina
ble cloud; and if the prospect were-less magnificent than from the
summit, it still afforded me great delight. It was still about seven
hundred feet above the level of the sea, which lay in boundless ex
tent before me. The Island of Anglesea reposed on its bosom; and
in the mountain-gorges, which intersected each other in every
direction, I counted above twenty small lakes; some dark, some so
brightly illumined by the sun that the eye could scarcely bear to
rest upon their mirror-like surface. Meanwhile the guide had over
taken me; but as I could now perfectly distinguish the 'terrain,'
the evening was beautiful, and I felt no fatigue, I let him and his
clever little horse return home by the straight road, and determined
to take my solitary way across the most striking points, ' et bien

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 339
m'en prit,' for since I was in Switzerland I remember no more de
licious walk. — I followed a defile along the wild pass of Llanberis,
celebrated in the wars between the English and the Welsh, and
where the latter, under their great prince Llewellyn, often, contem
plated the destruction of their foreign invaders, perhaps from the
very spot where I then stood.
The jagged walls of rock which in many places sank perpendicu
larly to the pass, are a good exercise for heads subject to giddiness.
I gradually ascended many considerably peaks of the same kind,
and found only an enjoyment the more in the slight shudder which
my perilous station excited. "L'emotion du danger plait al'homme,"
says Madame de Stael. My solitude was not complete. The moun
tain sheep which I have already mentioned, much smaller than the
ordinary breeds, wild and agile as the chamois, often bounded
before me like roes, and in their flight leaped down crags and preci
pices where it would not have been easy for any one to follow them.
The wool of these sheep is as remarkable for coarseness, as their
flesh for tenderness and delicacy. The London ' gourmands' set a
high value upon it, and maintain that a man who has not eaten roast
mutton from Snowdon has no conception of the ideal in that kind.
I came almost into collision with a large bird of prey, which ho
vering slowly with out-spread wings, had fixed its eyes so intently
on something beneath, and had so little calculated on making my
acquaintance in this impracticable path, that I could almost have
seized him with my hands before he perceived me. He darted
away with the velocity of an arrow, but did not for a moment lose
sight of the object of his eager pursuit; and I saw him for a long
time like a point, poised in the blue ether, till the sun sunk behind
the surrounding mountain.
I now endeavoured to reach the hut at which I had before stopped,
in as straight a line as possible. Not far from it a girl was milking
her cow, which afforded me a refreshing draught. Here too I found
my guide, and thankfully availed myself of his services during the
rest of my way, wrapt in my cloak and resting most luxuriously on
my sure-footed 'poney.' After returning to my inn and changing
my clothes, I set out afresh and embarked on the lake, now splendidly
burnished with the glow of evening. The air was become mild and
soft; fish leaped sportively from the water, and herons wheeled their
graceful flight around the sedgy shores; while here and there a fire
gleamed upon the mountains, and the heavy thunder of blasted
rocks resounded from the distant quarries.
Long had the moon's sickle stood aloft in the deep blue heavens,
when the dark-locked Hebe welcomed me back to Caernarvon. July 21st.
I was still somewhat fatigued by my yesterday's expedition, and
contented myself with a walk to the celebrated castle built by Ed
ward I. the conqueror of Wales, and destroyed by Cromwell. It is
one of the most magnificent ruins in England. The only thing to
regret is, that it stands so near to the town, and not in solitary gran-

340 LETTERS ON GERMANY?
deur amid the mountains. The outer walls, although in ruins, still
form an unbroken line, enclosing nearly three acres of ground. The
interior space, overgrown with grass and filled with rubbish and
with thistles, is nearly eight hundred paces long. It is surrounded
by seven slender but strong towers, of different forms and sizes.
One of them may still be ascended, and I climbed by a crumbling
staircase of a hundred and forty steps to its platform, whence I en
joyed a magnificent view over sea, mountains, and town. On de
scending, my guide showed me the remains of a vaulted chamber, in
which, according to tradition, Edward II., the first prince of Wales,
was born. The Welsh, in consequence of the oppressions of Eng
lish governors in the earlier times of partial and momentary con
quest, had declared to the king that they would obey none but a
prince of their own nation. Edward therefore sent for his wife
Eleanor in the depth of winter that she might lie-in in Caernarvon
castle. She bore a prince: upon which the king summoned the
nobles and chiefs of the land, and asked them solemnly whether
they would submit to the rule of a prince who was born in Wales,
and could not speak a word of English. On their giving a joyful
and surprised assent, he presented to them his new-born son, ex
claiming in broken Welsh, Eich dyn! i. e. " This is your man!"
which has been corrupted into the present motto of the English arms,
Ich Dien.
Over the great gate still stands the statue of Edward, with a crown
on his head and a drawn dagger in his right hand, as if after six cen
turies he were still guarding the crumbling walls of his castle. He
might justly have broken out into indignant complaint at the dese
cration I witnessed. , In the midst of these majestic ruins, a camel
and some monkeys in red jackets were performing their antics, while
a ragged multitude stood shouting and laughing around, unconscious
of the wretched contrast which they formed with these solemn re
mains of past ages.
The tower in which the prince was born is called the Eagle Tower;
not from that circumstance, but from four colossal eagles which
crowned its pinnacles, one of which is still remaining. It is believed
to be Roman, for Caernarvon stands on the site of the ancient Segon-
tium, which .... But I am wandering too far, and am in the high
road to fall into the tone of a tour-writer by profession, who thinks
himself privileged to bore if he does not instruct, although his infor
mation is generally the result of a weary search through road-books
and local descriptions. ' Je n'ai pas cette pretension, vous le savez,
je laisse errer ma plume,' heedless whither it leads me.
The Marquis of Anglesea has lately established a sea-bath here,
which is supplied by a steam-engine, and very elegantly fitted up.
I availed myself of it on my way back from the Castle, and observed
in the entertaining-room a billiard-table of metal set in stone. It is
impossible to desire one more accurate; — whether the steam-engine
performed the office of marking, I forgot to ask. This is by no means
impossible, in a country in which somebody has gravely proposed to
establish steam-waiters in coffee-houses, and in which affairs would

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 341
go on much the same if a forty-horse-power steam-engine sat upon
the throne.
Dear Julia, a traveller must be allowed to speak often and much of
weather and of eating. The Novels of the Illustrious, erst Un
known, or the Illustrious Unknown, derive no inconsiderable part of
their attractions from the masterly pictures of this kind they con
tain. Whose mouth does not water when he sees Dalgetty, the sol
dier of fortune, display at the table a prowess even greater than in
the fight ? I am really not in joke when I assure you that when 1
have lost my appetite, I often read an hour or two in the works of
the Great Unknown, and find it completely restored. To-day I
wanted no stimulus of this or any kind. It was sufficient to see the
most excellent fresh fish and the far-famed ' mountain mutton' smok
ing on the table, to induce me to fall on them with ravenous hunger ;
for a sea-bath and the ascent of Snowdon have a yet greater influ
ence on the stomach than Walter Scott. My dark-locked maiden,
who, as I was the only guest in the house, waited on me herself,
was at length impatient of my reiterated attacks on the mutton; and
said somewhat sullenly that I did nothing but eat, except when I was
rambling about. She was of a much more ethereal nature, and in the
short time I had been here had read through half my portable Novel
library. Every time I saw her she presented me with a newly de
voured volume, and begged so earnestly for another, that I must
have had a hard heart to refuse her. July 22.
A large packet has been sent after me to-day from Bangor. I
vainly searched it for tidings from you ; but could not refrain from
laughing heartily over a letter from L  ¦, who writes to me in
despair at the scrape he is in. He tells me that he suffered his
" Reflections" (the beginning of which I sent you,) to be printed in
fragments, and a certain party which feels itself too sore not to be
over-sensitive 'y a entendu malice.' They have inserted a furious
article against him in the Lamb's Journal ; and poor L  , who
knows the people he has to deal with, is afraid that he will certainly
be rejected at his examination. As this philipic is not long, and is
very characteristic of our times, and as I have a holiday to-day, I shall
transcribe it with some abridgments.
" On the reflections of a pious Soul of Sandomir: A Discourse
by Herr von Frommel, Adjutant of his Highness the Prince
of  . Pronounced in the Nobility's pious Conventicle for
both sexes, at A  , No. 33, Zion Street, May 4th, 1828.
(Reprinted separately, from the Collection, for true Christians.)
" High and high-well-born, pious brethren and sisters! Truly is
it said there be many wolves in sheep's clothing! The author of
these reflections is doubtless the wearer of such a sheepskin. It is
not difficult to discover that under the mask of godliness, and of a
simplicity approaching to silliness, are heard the hissings of that

342 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
same mischievous serpent who seduced our pious mother Eve, who
has since incessantly vented his venom upon our holy Religion, and
still labours to overthrow the throne and the altar. But we, my
brethren, will not resemble our, alas! too credulous Mother, but will
exterminate the satellites of the Devil wherever we find them, with
fire and sword.
" Yes, my friends, you know and are certain that the Devil is,
and lives — not as the unbelieving herd say, in us, as the demon of
anger, of vanity, of hatred, of sin ; — no, bodily he roams over the
earth, like a roaring lion, with goat's horns and a long tail and pes
tilential stench, wherever he chooses to show himself. He who does
not thus believe on the Devil, has no true religion. But wherefore
do I urge this? We are no reasoners — no worldly-wise: here are
none but simple lambs, one flock under one shepherd.
"A warning is, however, necessary; and therefore I now give the
alarm. We have as yet seen only fragments of these poisonous
'Reflections,' and know not how far the author means to go; — but
they are aimed at us; of that there is no doubt; and, God be praised!
we find already enough fully to justify our denouncing him as an
Atheist Is it not obvious that he jests at Providence and its omni
potence ? We hope, we pray, therefore, confidently and earnestly,
that Omnipotence will speedily avenge itself, and give this presump
tuous soul a foretaste of what awaits him in the everlasting flames.
And may the all-merciful God do this promptly and fearfully, that no
innocent lamb of our flock may be led astray by that unclean one.
Certainly, my friends, a fiend, a vampire, an atheist wrote these
words. Nothing is sacred to him. He attacks not alone the Creator
but even the Redeemer of the world.
"Oh my brethren and sisters! horrible — we may reckon upon it
assuredly — horrible will be the lot of such an one at the last day!
when the dead shall arise in the body, and his carnal ear shall hear
again, only to listen to the thunders of the trumpets which announce
to him his eternal damnation. There will be no pity! There will
be weeping and gnashing of teeth! And let us follow that example,
and be inexorable towards him, as will be that eternal condemnation.
" We could scarcely have believed that after all our Christian
labours in our so truly — I say it with pride — Christian city, in
which everything is done to destroy the poison of toleration and of
mad confidence in our own judgment, men could be found amongst
us, who would- dare, unrestrained by all authority, to go their own
way in search of truth; — these freethinkers and heathens spring up
only because the constituted authorities (even our otherwise so active
Censorship at their head) are far too indulgent towards the greatest
of all crimes, unbelief. It would perhaps have been expedient and
beneficial to introduce a moderate Inquisition, together with the new
prayer-book, for the defence of true believers, those genuine Chris
tians, those sole predestined favourites of God, who believe whatever
their King and their Church order, without hesitation or examina
tion. Only such can have any real value for Church or State. Away
then with all others! Be they damned for ever! like all the unbap-

HOLLAND AND ENGLANp. 343
tized children of Jews and Heathens. Oh could we but for ever
expunge from our annals that disgraceful period in which a philoso
pher (and not merely an ideological but a practical philosopher) sat
on a German throne, — and, my Christian brethren, would you be
lieve it? received the name of the Great! The mildest that we, con
verted to the grace of godliness with tears of blood, can now say of
him is, the Lord be merciful to his poor soul ! Long however must
the pious and their sacred legion struggle, before the seed which this
great (!!!) man sowed will be wholly trodden down; before the last
trace of that miserable Reason which he fostered will be entirely
eradicated. Nevertheless, despair not, my Christian brethren; to
such holy zeal as ours nothing is impossible, and this world's re
wards await you in various forms here, from those exalted sources
from which we daily draw; and hereafter yet greater glories in the
Palace of the Lord. Only beware of reasoning, in every shape:
believe — not upon your own inquiry — but as it is prescribed to you;
and above all, beware of Toleration ! Love your Redeemer not only
above all, but solely and alone. But he who is not for him is against
him, and upon such have no mercy. Persecute them without inter
mission. And if this cannot be done openly, undermine him with
calumnies, with secret detraction; yea, shun not the rankest lies,
provided you can disseminate them with security to yourselves; for
remember that the end sanctifies all means. Ah, were we 'but in
such a frame of mind as never to wax cool in our zeal! It is only
because we are luke-warm, that those philosophers have dared to
preach that virtue of heathens, toleration. We have seen to what it
brought us when the delirious raving about freedom seized the mob,
and universal anarchy threatened to overthrow the throne, the church,
our old nobility, and everything venerable. Therefore away with
every thought of mischievous tolerance towards those who think
otherwise! Christ indeed has said, " Bless those who curse you:"
and further, " If any man strike you on one cheek, offer him the
other also." But upon this subject I have my own thoughts. Pas
sages of this sort ought certainly to be differently understood; for
how could they be reconciled with the indispensable, laws of our
station? Does not the honour of our rank,, and of our uniform,
command us instantly and without hesitating, to strike again a man
who should dare to lay hands upon us? Yes, I know not whether
even I, the favourite of my prince, should dare to show myself at
court or in the highest places, after publicly receiving a slap on the
face. It is therefore highly probable that our Saviour intended these
words to be taken with one limitation, — that is, for the common
people, in whom it is unquestionably meritorious when struck on
one cheek, instead of giving way to wrath and bitterness, to offer
the other. Let it be remembered also, that when Christ became
man, he sought out not only a noble but a royal race. And who
knows whether the disciples were really of such mean extraction as
they are represented, and not perhaps men of old Jewish families of
high descent? the matter is wrapt in so much historical darkness.
And doth not Christ say, "My coining is not to bring peace, but

344 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
rather the sword?" These two passages would seem to contradict
each other, if we did not understand that patience is enjoined to one
class and warfare to the other. For is not that the primitive desti
nation of the nobility? — formerly with the sword, now with the pen
and the word. For this cause, my brethren and sisters, strive against
the unbelieving. Gird on the sword of the times, and strive for the
Lord with the Bible and Jacob Bohmen, with the Chamberlain's
Key and the Field Marshal's Baton, with the Prayer-book and the
Surplice. Believe me, my dear friends, soon shall we earn the
fruits of our holy zeal; soon shall we begin to stand on the brazen
floor. " People yield more and more to our secret influence and strong
union: the powerful support which we give to all our fellow-labour
ers when their labours in the vineyard deserve it; the many favours
from exalted sources, of which we are the sharers; above all, the
inexorable piety we are known to possess, hold even the most daring
within bounds, and lay the timid in shoals at our feet.
" But whenever an Antichrist dares to attack us, (and whoever
dares to do so is one,) I exhort you again,— watch, strive, destroy,
and rest not till your victim is fallen. It is all for Charity's sake,
the last effort for a poor erring mortal, to force him, if possible, to
acknowledge Christ. — Amen.
" It will perhaps be agreeable to this noble congregation in Christ,
and moving to their hearts, if I hereby communicate to them, that
we have been so happy in the course of the present month as to
bring seven and a half condemned souls to the true faith, which has
cost us not more than a hundred reichsthalers. As we are obliged to
keep a worldly account of these matters, we have agreed to reckon
children under twelve years of age as half souls. And may Heaven
in like manner bless our further pious efforts, and the disinterested
zeal with which the unconverted are drawn to the lap of Jesus. —
Amen." I had read thus far when the little Eliza appeared with my break
fast, and with an arch good-nature bid me good morning " after my
long sleep." She had just been to church, had all the consciousness
of being well-dressed, and was waiting upon a foreigner; three things
which greatly incline women to be tender-hearted. She accordingly
seemed almost embarrassed when I inquired about my departure
early the following morning; but was soon consoled when I promised
to leave her my travelling library, and to bring her a fresh assort
ment of books in a week.
After dinner I went, under her guidance, to visit the walks around
the town. One of these is most romantically placed on a large rock.
We saw from hence to Snowdon, in almost transparent clearness, un-
dimmed by a single cloud; and I could not restrain some feelings *>f
vexation.at having so exactly missed the right day.
After this pastoral walk, ' tender mutton' closed a day of which I
am sorry to have nothing more interesting to record.
But I now recollect a somewhat singular incident which my host
told me to-day. On the night of the 5th of August, 1820, the boat

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 345
which crosses a ferry at this place was lost, and out of twenty-six
persons only one man was saved. Exactly thirty-seven years before,
the same disaster had occurred, and out of sixty-nine persons only
one survived. What renders the coincidence the more perfect is,
that on both occasions the name of the sole survivor was Hugh Wil
liams. Bangor, July 22nd.
Bangor is also a bathing place; that is, every body may jump into
the sea who likes it. The artificial arrangements for the purpose are
reduced to the private tub-establishment of one old woman, who
lives in a wretched hovel on the shore; and if an order is given an
hour before, heats the sea-water in pots and kettles on her hearth,
and proceeds ' sans facon,' to undress and afterwards to rub down
and dress again any stranger who may come unprovided with a
servant. I entered her hut accidentally, and after I had taken a bath
of this sort, ' pour la rarite du fait,' I hired a boat to take me across
the arm of the sea which divides Wales from the Island of Anglesea.
Here is another castle built by Edward I., and destroyed by Crom
well; it was originally even of greater extent than that at Caernar
von, and covered five acres of ground; but the ruins are less pic
turesque, in consequence of its having lost all its towers. To see it
thoroughly one must walk along the narrow and lofty walls, which
are wholly unprotected. The boy who keeps the keys ran along
like a squirrel; but the barber of the town, who offered his services
as guide when I landed, left me in the lurch at the first step. The
ruin stands in the park of a Mr. Bulkley: with singular bad taste he
has made a tennis-court within its enclosure. His house commands
a very celebrated view. It is, however, far surpassed by one I met
with about a mile and a half further on, from a simple and elegant cot
tage called Craig y Don. This is a true gem, — one of those blessed
spots which leave nothing to wish. It lies between thickly wooded
rocks close to the sea: not too large, but adorned like a boudoir, sur
rounded by the greenest turf, and by the blended beauty of flowers
of all colours; the whole house, with its thatched roof and verandah
tapestried with China roses and blue convolvuluses, forms a picture
which, enclosed as it is between wood and rock, forms the most in
describably beautiful contrast with the sublime scenery around it.
Labyrinthine footpaths wind in all directions through the cool and
shady thicket, subdividing into many and exquisite fragments the
rich treasures of landscape beauty afforded by the situation. Be
neath and in front lies the deep blue sea, whose surf beats against the
sharp pointed rocks upon which I stood; while further away on its
smooth mirror a hundred fishing-boats and other vessels glided to
and fro. Among them I descried the cutter of the proprietor of
Craig y Don lying at anchor, and two steamboats, one of vvhich, far
in the distance, left a long line of smoke, the other, close to shore,
sent up a slender column of white vapour. On the right, a deep bay
stretches into the land, studded with little islands of every character
and form; some clothed with brushwood, others bare and almost
44

346 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
polished by the waves; some covered with little huts, others crown
ed with upright tower-like rocks. On turning again toward the
strait, and following its gradual contraction, my eye rested with
amazement on that stupendous chain-bridge which closes the pros
pect; that giant work which is justly called the eighth wonder of the
world, and which, bidding defiance to nature, has united two por
tions of land which she had severed by the ocean. I shall have an
opportunity hereafter of describing it more nearly; from this point
it looks as if spiders had woven it in the air.
After I had satisfied myself with gazing at this romantic specimen
of human power and skill, I turned to one of the greatest and most
varied works of nature; — the entire range of the Welsh mountains,
which rises immediately from the water, distinct and near enough
clearly to distinguish woods, villages, and valleys, and stretches
along an extent often miles, The mountains grouped themselves in
every variety of light and shadow; some were wrapped in clouds,
some gleamed brightly in the sun, others stretched their blue heads
even above the clouds; and villages, towns, white churches, hand
some country-houses and castles, were visible in their gorges, while
shifting gleams of light played on the green slopes at their foot.
The eye, wearied with a variety, turns to the north, which is on my
left. Here nothing distracts the gaze: the wide ocean alone blends
with the sky. For a short time you follow the retreating shore of
Anglesea at your side, on which large nut-trees and oaks droop their
pliant boughs into the sea, and then you are alone with air and
water; or at most you fancy you descry the sails of a distant vessel,
or shape fantastic pictures in the clouds.
After an hour of intense enjoyment, I rode at the full speed of a
poney, which I hired in Anglesea, to the great bridge. The best
point of view is from the beach, near some fishing-huts about a hun
dred paces from the bridge. The more thoroughly and minutely I
viewed it, the greater was my astonishment. I thought I beheld in
a dream a filagree work suspended by fairies in the air. In short,
the fancy cannot exhaust itself in comparisons; and as a stage-coach
with four horses drove rapidly over the arch a hundred feet high and
six hundred wide, half concealed by the intertexture of the chains
on which the bridge is suspended, I thought I saw larks fluttering in
a net. The men vvho were seated in various parts of the chain-
work, giving it its first coat of paint, were like captive insects.
Those who know the castle at Berlin will be able to form some idea
of the enormous dimensions of this bridge, when they hear that it
would stand perfectly well under the centre arch: and yet the chains
hold the latter so firmly, that even driving at the quickest rate or
with the heaviest burden, which is by no means forbidden, does not
excite the smallest perceptible vibration. The bridge is divided at
the top into three roads, one for going, another for returning, and a
third for foot-passengers. The planks rest on an iron grating, so
that they are easily removed when out of repair, and no danger is to
be apprehended when they break. Every three years the whole
iron-work receives a fresh coat of paint, to prevent rust. The name

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 347
of the architect, who has earned a high and lasting reputation, is Tel
ford. ' Sur ce, n'ayant plus rien a. dire,' I close my epistle, and
wish you, my dear Julia, all the happiness and blessings you deserve,
' et c'est beaucoup dire. ' Ever your most faithful L  .

LETTER XXVII.
Bangor, July 23, 1828.
Chere et bonne,
One little defect in this otherwise so beautiful landscape is caused
by the ebb and flow. During a considerable part of the day a large
portion of the channel of the Menai (as this strait is called) is dry,
and exhibits only a tract of sand and mud. Probably the indescriba
bly persecuting swarms of flies which infest this place, pouring forth
in thousands in search of prey, attacking man and beast, and pursu
ing their victims with relentless pertinacity, may be ascribed to the
same cause. In vain do you put your horse to his full speed: the
swarm, congregated into a ball like a Macedonian phalanx, accom
pany jTour flight, and disperse themselves over their prey the mo
ment you stop; nor will anything but their complete destruction de
liver you from them. Even a house does not always afford secure
refuge. I have found in some of my expeditions that when once
they have seized upon a victim, they will wait patiently at the door
till he comes out again. The only way is to seek out some place
through which a strong current of wind passes. This they cannot
resist. The cows vvhich graze on the hilly shores are quite aware
of this fact, and are always to be seen standing perfectly still, rumi
nating, in such spots. I watched one to-day for a long time, as she
stood on a solitary point of rock, her outline thrown out sharply on
the sky behind; motionless, but for the slight working of her jaw,
or the occasional sweep of her tail against her side. How well,
thought I, might an ingenious mechanic frame a colossal image of
this animal, and provide it with the simple mechanical apparatus ne
cessary to imitate that slight motion, — and what an acquisition were
this for a German-English garden at home! for instance at Cassel,
opposite to the Hercules, or at Worlitz, where she might be set to
graze on the burning mountain. This meritorious conception you
must try to put in execution.
Do you remember Clementi Brentano? When the amiable and
kind-hearted grandson of Count L  was showing him the view
from his hunting-seat over a flat but beautifully wooded country, the
Count joined them, and asked Brentano rather absurdly, "what great
improvement he could suggest?" Brentano fell into a profound medi
tation, and after some time replied, looking earnestly at the attentive
and expecting Count, "What think you, Count, of making some
hills of boards and painting them blue?" Improvements in this
taste, though perhaps not quite so absurd and palpable, are still daily

348 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
perpetrated in our beloved fatherland, in spite even of the Berlin
Horticultural Society.
Dearest Julia, will you drive with me to Plas Newydd, Lord
Anglesea's park in Anglesea? The horses of fancy are soon har
nessed. We repass the giant bridge, follow the high-road to Ireland for a
short time, and soon see from afar the summit of the pillar which a
grateful country has raised to General Paget, then Lord Uxbridge,
and now Marquis of Anglesea, in memory of the leg which he left
on the field of Waterloo. About a mile and a half further on, we
arrive at the gate of Plas Newydd. The most remarkable things
here are the cromlechs, whose precise destination is unknown; they
are generally believed to be druidical burial places. They are huge
stones, commonly three or four in number, forming a sort of rude
gateway. Some are of such enormous size that it is inexplicable
how they could be brought to such elevated situations without the
most mechanical aid. It is, however, difficult to say what is possi
ble to human strength, excited by unfettered will or by religious fa
naticism. I remember reading that a captain of a ship coasting
along the shore of Japan, saw two junks of the largest size, that is
nearly as big as frigates, carried by thousands of men across a chain
of hills.
The cromlechs of Anglesea, which are not of the largest class,
have probably suggested the thought of building a druidical cottage
in an appropriate spot, commanding a beautiful view of Snowdon.
It is, however, a strange heterogeneous chaos of ancient and modern
things. In the small dark rooms light is very prettily introduced,
by means of looking-glass doors, which answer the double purpose
of reflecting the most beautiful bits of the landscape like framed pic
tures. In the window stood a large sort of show-box, a camera-ob-
scura, and a kaleidescope of a new kind — not filled like the old one,
but exhibiting under countless changes any object beheld through
it. Flowers especially produce a most extraordinary effect, by the
constantly varying brilliancy of their colours. If you wish for
one I will send it you from London: it costs eight guineas. The
house and grounds contain nothing remarkable, and are seldom in
habited by the proprietor, whose principal residence is in England.
July 23rd.
To-day I received, with great delight, a long letter from you *
* * * # * -* * * I am
very glad that you are not offended at L  's jest, and that you do
not, like Herr von Frrjmmel,* consider him an impious wretch.
You must see, in the first place, that he aims his wit only at the ser
vile credulity of those men who convert the Unutterable, the Being
of all Beings, — who is ever present to us in a deep and dim con
sciousness, but whom we can never comprehend, — into a strange
compound of tyrant, pedagogue, and attendant spirit: who think
* A fictitious name, which might be Englished, Mr. Cant. — Transl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 349
themselves constantly guided by him in leading-strings, and regard
all they see and hear, or whatever happens to them, as an interposi
tion of God, and regarding their own littleness alone. If, for in
stance, they fall into the water, or if they win a prize in the lottery,
they see the finger of God incontestably in that incident; if they
escape any danger, they pour out the most vehement thanks to God,
as if some strange power had sent the danger, and God, like a care
ful and prompt guardian, had flown to their succour and deliverance.
They might reflect, that whence the deliverance comes, thence
comes also the danger; whence the pleasure, the pain; whence life,
death. The whole is one scheme of existence, bestowed and go
verned not according to momentary caprice, but to immutable laws.
Such petty views as those he satirizes, bring down the idea of Om
nipotence to our own mutability and frailty. Our thanks, be they
even speechless, are due to Eternal Love, for all that is; and perhaps
no prayer offered by man can be more worthy of the Deity, than
that mute and rapturous feeling of gratitude. But it is childish to
be ever ascribing to the intervention of Omnipotence common-place
and external individual occurrences; such as lucky and unlucky
accidents, riches, poverty, death, and the like, which are subjected
to the laws of nature; or (according to the measure of our powers)
to our own control. Such an intervention on the behalf of our be
loved selves, would be no less strange and ill-adapted, with a view
to our instruction and improvement, than experience proves it to be
useless. His satire is also directed against Christians — who are no Chris
tians — and are neither so-called Atheists (almost always a senseless
denomination), nor yet genuine sincere fanatics; but that odious race
of modern pietists, vvho are either feeble creatures with irritable
nerves, or hypocrites of the most impious sort, and further removed
from the elevated purity of Christ than the Dalai Lama. These are
the true Pharisees and dealers in the temple, whom Christ would
cast out were he now on earth. These are they who, were he now
to appear, under a new and obscure name, would be the first to cry
out, ' Crucify him!'*
In the main I confess I agree with L  ; though, with regard to
the subject of the 'Reflections,' every opinion can be but hypotheti
cal, and in truth, what relates to another state of existence must, of
necessity, be totally different from all that we have the capacity of
understanding in this. Had we been able to know it, or had it been
* It is a great mistake to think that this is a subject only for ridicule or for ra
tional indignation. The alliance of the so-called saints, is not without danger to
all men of large and liberal opinions. There is a fermentation of Jesuitical masses,
who avail themselves of tlie form of Protestantism, because Catholicism will no
longer answer their purpose. They are guided by the same principles to which
the Jesuits owed their power, governed by the same ' esprit de corps,' constituted
according to a like regular organization; instead of the 'aquetta,' indeed, they use,
and with signal success, the ten times more formidable poison of calumny, which,
like other instruments of darkness, is so easily employed by a secret association. —
Germany has much more to dread from such saints, than from the dreams of free
dom promulgated by a set of enthusiastic young students on tlie Wartburg. — Ehit.

350 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
designed that we should do so, the Author of our nature would have
rendered it as clear, as obvious to us, as it is that we feel, or think,
or exist. What is needful, is revealed to us inwardly; and this has
been declared from all time, in words more or less plain and signifi
cant, by the great spirits whom He has sent on earth.
That the human race is not destined to stand still like a machine
devoid of will, or to revolve in one perpetual circle, — but, on the
contrary, continually to advance, till it has ended its cycle of exist
ence, and attained the highest perfection of which it is capable, I
never for an instant doubt. But my hypothesis is this; — that our
earth, like a vessel loosened from her moorings, is left, under the
protection and coercion of the immutable laws of Nature, to the
management of her own crew. We ourselves, thenceforth, are the
framers of our own destiny, (insofar as it depends on human opera
tion, and not on those immutable laws,) and of our own history,
whether great or small, by our own moral strength or weakness.
It is not, in my opinion, necessary to suppose the extraordinary
and special interposition of any power who causes a hard winter in
Russia for the special overthrow of Napoleon ; — Napoleon rather is
overthrown by the vicious principle which guides him; and which,
in the long run, must inevitably wreck him upon some such exter
nal and immediate cause or other. The physical incident happens,
with reference to him, only accidentally; with reference to itself,
doubtless, in that necessary series of laws to which it is subject, al
though these laws are unknown to us.
On the same grounds, Providence will generally favour the virtu
ous, the industrious, the frugal, the prudent, and grant many or
most of their desires; while the foolish and the wicked, who set
themselves in opposition and hostility to the world, are not ordina
rily so successful or so happy. If a man lets his hand lie in the ice,
it is highly probable that Providence will ordain it to be frozen; or
if he holds it in the fire, to be burnt. Those who go to sea, Provi
dence will sometimes permit to be drowned; those, on the other
hand, who never quit dry ground, Providence will hardly suffer to
perish in the sea.
It is therefore justly said, " Help yourself, and Heaven will help
you." The truth is, that God has helped us from the beginning:
the work of the master is completed; and, as far as it was intended
to be so, perfect: it requires, therefore, no further extraordinary aids
and corrections from above; its further developement and improve
ment in this world is placed in our own hands. We may be good
or bad, wise or foolish, not always perhaps in the degree which we,
as individuals, might choose, were our wills perfectly free, but so
far as the state of the human race immediately preceding us has
formed us to decide.
Virtue and vice, wisdom and folly, are indeed words which re
ceive their meaning solely from human society, and apart from that
would have no signification. The ideas of the Good and the Wicked
are excited solely by the effect of our actions upon others; for a man
who never saw a fellow-;nan can act neither well nor ill, — nay, can

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 351
scarcely feel or think, well or ill: he possesses, indeed, all the requi
site capacities which form the groundwork of his higher moral
and intellectual nature; but it is only by means of creatures of a like
nature, that these capacities can be brought into activity; as fire can
only exist, or become sensible, when combustible materials are pre
sent. The ideas of prudent and imprudent arise indeed earlier, and
with reference to the individual alone; for a single man in conflict
with inanimate nature may either injure himself foolishly, or employ
the materials given him with prudence and skill; and may have a
full perception of these qualities or modes of action in himself. To
be good, therefore, in every point of view, means nothing but to
love other men, and to submit to the laws and rules imposed by so
ciety: to be wicked, to rebel against those laws, to disregard the
weal of others, and in our conduct to have only our own momentary
gratification in view. To be; prudent, on the other hand, is only to
have the power of perceiving and securing our own advantage by
the best and aptest means: to be imprudent, to neglect these means,
or to form a false estimate concerning them.
It is evident also that good and prudent — wicked and imprudent —
are in the highest sense nearly synonymous: for a man who is good,
will, in the common order of events, please his fellow-men, conse
quently will be beloved by them, and consequently will be found to
be prudent, — that is, to have secured his own greatest happiness and
advantage: while the bad man, engaged in an interminable conflict,
must at length have the worst, and consequently suffer loss and
injury. But when once the moral sense has received its last developement
and highest culture, the virtuous man, though insulated, frames laws
to himself, which he follows, unheeding of advantage, danger, or
the opinion of others. The bases of these laws will, however, always
be what I have described; — consideration of the well-being of his
fellow-men, and of the duty thence deduced, which follows as a con
sequence of the way he has traced out to himself. But when this
point is reached, the inward consciousness of having fulfilled this
duty, gives the moral man purer and higher satisfaction than the
possession of all earthly enjoyments could confer upon him. It is
therefore permanently, and in both views of the subject, true, that
it is the highest prudence to be virtuous, the greatest folly to be
wicked. But here, indeed, from the busy and complicated nature of human
life, arise many and varied shades and distinctions. It is very easy,
even with great prudence, where the earthly and external is con
cerned, to seize upon appearance instead of reality. It is possible
for one man to deceive others, and to make them believe that he
does them good, that he deserves their respect and their thanks,
when he only uses them as instruments of his own advantage, and
does them the bitterest injury. Folly too often produces the oppo
site effect, and imputes to others wicked designs and bad motives,
where the very contrary have place. Hence arises the maxim, —
painful indeed! but too firmly based on universal experience, — that

352 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
in worldly connections and affairs, folly and imprudence are produc
tive of more certain disadvantage to the individual than vice and
wickedness. The external consequences of the latter may be kept
off, perhaps entirely prevented, by prudence ; but nothing can ward
off the consequences of folly, which is perpetually working against
itself. The want, and the existence, of positive religions are mainly at
tributable to the general persuasion of this truth, and of the conse
quent insufficiency of penal laws of human institution. Hence arises
the doctrine of future rewards and punishments, awarded by an All-
seeing Power, against whose eye the precautions of prudence are
vain, and from whom the imprudent expects pity and compensation:
for truly he who has combined prudence and virtue needs no further
recompense, — he finds it rich and overflowing in himself. Who
would not, without a moment's hesitation, give everything in the
world to enjoy the blessedness of being perfectly good? A time
may perhaps come, when all church and state religions may be bu
ried and forgotten; but Poetry and Love, whose flower is true Reli
gion, whose fruit Virtue, must for ever rule the human heart in
their holy Tri-unity, — the adoration of God as the source of all ex
istence, the admiration of nature as his high work, and love to men
as our brethren. And this is the true doctrine of Christ, — by none
more purely, touchingly, simply, and deeply expressed, although its
forms and premises are adapted to the times in which he lived. And
therefore is he become the seed from which the fruit of after-times
shall arise; the true Mediator, whose doctrine, as we must hope,
will, in time, become Christianity in deed and in truth, and not in
words alone. * * * * *
* * v * * * * [Here
occurs a chasm in the letters, which begin again on the 28th.]
Capel Cerig, July 28lh, late in the evening.
As the weather cleared up, and the friends whom I expected did
not arrive, I hastened to take advantage of the first ray of sun to
penetrate deeper amid the mountains; and set off about seven in the
evening, in an Irish car drawn by one horse, for Capel Cerig. I left
my servant, and took only a light travelling-bag containing a little
linen and a change of clothes. — This carriage consists of an open
box, standing on two wheels, resting on four horizontal springs, and
containing two opposite benches, on which four persons can commo-
diously sit. You ascend from behind, as the door is between the
wheels; — the whole is very light and convenient. The moment was
unusually propitious; — nearly a week of rain had so swollen all the
waterfalls, brooks, and rivers, that they appeared in their fullest
beauty; trees and grass were clothed in their softest green, and the
air was transparent and pure as crystal. I admired the rich masses
of gay mountain flowers and heaths which grew luxuriantly in the
clefts of the rocks, and regretted that I did not know enough of bo
tany to enjoy them with more than my eye.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 353
I soon reached that sterner region in vvhich flowers are rarely seen,
and trees never.
I alighted at the waterfall of Idwal to visit a little lake, which
might serve as the entrance to Hades.
The dreary and wild aspect of the deep mountain enclosure is
really awful. I had read that it was possible to reach Capel Cerig
from hence, going in a straight line overTrivaen (the mountain with
basaltic columns, of which I have spoken) and the surrounding
rocks. ¦ The passage was represented as very difficult, but surpass
ingly beautiful. At this moment I saw a shepherd descending from
the mountain, and I felt the strongest inclination to attempt the ex
pedition with the guide which chance thus so opportunely threw
in my way. I got the postilion to act as interpreter of my wishes.
The man thought it was too late, and that the descent on the other
side by night would be hazardous. On my pressing him further, he
said, however, that there would be a moon, and that if I could fol
low him at a brisk rate, he thought we might manage to cross the
mountain in two hours, — but that there were some very awkward
places to pass. I had tried my strength too well on Snowdon to
shrink from the enterprise; I therefore closed the bargain, only taking
the precaution to order the driver to wait for me an hour, lest any
unforeseen difficulties should cause me to return, and then to drive
back to Capel Cerig.
The path along which we had to climb was from the outset very
steep, and lay over a boggy soil between enormous detached masses
of rock strewed in wild disorder. It might be about half-past seven
o'clock: — there was no trace of any beaten path; Trivaen reared its
grotesque peak like an embattled wall before us, nor was it easy to
discover how we were to cross it. The mountain sheep here ren
dered us good service; they climbed before us, and showed the often
uncertain guide the most practicable places. After a quarter of an
hour of very wearisome climbing, with many a giddy glance into
the chasms beneath, to which, however, the eye became gradually
familiarized, we came to a little swampy ' plateau' through which
we were obliged to wade knee-deep in bog. Here we had a beauti
ful view of the sea, the Isle of Man, and Ireland dimly appearing
in the distance.
Immediately above the bog a completely different sort of ground
awaited us; a wall of perpendicular and compact sharp and ragged
rocks, over which we scrambled on hands and feet. The sun had
already sunk behind a high mountain sideward of us, and reddened
the whole wild scenery around, as well as the wall on which we
hung, with a dark and fiery glow — one of the strangest effects of
sunlight I ever beheld. It was like a theatrical representation of
Hell. Our way now lay across a swollen mountain-stream, over
vvhich a fallen block of stone had formed a natural bridge; and then
over bare rocks wholly unmixed with earth, till at length we reached
the high crest which had so long stood right before us, and at which
I expected an end of all our difficulties. I was therefore not a little
disappointed when I savv another defile before me, which we must
45

354 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
first descend and then climb up the opposite side, for no human foot
could have found a sure hold on the semicircular edge of the crest,
across which lay a shorter road.
We had now entirely lost sight of the sea; our view lay landward,
where the mountain region of Wales lay before us in its whole
breadth; peak above peak, solitary, silent, and mighty. The sterile
valley beneath us was filled with giant stones hurled about in wild
disorder; and truly the game which was here played, with rocks for
balls, must have been a spectacle for Gods. While I stood lost in
contemplation of this chaos, I heard a shrill reiterated cry close to
me, and looking up, saw two majestic eagles soaring over our heads
with outstretched wings — a rarity in these mountains. Welcome
faithful birds* of my house, exclaimed I, — here, where there are
only hard rocks, but no false hearts; are you come lo carry me, like
the Roc bird, into some valley of diamonds? or do you bring me
tidings from my far distant home? The noble creatures seemed as
if they answered me by their cries; but unfortunately I am not
skilled in the language of birds: and they left me, wheeling higher
and higher, till they disappeared among the columns of Trivaen. I
look upon the repeated attentions paid me by birds of prey as a good
omen. It was extremely inconvenient that I could no more speak with
my guide than with the eagles, for he understood not a word of
English. We could therefore only converse by signs. After we had
for some time descended with comparative ease, he pointed to a
place to which we must now turn our steps: — we had arrived at the
' bad passage.' This consisted of a perfectly perpendicular wall,
certainly not less than six hundred feet in depth; and above it a
scarcely less steep ascent of earth, washed over by the rain, and
strewed with small loose stones. Across this we were to make our
way — a distance of fifteen hundred paces. Formerly, I should have
regarded this undertaking as impracticable; but being urged by ne
cessity, after the first few fearful steps I found it quite easy.
It certainly looked most terrific, but the numerous stones and the
moist soft earth afforded a firmer footing than might have been ex
pected: indeed these things, even in an unexaggerated description,
always sound more perilous than they are. It is very true that one
false step would cause inevitable destruction; but this is exactly what
one takes good care not to set: so a man must be drowned in the
water, if he leaves off swimming. Anybody who can walk, and
has a steady head, may perform such exploits without the slightest
danger. Twilight now began to close in; the mountains became dim
and indistinct; under us lay, like steaming cauldrons, the misty lakes
of Capel Cerig and Beddgelert. We had reached the highest point,
and hastened as much as possible to reach the former lake. We
waded through another bog, and scrambled down over rocks, till we
came to the part of our way which looked the least difficult, but was
* Wappenvogel (armorial-birds, ) an expression which appears affected in English,
though the passage is unintelligible without it  Teahsl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 355
in fact the most fatiguing; — a firm and smooth hill covered with
turf, very steep, and with a substratum of rock which in many parts
presented itself at the surface in broad smooth shelves. Down this
declivity we rather slid than walked; and the effort was at length
followed by such pain in the knees, that both the guide and I fell
several times, though without sustaining any hurt. The lofty moun
tains around us had hitherto concealed the moon, which now arose
large and bloody-red above their wavy line. We soon lost her
again. Near our journey's end she once more rose upon us, golden,
clear, and small, mirrored in the still waters of the lake, on whose
shores the inn stood. The last part of the way lay along a level
high-road, and offered such a contrast to what had preceded it, that
I felt as if I could have walked along it sleeping. It was as if my
steps were not the result of any act of the will, but rather of some
mechanical power; like the children's toys, which when wound up
run round and round the table without stopping. We completed our
expedition in an hour and three quarters; and proud of my achieve
ment, I entered Capel Cerig, where my host would hardly believe
we had accomplished the distance by night in so short a time.— I
had lived such an indolent, effeminate life for some years, that I fan
cied myself grown almost old ; but to-day's experience proved, to
my great joy, that I want nothing but stimulus and opportunity, to
recover all the freshness and vigour of my bodily and mental pow
ers; — danger and difficulty had always been my most kindred ele
ment when fate threw them in my way.
My driver had not yet returned with the carriage, and I was
obliged to equip myself in the clothes of my portly host, in which I
now doubtless cut a very extraordinary figure, while my own are
drying at the kitchen-fire; and I am alternately occupied in writing
to you, and in drinking tea.
To-morrow morning I shall leave my pillow at four o'clock, —
guess in search of what; — the rock of the enchanter Merlin, where
he prophesied to king Vortigern the history of coining times, and
where his wondrous treasures, the golden throne and diamond sword,
still lie buried in its hidden caves. Here is a new and most safe
object of speculation to the mining companies of London and
Elberfield. Beddgelert, July 29th, early.
Admire Merlin's vale with me, dearest Julia. It is indeed en
chanting; but its rocks — DinasEmrys, I shall long remember. But
let me begin at the beginning. I went to bed at one, rose again
punctually at four, and in ten minutes was ready to start: for as soon
as you bid adieu to servants and luxuries, everything goes at an
easier and quicker pace. The fine weather had given place to the
usual mists of these mountains; and I was glad to avail myself of my
mountain walking-stick of yesterday in its other capacity of um
brella, as well as of that venerable cloak, the honoured relic of my
warlike services against France, which I was once forced to throw

356 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
out of a balloon, together with all other ballast, to avoid ending my
aerial excursion in the water.
At first the road was dull and uninteresting enough, till we came
to the foot of Snowdon, which reared its uncovered head majestically
above the clouds, by which we were encircled and bedewed. Its
aspect is peculiarly grand and sublime from this point. It rises in
nearly perpendicular height from the vale of Gwynant, which com
mences here. This richly watered valley unites the most luxuriant
vegetation with the sublimest views. The loftiest mountains of
Wales are grouped around it in manifold forms and colours. The
river which flows through it forms, in its course, two lakes, not
broad but deep, the valley being narrow throughout, a circumstance
which greatly contributes to enhance the colossal air of the moun
tains which enclose it. In the richest part of it a merchant of Ches
ter has a park, which he justly calls Elysium.
On a high and thickly wooded ridge, out of whose deep verdure
rocks whieh rival each other in wildness of form break forth, over
looking the mountain river which flows through a beautiful stretch
of meadows, stands the unpretending and lovely villa. Below lies
the lake, behind which stands Merlin's solitary rock, apparently
closing the valley, which here makes an abrupt turn.
Dinas Emrys is doubly impressed on my memory: first, for its
romantic beauty; secondly, because on it I literally hung between
life and death. Although not above four or five hundred feet high,
it is considered accessible only on one side. I had taken a little boy
with me as guide, but when we reached the spot he seemed to know
very little about the matter. The way which he took through an
oak copse appeared to me from the first suspicious, from its uncom
mon steepness; but he tranquillized my fears in broken English, and
I could do nothing but follow the little fellow, (who sprang before
me like a chamois,) as well as I could. Merlin appeared to frown
upon us: a violent wind had arisen, and the sun, which had shone
upon us for a moment, imbedded himself behind black clouds; while
the long wet grass which hung over the blocks of stone made climb
ing very dangerous. This did not much impede the barefooted little
boy, but was a serious obstacle to my limbs, somewhat stiff from my
yesterday's exploits. The higher we went, the steeper the rocks
became; often we were obliged to swing ourselves up by the help of
the shrubs which grew out of the clefts, avoiding as well as we could
to look behind us. At length I observed that the boy himself was
quite irresolute, and creeping on his belly looked anxiously around.
We now wriggled right and left through some clefts, and suddenly
found ourselves standing on the peak of a smooth and lofty wall,
with scarcely room to set our feet, and above us a similar wall, out
of which grew some tufts of grass. The summit of this appeared to
overtop the whole.
The prospect was not encouraging: the child began to cry, and I
considered not without some uneasy feelings what was to be done.
Willingly, I confess, should I have climbed down again, and left
Merlin's rock to witches and gnomes, if I had thought it possible to

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 357
descend without dizziness, or indeed to find the way by which we
had ascended. Before us there lay no chance of escape but by scal
ing the wall as we best might. The boy, as the lightest and most
practised, went first; I followed him step by step, holding by the
slight support of tufts of grass, clinging with hand and foot in every
little cleft; and thus hanging between heaven and earth we reached
the giddy summit in safety. I was quite exhausted. A more daring
climber may laugh at me; but I honestly confess to you, that when
a tuft of grass or root seemed unsteady, and threatened to give way
before I had raised myself up by it, I felt what terror is. As I lay
now panting with fatigue and fright on the turf, I saw a large black
lizard couched just opposite to me, who appeared to look at me with
scornful, malicious eyes, as if he were the enchanter himself in dis
guise. I was however glad to see him, and in high good humour
at having got out of the scrape so cheaply; though I thought fit to
threaten the little imp, who like a mischievous gnome had enticed
me into such perils, with all sorts of terrible punishments, if he did
not make out the right way back. In his absence I examined the
remains of the area, as it is here called, — the ruined walls, where
"Prophetic Merlin sat, when to the British king
The changes long to come auspiciously he told."
I grubbed among the stones, I crept into the fallen caverns — but
from me, as from others, the treasures remained hidden; — the mo
ment has not yet arrived. As a compensation, the boy reappeared
jumping gaily along, and boasting of the beauty of the way which
he had at length found.
If it was not quite so smooth and easy as that of sin, it vvas at least
not like the last, inaccessible. Merlin's displeasure, however, pur
sued us in the shape of torrents of rain, which obliged me again to
send my clothes to the kitchen fire, at which I am reposing.
The inn, completely shaded by high trees, is most delightful.
Just before my window is a fresh-mown meadow, behind which a
huge mountain rears itself, covered from top to bottom with deep
purple heather, glowing like the morning sky, in spite of the sheets
of rain and of the clouded heavens. While my dinner was prepar
ing, (for I dine like Suwarroff at eight o'clock in the morning,) a
harper, the humble relic of Welsh bards, played on his curious and
primitive instrument. He is blind, and so is his dog, who stands
behind him on his hind legs, waiting with unwearied patience, till
one bestows a piece of money on his master, and of bread on him
self. Beddgelert means " Gelert's grave," bed and grave being
poetically expressed in Welsh by the same word. Gelert was no
other than a greyhound, whose history is, however, so touching, that
as soon as my 'dejeune dinatoire' is removed, I will tell it you.*
Caernarvon, July 30th.
I had kept the harper playing during the whole time of dinner at
Beddgelert, and had amused myself, like a child, with his dog, with
whom it had become so much a second nature to stand on two legs,
* The story of Gelert is omitted, as familiar to the English reader. — Thaxsi.

358 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
that he Would have been a better representative of man than Plato's
plucked fowl. The perfect ease of his attitude, together with his
serious countenance, had something so whimsical, that one had only
to imagine him in a petticoat, with a snuff-box in his paw, to take
him for a blind old lady.
In the same proportion as this dog resembles the heroic Gelert,
do the modern Welsh seem to resemble their ancestors. Without
the energy or activity of the English, still less animated by the fire
of the Irish, they vegetate, poor and obscure, between both. They
have, however, retained the simplicity of mountaineers, and they are
neither so rude and boorish, nor do they cheat so impudently, as the
Swiss. ' Point d'argent, point de Suisse' is not yet applicable here.
On the contrary, living is so cheap that bankrupt Englishmen often
retire hither: I am assured that a man may have good board and lodg
ing, the use of a poney, and leave to shoot, for fifty guineas a year.
The environs of Beddgelert are the last continuation of the magni
ficent valley which I have described to you. It was now'alive with
a hundred waterfalls, which dashed foaming and white as milk from
every chasm and gorge. About a mile and a half in the rear of the
village the rocks stand so near together that there is scarce room for
road and river to run side by side. Here rises the Devil's bridge,
and closes the valley, or rather the defile. You now again approach
the sea, and the country assumes a gayer character. In two hours I
reached the great resort of tourists, Tan y Bwlch, whose chief attrac
tion is a beautiful park extending over two rocky mountains over
grown with lofty wood, between which gushes a mountain stream
forming numerous cascades. The walks are admirably cut, leading,
through the best chosen gradations and changes, to the various points
of view; from which you catch now an island in the sea, now a pre
cipice, with a foaming waterfall, now a distant peak, or solitary-
group of rock under the night of primeval oaks.
I wandered for above an hour along these walks; but was greatly
surprised to see them in so neglected a state, that in most places I
had to wade through the deep grass, and to toil through the rank and
overgrown vegetation. Even the house seemed in decay. I after
wards learned that the proprietor had lost his fortune at play in
London. As I feared I should spend too much time here, I gave up my
visit to Festiniog and its celebrated waterfall, hired an airy 'Socia
ble' (a sort of light four-seated 'caleche' without a roof ) from my
host, and set out for Tremadoc, distant about ten miles. I was
richly rewarded, although the road is the very worst I have yet met
with in Great Britain; for some miles it runs in the sea, that is to
say, through a part of it which Mr. Maddox, a rich landowner here,
has cut off by a monstrous dam; he has thus redeemed from the
ocean a tract of fertile land equal in extent to a rittergut (a knight's
fee). From this dam, twenty feet high and two miles long, you com
mand the most magnificent views: the drained land forms a nearly
regular semicircle, whose walls appear to be formed by the whole
amphitheatre of the mountains. Here the art of man has drawn
aside the veil from the bottom of the deep; and instead of the ship,

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 359
the plough now tracks the broad expanse. But on the left, the
ocean still hides all the secrets of " the fathomless profound" under
his liquid mountains. The line of coast is terminated at no great
distance by a bold headland, on which the ruins of Harlech Castle,
with its five mouldering towers, overhang the waves. In front, at
the end of the dam, a quiet cheerful valley opens before you, cradled
amid lofty mountains, with a small but busy harbour, near which
Tremadoc seems to grow out of the rock.
In spite of all this, you, my Julia, would hardly bring yourself to
ride across this dam, which is indeed better fitted for foot-passen
gers. It is, as I have already said, twenty feet high, and consists of
rude, angular, and jagged blocks of stone, heaped on one another.
The road at the top is only four ells wide, without anything like a
railing. On one side the breakers dash furiously against it; and if
j-our horses shyed at them, you would infallibly be thrown on the
points of rocks which bristle like pikes on the other. The moun
tain horses alone can cross such a road with safety, as they seem to
estimate the danger and to be familiar with it: nevertheless a car
riage is seldom seen here. Wagons of stone cross the dam on a rail
road, which makes it still worse for all other vehicles. Tremadoc
itself stands on land formerly redeemed by a similar process. The
resemblance which this land, reclaimed some centuries since, has to
the sandy banks of northern Germany, which were gained from the
sea perhaps a thousand years ago, is very striking: the little town
itself and its inhabitants — as if like soil produced like character of
people — as completely resembled the melancholy villages of that
country. It is dreary, neglected, and dirty; the men ill-clad; the
inn not better than a Silesian one, nor less filthy; and, that nothing
might be wanting, the post-horses out at field, so that I had to wait
an hour and a half for them. When they appeared, their condition,
the wretched state of their tackle, and the dress of the postilion,
were all perfectly true to their model. This applies only to the
part redeemed from the sea: as soon as you have gone four or five
miles further, and reached the surrounding heights, the country
changes to the fruitful and the beautiful. It had, indeed, lost its
wild and gigantic character; but after so long a stay among the
rocks, this change refreshed me, especially as the most brilliant and
lovely evening shone over the landscape.
The sun gleamed so brightly on the emerald meadows, woody
hills lay so peacefully as if at rest around the crystal stream, and
scattered cottages hung so temptingly on their shady sides, that I
felt as if I could have staid there for ever. I had dismounted from
the carriage; and throwing myself on the soft moss under a large
nut-tree, I gave myself up with delight to my dreams. The even
ing light glittered like sparks through the thick-leaved branches, and
a hundred gay insects sported in its ruddy light; while the gentle
wind sighed in its topmost boughs, in melodies vvhich are understood
and felt by the initiated.
The carriage arrived. Once more I cast a longing glance on the

360 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
dark blue sea; once more I drank in the fragrance of the mountain
flowers, and the horses bore the loiterer quickly to the plains.
From this point the romantic wholly ceases; I rode along a well-
tilled country till the towers of Caernarvon Castle rose in the twi
light above the trees. — Here I intend to rest some days, having per
formed seventy-four English miles to-day, partly on foot, between
four in the morning and ten at night. August 1st.
This morning I received letters from you, which make me melan
choly. — Yes, indeed, you are right; it was a hard destiny which
troubled the calmest and cheerfullest happiness, the most perfect
mutual understanding, and tore asunder the best suited minds (both
too in the full enjoyment of their respective tastes and pursuits), as
a storm troubles and tears up the peaceful sea. At one time, indeed,
this was well-nigh destruction to both; condemning the one to rest
less wandering, the other to comfortless solitude; both to. grief, anx
iety, and vain longings. But was not this storm necessary for the
dwellers on the deep? would not, perhaps, the stagnant and motion
less air have been yet more destructive to them? Let us not there
fore give way to excessive grief: let us never regret the past, which
is always vain; let us only stretch forward to what is better, and
even in the worst exigencies let us be true to ourselves. How often
are the evils created by our own imaginations the hardest to bear!
What burning pains are caused by wounded vanity! what agonizing
shame by notions of false honour! I am not much the better for per
ceiving this, and am often tempted to wish for Falstaff's philosophy.
Nature has however endowed me with one precious gift, which I
would most gladly share with you. In every situation, I promptly,
and as it were by instinct, discover the good side of things; and en
joy it, be it what it may, with a freshness of feeling, a childlike
Christmas-day delight in trifles,* which I am convinced will never
grow old in me.
And in what situation does not the good, in the long run, out
weigh the evil? — this persuasion is the ground-work of my piety.
The gifts of God are infinite; and we might almost say we are in
excusable if we are not happy. How often indeed we have it in
our power to be so, every one may see, who looks back at his past
life; — he cannot escape the conviction that he might easily have
turned almost every evil to good. As I have long ago and often
said to you, We are the makers of our own destiny. It is true,
however, that ourselves we have not made, and therein lies a wide
unknown Past, concerning which we perplex our spirits in vain:
our speculations can lead to no practical end. Let every one only
do his utmost to be of good courage, and to regard the outward
things of this world, without exception, as of light moment, — for
the things of this world are really light and unimportant, in good as
* TVeihnachtsfreude. Those who have passed a Christmas-eve in Germany will
feel the force of this  Tbansi.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 361
in evil. There is no better weapon against unhappiness; only we
must not on that account cross our hands, and do nothing.
Your womanish fault, my dear Julia, is, in evil times to abandon
yourself to Heaven and its assistance, as ' Deus ex machina.,' with a
feeble and helpless sort of piety. For if this assistance fails us, our
ruin is then certain and inevitable.
Both, pious hope and energetic action, consist perfectly well to
gether, and indeed mutually aid each other. No man can doubt that
the former greatly lightens the latter: for if that sort of piety which
is common in the world, — that confident expectation of earthly and
peculiar protection from above, that supplication for good and against
evil, — is merely a self-delusion, still it is a beneficent one, and per
haps grounded in our very nature, subject as we are to so many illu
sions, which, when they take fast hold on our minds, become to us
individual Truth. It appears that, our nature has the power of cre
ating to itself a factitious reality, as a sort of auxiliary support,
where reality itself is unattainable. Thus a pious confidence in spe
cial interpositions, though but a form of superstition, gives courage.
A man who goes into battle with a talisman which he believes ren
ders him invulnerable, will see bullets rain around him with indiffer
ence. But. still more powerful and exalting is the enthusiasm ex
cited by ideas which place us above the external world; thus reli
gious fanatics have frequently been seen animated by a spirit which
enabled them to brave the most horrible bodily tortures with truly
miraculous power: — thus do the afflicted and oppressed create to
themselves blissful hopes of a future state of felicity, vvhich indem
nify them even here. All these are effects of the potent instinct of
self-preservation in its widest sense, — which brings the abovenamed
power of our nature into operation wherever it is needed. Hence,
lastly, in feeble characters, those death-bed conversions, useless in
deed in themselves, but tranquillizing.
Every being must pay his tribute to this want in one form or
other: every one creates to himself his earthly god ; and thus is the
descent of God to us under human attributes ever repeated.
The conception of the all-loving Father is certainly the noblest
and most beautiful of these images, nor can the human imagination
rise higher. And it must be conceded, that the mere idea of the
Highest Principle of all things, exalted, sublimated, and I might al
most say, evaporated, to the Incomprehensible, the Unutterable, no
longer warms the human heart, conscious of its own weakness, with
the same fervent emotion.
It often appears to me that all which is fashioned by nature or by
man, may be reduced to two primary elements, Love and Fear,
which might be called the Divine and the Earthly principles. All
thoughts, feelings, passions and actions arise from these: either from
one, or from a mixture of the two. Love is the divine cause of all
things ; — Fear seems to be their earthly preserver. The words,
'Ye shall love God and fear him,' must be so interpreted, or they
have no meaning; for absolute and unmixed love cannot fear, because
it is the absence of all self-regarding thoughts and feelings ; and in-
46

362 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
deed, if it truly inspired us, would make us one with God and the
universe; and we have moments in which we feel this.
When I use this notion as a standard or measure by which to try
all human actions, I find, it constantly confirmed. Love fertilizes, — ¦
fear preserves and destroys. In all nature too, I see the principle
of self-preservation or fear, (it is one and the same,) in what we call,
according to our system of morals, crime or wickedness ; that is,
founded on the annihilation of another's individuality. One race
lives by the destruction of another ; life is fed by death, to all eter
nity of reproduction and reappearance, which, precisely by this kind
of unity, continues in perpetual change.
It is also worthy of note, that this fear, although so indispensably
necessary to all of us for our earthly support and preservation, is even
here so little esteemed by our diviner part, that scarcely any possible
crime is covered with such deep contempt as cowardice.
On the other hand, nothing so effectually conquers fear, as a great
and lofty idea springing from the dominion of love. A man inspired
by such a feeling, even hurries along others with him ; and whole
nations devote themselves under its influence, although nothing
earthly can remain pure from all admixture of the baser principle.
Fear has reference to the future in time and space : Love, to the
present, eternally; and knows neither time nor space. Love is end
less and blessed — Fear dies an eternal death.
K  Park, August 2nd.
On my return to Bangor, I made acquaintance with the possessor
of  Castle, (the black Saxon castle which I described to you,)
a man to whom I am strongly attracted by our common building
mania. It is now seven years since the castle was begun, in which time
20,000/. have been spent upon it ; and it will probably take four
years more to complete it. During all this time, this wealthy man
lives with his family in a humble hired cottage in the neighbourhood,
with a small establishment; he feasts once a week on the sight of
his fairy castle, which, after the long continuance of such simple
habits, he will probably never bring himself to inhabit. It appeared
to give him great pleasure to show and explain everything to me ;
and I experienced no less from his enthusiasm, which was agreeable
and becoming in a man otherwise cold.
In compliance with an invitation which I had received in London,
and which had since been pressingly renewed, I came hither yester
day morning. My road lay at first through fertile fields, between
the lake and the foot of the mountains ; sometimes crossed by a sud
den defile or glen, and by rapid brooks hurrying to the sea. On
Penman Mawr, the road, which is blasted in the rock, contracts into
a narrow and fearful pass, the left side of which overhangs the sea at
a perpendicular height of five hundred feet. A most necessary para
pet wall guards carriages. I sat on the imperial, a place which I
frequently take in fine weather, and enjoyed tlie wide sea-view in
full freedom: the wind meanwhile sighed and whistled in every vari-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 363
ety of tone, and I with difficulty kept my cloak about me. In an
hour I reached Conway, whose site is most beautiful. Here stands
the largest of those strong castles which Edward built, and Cromwell
demolished. It is likewise the most remarkable for the picturesque
beauty both of its position and structure.
The outer walls, though ruinous, are still standing, with all their
towers, to the number, it is said, of fifty-two. The whole town, a
strange, but not unpicturesque mixture of old and new, is contained
within the enclosure of these walls. A chain-bridge, with pillars in
the form of Gothic towers, has lately been thrown over the river
Conway, on whose banks the castle stands: it increases the grandeur
and strangeness of the scene. The surrounding country is magnifi
cent: woody hills rise opposite to the ruins, and behind them appears
a yet higher range. Numerous country-houses adorn the sides of
the hills ; among others a most lovely villa, which is now on sale,
and bears the seducing name of ' Contentment'
In the castle, the imposing remains of the banqueting-hall, with
its two enormous fire-places are still visible, as is also the king's
chamber. In the queen's closet there is an altar of beautiful work
manship, in tolerably good preservation, and a splendid oriel win
dow. The town also contains very remarkable old buildings, with
strange fantastic devices in wood. One of these houses was built, as
a tombstone in the church testifies, in the fourteenth century, by a
man named Hooke, the forty-first son of his father — a rare instance
in Christendom. A large child in swaddling-clothes, carried by a
stork, was carved in oak, and occurred in various parts of the build-
Conway is a laudable place in a gastronomic point of view: it
abounds with a fish, the firm and yet tender flesh of which is deli
cious. Its name is Place,* as who should say, Place for me, who
am the worthiest! And truly I shall always be glad to give him the
place of honour at my table.
I quitted Conway early, driving across the chain-bridge, vvhich
serves as a most noble ' point d' appui' to the ruined castle. The
monstrous chains lose themselves so romantically in the solid rock
like towers, that one would scarcely be reminded of their newness,
if there were not unluckily a tollhouse on the other side, built ex
actly in the form of a diminutive castle, and looking like a harlequin
apeing the other.
The nearer you approach to St. Asaph, the softer the character of
the country becomes. In a semicircular bay, which the eye can
scarcely traverse, the tranquil sea washes fruitful fields and meadows,
richly studded with towns and villages. All the country gentlemen
seem lovers of the Gothic style of architecture. The taste is carried
so far, that even an inn by the road-side was provided with portcullis,
loopholes and battlements, though there was no garrison to defend it,
except geese and hens. Don Quixote might have been excused
"" A warni ng to all makers of puns and jeux de mots to know their tools. Our
author probably is still in blissful ignorance of the i which spoils his joke. — Tbans.

364 LETTERS ON GERMANY;
here; and the host would not do amiss to hang out the knight of the
sorrowful countenance, with couched lance and brazen helmet, as his
sign. At some distance I saw what appeared to be a ridge of hills
crowned with a Gothic castle; — it had such a striking aspect that I
was duped into dismounting and climbing the toilsome ascent. It
was at once ridiculous and vexatious to find that the kernel of the
jest was only a small and insignificant house, and that which had at
tracted me were mere walls, which, built on the summits and de
clivities of the mountain, represented towers, roofs, and large battle
ments, half hidden in wood ; but served, in fact, only to enclose a
kitchen and fruit garden. A lucky dog, a shopkeeper, who had
suddenly become rich, had built this harmless fortress, as I was told,
in two years — a perfect satire on the ruling taste.
Towards evening I arrived at the house of my worthy Colonel, a
true Englishman, in the best sense of the word. He and his amia
ble family received me in the friendliest manner. Country-gentle
men of his class, who are in easy circumstances (with us they would
be thought rich,) and fill a respectable station in society; who are
not eager and anxious pursuers of fashion in London, but seek to
win the affection of their neighbours and tenants; whose hospitality
is not mere ostentation; whose manners are neither 'exclusive' nor
outlandish; but who find their dignity in a domestic life polished by
education and adorned by affluence, and in the observance of the
strictest integrity; — such form the most truly respectable class of
Englishmen. In the great world of London, indeed, they play an
obscure part; but, on the wide stage of humanity, one of the most
noble and elevated that can be allotted to man. Unfortunately, how
ever, the predominance and the arrogance of the English aristocracy
is so great, and that of fashion yet so much more absolute and ty
rannous, that such families, if my tribute of praise and admiration
were ever to fall under their eye, would probably feel less flattered
by it, than they would be if I enumerated them among the leaders of
'ton.' To what a pitch this weakness reaches, even among the worthiest
people in this country, is not to be believed without actual observa
tion and experience; — without seeing all classes of society affected
by it in the most ludicrous manner. — But I have written you enough
oh this subject from the ' foyer' of European Aristocracy, and will
not therefore repeat myself.
It is, moreover, high time to close this letter, otherwise I fear my
correspondence will be too long even for you; for though the heart
is never weary, the head puts in other claims.
But I know how much I may trust to your indulgence in this
point. Your ever truly devoted L.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 365
LETTER XXVIII.
K  Park, August 4th, 1828.
My Dearest Friend,
I am in most agreeable quarters. The manner of living is ' com
fortable,' the society cordial, ' la chereexcellente,' and the freedom,
as it is everywhere in the country, perfect. Yesterday I took a very
agreeable ride of some twenty miles on an untireable horse of my
host's; — for distances disappear before the excellence of the horses
and of the roads. — I must tell you all I saw.
I rode first to the small town of St. Asaph to look at the cathedral,
which is adorned with a beautiful window of modern painted glass.
Many coats of arms were extremely well executed, and the artist
had had the good sense to avoid the common error of endeavouring
to represent objects not suited to his art, which requires masses of
colour and no delicate and floating shades. To obtain a more per
fect knowledge of the country, I ascended the tower. At a distance
of about twelve miles I espied a church-like building on the summit
of a high mountain, and asked the clerk what it was. He replied,
in broken English, that it was 'the king's tabernacle,' and that
whoever would pass seven years without washing himself, cutting
his nails, or shaving his beard, would be allowed to live there; and
at the expiration of the seventb year he would have a right to go to
London, where the king must give him a pension and make him a
' gentleman.' The man believed this wild story implicitly, and swore
to its truth; ' Voila ce que c'est que la foi.'
I inquired afterwards the true state of the affair, and heard the
origin of this history; namely, that the building was erected by the
province, or ' county,' to commemorate the Jubilee of the last king's
reign, and had stood empty ever since: but that a wag had adver
tised a considerable reward in the newspapers, to any man vvho
would fulfil the above-named conditions. The common people
had mixed up this strange ordeal with the ' tabernacle' of King
George III.
I descended the towers, and now you may see me galloping at the
foot of some gentle slopes, till I reach a rocky isolated hill, on which
stands Denbigh Castle. The side of the hill is covered with the
ruinous houses and huts of the miserable little town, and you climb
through its narrow lanes to the top. A gentleman, vvho afterwards
declared himself to be the surgeon of the town, very kindly showed
me the way, and did the honours of the ruins with great politeness.
Here is a sort of casino most romantically situated within the walls,
and a very pretty flower-garden, commanding a beautiful view. The
rest of this vast edifice offers only a neglected labyrinth of walls,
standing amid the rank luxuriance of grass and thistles. Every third
year, notwithstanding, a great national festival is held on this spot;
— the meeting of Welsh bards, who, like the old German Minne
singers, repair hither to a trial of skill. The victor wins a golden
cup; and a chorus of a hundred harps resounds to his fame amid

366 letters on Germany,
these ruins. The meeting will take place in three months, when the
Duke of Sussex is expected to be present.
Following a ravine, I now entered a most lovely valley. Deep
wood overshadowed me; rocks stretched out their mossy heads, like
old acquaintances — from the branches; the wild torrent foamed, leap
ing and dancing amid the flowers; and the gold-green of the meadows
here and there gleamed through the shade. I wandered for some
hours in this place, and then climbed the heights by a weary foot
path, to discover where I was. I stood immediately above the bay
and the broad tranquil sea, which appeared to be nearer to the gentle
descent in front than it really was. After some effort, I espied
among the groups of trees on the plain the house of K — park, and
trotting briskly onward, reached it in time to dress for dinner.
August 5th.
I walked this morning, while all the rest of the family were still
in bed, with the charming little Fanny, the youngest daughter of the
house, who is not yet ' out."" She took me round the park and gar
den, and showed me her ' dairy' and 'aviary.'
I told you once before, that the dairy is one of the principal de
corations of an English park, and stands by itself, quite away from
the cow-house. It is generally an elegant pavilion, adorned with
fountains, marble walls, and rare and beautiful porcelain; and its
vessels, large and small, filled with the most exquisite milk and its
products, in all their varieties. There can be no better place of re
freshment after a walk. It is of course surrounded by a flower-gar
den, which the English love to attach to all their buildings. In this,
the mineral rivalled the vegetable kingdom in brilliancy and beauty
of colour. The proprietor has a share in the principal copper
mines in Anglesea, and little mountains of ore, glittering with red,
blue, and green, formed a gorgeous bed for rare and curious plants.
The aviary, which elsewhere is filled with gold pheasants and
other foreign birds, was here more usefully tenanted; and was ex
clusively devoted to cocks and hens, geese, ducks, peacocks, and
pigeons. It was however, from its extraordinary cleanliness and
nice adaptation, a very pretty and agreeable sight. German house
wives, listen and wonder! Twice a-day are the yards, which are
provided with the most beautiful receptacles of water, — the separate
houses, pigeon-holes, &c, — twice a-day are they cleaned: the straw
nests of the hens were so pretty; the perches on which the fowls
roost, so smooth and clean; the water in the stone basins, which
served as duck-ponds, so clear; the barley and the boiled rice (equal
to Parisian ' riz au lait') so tempting, — that one thought one's self in
the Paradise of fowls. They enjoyed, too, the freedom of Paradise:
* " To come out," as applied to young girls in England, means to go into the
world. Parents sometimes let them wait for this happiness till they are twenty', or
even older. Till then, they learn the world only from novels; in later life they
consequently often act upon them, where the principles of domestic virtue (for
there is such a thing now and then in England) have not been deeply and firmly
laid — Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 367
here were no clipped wings; and a little grove of high trees, close
by their house, formed their pleasure-ground. Most of them were
still poised in air, waving to and fro on the topmost boughs, when
we arrived: but scarcely did they espy the rosy little Fanny trip
ping towards them, with dainties in her apron, like a beneficent fairy,
than they flew down in a tumultuous cloud, and ran to her feet, peck
ing and fluttering. I felt a sort of pastoral sensibility come over
me, and turned homewards, to get rid of my fit of romance before
breakfast. But now the children's gardens were to be visited, and
a sort of summer-house, and Heaven knows what; — in short we
were too late, and got a scolding. Miss Fanny exclaimed, with true
English pathos, — " We do but row,
And we are steer'd by fate;"
in the words of our proverb, Der Mensch denkt Gott lenkt. Yes,
indeed, thought I, the little philosopher is right: things always turn out
differently from what one intends, even in such small events as these.
After dinner I mounted my horse again. I sought the most un-
tracked ways in the wildest mountain country on the land side, fre
quently fording the rapid stream, and revelling in the most beautiful
and striking scenery. Here and there I met a country girl working
in the fields. They are strikingly pretty in the singular costume
vvhich sets off their fine persons to the greatest advantage. They
are moreover shy as roes, and chaste as vestals. Everything shows
the mountain character; my horse among the rest: — unwearied as a
machine of steel, he gallops over the stones, up hill and down ; leaps
with undisturbed composure over the gates which continually inter
cept my way across the fields, and tires me long before he feels the
least fatigue himself. This, to me, is the true pleasure of riding; I
love to traverse mile after mile of country which I had never seen
before, where I know not whither I am going, and must find out my
way back as I can.
To-day I came upon a park, in which wooden statues painted
white contrasted strangely with the sublimity of nature. No human
being was visible ; only hundreds of rabbits put their heads out of
the holes in the side of the hill, or coursed rapidly across the road.
All sorts of strange and curious devices marked the proprietor as an
original. The only thing that pleased me was a dark fir grove, sur
rounded by a belt of bright crimson mallows. I at length reached the
top, a bare hill, and went out as I had come in, through a gate, which
fell to of 'itself. The same solitude reigned throughout, and the
enchanted castle was soon far behind me. Bangor, August 8th.
I was to stay some weeks at K  park: but you know my rest
lessness; uniformity, even of the good, soon wearies me. I therefore
took leave of my kind friends, — made a visit of some hours, instead
of days, to another counts-gentleman who. had invited rne, — saw a
sun-set from the ruins of Conway Castle, — ate a plaice, and returned
to my head-quarters, which I now leave for ever. I am unfortu-

368 letters on Germany,
nately not very well, my chest seems somewhat the worse for my
late fatigues, and frequently gives me great pain; 'mais n' im-
porte.' Craig y Don, August 9 th, early.
Do you recollect this name? It is the beautiful villa which I de
scribed to you. I have since become acquainted with its amiable
possessor, whose friendly invitation to spend my last night in Wales
with him I could not resist. The pain in my chest prevented my
taking more than short walks in the garden with the son of my host;
and the attempt to climb a hill in the neighbourhood made me so ill,
that I was obliged to amuse myself after dinner with reading the
newspaper. In this vast desert I met with only one thing which I
think worth quoting to you. The article treated of the speech from
the throne, in which were the words " The Speaker is commanded to
congratulate the people on their universal prosperity." This, says the
writer, is too insolent, openly to make a jest of the miseries of the
people. It is indeed a settled point, that truth is never to be ex
pected in a speech from the throne; and if ever a king were mad
enough to speak the real truth. on such an occasion, he must begin
his speech, " My knaves and dupes," instead of the wonted exordium
" My Lords and Gentlemen."
My host is a member of the yacht club, and a passionate lover of
the sea. Our dinner would have contented the most rigid Catholic
in lent: it consisted entirely of fish, admirably dressed in various
ways. An oyster-bank under his windows contributed its inhabit
ants for our dessert; the cows grazing before the house also afforded
many delicacies; and the hot-houses adjoining the dining-room, deli
cious fruits.
Does it not do one good to think that perhaps not less than a hun
dred thousand persons in England are in the enjoyment of such an
existence as this; of such substantial and comfortable luxury in their
peaceful homes! free monarchs in the. bosoms of their families, where
they live in the security of their inviolable rights of property!
Happy men! they are never annoyed with the oppressive missives
of uncivil functionaries, who want to rule everything even in their
drawing-rooms and bed-chambers, and think they have rendered the
state an important service vvhen they have put the unhappy subject
to an expense of many thousand dollars in a year for unnecessary
postage ; — who are not contented to be placed above the governed,
but must place themselves against them ; thus uniting in their own
persons party and judge. Happy men ! free from assaults on their
purses, — from personal indignities, — from the insolence of officials,
eager to show their power by useless and frivolous vexations, — from
the avidity of insatiable blood-suckers! — unrestrained masters of their
own property, and only subject to those laws which themselves have
contributed to make! When we reflect on this, we must confess
that England, though not a perfect country, is a most fortunate one.
We ought not, therefore, to be much offended at Englishmen if, feel
ing strongly the contrast between their own country and most others,

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 369
they can never, whatever be their courtesy and kindness, get over
the distance which separates them from foreigners. Their feeling
of self-respect, which is perfectly just, is so powerful, that they in
voluntarily look upon us as an inferior race. Just as we, for exam
ple, in spile of all our German heartiness, should find it difficult to
fraternize with a Sandwich Islander. In some centuries we shall
perhaps change places; but at present, unhappily, we are a long way
from that.* Holyhead, August 9 th. — Evening.
I have had a bad night, a high fever, bad weather, and rough roads.
The latter misery I incurred by choosing to visit the celebrated
' Paris mines' in the Isle of Anglesea. This island is the complete
reverse of Wales; almost entirely flat — no trees, not even a thicket
or hedge — only field after field. The copper-mines on the coast are,
however, interesting. My arrival having been announced by Colo
nel H  , I was received with firing of cannon, which resounded
wildly from the caves beneath. I collected several beautiful speci
mens of the splendid and many-coloured ore: the lumps are broken
small, thrown into heaps, and set on fire like alum ore, and these
heaps left to burn for nine months: the smoke is in part caught,
and forms sulphur. It is curious to the uninitiated, that during this
nine months' burning, which expels all the sulphur by the force of
the chemical affinity created by the fire, the pure copper, which had
before been distributed over the whole mass, is concentrated, and
forms a little compact lump in the middle, like a kernel in a nut-shell.
After the burning, the copper, like alum again, is vvashed; and the
water used for the purpose is caught in little pools: the deposit in
these, contains from twenty-five to forty per cent, of copper; and the
remaining water is still so strongly impregnated, that an iron key
held in it, in a few seconds assumes a brilliant copper colour.
The ore is then repeatedly smelted, and at last refined; after which
it is formed into square blocks, of a hundred pounds weight, for sale;
or pressed by mills into sheets for sheathing vessels. A singular
circumstance is observable at the founding, which is a pretty sight.
The whole mass flows into a sand-bed or matrix, divided into eight
or ten compartments, like an eating-trough for several animals: the
divisions do not quite reach the height of the exterior edge; so that
the liquid copper, which flows in at one end, as soon as the plug is
drawn out must fill the first compartment before it reaches the
second, and so on. Now the strange thing is, that all the pure cop
per which was contained in the furnace remains in this first compart
ment, — the others are filled with slag, which is only used for making
roads. The reason is this; — the copper ore contains a portion of
* Nothing can be more ridiculous than the declamation of German writers con
cerning the poverty which reigns in England; where, -according to them, there are
only a few enormously rich, and crowds of extremely indigent. It is precisely the
extraordinary number of people of competent fortune, and the ease with which
the poorest can earn, not only what is strictly necessary, but even some luxuries,
if he chooses to work vigorously, which make England independent and happy.
One must not indeed repeat after the Opposition newspapers.
47

370 letters on Germany,
iron, which is magnetically affected: this holds the copper together,
and forces it to flow out first. Now as they know pretty accurately,
by experience, what proportion of pure copper any given mass of
ore will contain, the size of these compartments is regulated so as
exactly to contain it. The manager, a clever man, who spoke half
Welsh half English, told me that he had first invented this manner
of founding, which spared much trouble, and that he had taken out
a patent for it. The advantages which arise from it are obvious;
since without these divisions or compartments, the copper, even if it
flowed out first, must afterwards have spread itself over the whole
mass. The Russians, who in matters of trade and manufacture suf
fer nothing to pass neglected, soon sent a traveller hither to make
himself master of the process. It was not in the slightest degree
concealed from him; — indeed it is but justice to say that the masters
of all commercial and manufacturing establishments in England are
generally very liberal.
While I was yet standing by the furnace, an officer made his ap
pearance, and in the name of the brother of Colonel H  , who is
likewise a colonel, and commands a Hussar regiment in this neigh
bourhood, invited me to dine and spend the night. I was, however,
too tired and unwell to venture on the exploit of a mess-dinner in
England; where, in the provinces at least, the wine is dealt out in
right Old English measure. I wished too to sail by the packet of to
night ; and therefore gratefully declined the invitation, and took the
road to Holyhead, where I arrived at ten o'clock.
My usual ill luck at sea did not permit me to sail, — the night was
so rough that the packet went off without passengers. I staid behind,
not very unwillingly, to take another day's rest in a comfortable

August 10th.
Ill and languid as I am, an excursion to the newly built light
house, four miles from hence, has given me extraordinary pleasure.
Although the Island of Anglesea appears very flat, its picturesque
craggy rocks rise on the western shore to a very considerable height
above the sea. On one of these rocks, which stands out to sea,
abrupt and isolated, is placed the light-house. This indescribably
wild cliff is not only perpendicular — the summit actually projects
several hundred feet beyond the line of the base; so that it appears
rather as if blasted by powder, than the work of nature. Treading
on a thick carpet of yellow dwarf broom and crimson heath, you
reach the edge of the precipice: you then descend four or five hun
dred steps, roughly hewn in the rock, till you come to a little bridge
suspended on ropes; across this, holding by its net-work sides, you
swing, as it were, over the chasm which separates this rock from the
main land. Thousands of sea-mews wheeled around us, uttering
their ceaseless melancholy wail to the storm. The young ones were
just fledged, and the parent birds took advantage of the rough weather
to exercise them. Nothing could be more graceful and interesting
than these flying lessons. The young were easily distinguishable by

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 371
their .gray colour and their yet unsteady flight; while the old ones
hung poised sometimes for the space of a minute without moving a
wing, as if upborne motionless by the storm. The young ones often
rested in the crevices of the rocks, but were soon driven out to fresh
exertions by their inexorable parents.
The light-house is exactly like that which I have described to you
at Flamborough Head, on the eastern coast of England, only with
out the revolving lights. The neatness of the oil-vessels, and the
wonderful brightness of the mirror-like reflectors were here, as
there, most admirable. I remarked an ingenious sort of rough-
weather window, which may be opened in the hardest gale, without
trouble or danger of breaking; and a vertical stone staircase, like a
saw, which saves much room. But I cannot make you understand
either without a drawing. Dublin, Aug. 11th.
A more unprosperous voyage it is hardly possible to have. I was
ten hours tossed about, sick to death. The heat, the disgusting
smell of the steam-boiler, the universal sickness, — it was a frightful
night — a picture of human misery worthy of Carl of Carlsberg. In
a longer voyage one gets hardened, and many nevv sources of plea
sure compensate for privations; but short voyages, which show only
the dark side of the picture, are my greatest aversion. Thank God
it's over, and I once more feel firm ground under me; though I
sometimes think Ireland rocks a little. Evening.
This country has more resemblance to Germany than to England.
That universal and almost over-refined industry and culture disap
pears here, and with it, alas! English neatness. The houses and
streets have a dirty air, although Dublin is adorned with many mag
nificent palaces and broad straight streets. The lower classes are in
rags; those somewhat higher, want the English elegance; while the
variety of brilliant uniforms, which are never seen in the streets of
London, still more strongly remind one of the continent. The
environs of the city have no longer the accustomed freshness; the
soil is more neglected, the grass and trees scantier. The grand fea
tures of the landscape, however, the bay, the distant mountains of
Wicklow, the Hill of Howth, the amphitheatrical mass of houses,
the quays, the harbour, are beautiful. Such, at least, is the first im
pression. I find myself, in the best inn in the city, less comfortable than in
the little tovvn of Bangor. The house is large, but seems silent and
deserted; while I remember that there, only during my dinner, I
saw fifteen carriages arrive, all of which were necessarily sent away
from the door. The influx of strangers is so great along the high-
roads of England, that waiters in the inns are not hired, but on the
contrary, sometimes pay as much as 300/. a year for their places.
They make a handsome profit, nevertheless, from the fees they re
ceive. In Ireland, we return to the continental custom.

372 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
As soon as I had a little refreshed myself I took a, walk through
the city; in the course of which I passed two rather tasteless monu
ments. The one represents William of Orange on horseback, in
Roman costume. Both man and horse are deformed: the horse has
a bit in his mouth, and head-gear on, but no appearance of reins,
though the king's hand is stretched out exactly as if he were hold
ing them. Does this mean that William wanted no rein to ride John
Bull? The other monument is a colossal statue of Nelson, standing on a
high pillar, and dressed in a modern uniform. Behind him hangs a
cable, whick looks more like a pack-thread. The attitude is devoid
of dignity, and the figure is too high to be distinctly seen.
I afterwards came to a large round building, towards which the
people crowded, keeping watch on the outside. On inquiry, I
learned that the yearly exhibition of fruits and flowers was held here.
They were just taking away the former as I entered; notwithstand
ing which, I saw many very fine specimens. In the midst of the
flowers, which formed a sort of temple, there was an enclosed space
railed round for the fruits, which twelve judges ate with great gra
vity and apparent satisfaction. They must have been a long time in
coming to a decision; for rinds of melons, pears and apples, frag
ments of pines, stones of plums, apricots and peaches, lay in moun
tains on the table beneath; and although the flowers were all gradual
ly removed by the proprietors, I did not see that any of the fruits
found their way out of this temple of Pomona. August 12th.
As I knew not what else to do (for all the ' notables' who inhabit
the town were in the country,) I visited a number of ' show places.'
First the Castle, where the vice-King resides, and whose miserable
state-apartments with coarsely boarded floors do not offer anything
very attractive. — A modern Gothic chapel, the exterior of which is
a deceptive imitation of antiquity, is more worth seeing: the inte
rior is decorated with splendid painted glass from Italy, of the
fifteenth century, and richly ornamented with modern carvings in
wood, of truly antique beauty. The whole chapel is heated by pipes
of hot air; and a passage, warmed in the same manner and carpeted,
connects it with the Lord Lieutenant's apartments.
In the extensive and beautiful buildings belonging to the Univer
sity a student acted as my cicerone. These young men, when within
the precincts of the college, are obliged to wear, over their usual
clothes, a black mantle, and a strange high cap with tassels three
quarters of an ell long, which gives them a rather grotesque appear
ance. This dress is as rigorously adhered to, as at one time a pig
tail and powder were by Saxon staff-officers.
The young man took me into the Museum; showed me the burn
ing-glass with which Archimedes set fire to the Roman fleet! Os-
sian's harp;* a stuffed Indian chieftain, with tomahawk and spear;
* Probably presented by Macpherson himself.— Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 373
and some fragments of pillars from the Giant's Causeway, which
could not be more accurately formed by the hand of man, and which
ring like English glass. ' Je vous fais grace du reste.'
In the great hall in which the examinations are held, (the student
told me this with a slight shudder,) stands a Spanish organ, built for
the grand Armada. — Much more interesting are the portraits of
Swift and Burke: both physiognomies express the known qualities
of the men. The one has an expression as acute and sarcastic as it
is native and original: the other, full of intellect and power, some
what blunt, but yet benevolent and honest, announces the thunder
ing orator who contended sincerely and without reserve for his opi
nion, but never glossed over his own interest with affected enthu
siasm for others.
After visiting the Courts of Justice, the Custom-house, and other
magnificent buildings, I was going home, when I was tempted by
the advertisement of a ' Peristrephic Panorama' of the battle of
Navarino. This is a very amusing sight; and gives so clear an idea
of that ' untoward event,' that one may console one's self for not
having been there. You enter a small theatre, — the curtain draws
up, and behind it is discovered the pictures which represent, in a
grand whole, the series of the several incidents of the fight. The
canvass does not hang straight down, but is stretched in a convex
semicircle, and moved off slowly upon rollers, so that the pictures
are changed almost imperceptibly, and without any break between
scene and scene. A man describes aloud the objects represented ;
and the distant thunder of cannon, military music, and the noise of
the battle, increase the illusion. By means of panoramic painting,
and a slight undulation of that part which represents the waves and
the ships, the imitation almost reaches reality.
The first scene represents the bay of Navarino with the whole
Turkish fleet in order of battle. At the opposite extremity of the
bay is seen Old Navarino and its fortress perched on a high rock;
on the side of it the village of Pylos, and in the foreground the city
of Navarino with Ibrahim's camp, where groups of fine horses, and
beautiful Greek prisoners surrounded by their captors, attract the
eye. In the distance, just at the extremity of the horizon, the allied
fleets are faintly descried. This picture slowly disappears, and is
succeeded by the open sea, — the entrance to the bay of Navarino
then gradually succeeds. You distinguish the armed men on the
rocks, and at length see the allied fleet forcing the passage. By
some optical deception everything appears of its natural size; and
the spectator seems to be placed in the Turkish position in the bay,
and to see the admiral's ship, the Asia, bearing down upon him with
all sails set. You see Admiral Codrington on the deck in conversa
tion with the captain. The other vessels follow in extending lines,
and with swelling sails, as if ready for the attack; — a glorious sight!
Next follow the separate engagements of the several ships, the ex
plosion of a fireship, and the sinking of some Turkish frigates.
Lastly, the engagement between the Asia and the Egyptian admi-

374 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ral's ship on the one side, and the Turkish on the other, both of
which, as you know, sank after an obstinate defence of many hours.
The battle is succeeded by some views of Constantinople, which
give a very lively idea of Asiatic scenes and habits.
In the evening I visited the theatre; a very pretty house, with a
somewhat less rough and obstreporous audience than those of Lon
don. The actors were not bad, though none of them rose above
mediocrity. Numerous uniforms were intermingled among the
ladies in the lower tier of boxes, which seemed to be elegantly filled.
The higher classes, however, as I am told, seldom visit the theatre
here, any more than in London. August 13th.
Having seen enough of the city, I have begun my rides in the
neighbourhood, which is much more beautiful than its appearance at
my first approach, on the least favourable side, led me to expect. A
road commanding charming views, — first of the bay, which is inter
sected by a mole five miles in length, and bounded at either extre
mity by the two light-houses of Dublin and Howth, r.ising like
columns in the distance; then of the mountains of Wicklow, some
clothed with wood, some rising like sugar-loaves high above the
others; and lastly, along an avenue of noble elms by the side of a
canal, — brought me to the Phoenix Park, the Prater of Dublin, which
in no respect yields to that of Vienna, whether we regard its ex
panse of beautiful turf for riding, long avenues for driving, or shady
walks. A large but ill-proportioned obelisk is erected here to the
Duke of Wellington. I found the park rather empty, but the streets
through which I returned full of movement and bustle. The dirt,
the poverty, and the ragged clothing of the common people often
exceed all belief. Nevertheless they seem always good-natured, and
sometimes have fits of merriment in the open streets which border
on madness; — whiskey is generally at the bottom of this. I saw a
half-naked lad dance the national dance in the market-place so long,
and with such violent exertion, that at last he fell down senseless
amid the cheers of the spectators, totally exhausted, like a Moham
medan dervise.
The streets are crowded with beggar-boys, who buzz around one
like flies, incessantly offering their services. Notwithstanding their
extreme poverty, you may trust implicitly to their honesty; and
wretched, lean, and -famished as they appear, you see no traces of
melancholy on their open, good-natured countenances. They are
the best-bred and most contented beggar-boys in the world. Such a
little fellow will run by your horse's side for hours, hold it when
you alight, go on any errand you like; and is not only contented
with the few pence you give him, but full of gratitude, which he
expresses with Irish hyperbole. The Irishman appears generally
more patient than his neighbours, but somewhat degraded by long
slavery. I was witness among other things to this: — A young man had
pasted up a wrong play-bill: the manager of the theatre came up and

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 375
hit him a slap on the face, and otherwise ill-treated him, without his
making any resistance ; — an Englishman would have made instant
reprisals. I passed the evening in the family circle of an old acquaintance,
a brother of the Lord-lieutenant, who was just come to town for a
few days. We talked over old times, as we had been much together
in London. He has a remarkable talent for imitating the late Kem
ble, whom he resembles in person. I thought I saw Coriolanus and
Zanga again. August 14th.
Another friend, of yet older date, Mr. W — — ts, to whom I had
once an opportunity of rendering some service in Vienna, paid me
a visit this morning, and offered me his country-house as a residence.
— He had scarcely quitted me, when I was told that Lady B  ,
an Irish ' peeress,' and one of the most beautiful women in the coun
try, whose acquaintance I had cultivated during the last season in
the metropolis, was in her carriage below, and wished to speak to
me. As I was still in the most absolute ' negligee,' I told the waiter,
(a perfect ' Jocrisse,' whose ' Irish blunders' daily amuse me,) that I
was not dressed, as he saw, but that I would be ready immediately.
He announced the state of my toilet; but added, 'de son chef,' that
" my Lady had better come up." Imagine my astonishment when
he came back and told me that Lady B  had laughed very much,
and had bid him say that she would willingly wait, but that to pay
gentlemen morning visits in their chambers was not the custom in
Ireland. In this answer appeared the cordial, frank, and good-natured cha
racter of the true Irishwoman, which I had already learned to love
and admire. A prudish Englishwoman would have driven away in
high displeasure, and perhaps have ruined the reputation of a young
man for such a 'qui pro quo' as this: for in English society people
do not only stumble at things which in other countries produce quite
a contrary effect; but the ' it is said' in the mouth of an influential
person is a two-edged sword. ' He has a bad character'* is sufficient
to shut a hundred doors against a stranger. An Englishman is much
less guided by his own observation than is generally imagined: he
always attaches himself to some party, with whose eyes he sees.
In the afternoon I went to dine at my friend's villa. The road
was very agreeable. It began with the Phoenix Park, and followed
the course of the Liffey, the river which flows through Dublin,
where its beautiful quays, stone and iron bridges, add so much to
the embellishment of" the town. Here it has a rural and romantic
character, bordered with the broad leaves of the tussilago, and en
closed by soft hills and verdant thickets. I asked a beggar whom I
met, how far it was to W  park, and whether the road continued
* Character, in England, means, (most characteristically, in a country where ap
pearance has more weight than in any other, ) not the result or sum of a man's
moral and intellectual qualities, but his reputation, what is said of him — Editob.

376 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
equally beautiful all the way. 'Long life to your honour!' exclaimed
he, with Irish patriotism, ' only keep right on, and you never saw
anything more beautiful in this world!'
The entrance to W  park is indeed the most delightful in its
kind that can be imagined. Scenery, by nature most beautiful, is
improved by art to the highest degree of its capability; and without
destroying its free and wild character, a variety and richness of ve
getation is produced which enchant the eye. Gay shrubs and wild
flowers, the softest turf, and giant trees festooned with creeping
plants, fill the narrow glen through which the path winds by the side
of the clear dancing brook; falling in little cataracts, it flows on,
sometimes hidden in the thicket, sometimes resting like liquid silver
in an emerald cup, or rushing under overhanging arches of rock,
wrhich nature seems to have hung there as triumphal gates for the
beneficent naiad of the valley to pass through. As soon as you
leave the glen, the enchantment suddenly ceases: the rest in no re
spect answers your high-raised expectations. Scanty grass, stunted
trees, and thick stagnant water, surround a small Gothic castle,
which looks like a poor scene in a play. In it, however, you find
some interesting objects: — among o'thers, some good pictures; and
the best and most cordial host that any one can desire. I must also
mention a curious ' pavilion rustique' which is built in a suitable
spot in the ' pleasure-ground.' It is hexagonal, three sides solid, and
fashioned of pieces of rough branches of trees very prettily arranged
in various patterns; the other three consist of two windows and a
door. The floor is covered with a mosaic of little pebbles from, the
brook, the ceiling with shells, and the roof is thatched with wheat
straw, on which the full ears are left. August 15th.
Although my chest continues to give me pain, and my doctor
sometimes makes solemn faces, I go on with my expeditions, vvhich
afford me great pleasure.
I had already fixed a longing eye on one of three hills, four or five
miles from the city, on the summit of which stand three distinct up
right masses of rock, from which it takes its name, ' The Three
Rocks.' The view from it must needs be beautiful. I got up, there
fore, earlier than usual, that I might reach the top in good time. I
asked repeatedly in the villages through which I passed, which was
the best way, but could never get a distinct answer. At length I
was assured by the inhabitants of a house at the foot of the hill, that
I could not ride up, and must dismount. This in the present state
of my chest was not practicable ; but as I have long learned what
people's impossibilities are, I took the path they showed me, on
horseback, without hesitation. I could safely trust my little compact
mare, for the Irish horses climb over rocks or walls like cats. For
sometime I followed a tolerably beaten footpath, and when this
ceased, the dry bed of a mountain stream, along which I rode with
out much difficulty for about two miles. I now found myself on a
large and naked 'plateau,' and saw the three rocks, like witches'

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 377
stones, rearing their heads before me. The intervening space, how
ever, seemed an impassable bog. I tried it very cautiously, and
found a shingly bottom at about eight or ten inches Under the boggy
soil. This continued all the way ; till after some time I reached
firm ground, and stood upon the highest point. The wished-for
prospect lay before me: Ireland, like a map; Dublin, like a smoking
lime-kiln in the green plain, (for the coal-smoke did not allow me
to distinguish one single building ;) the bay with its light-houses ;
the boldly marked headland of Howth ; and on the other side, the
mountains of Wicklow, stretching away to the horizon, lay beneath
me bathed in sunlight, and rewarded me for all my fatigue.
But the scene was yet further animated by a sweet-looking young
woman, whom I discovered in this wild solitude, busied in the hum
ble employment of straw-platting. The natural grace of the Irish
peasant-women, who are often truly beautiful, is as surprising as their
dress, or rather their want of dress ; for though it was very cold on
these hills, the whole clothing of the young woman before me con
sisted of a large very coarse straw hat, and literally two or three
rags of the coarsest sackcloth suspended under the breast by a piece
of cord, and more than half disclosing her handsome person. Her
conversation was cheerful, sportive and witty; perfectly unembar
rassed, and in a certain sense free ; but you would fall into a great
error if you inferred from that, any levity or looseness of conduct.
The women of this class in Ireland are, almost universally, ex
tremely chaste, and still more disinterested. If one of them ever
strays from the path of virtue, she is very rarely seduced by those
considerations of gain, which are so degrading, and, in such matters,
so unnatural.
After I had descended the mountain on the other side, leading my
horse, who scrambled after me as well as he could, I reached the
high road, and came upon an open park gate, (for in this also Ireland
resembles the continent, where every proprietor, from the king to
the humble country gentleman, enhances his own enjoyment by
sharing it with the public,) and rode in. I soon gave up the enter
prise, however, on seeing two gigantic capuchins with gown and
cross cut out of painted boards, standing in a cross-way, and each of
them holding a book on which was written, "To the Pheasantry,"
" To the Abbey." Such bad taste is rare here.
In the street I met a London 'dandy,' who called out to me, (for
I did not recognize him,) laughed heartily at our meeting ' in such
a horrid place,' ran on for some time in a satirical vein on Dublin
society, and at last concluded by informing me, that through the in
fluence of his family he had just obtained a place here, which, indeed,
brought him in 2000/. a year, and gave him nothing to do, but which
compelled him 'pro forma' to pass a part of every year in this
' shocking' abode. With such, and even much richer sinecures, are
the younger sons of the English aristocracy provided in countless
numbers, and in all parts of the empire. I think, however, that
even here, the pitcher will not always go to the well without break
ing; though I must confess that these defects in the English govern-
48

378 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ment, compared with the arbitrary power exercised in other states,
are but spots on the sun.
I of course entirely except Ireland, which appears to experience,
in almost every instance, a stepmother's care; which contributes
largely to the power and splendour of the English nobility, without
receiving back the smallest portion of those advantages of which
England receives so much.
August 18th.
Your letters are still so melancholy, dear Julia * * *
***-* te * * * *
You see, then, that it is not events themselves, so much as your own
view of them, which years have tinged with a more gloomy colour.
But alas! this is the most irremediable of all evils! We are not
what we were; and the one eternal and universal error remains —
that we think we can help ourselves by an exertion of strength,
when the strength is no longer there: — as soon can we be or look
young again! I too begin to feel traces of this — but only there,
where the world lays its fetters around me; when alone with God
and nature, the gloomiest horizon has no power to darken my inner
sun. I accompanied Lady B  , of whom I have already spoken, to
breakfast to-day at the country-house of a much admired young lady.
The master of the house excused himself on the plea of headache,
and I was therefore left to take a long walk in the grounds with the
two ladies alone. On our arrival at the gate which was to lead us to
one of the most beautiful parts of the woods, it was locked — no key
to be found; and according to the report of the old gardener, the
lady's maid had gone in, and taken it away with her. A servant
was ordered to jump over the wall, and to seek the offender: he came
back, however, without any tidings of her. I now got a ladder, and
helped my laughing companions to climb over the wall; they pro
fessed great awkwardness, but acquitted themselves most gracefully.
After walking a quarter of an hour we met the unfortunate lady's
maid, and — as she thought herself safe — not alone: it may be ima
gined in what company. A mute domestic scene followed; and as
I am too good-natured to laugh, it really grieved me that my ladder
had been the cause of such distress. I declined staying to dinner,
and hastened back to town to call on Lady M  , to whom I had a
letter of introduction, and who had already sent me a polite invita
tion which I had not been able to accept. I was very eager to make
the acquaintance of a woman whom I rate so highly as an authoress.
I found her, however, very different from what I had pictured her
to myself. She is a little frivolous lively woman, apparently between
thirty and forty, neither pretty nor ugly, but by no means disposed
to resign all claim to the former, and with really fine and expressive
eyes. She has no idea of ' mauvaise honte' or embarrassment; her
manners are not the most refined, and affect the 'aisance' ahd levity
of the fashionable world, which, however, do not sit calmly or na
turally upon her. She has the English weakness, — that of talking

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 379
incessantly of fashionable acquaintances, and trying to pass for very
'recherche,' to a degree quite unworthy of a woman of such distin
guished talents; she is not at all aware how she thus underrates her
self. She is not difficult to know, for with more vivacity than good
taste, she instantly professes perfect openness, and especially sets
forth on every occasion her liberalism and her infidelity; the latter
of the somewhat obsolete school of Helvetius and Condillac. In her
writings she is far more guarded and dignified than in her conversa
tion. The satire of the latter is, however, not less biting and dex
terous than that of her pen, and just as little remarkable for a con
scientious regard to truth. You may think that with all these
elements two hours flew rapidly away. I had enthusiasm enough to
be able to utter some ' a propos' which pleased her, and she treated
me with marked attention: first, because I happen to have a distin
guished title; and secondly, because she had seen my name as danc
ing at Almacks, and as present at several ' fetes' of the great leaders
of Ton — a circumstance which appeared so important in her eyes,
that she repeatedly recurred to it. August 20th.
Yesterday evening I was engaged to a ' soiree' at Lord C  's,
the head of a new family, but one of the oldest ' wits' of Dublin. I
was invited to accompany his friend Lady M  , but was prevent
ed by a tragi-comical incident. I had ridden out to visit Mr. L 
at his country-seat (a trouble which between ourselves neither he nor
his family deserved,) and it was late when I set out on my return.
To save time, I took my way across the country, ' a la Seidlitz.'
For some miles all went on capitally, till just at twilight I came to
a very wide ditch, the opposite bank of which was considerably
lower than the one on which I stood, and surrounded a broad mea
dow. I leaped into this enclosure; but on trying to get out on the
other side, my horse refused, and all my efforts to bring him to
obedience were vain. I alighted to lead him, mounted again to try
to leap him at another place,— tried fair means and foul; all equally
in vain: till at length he made an awkward attempt at a leap, fell
with me into the muddy water, and with some difficulty scrambled
back again to the inner and lower bank. All hope of getting out of
the enchanted spot in which I was caught as in a mouse-trap, was
now lost: — it was become quite dark, I was wet through, and ex
tremely heated; and was at last obliged to come to the determination
of leaving my horse, getting over the fatal ditch, ' tant bien que
mal,' on foot, and seeking help and shelter where I could. The
moon came kindly from behind the clouds, and aided me with her
welcome light. After a most toilsome walk of half an hour over
ploughed land and through high wet grass, I reached a miserable hut,
in which everybody was already asleep. I walked in, (for the houses
here are never fastened;) a couple of pigs grunted under my feet,
and near them lay the master of the house. With some difficulty I
made him understand my request, which I enforced by jingling some

380 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
silver close to his ear. This universal language awakened him more
effectually than my invocations; he sprang up, called a comrade, and
went out to my ' Didone abbandonata.' Irishmen are never at a loss
for expedients: they found a broken and deserted wooden bridge
near at hand, laid it across the ditch, and I at length found myself
on the high road with my liberated steed. I reached home so late,
and in such a plight, that I desired nothing but rest, and was sorry
to hear that Lady M  had been to fetch me, and had driven away
in great vexation an hour ago.
The next morning I went to make my excuses. She pardoned
me graciously, but assured me that I had lost a great deal, for that
all the rank and fashion of the town were there. I assured her with
great sincerity that I regretted nothing but the loss of her society,
but that I hoped to be indemnified for that as soon as I had made my
' sentimental journey' to the county Wicklow, for which my German
romantic soul ardently thirsted, and which I intended to commence
the following morning on horseback. The conversation became very
gay, — for she likes that; and at last ended so petulantly, that she
exclaimed, 'Finissez!' when you come back I shall receive you just
like an elder sister: to vvhich I answered, laughing, ' That I cannot
agree to; — -je craindrais le sort d'Abufar. ' Addressed to Lady M 
this was certainly rather a ' fade' joke.
The continuation of my adventures you will receive from the
midst of rocks and mountains. Adieu! may Heaven send you se
renity and peace, and may every word of my letters whisper to you
' true love till death.' Your L  .

LETTER XXIX. August 22nd, 1 828.
Beloved Julia,
About noon 1 quitted Dublin entirely alone, comfortably establish
ed on iriy good steed. I left my carriage and people in the town,
and sent a little travelling bag, containing my most necessary effects,
before me by the stage-coach. Unfortunately, however, this was
changed by mistake; and though I waited for it a whole day and
night in Bray, only twenty miles from Dublin, it did not overtake
me; rather than go back or wait longer, I bought a Scotch cloak and
some linen in Bray, and entered on my tour quite after the fashion
of a student. I supped with a young parson of good family, who
made me laugh heartily at his orthodoxy in matters of religion, in
terspersed with talk which was by no means remarkable for severe
decorum or virtue. But such is the piety of Englishmen,— it is to
them at once a party matter and an affair of good manners; and as
in politics they follow their party implicitly, through thick and thin,
reasonable and unreasonable, because it is their party;— as they sub
mit to a custom for ever because it is a custom; so they regard their

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 381
religion, (without the least tincture of poetry,) in exactly the same
point of view: they go to church on Sundays, just as regularly as
they dress every day for dinner; and regard a man who neglects
church, just in the same light as one who eats fish with a knife.*
Accompanied by the young divine, who was travelling the same
way for some distance, I left Bray at five o'clock in the morning.
In a most lovely country we passed Kilruddery, a newly built seat
of the Earl of Meath, in the style of the houses of Elizabeth's time;
• — in this case the masses are not sufficiently large to produce a good
effect. The park is not very extensive, but long and narrow; the
gardens, in the old French taste, are very celebrated; but, probably
owing to our unpretending appearance, we were most discourteously
denied admittance. In England this is common enough, but rare in
Ireland, and gave no very favourable impression of the philanthropy
of the possessor. My companion, who is an adherent of ' la grace
efficace,' — that is to say, who is firmly persuaded that God, from all
eternity, predestined his favourites for heaven, and others who
pleased him less for hell, — made no doubt, in his wrath, that the
Lord of Kilruddery belonged to the latter category. "It is a dis
grace to an Irishman!" exclaimed he, angrily; and I had some dif
ficulty in making him understand the duty of tolerance.
A second park, Bellevue, the property of a worthy old gentleman,
readily opened its gates to us. Here is a summer-house which seems
to hang in the air, and overlooks the ' Glen of the Downs,' a deep
valley, behind which two extinct volcanoes rear their conical heads.
The summer-house had just been prettily covered with purple
heather. A less happy thought was a stuffed tiger, lying as if alive
in the ante-room.
My travelling chaplain here quitted me, and I rode alone to the
vale of Durwan, where, in a narrow romantic pass, stands a rock
eighty or a hundred feet high, shaped in the rude outline of the
human figure. The country people, who relate many wondrous
stories about it, call it the Giant. Not far from it are the ruins of a
castle, so entirely overgrown with ivy that you must approach very
near to distinguish it from the surrounding trees. At the end of the
valley the path winds over meadows to a considerable height, which
command a most exquisite view. I looked across the sea, and saw,
almost with a feeling of home sickness, the Welsh mountains in the
blue distance.
After having refreshed myself with bread and milk in a little
country inn, I took my way to the ' Devil's Glen,' which merits
the name it bears. The wild scene opens with a Gothic castle,
whose blackened walls rise above the surrounding wood: you then
plunge into a glen whose sides gradually rise higher and higher, and
are more and more contracted, while the moaning breeze rustles
louder through the dark thicket, and the torrent roars more fearfully.
* The common people in England put the knife as well as the fork to their
mouths. The higher classes, on the contrary, regard this as tlie true sin against tlie
Holy Ghost, and cross themselves internally when they see a foreign Ambassador
now and then eat so; — it is an affront to the whole nation.

382 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
I rode on with difficulty over the slippery earth, incessantly annoy
ed by the overhanging boughs, and suddenly found the path termi
nated by a magnificent cascade, which plunges headlong over lofty
crags, and disappears foaming in the bottom. If not the devil him-
selfj it is at least Kiihleborn.
Most agreeable is the change from this awful glen to the lovely syl
van valley of Rosanna, where I ate my mid-day repast under the shade
of high ash-trees. I found two regular English tourists, armed with
hortus siccus and hammers. They had resided here for some weeks,
during which time they had had the clean table-cloth removed from
the dirty table, and remained sitting an hour at dessert, with exactly
the same punctuality as in a London coffee-house, though they had
miserable sloe-juice instead of claret, and roasted apples instead of
ripe fruit.
At seven o'clock I mounted my horse again, galloped ten miles
along the main road, and just before sunset reached the exquisitely
beautiful Avondale. In this paradise every possible charm is united.
A wood which appears of measureless extent, two noble rivers,
rocks of every variety of picturesque form, the greenest meadows,
the most varied and luxuriant shrubberies and thickets; in short,
scenery changing at every step, yet never diminishing in beauty.
The last time I traversed the valley it was moonlight, and I should
have found my way with difficulty but for a young man who was
returning from shooting; with true Irish kindness and courtesy he
accompanied me at least three miles on foot, far beyond the most in
tricate parts. The night was extremely clear and mild, the sky as
blue as by day, and the moon lustrous as a gem. Though I lost
something in extent of view, I gained perhaps more by the magic
light which was diffused through the atmosphere; by the darker and
more fantastic ' contours' of the rocks, — the thought-pregnant still
ness, — and the sweetly-awful loneliness of night.
At ten o'clock I reached the end of my day's journey, Avoca Inn ;
where I found very tolerable accommodation, kind and hearty attend
ance, and moderate charges. I met another English tourist in the
eating-room; — but this was a high-spirited and interesting young
man, who fully sympathized in my rapture at the enchanting coun
try, and with whom I talked away a very pleasant hour at tea, be
fore I sat down to write to you. But now good night, for mountain
travelling demands early rising.
Roundwood, August 23rd.
Yesterday I rode eight German miles, — to-day nine; and my
chest is not at all the worse. Pleasure is an excellent restorative;
and I have seen so many varied objects, that these few days appear
to me like so many weeks.
I had slept well, though the broken windows of my chamber were
only repaired with pillows. My humble lodging was succeeded by
a better breakfast, and my horse was excellently taken care of. I
ride like the Arabs, either at a gallop or a foot pace: this fatigues
one the least, and gets over the most ground. My first excursion

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 383
was to the celebrated ' Meeting of the Waters,' where the two rivers
Avon-beg and Avon-more unite their streams. They have chosen
the most picturesque spot in which to celebrate their nuptial feast.
On a rock on this side stands Castle Howard, with its numerous
towers and battlements, which, unluckily, were but just finished, and
on a near approach lost all their imposing effect. 1 found the castle
still buried in sleep; and a servant in his shirt showed me the pic
tures, among which is a splendid portrait of Mary Stuart. This
must be a speaking likeness; it is clearly of her time; and the attrac
tive, truly French face, with the delicate nose, the captivating
mouth, the languishing fire of the eyes; and that indescribable, inimi
table expression which, without making any direct advance, yet some
how inspires courage, and though not devoid of womanly dignity,
yet at the first glance bespeaks confidence and intimacy, — all con
vince one that thus the woman must have looked, whom scarcely
any man could approach nearly, however severed by inequality of
rank, without soon assuming the character of a lover. Her hands
are exquisite; and in her dress, although of the 'barroque' style of
that age, there reigns such harmony, that one is instantly convinced
she was not less skilled in the arts of the toilet than her country
women of the present day.
An excellent road leads from this place through the ' entire vale'
to the park of Bally- Arthur. The peculiar characteristic of this val
ley is, that the hills on either side are clothed with such impenetra
ble beech-woods that there is no visible interval between the masses,
and it really looks as if you could ride on the tops of the trees. I
here quitted the road, and followed a footpath in the thicket, which
led me to a very beautiful view; at the termination of the long glen,
the towers of Arklow appeared as if set in a frame. About a mile
and a half further on, the path suddenly ends in a ha-ha, over which
my horse utterly refused to leap. As the wall was on my side, and
the turf below very soft, I hit upon a new expedient: I tied my
handkerchief over the eyes of the refractory beast, and pushed him
down backwards over the wall. He was very little frightened, and
not at all hurt by the fall as I had expected, and grazed peaceably
blindfold till I rejoined him. This manoeuvre saved me at least five
miles. The new park in which I now found myself, — for all this part of
the country is a continued pleasure-ground, — belonged to Shelton
Abbey, a modern piece of Gothicry, intended to represent an old
abbey. The possessors had been absent for years ; and a negro vvho
was at work in the garden showed me the rooms, in which are some
very interesting pictures. The hero of one is the great-grandfather
of the possessor; the scene in Italy, and the costume, as well as the
manners represented, most strange and even revolting. The civil
negro led me across the fields and through a pretty deep ford in
the river, (whose ice-cold waters did not seem to alarm him), to the
town of Arklow, whence I returned along the high road to dinner
at Avoca Inn. In tlie course of my ride I ascended another hill,
from which I looked down into three distinct valleys, the contrasted

384 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
character of which afforded a most singular view. Scarcely had I
seated myself at table (at Avoca), when I was told that some one
wished to speak to me. A young man, whom I had never seen, was
shown in, and presented to me a pocket-book, which, to my no
small astonishment, I recognized as my own; containing, besides
other important papers which I always carry about me, all the mo
ney I had taken for my journey. I had, Lord knows how, drop
ped it out of my breast-pocket in the summer-house; and had, there
fore, no small reason to congratulate myself on so honourable and
obliging a finder. In England I should hardly have had the good
fortune to see my pocket-book again, even if a ' gentleman' had
found it; he would probably have let it lie in peace, — or kept it.
I must here take occasion to explain to you what this far-famed
epithet ' gentleman' means, since the signification affixed to it is in
imitably characteristic of the English.
'A gentleman' is neither a man of noble birth, nor a man of noble
sentiments (weder ein Edelmann noch ein edler Man— neither a
Nobleman nor a noble man;) but, in strictness,* a man of indepen
dent means, and perfect knowledge of the usages of good society.
He who serves or works for the public in any way, (the higher
functionaries of the state, and here and there a poet or artist of the
first category only excepted,) is no ' gentleman,' or at best only a
half a one. I was greatly astonished at hearing a certain well-known
personage, with whom all lovers of horses, native and foreign, are
well acquainted; who is rich, who is on a footing of intimacy with
many Dukes and Lords, and enjoys great consideration, but who
presides at a weekly auction of horses, (thereby doing useful service
to the public,) — say of himself, " I can't imagine how the Duke of
B  could commission me to carry a challenge to Count M  ;
he ought to have employed a gentleman, — those things are not in
my way."
A really poor man, who is not in a situation to contract debts, can
on no terms be a ' gentleman.' On the contrary, a rich scamp, who has
had what is called a good education, so long as he preserves his 'cha-
racter't (reputation) dexterously, passes for a 'perfect gentleman.'
In the exclusive society of London there are yet finer ' nuances.' A
man, for instance, who were to manifest any timidity or courtesy
towards women, instead of treating them in a familiar, confident, and
' nonchalant' manner, would awaken the suspicion that he was ' no
gentleman:' but should the luckless man ask twice for soup at din
ner, or appear in evening dress at a breakfast which begins at three
in the afternoon and ends at midnight, — he may be a prince and a
'millionnaire,' but he is no gentleman.'
But let us back from Babylon's tyrannous jargon to the freedom
of the hills.
The country through which I now rode was strikingly like the
flat part of Switzerland, gradually rising till I found myself opposite
* In a more loose and general sense, every man of respectable appearance is
called a gentleman.
f This has nothing to do with morality, only with 'scandale.'

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 3S5
to the highest mountains of Wicklow, whose heads were shrouded
in clouds. The valley of Glenmalure has a character of desolate sub
limity, which harmonized perfectly with the weather. In the midst
stands a deserted and already decaying barrack, which looks like a
haunted castle; — neither tree nor bush is to be seen, and the sides
of the mountains are covered with loose stones. The valley has only
subterranean inhabitants, and their life produces death. Here are
great lead-works, whose unwholesome exhalations are traced on the
pallid faces of the workmen. I dressed myself in a black slop, and
was driven into one of the entrances, — a gloomy and terrific journey.
The passages were cold as ice; pitch-darkness reigned in them, and
a cutting wind loaded with a death-like smell blew in our faces.
Minute drops fell with a hollow sound from the low roof, which
bent us nearly double; and the insufferable jolting of the car, which
a man dragged slowly over the rugged bottom, completed the picture
of horrors.
The delicate state of my chest did not permit me to remain long
here, and I gave up all further researches, glad ' once more to see
the rosy light'
I had now to ride over a new and magnificent military road (for
the Government has the watchfulness of a bad conscience about Ire
land,) over one of the mountains which enclose the valley. The
view from the heights was extensive and beautiful, and yet of a very
different character from any I had yet seen: it was much improved
by a most favourable light thrown by the sun from beneath a line of
black clouds. No effect of light gives such clearness and brilliancy
to distant objects as this. The rays lay in broad stripes like a glory
on the intersecting lines of hills; and the two 'Sugar Loaves' stood
overtopping all, in deep blue against this clear horizon. The way
down the mountain is so serpentine that I could gallop along it with
ease. It was nevertheless quite evening before I reached the last
valley which I had yet to see in this day's tour — the Valley of the
Seven Churches. Here stood, above a thousand years ago, ' sic fa-
bula docet,' a large city with seven churches, vvhich the Danes de
stroyed. A handsome gateway still remains almost entire, though
the key-stone is wanting. Time has repaired this loss by a thick
ivy branch, which holds together the whole arch. Seven distinct
ruins are, according to the popular belief, the remains of those holy
structures which gave its name to the valley. Only one of them
indisputably bears this character, and is remarkable from one of the
highest of those strange mysterious towers, without doors or win
dows, which are found near many ruins of religious houses in Ire
land. At the further end of the valley, sunk in the deepest hollow
and most sacred repose, sleep two dark lakes, celebrated for the ad
ventures of Saint Kevin. The rocks around them are uncommonly
steep, and in many places formed like stairs. In one is a narrow
and deep cleft, exactly as if cut by a mighty blow. The legend tells
that the young giant Fian MacCumhal, being thought by his com
rades yet too weak to serve in the war they were then waging, cleft
the rock with his sword, and so put an end to their doubts. Further
49

386 LETTERS ON GERMANYj
still, in a rock overhanging the lake, you descry a black hole in the
cave,— Saint Kevin's cell.
Here the saint sought refuge from the persecuting love of the
king's beautiful daughter Catheiin, and lived for a long time in soli
tude on roots and herbs. In a fatal hour the wandering fair-one dis
covered the fugitive, and surprised him in the dead of night on his
mossy couch. With sweet kisses she awakened the ungallant saint;
who seeing his danger, took the desperate resolution of pushing Ca
theiin over the precipice into the lake, where she lost life and love
in its dark waters.
But the man of God felt some touch of human pity, and com
manded that no other hfe should ever be lost in these waters, — a
charm which, as my guide testified, is in full force to this day. This
' cicerone' was a pretty, and as usual half-naked, boy of about eleven ;
his dress was a specimen of an Irish toilette, worthy of mention.
He wore the coat of a grown man, which besides many diaphanous
places, was deficient in a sleeve and a half, and one flap, while the
other streamed after him like the tail of a comet. Neckcloth, waist
coat, and shirt were dismissed, as wholly superfluous: to make
amends, the remains of a pair of red plush breeches made a most
magnificent appearance, though in somewhat strong contrast with
the naked legs beneath. To see this figure scramble over the rocks
like a squirrel, singing all the while bits of " Tommy"* Moore and
Walter Scott, was certainly characteristic. As he led me to the
cave, at a point where the passage was rather slippery, he cried, " Oh
you can come on very well; I brought Sir Walter Scott here, and he
climbed over the worst places though he had a lame foot." He
could talk of nothing else; and recited rapidly four lines which Scott
or Moore, I forget which, had composed in the cavern. These peo
ple are so exactly suited to the wild and ruin-clad country, that with
out them it would lose much of its romantic interest.
In order to reach a tolerable inn at night, I had to ride ten miles
over an interminable moor, the usual haunt of all sorts of spirits,
though only now and then a solitary Will-o'-the-wisp flitted by me.
When I reached the village, both the inns were filled with ' tour
ists;' and it was with the greatest difficulty that I procured a little
sort of ante-room, in which I was to sleep on straw. The tea, but
ter, toast and eggs were, however, excellent, and hunger seasoned
my repast. I cannot describe to you how delightful this life is to
me. Amidst all its privations, I feel myself a hundred times more
' a mon aise,' than encumbered and annoyed with a thousand unne
cessary conveniences. I am as free as the bird in the air, and that
is one of the highest enjoyments.
And now, honour to whom honour is due. Few men would sit
down with religious regularity every evening, after such fatigues, to
write you a faithful report of all the events of the day. If it does
but give you pleasure, I am rewarded a thousandfold.
* So the Irish delight to call him, proud of his ' landsmannschaft' (countryman-
ship).

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 387
Bray, August 24th.
Gall maintained, as you may remember, when he examined my
skull in Paris, that I have a very prominent organ of veneration.
Nevertheless many have regarded me as a vile heretic; but he was
right; — that is, if religion consists in love, and in a sincere striving
after truth. In such a joyful, pious frame of mind did I greet the
fresh morning with prayer and praise, and the inward brightness
broke through the gloomy damp mist which surrounded me; for the
weather was extremely bad. The road too was desert and melan
choly; — but, patience! The evening brought back sunshine and
beauty. For the present I saw nothing around me, as far as my eye could
reach, but barren heath and moor; a stormy wind blew across it in
gusts, and drove before it the rack, which, when I came within its
reach, wetted me like a heavy rain. Short and feeble gleams of sun
gave momentary hope, till about noon the clouds parted; and exactly
as I reached the summit of the mountain above the magnificent val
ley and lake of Luggelaw, the sun gilded all the country beneath
me, though the tops of the hills were yet shrouded in mist.
This valley belongs to a wealthy proprietor, who has converted it
into a delightful park. It is singularly laid out, and I will try to
give you an idea of it. The valley forms a nearly regular long oval
basin. The lake occupies the immediate fore-ground to the moun
tain's foot; the middle-ground is meadow-land, studded with groups
of trees, and watered by a meandering stream; and in its centre,
backed by a solitary rock, is an elegant 'shooting lodge.' The
mountains surrounding the valley are very high and steep, and rise
on every side, in a bare and unbroken line from the perfectly level
plain. On the left are naked rocks of imposing aspect, only here
and there overgrown with heath-plants; the three other sides are
clothed with thick and varied vegetation, whose foliage hangs into
the very lake. At the spot where the mountain stream flows through
bright green herbage into the lake, it forms a broad waterfall. It is
indeed a lovely spot of earth, lonely and secluded ; the wood full
of game, the lake full of fish, and nature full of poetry. As the
shooting season has not yet begun, the proprietor was absent; and
the wife of the steward, a still pretty woman, though rather ' passee,'
with handsome white hands, and manners above her station, at my
request prepared my breakfast ; while her lively little son conducted
me about the valley. A beautiful greyhound, who bounded Over
the ground as lightly as a leaf borne by the wind, and enjoyed his
freedom in the wildest gambols, accompanied us. We climbed, not
without pain to my chest, ' car je ne vaux plus rien a pied,' to a
rocky table-land, four hundred feet high, which overlooks the whole
valley. Opposite is a strange sport of nature, — a monstrous face
regularly formed in stone, looking gloomily and angrily on the lake
below. The eye-brows and beard were distinctly marked by moss
and heath, and the prominent cheeks and deep sunk eyes perfectly
formed by the clefts in the rock. The mouth is open; — when you

388 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
remove further off it closes, but without altering the other features.
It is really a high prerogative to possess such a living image of a
mountain spirit. He looks, however, as 1 said, angrily on the lake,
and seems to call aloud with open mouth, " Ye human creatures,
leave my valley, my fish, my game, my rocks, and woods in peace!
Leave them, or I will bury you, ye pigmies, under my ruins!"
But it is in vain! the voice of spirits is become powerless since
man's own spirit awoke. Riibezahl's countenance is turned to stone,
and his voice dies away in the gusty breeze, which irreverently
sports with his bushy eyebrows, and curls the waves of the lake as if
in scorn against him.
An interval of ten miles of uninteresting country lay between
this walk and my arrival at the gate of the park of P  , one
of the most extensive and beautiful in Ireland. But it was Sunday,
the lord of the domain a saint, — and of course the gate locked. On
this day, according to his view of the matter, a pious man must on
no account leave his house except to enclose himself within the
gloomy walls of a damp church: on no account rejoice himself in
God's own wondrous and magnificent temple. This was a sin
to which Lord P  would by no means afford encouragement,
and at his recent departure had therefore prohibited the opening of
his gate. Instructed by the adventure which you may recollect be
fell me in England, I made no attempt at winning a passage by
means of a gift, but pursued my way along a wall, over vvhich from
time to time I cast a longing and stolen glance at the magnificent
waterfall and the enchanting scene. Thou beneficent God! thought
I, in what different ways art thou worshipped! One man roasts his
neighbour to thy honour; another fashions thee as Apis: some re
present thee more partial and unjust than the devil himself; others
think they offer thee the most acceptable service when they deface
thy loveliest gifts, or deprive themselves and others of the enjoy
ment of them. Oh! Lord P  , you will not read these lines;
but it were good for you if you could, and if you would lay them to
heart! Full many a poor man, who sweats through the whole week
that he may pay you your rent, would feel his heart expand with
joy on a Sunday in your beautiful park, and would bless the good
ness of that God who has not left him wholly destitute; who has
spread out before his eyes the glory and the beauty of creation.
And this joy would be reflected back upon yourself; — but, perhaps,
you are not even present? Perhaps you send your pious commands
from afar? You are, perhaps, like so many of your colleagues, one
of those ' absentees' who by the hands of ravenous and merciless
agents strip the people of their last rag, rob them of their last po-
tatoe,* to enrich the charlatans of London, Paris, or Italy. Then,
indeed, if that be the case, your religion can hardly go beyond super-
* This is no exaggeration. I have heard such things here, proved by legal evi
dence, and seen such misery as never were witnessed in the times of villanage in
Germany, and are hardly to be paralleled in countries where slavery now prevails.
— Editoh.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 389
stitious veneration for the Sunday, and for the ceremonies of your
priests. From hence to Bray the cultivation is luxuriant; the country is
filled with houses and gardens of the opulent citizens: the road lies
at the foot of the Great Sugar Loaf, whose hoary naked cone is
barren of all vegetation. I saw some travellers who had just ascend
ed it, and looked like moving chess-men; I envied them the magni
ficent view, for the day was brilliant and the atmosphere perfectly
clear. Towards evening I lay myself down in a lonely spot, among
the field-flowers by the side of a brook, and gave myself up to a
dreamy and grateful delight in this beautiful world; leaving, like a
knight-errant, my faithful steed to graze by my side. I thought of
you and of past times; I called on the living to appear, and the dead
to arise, and looked into my past life as into a mirror — now with a
melancholy, then with a cheerful smile: for through all the follies
and vanities of this world, through errors and faults, there still ran
one pure silver thread strong enough to endure; — feelings of child
like love, and a high capacity for enjoyments which God's goodness
renders attainable by all.
I returned to Bray in good time, and found my travelling-bag ar
rived; it contained many things which, after long privation, were
not to be despised: among others, it afforded me the most interesting
of companions, Lord Byron. I have now two portraits of him be
fore me, drawings which have been given me, and which I have
had bound in the Giaour and Don Juan. Like Napoleon, while yet
aspiring, he is thin, wild and melancholy; when he had reached the
summit, he is fat and smiling. But in both these otherwise so dif
ferent countenances is seen that scornful, haughty spirit, deeply sha
ken by fate, more deeply sensitive by nature, which animated these
features. I can never refrain from laughing at the English, who pass such
pitiful cockney judgments on this their second poet (for after Shak
speare the palm is surely his,) because he ridiculed their pedantry,
because he could not adapt himself to the manners and usages of
their little nook, nor share in their cold superstition; because their
insipidity was sickening to him, and because he denounced their ar
rogance and hypocrisy. Many of them cross themselves (inwardly)
when they mention him; and even the women, though their cheeks
glow with enthusiasm when they read him, in public take part vehe
mently against their secret favourite.
It was worthy of grateful Germany, worthy of our Patriarch, to
erect a lasting German arch of triumph, to a man who belongs to
Europe, opposite to that monument of infamy which the English
have laboured to build.
Could I but bid you a "farewell" as immortal as his, — it should
be no last, I hope no long farewell, but as tender and as touching.
Think of me thus. Your faithful L  .

390 LETTERS ON GERMANY,

LETTER XXX.
Dublin, Aug. 29th, 1828.
Dear and kind one,
I have passed the last few days in bed with fever and pain. I
am but now sufficiently recovered to answer your letter. What you
send me from B — is indeed very flattering to me, though the en
thusiasm which my little labours excite in him is the growth of his
own poetical soul alone, which paints what ought to be, and believes
that it is. Do not wish for my return before it is possible; and trust
me, that where a man is not, he is commonly desired; as soon as he
is there, he is thought, by many, in the way.
I rode out again to-day for the first time to see the fair at Donna-
brook, near Dublin, which is a kind of popular festival. Nothing
indeed can be more national! The poverty, the dirt, and the wild
tumult were as great as the glee and merriment with which the cheap
est pleasures were enjoyed. I saw things eaten and drunk with de
light, which forced me to turn my head quickly away to remain
master of my disgust. Heat and dust, crowd and stench, (' il faut
le dire,') made it impossible to stay long: but these do not annoy
the natives. There were many hundred tents, all ragged like the
people, and adorned with tawdry rags instead of flags; many con
tented themselves with a cross on a hoop; one had hoisted a dead
and half putrid cat as a sign ! The lowest sort of rope-dancers and
posture-masters exercised their toilsome vocation on stages of planks,
and dressed in shabby finery, dancing and grimacing in the dreadful
heat till they were completely exhausted. A third part of the pub
lic lay, or rather rolled, about, drunk; others ate, screamed, shouted
and fought. The women rode about, sitting two and three upon an
ass, pushed their way through the crowd, smoked with great de
light, and coquetted with their sweethearts. The most ridiculous
group was one which I should have thought indigenous only to Rio
de la Plata: two beggars were seated on a horse, who by his wretch
ed plight seemed to supplicate for them; they had no saddle, and a
piece of twine served as reins.
As I left the fair, a pair of lovers, excessively drunk, took the
same road. It was a rich treat to watch their behaviour. Both were
horribly ugly, but treated each other with the greatest tenderness,
and the most delicate attention. The lover especially displayed a
sort of chivalrous politeness. Nothing could be more gallant, and
at the same time more respectful, than his repeated efforts to preserve
his fair one from falling, although he had no little difficulty in keep
ing his own balance. From his ingratiating demeanour and her
delighted smiles, I could also perceive that he was using every en
deavour to entertain her agreeably; and that her answers, notwith
standing her ' exalte' state, were given with a coquetry and an air
of affectionate intimacy which would have been exquisitely becom
ing and attractive in a pretty woman.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 391
My reverence for truth compels me to add that not the slightest
trace of English brutality was to be perceived: they were more like
French people, though their gaiety was mingled with more humour,
and more genuine good-nature; both of which are national traits of
the Irish, and are always doubled by Potheen (the best sort of
whisky illicitly distilled.)
Don't reproach me for the vulgarity of the pictures I send you:
they are more akin to nature than the painted dolls of our ' salons.'
Bray, August 30th.
I am returned hither on purpose to see the park of Powerscourt,
from which Sunday lately debarred me. It would not be easy for
Nature to unite greater capabilities than she has lavished here with
bounteous hand; and her gifts have been skilfully turned to account.
You enter by the Dargle, a very deep and narrow glen, thickly
wooded with high trees. In the bottom gushes a full and rapid
stream. The road ascends on the right side, and the eye travels
down the green depths, out of which it catches here and there a gleam
of the water, or a bold group of rocks. Three large, mountains rise
above the glen, and, though at some distance, seem quite close, as
their base is hidden: they were tinged this evening with a deep rosy
red, by a sun worthy of Italy, and contrasted beautifully with the
bright green of the oaks.
Further on, the path suddenly opens on a rocky cliff, called ' The
Lover's Leap,' where the glen diverges into several valleys, formed
by chains of lesser hills, but terminated at some distance by the
highest mountains of the neighbourhood. In the midst of this land
scape appears the house, situated on a gentle slope on the edge of a
wood, and surrounded by beautiful flower-gardens. From hence to
the great waterfall, a distance of five miles, the road leads through
ever varying scenes, which are more like those of beautiful nature
than of a park. At length you reach a wood, and the rush of the
distant waterfall meets your ear before you catch sight of it. It is
inconsiderable, except after rain, but then it is magnificent. The
lofty rocks are thickly covered on either side with shrubs, the cas
cade dashes through their varied foliage, and falling into a basin,
flows away through a beautiful meadow. Around this are venerable
oaks, under which a house, suited to the character of the place, has
been built. Here refreshments are to be obtained, and it is the
usual resort of the many parties of pleasure who come hither. Green
footpaths lead still further into the wild mountain country; but as it
was already dark, I was obliged to return. On my way hither, I
had gone over the greater distances in a gallop; and to avoid unne
cessary delay, had taken up the ragged boy who acted as guide, be
hind me, regardless of the wonderment of the passers by, vvho knew
not what to make of so extraordinary a cavalcade. At night I was
obliged to ride slowly along the stony road, till the moon rose,
orange-coloured, behind the mountains, and half shrouded herself in
evening mists. I reached the inn at Bray, tired and hungry, at
eleven o'clock.

392 LETTERS ON GERMANY, August 31st.
I found this country inn so pleasant that I resolved to prolong my
stay over to-day — Sunday. Living at inns affords one a good oppor
tunity of observing the middle classes. Every man here shows him
self as he is, and seems to feel himself alone. I have already told
you that English travellers of this class (1 include all the inhabitants
of the three kingdoms who have English manners and habits) usually
pass their time, when not out of doors, in a common room called the
coffee-room. In the evening this coffee-room is lighted with lamps;
candles are carried, if called for, to the gentlemen who sit at the sepa
rate little tables. It has often surprised me that in a country in which
luxury and refinement on all the wants of life are so universal, even
in the best provincial inns (and often in London) tallow candles are
commonly used. Wax candles are an unwonted luxury; and if you
ask for them, you are treated with redoubled civility, but your bills
are also doubled throughout.
It is very diverting to observe the perfect uniformity with which
all behave, as if machines out of one workshop. This is particularly
observable in their eating: though placed at separate tables, and no
individual taking the slightest notice of any other, they all seem to
have exactly the same usages, exactly the same gastronomic tastes.
Nobody eats soup, which, unless bespoken beforehand, is not to be
had. (This is the reason, by-the-bye, for which my old Saxon ser
vant left me. He declared that he could not exist any longer in
such a state of barbarism — without soup!) A large joint of roast
meat is commonly carried from one to another, and each cuts off
what he likes. This is accompanied by potatoes or other vegetables,
boiled in water; and a 'plat de menage' filled with sauces is placed
on every table; beer is poured out, and there, in a common way, ends
the dinner. Only the luxurious eat fish before meat.
But now follows the second stage: — the tablecloth is removed;
clean plate, and knife and fork laid; wine and a wine-glass, and a
few miserable apples or pears, with stony ship-biscuits, are brought:
and now the diner seems to begin to enjoy tranquillity and comfort.
His countenance assumes an expression of satisfaction; apparently
sunk in profound meditation, leaning back in his chair, and looking
fixedly straight before him, he suffers a sip of wine to glide down
his throat from time to time, only breaking the death-like silence by
now and then laboriously craunching his rocky biscuits.
When the wine is finished, follows stage the third, — that of diges
tion. All motion now ceases; his appetite being satisfied, he falls
into a sort of magnetic sleep, only distinguishable from the natura,
by the open eyes. After this has lasted for half an hour or an hourl
all at once it ceases; he cries out, as if under the influence of some
sudden possession, 'Waiter, my slippers;' and seizing a candle, walks
off gravely to his chamber to meet his slippers and repose.
This farce acted by five or six men at once has often amused me
more than a puppet-show; and I must add, that with the exception
of the incident of the slippers, pretty nearly the same scene is repre
sented in the first clubs of the metropolis. I scarcely ever saw an

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 393
Englishman read at dinner; I am not sure that they don't think it an
act of indecorum — perhaps of impiety — like singing or dancing on
a Sunday for instance. Perhaps, however, it is only a rule of dia-
tetics converted by time into a law, which no vivacity of temper
can break through.
Englishmen who do not belong to the aristocracy, and are not
very rich, usually travel without a servant by the mail or stage
coach, which deposits them at the inn. The man who waits on
strangers to the coach, cleans their boots, &c. has the universal
appellation 'Boots.' It is, accordingly, 'Boots' who brings your
slippers, helps you to pull off your boots, and then departs, first ask
ing at what time you will have, not as in Germany, your coffee, but
your hot water to shave. He appears with it punctually at the ap
pointed hour, and brings your clothes cleanly brushed. The travel
ler then hastens to dress himself and to return to his beloved coffee-
room, where the ingredients of breakfast are richly spread upon his
table. To this meal he seems to bring more animation than to any
other, and indeed I think more appetite; for the number of cups of
tea, the masses of bread and butter, eggs and cold meat, which he
devours, awaken silent envy in the breast, or rather in the stomach,
of the less capable foreigner. He is now not only permitted, but
enjoined (by custom, his gospel) to read. At every cup of tea he
unfolds a newspaper of the size of a table-cloth. Not a single speech,
crim. con., murder or other catastrophe invented by the 'accident
maker' in London, escapes him.
Like one who would rather die of a surfeit than leave anything
uneaten which he had paid for, the systematic Englishman thinks
that having called for a newspaper he ought not to leave a letter of
it unread. By this means his breakfast lasts several hours, and the
sixth or seventh cup is drunk cold. I have seen this glorious meal
protracted so long that it blended with dinner; and you will hardly
believe me when I assure you, that a light supper followed at mid
night without the company quitting the table.
On this occasion several were assembled; and I must remark,
generally, that when that is the case, a very different scene is exhi
bited. The wine instead of producing the lethargic reverie I have
described, makes them rather too talkative. Something of the kind
occurred to-day. Five or six travellers were very jovial, and hav
ing carried this a little too far, a violent quarrel arose among them,
which, after long continued noise and confusion, ended, strangely
enough, in their all falling foul of the waiter and pushing him out at
the door. Upon this the host was forced to come in and to beg pardon
for the poor fellow who was perfectly innocent. Not one of the
men who were eating at their solitary tables took the slightest notice
of this affray, but stared straight before them just as indifferently as
if nothing were going on.
Soon, however, one of them who had begun his dinner very late
gave us a new scene. He was dissatisfied with the mutton they had
brought him, and desired the waiter to tell the cook she was a d 
b  . On receiving this communication, the Irishwoman lost all
50

394 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
respect for the author of so sensible an insult; tore herself out of the
arms of her companions who vainly attempted to hold her at the
dining-room door, darted with doubled fists on the offender, and
overwhelmed him with such a torrent of truly national epithets, that
he turned pale and left the field, roaring "my slippers" as loud
again as usual, and {vithout further attempt at resistance hastily re
treated to his chamber in the third story; for, as you know, the bed
rooms here are always under the roof, ' comme au Colombier.'
When the late Grand Duke of W  was in England he was
seized with the desire to travel alone and incognito by the ' stage,'
as a means of becoming more intimately acquainted with English life.
It amused him much: the next morning, however, he was not a lit
tle surprised, when the ' boots' brought him his clothes, at his say
ing, "I hope Your Royal Highness slept well last night." He
thought, however, he might have misunderstood, and taking no no
tice of the thing, continued his journey on the outside. The next
morning, the same title. He now inquired into the matter, and
found that a card with his name and rank was stitched to the inside
of his cloak, and had destroyed his ' incognito.' What struck him
the most doubtless was, that people troubled themselves so little
whether a German Sovereign Prince sat on the top of the stage
coach or not. The common people in England care little about
rank, — about foreign rank nothing. It is only the middle classes
that are servile: they are delighted to talk to a foreign nobleman
because they cannot get at their own haughty aristocracy. The Eng
lish noblemen, even the least of the Lords, in the bottom of his heart
thinks himself a greater man than the King of France.
This mode of travelling to a man who has anything in view be
side mere change of place, or who does not feel himself flattered by
the increased reverence of innkeepers and waiters, is certainly pre
ferable to the usual manner of making the grand tour. The diminu
tion of comfort and convenience is counterbalanced by so much that
is instructive and agreeable, that one gains a hundredfold by the
change. Dublin, September 1st.
I returned, this time, by way of Kingston, along a rough but very
romantic road, close to the sea. A crowd of beggars stood in the
road. They were not, however, deficient in industry and activity,
for an old woman among them was busily gathering up some white
sand which had fallen from a cart. How I wished to open the trea
sures of our Sand-Golconda to this poor creature! As I could not, I
made her happy with a few pence, of which I always carry a cargo
in my coat-pocket to throw out like corn among fowls; for here
everybody begs.
Kingston is a little town consisting chiefly of the country houses
of the opulent people of Dublin. The Lord Lieutenant sometimes
resides here. Since the King's visit a harbour has been made, at
which the men are still at work. The shallowness of Dublin Bay
Fendera this very desirable; but its principal end now is to give work
to the lower classes. The many ingenious inventions which are

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 395
here applied, the four rail-roads running side by side, on which one
horse can draw enormous loads, the chain windlasses by which huge
masses are brought to hand and walled into the dam, and other
things of the like kind, are uncommonly interesting and instructive.
Several large ships are lying in the unfinished harbour, in which
they already find deep water and safe anchorage. Among them I
was struck by the appearance of a black hulk, which lay like a soli
tary ghost; it contained, as I was told, the convicts ordered for trans
portation to Botany Bay; the transport ship which was to convey
them had already arrived. This is no very severe punishment (de
ducting sea-sickness), and converts two-thirds of these criminals in
to useful citizens. Every government might (according to its local
resources) create a Botany Bay; but it will be long ere the princi
ple of vengeance is banished from our systems of law or of religion.
A monument has been erected at the entrance of the harbour, in
honour of the King's memorable visit (memorable, that is, for its
disappointing all hopes and expectations). It is designed and executed
with the sort of taste which seems to lie like a curse on all the pub
lic buildings of Great Britain: it is a small, ridiculous stump of an
obelisk, perched on the corner of a natural rock; it stands on four
balls, and looks precisely as if the first blast of wind would roll it
into the sea. One cannot suppress the wish that this may happen;
— the sooner the better. The royal crown is stuck at the top like a
lid on a mustard-pot, and the whole, contrasted with the noble
dimensions of the harbour and surrounding buildings, is so small
and ' mesquin' that it might be taken for the whim of a private man,
but certainly never for a national monument. Perhaps the architect
was a 'mauvais plaisant,' and meant it satirically: — as an epigram
it is deserving of praise.
The road from hence to Dublin is very fine, and covered with
riders and carriages. I wondered not to find it watered, which
makes the roads near London so agreeable. Probably it is only done
when the Lord Lieutenant is here. The dust to-day was almost
insufferable, and all the trees covered as if with chalk.
I returned to Dublin just at the moment of a meeting of the ' Ca
tholic Association,' and alighted at the door of their house: unfortu
nately, however, neither Shiel nor O'Connell was present, so that
there was no great attraction. Heat and bad smells, ('car l'human-
' ite Catholique ptie autant qu'une autre,) drove me out in a few
minutes. In the evening I was better amused by the performances of some
other charlatans, — a company of English horse-riders who are here.
Mr. Adams, in his way indisputably 'le premier des hommes,' was
leader of the ' Academy,' which deserved its name better than some
others I could mention.
It was pleasant to see about twenty elegantly dressed young men,
all moving with nearly equal grace and dexterity — often bewilder
ing the eye by the artful confusion, the variety, difficulty and extreme
rapidity of their movements, forming a wild dissonance or chaos,
and then resolving this into the most graceful harmony. Still more

396 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
delightful were two inimitable clowns, whose limbs were perfectly
at their disposal. The one was excellently Supported by his piebald
ass, which shamed the noblest horses in the precision with which he
executed his feats; and the other on an instrument of his own inven
tion, produced a sort of music so truly mad, that even the mere tones
excited resistless laughter.
The performance was closed by a ' pas de deux' of the two clowns,
danced on their hands and feet; the latter cutting capers in the air,
while the former supported the weight of their bodies. Here the
human form seemed obliterated; and the scene, frightful as a tale of
Hoffman's, appeared to the bewildered spectator like the dance of
two mad polypi.
[Here some leaves of the correspondence are wanting.]

LETTER XXXI.
B  m, in the West of Ireland,
Sept. 5, 1828.
Dear Julia,
You make me laugh by your gratitude for my diligence in writ
ing. Are you not aware that I can have no greater enjoyment? I
have hardly written a word before I feel myself at home, and new
comfort and courage are infused into my heart.
Do you remember the young parson at Bray? Though he con
verted the God of Mercy into the greatest of all tyrants, he himself
is a very good-hearted fellow ' qui n'y entend pas malice.' He gave
me such a hearty invitation to accompany him to his father's house
in Connaught, — who, as he assured me, was no less hospitable than
rich, — that I consented, ' et rn'y voila!' This wild part of Ireland,
seldom visited by natives, never by foreigners, has such a bad name,
that there is a proverb — ' Go to hell and Connaught!' It was there
fore a matter worthy of deliberation; but what deters others often
attracts me; — such situations too I have often found the richest in
amusement. The present promises me this in abundance, at least so
far as novelty and strangeness go.
Yesterday evening after dinner we left the metropolis in my car
riage. We had just a hundred-and-one miles to go. In England
this is soon accomplished; here things are very differently managed,
and it took us four-and-twenty hours.
The scenery is strikingly like the Wendish districts of Lower
Lusatia, whither my unlucky stars once drove me; except that there
are thick woods, while here, with the exception of a few arid firs,
they appear only to have been. Boundless plains are covered with
bog and turf; the oakwood, thousands of years old, vvhich is found
sometimes at a great depth, fetches a high price for decorative furni
ture; snuff-boxes and ladies' ornaments are likewise made of it. The
other part of the soil is sandy or wet: the dry lands are meagre and
barren; but on the other hand the bog cultivation, which is admira-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 397
bly understood, is very successful. The bog is first levelled, the
projecting parts being cut into squares of turf, and the soil then burnt
and sown with corn. All the bogs appear to be remarkably deep:
the principal crops are buckvvheat, potatoes, and oats. The cabins
of the inhabitants are beyond description wretched, and the appear
ance of all the flat country extremely poor, till you approach my
friend's estate, where Nature becomes more smiling; and blue hills,
the scene of many a wondrous tale, peep above the horizon.
My host, Captain W — — , is one of the 'Notables' of his county,
but his house is not better than that of a German nobleman of mo
derate estate. English elegance and English luxury are not to be
thought of; wax-lights are unknown; port and sherry, but above all
'whiskey-punch,' are the only beverages: the coffee is detestable;
but the food excellent, nutritious, and plentiful. The house is not
over-clean; the small establishment very respectable from length of
service, zeal and attachment, but of a somewhat unwashed and boor
ish appearance.
From my chamber windows I penetrate into all the mysteries of
the domestic economy, which is too modest to spread out the dung
hills as chief ' point de vue,' as in North Germany. The rain (for
alas! it does rain) runs merrily through my windows, and falls in
romantic cascades from the window-sill to the floor, where an old
carpet thirstily drinks the stream. The furniture is rather tottering;
but I have tables enough (a great matter to me with my multitude
of things,) and the bed seems at least large and hard enough. In my
chimney burns, or rather smoulders, capital turf, which not only
gives heat, but covers everything with fine ashes like an eruption
of Vesuvius. All this does not sound brilliant ; — but how largely
are these trifles outweighed by the patriarchal hospitality, the cheer
ful, easy, unaffected kindness of the family, lt is as if my visit were
a distinguished favour, for which all seem to feel indebted to me as
for some real service. Sept. 6 th.
I like my host very much; he is seventy-two years old, and still
hale and vigorous as a man of fifty. He must have been very hand
some, and has given the world twelve sons and seven daughters, —
all by the same wife, who is still living, though just now too unwell
for me to see her. Some of the sons and daughters have been long
married, and the old man sees his grandsons of twelve at play with
his youngest daughter of fourteen. The greater part of the family
is now here, which makes the abode rather a noisy one; this is in
creased by the musical talents of the daughters, who daily perform
on an instrument horribly out of tune, — a circumstance which seems
not to annoy them in the slightest degree.* The men generally talk
about horses and dogs, and are somewhat uninstructed. To-day a
country squire of the neighbourhood searched long and patiently in
* I have often had occasion to remark, that the love of music in England is a
mere affair of fashion. There is no nation in Europe which pays music better, or
understands it worse.

398 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
a map of Europe for the United States: — at last his brother-in-law
gave him the fortunate suggestion of trying his luck on the map of
the world. The occasion of the search was, that the old gentleman
wanted to show me Halifax and B  town, which latter takes its
name from him. He laid the first stone of both during the Ameri
can war, in which he commanded seven hundred men, and loves to
recall those days of his youth and importance. The scrupulous and
chivalrous courtesy of his manners, the constant and ready sacrifice
of his own convenience to others, are proofs of the education of times
long passed by, and marks his age more surely than his appearance
does. Our amusements for some days to come are arranged as follows.
— In the morning we go to church; the day after to the town of
Galway, to see some horse-races, in which the poor animals not
only run' a German mile, but in the course of it have to leap several
walls! They are ridden by gentlemen. In the evening is a ball, at
which I am promised a sight of all the beauty of the neighbourhood.
To tell you the truth, touched as I am by the kindness shown me
in this house, I rather dread a long stay: I should, however, vex
these excellent, cordial people if I showed it; ' Je m'execute done
de bonne grace.' Sept. 1th.
The manners here are so old-fashioned that the master of the house
every day drinks to my health, and we have no napkins at table, for
which pocket-handkerchiefs or the corners of the table-cloth are
obliged to serve as deputies.
We passed four hours this morning in the church of the neigh
bouring town of Tuam, and saw four clergymen ordained by the
archbishop. The English Protestant service differs much from ours: it is
a strange mixture of Catholic ceremony and Protestant simplicity.
Pictures on the walls are not suffered, — on the windows they are.
The dress of the priests, even of the archbishops, consists only of a
white surplice. On the other hand, the seat of the latter, built like
a throne, covered with purple velvet and adorned with an arch
bishop's crown, stands ostentatiously opposite to the chancel. The
sermon is read, and lasts very long. The most wearisome part, how
ever, both before and after it, is the endless repetition of antiquated
and contradictory prayers, the burthen to which is occasionally re
echoed in singing from the choir. These form a perfect course of
English history. Henry the Eighth's ecclesiastical revolution,
Elizabeth's policy, and Cromwell's puritanical exaggerations, meet
and shake hands; while certain favourite phrases are repeated every
minute, many of which are more characteristic of cringing slaves
prostrate in the dust before an eastern tyrant, than of Christian free
dom and dignity.
The text was chosen, strangely enough, from the story of the pas
sage of the evil spirits into the herd of swine; and after this had
been discussed for an hour, the four priests were ordained.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 399
The old archbishop, who enjoys a high reputation for strict ortho
doxy, has a very dignified air and a fine sonorous voice; but the de
portment of the young divines displeased me exceedingly; it was
disgustingly hypocritical. They continually wiped their eyes with
their pocket-handkerchiefs, held them before their faces as if in the
deepest emotion, answered with a broken voice ; — in short, Herrn-
huters could not have acted it better: ' La grace n'y etoit pas;' — of
no kind.
One of the oddest customs is, that everybody during the short
prayer at coming and going, turns himself to the wall, or into a
corner, as if he were doing something not fit to be seen.
I must frankly confess it, — I do not understand how a reflecting
man can be edified by such a service. And yet how beautiful, how
elevating might the service of God be, if while we dismissed all ri
diculous and unmeaning ceremonies, we did not require an abstract
worship, from which sense were utterly excluded, — an impossibility
for creatures of sense! Why should we not devote all our best pow
ers to the honour of him who gave them? Why not employ every
art in its highest perfection, in order to consecrate to God the no
blest, the finest works that the human faculties can produce?
I can imagine a congregation, whose piety is equally removed
from mean servility and from arrogant conceit ; who meet to praise
the infinite greatness and love of the Universal Father, and the won
ders of his creation, — not to bring within the walls consecrated to
him the hatred of bigotry and intolerance; — whose creed demands
from each man only that degree of belief which his own inward
revelation makes possible to him. Before my fancy no longer float
separate churches for Jews, and for fifty sorts of Christians; but true
temples of God and Man, whose gates at all times stand open to
every human being who, when oppressed by the Earthly, seeks to
have the Holy and the Heavenly within him, animated and sus
tained by all the aids and appliances of sense or spirit; or who longs
to pour out the overflowings of his heart, when filled with happiness
and gratitude. Galway, Sept. 8th.
We arrived very late on the ' race-course,' and saw little of this
day's sport. The sight of the people was however extremely cu
rious and interesting to me. In many points of view this nation is
really semi-barbarous. The universal want of decent clothing among
the lower classes, even on festivals like the present; their utter ina
bility to resist ardent spirits, so long as they have a penny in their
pockets; the sudden and continual wild quarrels and national pitched
battles with the shillelah (a murderous sort of stick which every
man keeps hidden under his rags), in which hundreds take part in a
minute, and do not desist till several are left dead or wounded on the
field; the frightful war-whoop which they set up on these occasions;
the revenge for an affront or injury, which is cherished and inherit
ed by whole villages: — on the other hand, the light-hearted careless
ness which never thinks of the coming day; the heart-felt merri-

400 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ment, forgetful of all want and suffering; the kind hospitality which
ungrudgingly shares their last morsel ; the undeserved cordiality with
the stranger, who makes any advances to them; the natural fluency
and eloquence which they have ever at command ; — all are charac
teristics of a half-civilized people.
Hundreds of drunken men accompanied our carriages as we drove
from the race-course to the town, and more than ten times, fights
arose among them. The confluence of guests was so great that we
with difficulty found a miserable lodging: — -our dinner was however
good, and very abundant.
Galway was chiefly built by the Spaniards. Some descendants
of the ancient families still exist, as do several very curious houses
of that period. It struck me as characteristic, that in a town of
forty thousand inhabitants there was not a single bookseller's shop
or circulating library to be found. The suburbs and all the villages
through which we passed on our way, were of a kind which I should
vainly attempt to liken to anything ever seen before: — pigsties are
palaces in comparison ; and I often saw numerous groups of chil
dren (for the prolificness of the Irish people seems to keep pace
with their wretchedness), naked as they came into the world, roll and
paddle about with the ducks in the filthy kennels, with the greatest
delight. At henry e, Sept. 10th: Morning.
I write to you this morning from the house of one of the sweetest
women I ever saw in my life: an African too, — and as she tells me,
by birth a Mademoiselle H  . ' Que dites vous de cela?' But
more of her hereafter. You must now accompany me to the ' race
course,' and see the running and leaping from the beginning. It is
a remarkable sight of its kind, and exactly suited to a half-savage
nation. I confess that it far exceeded my expectations, and kept me
in a state of intense anxiety; only one must leave pity and humanity
at home, as you will see from what follows. — The race-course is an
elongated circle. On the left side is the starting post; opposite to
it, on the right, is the goal. Between them, at the opposite points
of the circumference, are built walls of stone without mortar, five
feet high and two broad. The course, two English miles in length,
is run over once and a half. You see then, from my description,
that the first wall must be leaped twice, the second only once in
each heat. Many horses run, but none is declared winner till he
has beaten the others in two heats; so that this is often repeated
three, four, or even five times, if a different horse comes in a-head
each time. To-day they ran four times; so that the winner, in a
space of less than two hours, reckoning the intervals, ran twelve
English miles at full speed and leaped the high wall twelve times! —
a fatigue which it is difficult to conceive how any horse can stand.
Six gentlemen in elegant jockey dresses of coloured silk jackets and
caps, leather breeches and top-boots, rode the ' race.' I had an ex
cellent hunter belonging to the son of my host, and could, therefore,

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 401
by crossing the course, keep up perfectly well, and be present at
every leap.
It is impossible not to have a favourite on such occasions. Mine,
and indeed that of the public, was an extremely beautiful dark bay,
called Gamecock-, ridden by a gentleman in yellow, — a handsome
young man of good family, and a most admirable rider.
After him, the horse which pleased me the most was a dark brown
mare called Rosina, ridden by a cousin of Captain B  ; a bad
rider, in sky blue. The third in goodness, in my opinion, Killar-
ney, was a strong but not very handsome horse, ridden by a young
man who showed more power of endurance than perfect horseman
ship: his dress was crimson. The fourth gentleman, perhaps the
most skilful, though not the strongest of the riders, rode a brown
horse not remarkable in its appearance, and was dressed in brown.
The other two deserve no mention, as they were ' hors du jeu' from
the beginning: they both fell at the first leap; the one sustained a
severe injury on the head, the other came off with a slight contu
sion, but was disabled from riding again. Gamecock, who darted
off with such fury that his rider could hardly hold him in, and flew,
rather than leapt, over the walls, with incredible bounds, won the
first heat with ease. Immediately after him came Rosina without
her rider, whom she had thrown, and took the remaining leaps of
her own accord with great grace. Gamecock was now so decidedly
the favourite that the bets were five to one upon him: but the result
was far different from these expectations, and very tragical. After
this noble animal had distanced the other two in two successive
heats, and had achieved the two first leaps in the most brilliant man
ner, he set his foot, in the third, on a loose stone which one of the
less skilful horses had pushed down as he fell, and which it was not
permitted to remove out of the course. He fell backward upon his
rider with such violence that both lay motionless, when the other
riders came up, took not the slightest notice of them, and accom
plished the leap. After a few seconds Gamecock got up, but his
rider did not recover his senses. A surgeon present soon pronounced
his state to be hopeless; both his breast-bone and skull were fractur
ed. His old father, who stood by when the accident happened, fell
senseless on the ground, and his sister threw herself with heart
rending cries on the yet palpitating though unconscious body. But
the general sympathy was very slight. After the poor young man
had been repeatedly bled, so that he lay on the turf weltering in his
blood, he was taken away, and the race began again at the appointed
time as if nothing had happened.
The brown rider had been the first in the preceding heat, and
hoped to win the last and decisive one. It was what the English
call ' a hard race.' Both horses and men did their part admirably,
they ran and leaped almost in rank. Killarney at last won only by
a quarter of a head: — it was necessary therefore to run again. This
last contest was of course the most interesting, since one of the two
running must of necessity win everything. There was a great deal
of betting, which at first was even. Twice did the victory appear
51

402 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
decided, and yet at last terminated on the contrary side. At the
first leap the horses were together; before they reached the second
it was evident that the brown was exhausted, and Killarney gained
so much upon him that he reached the second wall more than a hun
dred paces before him. But here, contrary to all expectations, he
refused to leap, and the rider had lost all power over him. Before
he could be brought to obey, the brown came up, — made his leap
well; and now putting out all his strength, was so much a-bead that
he seemed sure of winning. Bets were now ten to one. But the
last wall was yet to cross, and this was fatal to him. The tired ani
mal, who had exhausted his last remaining strength in fast running,
tried the leap willingly enough indeed, but had no longer power to
effect it; and half breaking down the wall, he rolled bleeding over
and over, burying his rider under him, so that it was impossible for
him to rise. Killarney's rider had in the mean time brought his
refractory horse into subjection, achieved the two remaining leaps
amid the cheers of the multitude, and then rode at a foot pace, per
fectly at his ease and without a rival, to the goal. He was so ex
hausted, however, that he could scarcely speak.
In the intervals between the preceding heats I was introduced to
many ladies and gentlemen, all of whom most hospitably invited
me to their houses. I however preferred following my young host,
who promised to show me the fairest of the fair, if I would give
myself up to his guidance, and not object to riding ten miles in the
dark. On the way he told me that this lady was called Mrs.  ,
and was the daughter of the late Dutch governor of  , that she
had had a complaint in the lungs, and was now staying in the soli
tary village of Athenrye, on account of the salubrity of its air.
We did not arrive till ten; and surprised her in her little cottage
(for the place is miserable,) at tea.
I wish I could describe this sweet and lovely being to you in such
a manner as to place her visibly before you; certain that you, like
me, would love her at the first glance. But I feel that here all de
scription falls short: — all about her is heart and soul, and that is not
to be described; — she was dressed in black, with the greatest sim
plicity, her dress up to the neck, but fitting closely to her beautiful
form. Her person is slender and extremely youthful, full of gentle
grace, and yet not without animation and fire in her movements.
Her complexion is of a pure and clear brown, and has the soft polish
of marble. More beautiful and brilliant black eyes, or teeth of more
dazzling whiteness, I never beheld. Her mouth too, with the an
gelic, childlike character of her smile, is enchanting.
Her refined unaffected good-breeding, the sportive graces of her
gay and witty conversation, were of that rare sort which are innate,
and must therefore please, whether in Paris or in Pekin, in town or
country. The greatest experience of society could not give more
ease or address, and no girl of fifteen could blush more sweetly, or
jest more joyously. And yet her life had been the most simple and
uniform, and her youth was rather the unfading spring of the soul
than that of the body; for she was mother of four children, near

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 403
thirty, and but just recovered from an attack on the lungs which had
threatened to prove fatal. But the fire of all her movements, the
lightning-flashes of her conversation, had all the freshness and all the
power of youth, imparting a resistless charm to the gentleness of her
nature. One felt that this was the child of a warmer and kindlier
sun, of a more luxuriant soil, than are to be found in our misty
climes. And indeed she felt the most melancholy longings after her
native land, and a painful expression passed over all her lovely fea
tures as she said, she should never more breathe that balmy air
charged with sweet odours. I was too much absorbed in looking at
her to think of food, had she not, with all the kind activity of a good
housewife, made preparations for entertaining us as well as she could
in her little cabin. A table was set in the room in which we sat;
so that our frugal meal caused no interruption to the conversation,
and it was long after midnight ere we separated.
It was not till I was in bed that I learned that, finding it impossi
ble to get us beds in a place consisting of only a few cabins, this
kindhearted and unceremonious woman had quitted her own for me,
and gone to sleep with her eldest daughter.
Concerning her family, whose name was necessarily so striking
to me, Mrs.  herself could tell me but little. She had>married
Mr.  , then a captain in the British army, in her twelfth year:
immediately afterwards she lost her father, and embarked with her
husband for Ireland, which she had never left. She had heard, in
deed, that she had relations in Germany, but never corresponded
with them. Three years ago she received a business letter from
a cousin in A  , announcing that her father's brother had died
and had left her heir to his whole property. The indifference of
this African child of nature went so far, that she had not only up to
the present time left this letter unanswered, but, as she told me, had
never been able to deeypher the whole of it, as it was written in
Dutch, and she had almost entirely forgotten the language. " I don't
know the man," added she innocently, " and the money affairs I
left to my husband."
This bathing-place, Athenrye, is also one of the curiosities of Ire
land. From what I have already said, you will conclude that no
Polish village can have a more wretched aspect. The cluster of
cabins is on a bare hill rising out of the bog, without tree or bush,
without an inn, without any convenience, inhabited only by ragged
beggars, and by the few invalids who bring with them everything
they want, and must send for even the most trifling article of food to
Galway, a distance of twelve miles. Once it was otherwise; and it
saddens one to see at the further extremity of this wretched village
the proud ruins of better times. Here stood a rich abbey, now over
grown with ivy; the arches which once protected the sanctuary lie
in fragments amid the unsheltered altars and tombstones. Further
on is a castle, with walls ten feet thick, in vvhich King John held his
court of justice when he came over to Ireland.
I visited these ruins with a most numerous company: I do not ex
aggerate when I say that at least two hundred half-naked beings,

404 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
two-thirds of whom were children, had collected round my carriage
at a very early hour in the morning, doing nothing: they now
thronged round me, all begging, and shouting, "Long life to your
honour!" Every individual among them stuck faithfully by me,
leaping over stones and brambles. The strangest compliment now
and then resounded from the midst of the crowd: at last some called
out, "Long life to the King!" On my return I threw two or three
handfuls of copper among them; and in a minute half of them, old
and young, lay prostrate in the sand, while the others ran with all
speed into a whisky-shop, fighting furiously all the way.
Such is Ireland! Neglected or oppressed by the government, de
based by the stupid intolerance of the English priesthood, and marked
by poverty and the poison of whisky, for the abode of naked beg
gars! — I have already mentioned that even among the educated
classes of this province, the ignorance appears, vvith our notions of
education, perfectly unequalled: I will only give you one or two ex
amples. To-day something was said about magnetism, and no one
present had ever heard the slightest mention of it. Nay, in B  m,
in a company of twenty persons, nobody knew that such places as
Carlsbad and Prague existed. The information that they were situ
ated in Bohemia did not mend the matter: — Bohemia was not less
unknown; and in short, everything out of Great Britain and Paris
was a country in the moon. * "And where do you come from?"
asked one. "From Brobdignag," said I in jest. "0! is that on
the sea? — Have they whisky there?" asked another. The son of
my host, whom I have repeatedly mentioned, asked me one day very
seriously as we met some asses, whether there were any such ani
mals in my country? " Ah! but too many," replied I.
B  m, Sept. 12th.
Yesterday we returned home, tearing ourselves away from the
lovely African, who however had promised soon to follow us. To
day I took advantage of a leisure day to ride to Castle Hackett, a so
litary hill in the neighbourhood, believed by the people to be a fa
vourite resort of the fairies, or ' good people' as they call them. No
nation is more poetical, or more richly endowed with fancy. An
old man who has the care of the woods of Castle Hackett, and has
the reputation of knowing more than other men about the ' good
people,' told us these circumstances connected with the death of his
son, in the style of a romance.
"I knew it," said he, "four days before— I knew he would die;
for as I was going home that evening about twilight, 1 saw them
scouring in a wild chase over the plain: their red dresses fluttered in
the wind; and the lakes turned to ice as they came near, and walls
and trees bowed themselves to the earth before them; and they rode
over the tops of the thicket as if it were over the green grass. In
front rode the queen, on a white stag-like horse; and by her 1 saw,
with a shudder, my son, whom she smiled upon and caressed; while
* "Bohmische Dorfer." The jeu de mots is inevitably lost.— Tkatvsl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 405
he, with a fevered eye, looked wistfully at her, till all were past
Castle Hackett. Then I knew that it was all over with him; — that
same day he took to his bed; — on the third I carried him to the
grave. There was not a handsomer or a better lad in Connemara,
and it was for that the queen chose him."
The old man seemed so firmly and unaffectedly convinced of the
truth of his story, that it would only have offended him to express
the least doubt of it. He replied to our inquiries for further details
with great readiness, and I promise myself the pleasure of giving you
the most accurate description of the dress of the fairy queen for your
next masked ball. At the foot of this hill is a pretty country-seat;
and the hill itself is clothed to its summit with young and thriving
plantations. On the top is a sort of artificial ruin, made of loose
stones piled together, — laborious and almost dangerous to climb.
The view from it is, however, worth the exertion. On two sides
the eye wanders over the almost immeasureable plain; on the other
two lies Lough Corrib, a lake thirty miles in length, behind which
are the mountains of Clare; and in still remoter distance the roman
tic ridge of Connemara. The lake just at its middle bends inland
like a river, and its waters gradually lose themselves between the
lofty mountains, which seem to form a gateway for their entrance.
Just at this point the sun set; and Nature, who often rewards my
love for her, displayed one of her most wondrous spectacles. Black
clouds hung over the mountains, and the whole heavens were over
cast. Only just at the point where the sun looked out from beneath
the dusky veil, issued a stream of light which filled the whole ravine
with a sort of unearthly splendour. The lake glittered beneath it
like molten brass; while the mountains had a transparent, steel-blue
lustre, like the gleam of diamonds. Single streaks of rose-coloured
cloud passed slowly across this illumined picture over the moun
tains; while on both sides of the opened heavens distant rain fell in
torrents, and formed a curtain which shut out every glimpse of the
remaining world. Such is the magnificence which Nature has
reserved for herself alone, and which even Claude's pencil could
never imitate.
On our way home my young friend discoursed largely on the
perfections of Mrs. L  . Among other things, he said, " Never
with all her vivacity did I see, even for an instant, the least trace of
impatience or ill-humour about her; never had woman a sweeter
'temper.' This word is, like 'gentle,' untranslatable. Only the
nation which invented 'comfort' was capable of conceiving 'good
temper,' for ' good temper' is to the moral what ' comfort' is to the
physical man. It is the most contented, the most comfortable state
of the soul: the greatest happiness both for those who possess it, and
for those who feel its influence. Perhaps it is found in perfection in
woman alone; for it is rather a passive than an active quality: and,
yet we must by no means confound it with mere apathy, which is
either tedious, or exasperates one's anger and contempt; whereas
'good temper' soothes and tranquillizes all who approach it. It is
a truly kind, loving and cheerful principle; mild and balmy as a

406 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
cloudless Mayday. With ' gentleness' in his own character, ' com
fort' in his house, and ' good temper' in his wife, the earthly felicity
of man is complete. 'Good temper,' in the highest sense, is doubt
less one of the rarest qualities; — the consequence of an absolute har
mony, or equilibrium of the moral powers, — the most perfect health
of the soul. Great and striking single qualities, cannot therefore be
combined with it; for wherever one quality is predominant, the
equilibrium is destroyed. It is possible to be most captivating, to
inspire passionate love, admiration or esteem, without ' good tem
per;' — to he perfectly and lastingly amiable without it, it is impos
sible. The contemplation of harmony in all things has a salutary
effect on the mind; often unconscious of the cause, the soul is glad
dened and refreshed by it, whatever be the sense through which it
is communicated. A person therefore who is gifted with ' good
temper,' affords us continual enjoyment, vvithout ever awakening
our envy, or exciting any vehement emotion. We gain strength
from his tranquillity, courage from his cheerfulness, comfort from his
resignation; we feel our anger vanish before his loving patience, and
are finally the better and the happier for listening to the spiritual
music of his harmony.
How many words, you will say, to describe one! And yet, dear
Julia, I have very imperfectly expressed what ' good temper' is.
September 13th.
The beautiful view of yesterday evening enticed me to take a
nearer survey of what I had beheld at a distance. My obliging
friend speedily fitted out an equipage for this purpose, a little 'char
a banc,' which was drawn by two horses 'tandem' (one horse be
fore another). We determined to visit Lake Corrib, Cong and its
caverns, and to return in the night. After four hours smart trotting,
and some little accidents to our frail tackle, we reached Cong, at a
distance of twenty miles, where we ate a breakfast we had brought
with us, of lobster prepared after the Irish fashion.* Knives and
forks were not to be had, so that we adopted the Chinese mode of
eating. We then set out to the caverns, accompanied as usual by a
half-naked cortege.
Every one of them was on the watch to do us some service: if I
stooped to pick up a stone, ten or a dozen scrambled for it, and then
asked for money; if there was a gate to open, twenty rushed to it,
and expected a like reward. After I had given away all my small
money, came one who affirmed that he had shown me some trifle or
other. I unwillingly refused him, and told him my purse was
empty. "Oh," saidhe, "a gentleman's purse can never be empty !"
— no bad answer; for under the form of a compliment lurks a sort
of reproach. " You look too much like a 'gentleman' not to have
money, but if you are so ungenerous as not to give any, you are not
a true gentleman ; and, if you really have none, still less are you one."
The crowd felt this, and laughed till I bought my deliverance from
him. * An excellent dish ! the receipt, viva voce.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 407
But to return to the 'Pigeon-hole.' It lies in the middle of a
field, bare, and treeless, which, although flat, is covered with masses
of limestone of a peculiar form, between which the scanty soil is
with difficulty cultivated. These pieces of rock are as smooth as if
polished by art, and look like stones regularly piled and half pre
pared for some colossal building. In this rocky plain, at about half
a mile from Lough Corrib, is the entrance of the cave, like a broad
dark well, in which thirty or forty steps, roughly hewn in the rock,
lead down to the stream, which here flows subterraneously, making
its way through long and romantic arches, till at length it rises into
day, and turns a mill. It then buries itself a second time in the
earth, and at length appears again as a broad, deep, and crystal river,
and thus flows on till it falls into the lake.
Not far from the cave before which we were now standing lives
a ' Donna del Lago' who pays the lord of the soil four pounds a year
for the privilege of showing the -Pigeon-hole' to strangers. She
was admirably fitted for the porteress of such an entrance to the
nether world, and indeed the whole scene could not be better ' in
character,' as the English say. We had descended the steps in the
dark, and heard the rush' of invisible waters, when the gigantic, hag
gard old woman, with a scarlet cloak loosely thrown around her,
long streaming white hair, and a firebrand in each hand, came down,
— the living original of Meg Merrilies. It was a wild scene! her
flickering torches threw fitful gleams on the rolling water, and the
lofty vaulted roof bristling with stalactites; and now and then
brought out the pale and squalid figures behind her with a broad red
glare. She took some bundles of straw, and with words which
sounded like an incantation, lighted them and threw them blazing
into the stream. As they floated rapidly away, they disclosed new
grottoes, more grotesque forms, and at length, after a hundred wind
ings, disappeared in the distance like small tapers. We followed
them, scrambling over the slippery stones as far as we could, and
discovered here and there a trout in the ice-cold water. They have
this peculiarity, that whatever bait may be offered them, no attempt
to catch one has ever succeeded. The people of course think them
enchanted. On emerging from the darkness to the spot where daylight breaks
faintly, as down a shaft, you see the ivy and creeping plants hang
around the rocks in the most picturesque festoons and garlands. Here
flocks of wild pigeons roost, whence the cave has its name. The
popular superstition permits no sportsman to molest them in this
spot, so that they are fearless as in a dove-cote.
We quitted this gloomy region, where all is close and oppressive,
and wandered down to the broad sea-like lake, where all seems to
lose itself in boundless space. This majestic body of water fills a ba
sin of twelve German miles long, and at its widest point, three broad.
It contains just as many islands as the year days; at least so the na
tives assert, — I did not count them. It is bounded on two sides by
the high mountains of Connemara; on the others its waters are nearly
level with the plain: the approach to it opposite to the mountains

408 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
was, therefore, more beautiful than the return. The navigation of
this lake is very dangerous from its numerous rocks and islands, and
the sudden squalls which often arise upon it. We saw in a newspa
per a short time ago, that a boat, having on board a butcher and his
sheep, had gone down, and man and beast perished. We had a very
calm, though not a bright day. When we landed, my companion
went before to give some orders; while as the sun was setting, I visit
ed the ruins of an abbey, which contained some striking remains of
architectural and sculptural beauty.
Ireland is studded with ruins of old castles and monasteries more
thickly than any country in Europe, though they do not present such
enormous masses as those in England. These old ruins (for unfor
tunately even here are many new ones) are constantly used by the
people as places of burial, — a poetical idea peculiar, I believe, to this
nation. As there are none of those tasteless modern monuments
which deform English churches, and the grave is marked only by a
mound of earth, or at most a flat stone, the touching picture of human
frailty is enhanced, not impaired, by this custom. The impression is,
however, sometimes heightened into horror by the little heed paid
by those who dig the graves to the earlier buried, whose skeletons
are thrown out without ceremony as soon as there is a want of room.
The ruins are consequently filled with heaps of skulls and bones
thrown confusedly together, and sometimes placed in pyramids or
other forms by children at play. I climbed over a heap of mingled
stones and bones, and crawled up into a ruinous chamber of the first
story, where I feasted myself on the strange romantic picture. On my
left the wall had fallen in, and opened to the eye the beautiful land
scape which surrounds the lake, with its bright-green foreground, the
mountains in the distance, and on one side the house and the high
trees in the park of the Macnamaras, who reside here. Before me
was a window in good preservation, surrounded with carvings like
' point d'Alencon ;' above it hung large bunches of deep purple black
berries pendant from their luxuriant branches, which crept in one
continuous mass along the open wall. On the right, where the wall
of the chamber remained perfect, was a low niche, which no
doubt formerly contained a saint, but was now occupied by a skull:
the empty eye-sockets were directed exactly towards the beautiful
landscape spread before it, as if its brilliancy and freshness had pow
er to gladden even death itself. Following the same direction, I dis
covered a grated window just above the ground, vvhich I had till then
overlooked: it gave light to a spacious cellar, in which I descried a
vast heap of bones, all arranged in the way I have mentioned, in vari
ous forms. The sunny landscape above, the dark charnel-house below,
in which childhood sported with death, — it was a glance at once into
life and the grave, — the joys of the one, and the unsympathizing calm
of the other ; while the rays of the setting sun threw a cheering glow
over the living and dead, like messengers from a fairer world.
Our return in a dark night, with incessant rain, was fatiguing and
unpleasant; we broke several springs of our carriage, and had all
sorts of calamities to endure. We arrived at B  after midnight,

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 409
and to my real dismay found the good old Captain and the whole fami
ly still up, and waiting supper for us. The prodigal attentions and
the infinite kindness of these excellent people daily put me to shame,
and I continually admire to see that their cordial hospitality is not
deformed by the slightest trace of ostentation.
That my letter may not be too large, and cost too much postage,
(for I have to pay some pounds sterling to the English post-office for
my voluminous packets,) I close it before I leave B  m. You will
know me safe and well up to this point, and in the care of people
whose hearts are like your own, however inferior to you they may
be in mind and cultivation. — Heaven bless and preserve you.
Your most faithful L  .

LETTER XXXII. B  m, Sept. 14th, 1828.
Beloved Friend,
Your sermon is excellent; your reasons are unanswerable; — but
I happen to believe the contrary; and belief is, as you know, a thing
which not only removes mountains, but often builds up such as it is
impossible to see over. No conversion can consequently be effectu
al, be the subject what it may, till the opposite belief has already be
gun to totter. Till that point is reached, though you speak with the
wisdom of Plato, and act with the purity of Jesus, every man will
retain his belief, on which reason and good sense have ordinarily lit
tle influence. He who wishes to produce any sudden change in the
minds of men before they are already disposed to it, will either be
confined as a madman, or stoned and crucified as a martyr. History
teaches us this in every page. What is applicable universally, is
also applicable individually, — and now, 'parlez moi raison si vous
l'osez.' — But, seriously speaking, a man who has the misfortune to
be born with a too independent spirit, and who cares little for com
mon opinion, merely because it is common, should remain unchang
ed all his life. The consequences of such a turn of mind, and the
hostilities it excites, become painful, and at length dangerous, only
when he grows weak and ceases to be self-sustained; when instead
of despising, as before, the opinions of others, he begins to fear them.
The multitude are quick to perceive the change, and instantly begin
a steady and vigorous pursuit of the game which flees before them,
and which, so long as it stood at bay and looked them boldly in the
face, they dared not openly attack. For getting on in the world,
there is no better maxim than this, ' Bouche riante, et front d'airain,
et vous passcz par tout' We Germans are almost always too earn
est as well as too timid, and are capable of only momentary strug
gles against these defects, which, like all such attempts, generally
overshoot the mark. This makes us so fond of retirement and of
converse with our own fancy, — our best and faithfullest com
panion; — we are sovereign lords of the regions of air, as Madame de
52

410 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Stael says. The world, as it is, does not please us, and we are just
as little fitted to please the world. Retirement, and with it freedom,
are therefore what we love best.
We have had a strange accomplishment of a prophecy. — Miss
Kitty, one of my host's daughters, and a very nice girl, had her fortune
told yesterday by gipseys. I was by, and heard the woman say to her,
among many common-place predictions, "Be upon your guard; for
a shot will be fired in at your window, and your stay in B  will
not be long after that." We thought the prediction rather serious,
and communicated it to the family on our return, but were only
laughed at. The next morning early, we were all alarmed by the
firing of two shots; Miss Kitty rushed down stairs half dressed, and
nearly fainting from terror; and every one in the house ran to see
what was the matter. We found that two of Kitty's younger bro
thers, who had been on a visit to Mrs. M  , had returned quite
unexpectedly to fetch their sister, had played the silly trick of firing
their fowling-pieces up at her window, and had done it so awkward
ly that they had broken it. They were soundly rated, and then
drove off with Miss Kitty; so that everything happened precisely as
the old woman, — Heaven only knows how! — had seen in the lines
of her hand. September 15th.
I was a little hypochondriacal and dull yesterday, but to-day I
am better in health, and consequently full of philanthropical senti
ments, — virtuous, 'faute d'occasion de pecher,' and merry, because
I can laugh at myself ' faute de trouver quelque chose de plus ridi
cule.' Meanwhile the scene here has altered. The fair African is arriv
ed, and we immediately set out, ten in number, on a ride; in the
course of which the old Captain showed us his bog cultivation and
his draining with all the ardour of a young man. He was as much
enchanted by a field of potatoes as I by my fair companion. Point
ing to a good crop, he cried out with enthusiasm, " Is not that a
magnificent sight?" it certainly never came into- his head that we
could be thinking of other things, and that we assented only out of
civility. I found some peasants for my plan of colonization; they
were all eager to go, but unfortunately had not a penny in the world
in furtherance of such a scheme. One runs no risk in promising
them that they will find everything better than they have here, where
a man must subsist from half an acre of land; and if he be ever so
willing to seek work abroad, cannot find it. Those of them who
are best off live in dwellings which our peasants would think too
bad for their cows or horses. I visited one of these cabins, and
found the walls built of rude blocks of stone, with moss stuffed into
the interstices, and a roof covered partly with straw, partly with
turf. The floor consisted of the bare earth; there was no ceiling,
and the roof admitted the light in many places. Chimneys seem to
be esteemed a useless luxury. The smoke ascended from the open
hearth, and found its way through the holes, which served as win-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 411
dows. A lower shed on the right was the bed-room of the whole
family; a similar one on the left, the habitation of the pig and the
cow. The house stood in the middle of a field, without garden, and
utterly bare, and this they all called an excellent house.
When we got home our pretty visitor's hands were nearly frozen,
even at this season. They were perfectly white and insensible, and
were rubbed a quarter of an hour before the blood and life returned
to them. ' C'est le sang Africain.' She is in perfect comfort only
when seated close to a glowing turf fire, which would scorch any
body else; then she recovers her child-like freedom and sportiveness,
which sometimes carries even me away with it. September 11th.
To-day Mr. L  came to visit us. How strangely are the good
things of this world distributed! * * * *
********* He is a furious Orangeman: it was to be expected that such a charac
ter as his would range itself on the side of injustice, and delight in
party rage. But on what principles! As this is a specimen of the
height to which the spirit of party has reached, and the shameless-
ness with which it dares to avow itself, I will give you the quintes
sence of his conversation.
" I have served my king for nearly thirty years in almost every
part of the world, and want rest. Nevertheless, it is my most ardent
wish, which I daily pray God to grant, that I may live to see a
' good sound rebellion' in Ireland. If I were called out to serve
again, or if I were to lay down my life the very day it broke out, I
should make the sacrifice willingly, could I but be sure that the
blood of five millions of Catholics would flow at the same time with
my own. Rebellion ! — that's the point at which I want to see them,
at which I wait for them, and to which they must be led on, that we
may make an end of them at once; for there can be no peace in Ire
land till the whole race is exterminated, and nothing but an open
rebellion, and an English army to put it down, can effect this!" —
Would it not be right to confine such a wicked madman for life, dear
Julia, and give his sweet wife to some one more worthy of her?
The youthful and uncorrupted hearts of the sons of my host were
roused as much as my own: they manfully combated these diabolical
principles; but this exasperated the maniac Orangeman still more,
till at length all were silent. Several had early dropped off from
table to escape from such revolting conversation. September 1 8th.
Mr. L  's visit fortunately lasted only a few days, and we are
once more alone. We took advantage of our recovered freedom to
make an excursion of twenty miles to Mount B  , the beautiful
residence of a nobleman, and did not get back till late at night. The
park at Mount B  affords a perfect study for the judicious dis
tribution of masses of water, to which it is so difficult to give the
character of grandeur and simplicity that ought always to belong to

412 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
them. It is necessary to study the forms of nature for the details;
but the principal thing is never to suffer an expanse of water to be
completely overlooked, or seen in its whole extent. It should break
on the eye gradually, and if possible lose itself at several points at
the same time, in order to give full play to the fancy,— the true art
in all landscape gardening. The lord of the demesne, who is rich,
possesses a numerous collection of pictures, some of which are ex
cellent. There is a winter landscape of Ruysdaal's, the only one of
its kind which I remember to have seen by that master. The cha
racter of the cold foggy air, and the crisp frozen snow, are so per
fectly given, that I almost shivered before it; I felt at least that the
flickering blaze in the fire-place beneath had a double charm. A
fine and undoubted Rubens, the Miraculous Draught of Fishes, is
chiefly remarkable for a strange singularity. St. Peter has a scarlet
wig, and yet the general expression of the picture is not injured.
It has the effect of a glory, and seems to shed light around. I should
think it was a trial of skill, perhaps undertaken by the painter in
consequence of some jest, ' pour prouver la difficulty vaincue.' A
very laborious landscape on wood, by an unknown hand, was for
merly in the private collection of Charles I., whose cipher and
name, with the crown above, are branded on the back. The gem
of the collection appeared to me a picture of Rembrandt's, supposed
to be the portrait of an Asiatic Jew; it is at any rate the ideal of
one. The reality of the eyes and their blighting look is almost ter
rific; the dark and sinister, yet sublime expression of the whole is
increased by the inky blackness of the rest of the picture, out of
which the fiery eyes and satanic mouth look as if peeping forth
frightfully from the midst of Egyptian night.
After breakfast several hunters and racers wrere brought out, and
we exhibited our feats of horsemanship to the ladies. The hunters
of this country are not, perhaps, quite so swift as the best English
ones, but they are unequalled at leaping, to which they are trained
from their youth. They go up to a wall with the most perfect com
posure, and mount it with their fore and hind feet like a dog. If
there is a ditch on the other side, they leap that also by giving them
selves a fresh ' elan' on the top of the wall. The less the rider at
tempts to help a well-trained horse the better. If he keeps a steady
light rein upon him he may safely leave him to himself.
I don't know whether these details of horsemanship are very in
teresting to you, but as my letters are at the same time my journal
(for how should I find time to keep any other?), you must be so kind
as to receive with indulgence whatever has any interest, not only for
you, but for myself. Galway, Sept. 19th, Evening.
You know that my determinations are often of a very sudden na
ture, — my pistol-shots, as you used to call them. I have just dis
charged one. You may think that I did not quit such cordial friends
without great regret, but I had resolved to go, and adhered steadily
to my resolution. To avoid the delay of sending for post-horses, I

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 413
rode with James for the last time on ' Doctor,' his admirable hunter,
to Tuam, leaving all needful arrangements to my servant. I intend
ed to leave Tuam by the mail, but it was not its day for going, and
no species of conveyance to Galway was to be had, except the little
two-wheeled cart of the man who carries the letter-bags, in which
there is room for two passengers. I did not deliberate long, but
giving James a last shake by the hand, sprang into this frail vehicle,
and ' clopin-clopant,' away rattled the old horse with us through the
streets. The other passenger was a fine athletic young' man, well-
dressed, with whom I soon got into an interesting conversation on
the beauties and wonders of his country, and the character of his
countrymen. He was not long without affording me a fresh proof
of the hearty kindness and civility of the latter. I was very lightly
dressed, and heated with riding, so that I suffered from the cold
wind. I offered the driver some money to surrender his cloak to
me: on a nearer view, however, this appeared so fearfully dirty and
disgusting, that I could not bring myself to put it on. The young
man immediately took off a magnificent great-coat of vast dimen
sions, and almost forced me to take it, protesting that he never
caught cold, that he could sleep in the water without taking any
harm, and that he had put on the great-coat only because he did not
know what to do with it. This friendly act of his made us more
quickly acquainted than we should otherwise have been ; and the
time passed away, amid all sorts of talk, much more rapidly than I
had ventured to hope; for the distance was six German miles, the
road very rough, the equipage as bad as possible, the seat uneasy,
the country monotonous and dreary. Not a hill, not a tree to be
seen; only a network of walls drawn over the whole surface. Every
field is enclosed within walls of loose stones without mortar, but so
well constructed, that unless violently shaken they stand very firm.
Many ruins of old castles were visible, but in such a flat desert
plain, without one bush or bough to break it, they produced no ro
mantic effect
We found the ragged potatoe-eating people everywhere gay and
joyous. They always beg, to be sure, but they beg laughing, with
wit, humour, and the drollest expressions, without importunity, and
without ' rancune' if they get nothing. Most striking, amid such
singular poverty, is the no less singular honesty of these people;
perhaps, however, the one arises out of the other, for luxury makes
us covetous, and the poor man can often bear the privation of neces
saries more easily than the rich of superfluities.
We saw a number of labourers sitting by the road-side on heaps
of stone, which they were breaking. My companion said, "Those
are conquerors; their whole business is to break in pieces and de
stroy, and they rise on the ruins they make." Meanwhile our dri
ver blew his horn to annonnce the post, for which, as with us, every
thing must make way: the tone, however, came forth with such dif
ficulty and sounded so piteously, that we all laughed. A pretty boy,
of about twelve, looking like a personification of happiness and joy,
though half-naked, was sitting on a heap of stones, hammering. He

414 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
shouted with mischievous glee, and called out to the angry driver,
" Oh, ho, friend, your trumpet has caught cold; it is as hoarse as my
old grandmother: cure it directly with a glass of potheen, or it will
die of a consumption before you reach Galway!" A loud laugh from
all the labourers followed as chorus. " There," said my companion,
" there you see our people, — starvation and laughter, — that is their
lot. Would you believe that, from the number of labourers and
the scarcity of labour, not one of these men earns enough to buy suf
ficient food; and yet everyone of them will spare something to his
priest: and if you go into his cabin, will give you half of his last
potatoe and a joke into the bargain. "
We now approached the Galway mountains, over which the sun
was setting magnificently. This is a spectacle which I can never
behold unmoved; it always enchants me, and leaves a feeling of
calm and security, arising from the certainty that this language,
which God himself speaks to us, cannot lie, though human revela
tions be but piece-meal, differently understood by every different
interpreter, and often abused to the purposes of cunning and sel
fishness. We alighted at the same inn at which I had been during the races;
and to make some return for my young friend's civility, I invited
him to sup with me. It was late when we separated, — probably for
ever; but such acquaintanceships I like: they leave no time for dis
sembling ; ignorant of each other's social relations, each values in
the other only the man. Whatever each obtains from the other of
kind feeling or good opinion he owes to himself alone.
Sept. 20th, Morning.
I had hoped my carriage would have arrived during the night, but
it is not yet come, and I therefore employed my leisure in taking a
more perfect survey of this ancient city. I was greatly assisted by
by some fragments of an old Chronicle, which I accidentally picked
up in a grocer's shop, where I made some inquiries. In an obscure
corner of the town stands a house of extreme antiquity, over the
door of which are still to be seen a skull and cross-bones, remarka
bly well sculptured, in black marble. This house is called " The
Cross-bones," and its tragical history is as follows.
In the fifteenth century, James Lynch, a man of old family and
great wealth, was chosen mayor of Galway for life ; — an office which
was then nearly equal to that of a sovereign in power and influence.
He was reverenced for his inflexible rectitude, and loved for his con
descension and mildness. But yet more beloved, — the idol of the
citizens and their fair wives, — was his son, according to the Chroni
cle, one of the most distinguished young men of his time. To per
fect manly beauty and the most noble air, he united that cheerful
temper, that considerate familiarity, which subdues while it seems
to flatter, — that attaching grace of manner, which conquers all hearts
without an effort, by its mere natural charm. On the other hand,
his oft-proved patriotism, his high-hearted generosity, his romantic
courage, and complete mastery in all warlike exercises, forming part

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND, 415
of an education singular in his age and country, secured to him the
permanency of an esteem which his first aspect involuntarily be
spoke. So much light was not without shadow. Deep and burning pas
sions, a haughty temper, jealousy of all rival merit, rendered all his
fine qualities only so many sources of danger to himself and others.
Often had his stern father, although proud of such a son, cause for
bitter reproof, and for yet more anxious solicitude about the future.
But even he could not resist the sweetness of the youth, — as quick
to repent as to err, and who never for a moment failed in love and
reverence to himself. After his first displeasure was past, the de
fects of his son appeared to him, as they did to all others, only spots
on the sun. He was soon still further tranquillized by the vehement
and tender attachment which the young man appeared to have con
ceived for Anna Blake, the daughter of his best friend, and a girl
possessing every lovely and attaching quality. He looked forward
to their union as the fulfilment of all his wishes. But fate had willed
it otherwise. While young Lynch found more difficulty in conquering the heart
of the present object of his love than he had ever experienced before,
his father was called by business to Cadiz; — for the great men of
Galway, like the other inhabitants of considerable sea-ports in the
middle ages, held trade on a large scale to be an employment nowise
unworthy even of men of noble birth. Galway was at that time so
powerful and so widely known, that, as the Chronicle relates, an
Arab merchant, who had long traded to these coasts from the East,
once inquired " in what part of Galway Ireland lay?"
After James Lynch had delegated his authority to trusty hands,
and prepared everything for a distant journey, with an overflowing
heart he blessed his son, wished him the best issue to his suit, and
sailed for his destination. Wherever he went, success crowned his
undertakings. For this he was much indebted to the friendly ser
vices of a Spanish merchant named Gomez, towards whom his noble
heart conceived the liveliest gratitude.
It happened that Gomez also had an only son, who, like Edward
Lynch, was the idol of his family and the darling of his native city,
though in character, as well as in external appearance, entirely dif
ferent from him. Both were handsome; but Edward's was the
beauty of the haughty and breathing Apollo; Gonsalvo's of the se
rene and mild St. John. The one appeared like a rock crowned
with flowers; the other like a fragrant rose-covered knoll, threatened
by the storm. The Pagan virtues adorned the one; Christian gen
tleness and humility the other. Gonsalvo's graceful person ex
hibited more softness than energy; his languid dark blue eyes, more
tenderness and love than boldness and pride; a soft melancholy
overshadowed his countenance, and an air of voluptuous suffering
quivered about his swelling lips, around which a timid smile rarely
played, like a gentle wave gliding over pearls and coral. His mind
corresponded to such a person: loving and endearing, of a grave and
melancholy serenity, of more internal than external activity, he

416 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
preferred solitude to the bustle and tumult of society, but attached
himself with the strongest affection to those vvho treated him with
kindness and friendship. His inmost heart was thus warmed by a
fire, which, like that of a volcano buried too deep to break out at
the surface, is only seen in the increased fertility of the soil above,
which it clothes in the softest green, and decks with the brightest
flowers. Thus captivating, and easily captivated, was it a wonder
if he stole the palm even out of the hand of Edward Lynch? But
Edward's father had no such anticipations. Full of gratitude to
his friend, and of affection for his engaging son, he determined to
propose to the old Gomez a marriage between Gonsalvo and his
daughter. The offer was too flattering to be refused. The fathers
were soon agreed; and it was decided that Gonsalvo should accom
pany his future father-in-law to the coast of Ireland, and if the in
clinations of the young people favoured the project, their union
should take place at the same time with Edward's; after which
they should immediately return to Spain. Gonsalvo, who was just
nineteen, accompanied the revered friend of his father with joy.
His young romantic spirit enjoyed in silent and delighted anticipa
tion the varying scenes of strange lands which he was about to
see; the wonders of the deep which he would contemplate; the
new sort of existence of unknown people with whom he was to
be connected; and his warm heart already attached itself to the
girl, of whose charms her father gave him, perhaps, a too partial
description. Every moment of the long voyage, which at that time abounded
with dangers and required a much longer period than now, in
creased the intimacy and mutual attachment of the travellers: and
when at length they descried the port of Galway, the old Lynch
congratulated himself not only on the second son which God had
sent him, but on the beneficial influence which the unvarying gentle
ness of the amiable youth would have on Edward's darker and more
vehement character.
This hope appeared likely to be completely fulfilled. Edward,
who found all in Gomez that was wanting in himself, felt his
own nature as it were completed by his society ; and as he had al
ready learned from his father that he was to regard him as a bro
ther, their friendship soon ripened into the warmest and most sin
cere affection.
But not many months had passed before some uneasy feelings
arose in Edvvard's mind to trouble this harmony. Gonsalvo had
become the husband of his sister, but had deferred his return to Spain
for an indefinite time. He was become the object of general admi
ration, attention, and love. Edward felt that he was less happy than
formerly. For the first time in his life neglected, he could not con
ceal from himself that he had found a successful rival of his former
universal and uncontested popularity. But what shook him most fear
fully, what wounded his heart no less than his pride, what prepared
for him intolerable and restless torments, was the perception, which
every day confirmed, that Anna, whom he looked upon as his, —

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 417
though she still refused to confess her love,-^that his Anna had ever
since the arrival of the handsome stranger grown colder and colder
towards himself. Nay, he even imagined that in unguarded mo
ments he had seen her speaking eyes rest, as if weighed down with
heavy thoughts, on the soft and beautiful features of Gomez, and a
faint blush then pass over her pale cheek; but if his eye met hers,
this soft bloom suddenly become the burning glow of fever. Yes,
he could not doubt it; her whole deportment was altered: capri
cious, humoursome, restless, sometimes sunk in deep melancholy,
then suddenly breaking into fits of violent mirth, she seemed to re
tain only the outward form of the sensible, clear-minded, serene and
equal-tempered girl she had always appeared. Everything be
trayed to the quick eye of jealousy that she was the prey of some
deep-seated passion, — and for whom? — for whom could it be but for
Gomez! for him, at whose every action it was evident the inmost
cords of her heart gave out their altered tone. It has been wisely
said, that love is more nearly akin to hate than to liking. What
passed in Edward's bosom was a proof of this. Henceforth it seemed
his sole enjoyment to give pain to the woman he passionately loved;
and now, in the bitterness of his heart, held guilty of all his suffer
ings. Wherever occasion presented itself, he sought to humble and to
embarrass her, to sting her by disdainful pride, or to overwhelm her
with cutting reproaches; till, conscious of her secret crime, shame
and anguish overpowered the wretched girl, and she burst into tor
rents of tears, which alone had power to allay the scorching fever of
his heart. But no kindly reconciliation followed these scenes, and,
as with lovers, resolved the dissonance into blessed harmony. The
exasperation of each was only heightened to desperation: and when
he at length saw enkindled in Gomez, — so little capable of conceal
ment, — the same fire which burnt in the eyes of Anna; when he
thought he saw his sister neglected and himself betrayed by a ser
pent whom he had cherished in his bosom, — he stood at that point
of human infirmity, of which the All-seeing alone can decide whe
ther it be madness, or the condition of a still accountable creature.
On the same night in which suspicion had driven Edward from
his couch, a restless wanderer, it appears that the guilty lovers had
for the first time met in secret. According to the subsequent con
fession of Edward, he had concealed himself behind a pillar, and had
seen Gomez, wrapped in his mantle, glide with hurried steps out of
a well-known side-door in the house of Anna's father, which led
immediately to her apartments. — At the horrible certainty which
now glared upon him, the fury of hell took possession of his soul:
his eyes started from their sockets, the blood rushed and throbbed
as if it would burst his veins, and as a man dying of thirst pants for
a draught of cooling water, so did his whole being pant for the blood
of his rival. Like an infuriate tiger he darted upon the unhappy
youth, who recognized him, and vainly fled. Edward instantly
overtook him, seized him, and burying his dagger a hundred times,
with strokes like lightning-flashes, in the quivering body, gashed
with satanic rage the beautiful features vvhich had robbed him of his
53

418 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
beloved, and of peace. It was not till the moon broke forth from
behind a dark cloud, and suddenly lighted the ghastly spectacle be
fore him, — the disfigured mass, which retained scarcely a feature of
his once beloved friend, the streams of blood which bathed the body
and all the earth around it, — that he waked with horror as from
some infernal dream. But the deed was done, and judgment was
at hand.
Led by the instinct of self-preservation, he fled, like Cain, into
the nearest wood. How long he wandered there he could not re
collect. Fear, love, repentance, despair, and at last madness, pur
sued him like frightful companions, and at length robbed him of
consciousness, — for a time annihilating the terrors of the past in for-
getfulness; for kind nature puts an end to intolerable sufferings of
mind, as of body, by insensibility or death.
Meanwhile the murder was soon known in the city; and the fear
ful end of the gentle youth, who had confided himself, a foreigner,
to their hospitality, was learned by all with sorrow and indignation.
A dagger, steeped in blood, had been found lying by the velvet cap
of the Spaniard, and not far from it a hat, ornamented with plumes
and a clasp of gems, showed the recent traces of a man who seemed
to have sought safety in the direction of the wood. The hat was
immediately recognized as Edward's; and as he was nowhere to be
found, fears were soon entertained that he had been murdered with
his friend. The terrified father mounted his horse, and, accompa
nied by a crowd of people calling for vengeance, swore solemnly
that nothing should save the murderer, were he even compelled to
execute him with his own hands.
We may imagine the shouts of joy, and the feelings of the father,
when at break of day Edward Lynch was found sunk under a tree,
living, and although covered with blood, yet apparently without any
dangerous wound. — We may imagine the shudder which ran through
the crowd, — but the feelings of the father we cannot imagine, —
when, restored to sense, he embraced his father's knees, declared
himself the murderer of Gonsalvo, and earnestly implored instant
punishment. He was brought home bound, tried before a full assembly of the
magistrates, and condemned to death by his own father. But the
people would not lose their darling. Like the waves of the tem
pest-troubled sea, they filled the market-place and the streets, and
forgetting the crime of the son in the relentless justice of the father,
demanded with threatening cries the opening of the prison and the
pardon of the criminal. During the night, though the guards were
doubled, it was with great difficulty that the incensed mob were
withheld from breaking in. Towards morning, it was announced to
the mayor that all resistance would soon be vain, for that a part of
the soldiers had gone over to the people; — only the foreign guard
held out, — and all demanded with furious cries the instant liberation
of the criminal.
At this, the inflexible magistrate took a resolution, which many
will call inhuman, but whose awful self-conquest certainly belongs

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 419
to the rarest examples of stoical firmness. — Accompanied by a priest,
he proceeded through a secret passage to the dungeon of his son;
and when, vvith newly-awakened desire of life, excited by the sym
pathy of his fellow-citizens, Edward sunk at his feet, and asked
eagerly if he brought him mercy and pardon? The old man replied
with unfaultering voice, " No, my son, in this world there is no
mercy for you: your life is irrevocably forfeited to the law, and at
sunrise you must die. One-and-twenty years I have prayed for
your earthly happiness, — but that is past, — turn your thoughts now
to eternity; and if there be yet hope there, let us now kneel down
together and implore the Almighty to grant you mercy hereafter; —
but then I hope my son, though he could not live worthy of his fa
ther, will at least know how to die worthy of him." With these
words he rekindled the noble pride of the once dauntless youth, and
after a short prayer, he surrendered himself with heroic resignation
to his father's pitiless will. ,
As the people, and the greater part of the armed men mingled in
their ranks, now prepared, amidst more wild and furious menaces,
to storm the prison, James Lynch appeared at a lofty window; his
son stood at his side with the halter round his neck. " I have
sworn," exclaimed the inflexible magistrate, " that Gonsalvo's mur
derer should die, even though I must perform the office of the exe
cutioner myself. Providence has taken me at my word; and you,
madmen, learn from the most wretched of fathers that nothing must
stop the course of justice, and that even the lies of nature must break
before it."
While he spoke these words he had made fast the rope to an iron
beam projecting from the wall, and now suddenly pushing his son
out of the window, he completed his dreadful work. Nor did he
leave the spot till the last convulsive struggles gave certainty of the
death of his unhappy victim.
As if struck by a thunder-clap, the tumultuous mob had beheld
the horrible spectacle in death-like silence, and every man glided as
if stunned to his own house. From that moment the mayor of Gal
way resigned all his occupations and dignities, and was never beheld
by any eye but those of his own family. He never left his house
till he was carried from it to his grave. Anna Blake died in a con
vent. Both families in course of time disappeared from the earth;
but the skull and cross-bones still mark the scene of this fearful
tragedy. Limerick, Sept. 21st.
At ten o'clock my carriage arrived, and I immediately quitted
Galway. As long as the country remained monotonous, I beguiled
the time by reading. At Gort it becomes more interesting. Not
far from it flows a river, which, like that at Cong, loses itself several
times in the earth. One of the deepest basins which it forms is called
"The Punch-bowl. " To fill such a bowl would require a larger tun
than that at Heidelberg.
You now begin to approach the Clare mountains: and Nature

420 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
decks herself in more picturesque attire. A park belonging to Lord
Gort broke upon me like a magnificent picture: it is bounded by a
broad lake, in which are thirteen beautiful wooded islands; these,
with the mountains in the back-ground, and the expanse of vvater,
which the eye never completely embraces, in front, produced a grand
and striking effect. One of the most miserable of post-horses seem
ed to participate so intensely in my delight, that it was impossible to
make him stir. After many vain attempts to induce him to change
his position, during which the postilion repeatedly protested that it
was only this one spot to which he was so attached, but that if we
could once get him away from it he would go like the devil himself,
we were obliged to unharness him; — he had begun to kick and to
break our crazy equipage. In comparison with the Irish post esta
blishment, that of Saxony, erst so celebrated, might fairly be called
excellent. Bleeding skeletons, galled all over, starved and superan
nuated, are fastened by rotten harness to your carriage, and if you
ask your postilion (whose dress consists of a few rags,) if he thinks
that such cattle can go a mile, much more a stage of twelve or fifteen,
he answers very seriously, " Sure there's no better equipage in Eng
land; I shall take your honour there in less than nothing." Scarcely,
however, have you gone twenty steps, when something breaks, one
horse is restive, and the other falls down exhausted: this does not
put him the least out of countenance, he has always some admirable
excuse ready, and at last, if nothing else will do, be declares himself
bewitched. This was the course of things to-day. We must probably have
passed the night in the park of Gort had not assistance and horses
been most hospitably despatched to us from the house. Notwith
standing this, our stay was so long that it was ten before I reached
Limerick. My letter is so thick that I must send it away before its
corpulence becomes 'impayable.' You will not hear of me again in
less than a fortnight, as I am determined to plunge into those wild
regions, which foreign foot has seldom trod. Pray for a prosperous
journey for me ; and above all, love me vvith the same tenderness as
ever. Your faithful L  .

LETTER XXXIII.
Limerick, Sept. 22nd, 1828.
Dearest Friend,
Limerick is the third city in Ireland, and of the kind of cities I
like, old and venerable, adorned with Gothic churches and moss-
covered ruins; with dark narrow streets, and curious houses of vari
ous dates; a broad river flowing through its whole length, and cross
ed by several antique bridges; lastly, a busy market-place, and
cheerful environs. Such a city has for me a charm like that of a
wood, whose dark branches, now low, now high, afford sylvan

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 421
streets of various forms, and frequently overarch the way like a Go
thic roof. Modern regular cities are like a trimly cut French gar
den: they do not suit my romantic taste.
I was not quite well, and returned after a little walk in the town
to my inn. I found a sexton of one of the Catholic churches waiting
for me; he told me that they had rung the bells as soon as they knew
of my arrival, and hoped I would give them ten shillings as a gra
tuity. -3e l'envoyai promener.' In a few minutes a Protestant
functionary of the same sort was announced. I asked him what he
wanted. "Only to warn your royal highness against the impositions
of the Catholics, who annoy strangers in the most shameless manner,
and to beg that your royal highness will not give them anything: —
at the same time I take the liberty to ask a small contribution to the
Protestant poor-house." (You must observe that the people of this
country are extremely lavish of titles to anybody who travels with
four horses.) ' Go to the d  1, Protestants and Catholics,' said I
in a rage, and flung the door in his face.
But this was not all; I was soon waited upon by a deputation of
the Catholics, consisting of the French Consul (an Irishman,) a rela
tion and namesake of O'Connell, and some others, who harangued
me, and begged to present me with the Order of the Liberator. I
had the greatest possible difficulty in excusing myself from this
honour, and in declining an invitation to dine with their club. We
compromised the matter by my accepting the offer of two of them
to accompany me all over the town as ciceroni.
I resigned myself very patiently, and was first conducted to the
cathedral, a building of great antiquity, more in the style of a for
tress than of a church; the architecture solid and rude, but imposing
by its massiveness. In the interior I admired a carved chair of the
most exquisite workmanship; it is five hundred years old, and made
of bog-oak, which time has rendered black as ebony. Its rich orna
ments consisted of beautiful arabesques and most curious masks,
which were different on every side. The grave of Thomond, King
of Ulster and Limerick, though mutilated and defaced by modern
additions, is a very interesting monument. Descendants of this
royal line are still in existence. The head of the family bears the
title of Marquis of Thomond, a name which you will remember to
have seen in my letters from London, where its possessor was dis
tinguished for the excellence of his dinners. Ireland has many
families of great antiquity, who pique themselves on never having
contracted a ' mesalliance,' a practice so common among the Eng
lish and French nobility, that pure unmixed blood (sliftsfdhiges
blut* as we call it in Germany) is no longer to be found in either
of those kingdoms. The French nobles called these marriages for
money ' mettre du fumier sur ses terres,' a joke not very flattering
to the bride. — And many an English lord owes all the present splen
dour of his family to such ' fumier.'
* Eligible to certain chapters and ecclesiastical orders, to which none could be
admitted who could not prove their seventy-two quarterings. — Tbansl.

422 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
We quitted the church, and were proceeding to visit the rock
near the Shannon, upon which the English signed the treaty after
the battle of the Boyne; a treaty which they have not been remark
ably scrupulous in observing. I remarked that we were followed
by an immense crowd of people, which increased like an avalanche,
and testified equal respect and enthusiasm. All on a sudden they
shouted "Long life to Napoleon and Marshal  ." "Good
God," said I, " for whom do the people take me? As a perfectly
unpretending stranger I cannot in the least degree understand why
they seem disposed to do me so much honour." "Was not your
father the Prince of  ?" said O'Connell. " Oh no," replied
I; " my father was indeed a nobleman of rather an older date, but
very far from being so celebrated." " You must forgive us then,"
said O'Connell incredulously; " for to tell you the truth, you are
believed to be a natural son of Napoleon, whose partiality to your
supposed mother was well known." " You joke," said I laughing:
" I am at least ten years too old to be the son of the great emperor
and the beautiful princess." He shook his head, however, and I
reached my inn amid reiterated shouts. Here I shut myself up, and
shall not quit my retreat to-day. The people, however, patiently
posted themselves under my windows, and did not disperse till it
was nearly dark. Tralee, Sept. 23rd.
This morning I was again received with cries of " Long life to
Napoleon and your honour!" And while my servant, who was
seated in my carriage, and passed for Napoleon's son, drove off in
the midst of cheers and acclamations, I slipped out at a back-door,
with a lad who carried my travelling bag, and took my place in the
stage, which was to convey me to the lake of Killarney. My peo
ple had orders to wait for me in Cashel, where I shall probably re
join them in a fortnight.
With my present simple exterior no human being thought of as
sailing me with homage; and I could not help philosophizing on this
public farce, and thinking how often the desire of glory and renown
leads only to disguise and false assumption. Certainly of all the
dreams of life this is the most shadowy! Love sometimes satisfies,
knowledge tranquillizes, art gladdens and amuses; but ambition, am
bition gives only the tormenting possession of a hunger which nothing
can allay, — a chase after a phantom which is ever unattainable.
In a quarter of an hour I was comfortably established in the stage
coach. The passengers inside consisted of three women; one fat
and jovial, another extremely lean, and a third pretty and well-pro
portioned. There was also a man who had the air of a pedagogue,
with a long face, and still longer nose. I sat entrenched between
the two slender ladies, and conversed with the corpulent one, who
was very talkative. On my letting down a window she told us that
she had lately been nearly sea-sick in this very coach, because an
ailing lady who sat opposite to her would not allow a window to be
opened on any account. That she, however, did not give it up; and

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 423
after a quarter of an hour's persuasion had succeeded in prevailing
on the lady to admit one inch of air; a quarter of an hour after an
other inch, and so on, till she manoeuvred the whole window open.
"Excellent," said I; "that is exactly the way in which women
manage to get all they wish; first one inch, and then — as much as
they want. How differently do men act under similar circum
stances," continued I. " An English writer, in his directions to
travellers, says, that if anybody in the mail should insist on keeping
all the windows closed, you should not enter into any ' pour parler'
vvith him, but immediately thrust your elbow through the window-
as if by accident, beg his pardon, and quietly enjoy the cool air."
The ruins of Adair now attracted our attention, and interrupted the
conversation. Further on the Shannon appeared in all its grandeur.
In some parts it is like an American river, nine miles broad, and its
shores finely wooded. At Lisdowel, a little place where we dined,
hundreds of beggars assembled as usual about the coach. One no
velty struck me; they had little wooden cups fixed at the end of
long sticks, which they reached in at the window, and thus more
conveniently secured the desired 'pence.' One beggar had built
himself a sort of sentry-box of loose stones in the road, in which he
seemed to remain in a state of perpetual bivouac. I must conclude;
for the mail drives off again in a few hours, and I want rest More
to-morrow. Killarney, Sept. 24th.
In the course of to-day I saw twelve rainbows, a bad omen for
the steadiness of the weather; but I receive it as a good one for me.
It promises me a many-coloured journey. The company had drop
ped off, one by one, like ripe fruit, and I found myself alone with
an Irish gentleman, a manufacturer from the north, when I entered
the pretty cheerful town of Killarney, where the incessant resort of
English tourists has almost introduced into the inns English elegance
and English prices. We immediately inquired for boats, and for
the best way of seeing the lake, but were told that it was impossible
to go on in such a storm: no boat could ' live on the lake,' as the fish
erman expressed it. An English dandy, who had joined us during
breakfast, ridiculed these assurances; and as I, you know, am also
rather incredulous about impossibilities, we outvoted the manufac
turer, who showed very little ardour for the undertaking, and em
barked, ' malgre vent et maree,' near Ross Castle, an old ruin not
far from Killarney.
We had a capital boat, an old characteristic-looking gray-headed
steersman, and four sturdy rowers. The heaven was as if torn open;
in some places blue, in others various shades of gray; but for the
most part raven-black. Clouds of all forms rolled in wild disorder,
now and then tinged by a rainbow, or lighted by a pale sun-beam.
The high mountains scarcely appeared through their gloomy veil,
and on the lake all was like night. The black waves heaved in busy
and ceaseless tumult; here and there one bore a crest of snow-white
foam. As the motion was nearly as great as at sea, I was slightly

424 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
sea-sick. The manufacturer was pale from fear; the young English
man, proud of his amphibious nature, laughed at us both. Mean
while the- storm piped so loud that we could hardly hear each other
speak; and when I asked the old steersman where we should land
first, he said, " At the Abbey, if we can land anywhere." This
did not sound encouraging. Our boat, which was the only one on
the lake, for even the fishermen would not venture out, danced so
fearfully up and down without making the smallest way, in spite of
all the efforts of the rowers, that the manufacturer began to think of
wife, children, and manufactory, and peremptorily insisted on re
turning, as he had no intention of sacrificing his life to a party of
pleasure. The dandy on the other hand was ready to burst with
laughter: he protested that he was a member of the Yacht Club, and
had seen very different sort of danger from this; and promised the
rowers, who would rather have been at home, money without end
if they would but hold out. For my own part, I followed General
Yermoloff's maxim, " neither too rash, nor too timid," took no part
in the contest, wrapped myself in my cloak, and awaited the issue
in peace. It seems I had all the beauty of the scene to myself; one
of my companions being prevented from seeing it by fear, the other
by self-complacency. For some time we struggled with the waves,
on which we floated like sea-birds in storm and darkness; till at last
such a violent wind came upon us from a gorge in the mountains
opposite to which we lay, that it grew rather too serious even for
the ' member of the Yacht Club,' and he acceded to the request
of the steersman, to row back With the wind, and land on an island
till the storm abated a little, which was generally the case about
noon. This happened as he predicted: and after encamping for some
hours on Innisfallen, a lovely little islet with beautiful groups of
trees and ruins, we were able to continue our voyage. All the
islands of this little lake, even to the smallest, called the Mouse,
which is only a few yards long, are thickly clothed with arbutus,
and other evergreens. They grow wild; and both in summer and
in winter enliven the scene with the bright colours of their flowers
and fruit. The forms of many of these islets are as curious as their
names. They are generally called after O'Donaghue. Here is
O'Donaghue's 'White Horse,' on whose rocky hoofs the surf breaks;
there, his ' Library;' further on, his ' Pigeon-house,' or his ' Flower-
garden;' and so on. But you do not know how the lake of Killarney
arose. Listen then.
O'Donaghue was the powerful chieftain of a clan inhabiting a great
and opulent city, which stood where the lake now rolls its waters.
It had everything in abundance, except water; and the legend says,
that the only little spring which it possessed was the gift of a mighty
sorcerer, who called it up at the prayer of a beautiful virgin; adding
a solemn warning, that they should never forget to close it every
evening with a large silver cover, which he left for that purpose. —
The strange forms and ornaments seemed to confirm this wonderful
command; and never was the old custom neglected.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 425
But O'Donaghue, a mighty and dauntless ¦ warrior (perhaps too,
like Talbot, an incredulous one,) only made merry at this story, as
he called it; and one day, being heated with more wine than usual,
he commanded, to the terror of all present, the silver cover to be
carried into his house, where, as he jestingly said, it would make
him an excellent bath. All remonstrances were vain: O'Donaghue
was accustomed to make himself obeyed: and as his terrified vassals
at length dragged in their ponderous burthen, amid groans and
lamentations, he exclaimed laughing, " Never fear, the cool night
air will do the water good, and in the morning you will all find it
fresher than ever." But those who stood nearest to the silver cover
turned away shuddering, for it seemed to them as if the strange in
tricate characters upon it moved, and wreathed like a knot of twisted
snakes, and an awful sound appeared to come forth mournfully from
it. Fearful and anxious, they retired to rest: one alone fled to the
adjoining mountains. And now when morning broke, and this man
looked down into the valley, he thought he was in a dream; — city
and land had disappeared; the rich meadows were no more to be
seen, and the little spring bursting forth from the clefts of the earth
had swelled into a measureless lake. What O'Donaghue prophesied
was true; the water had become cooler for them all, and the new
vessel had prepared for him his last bath.
In very clear bright weather, as the fishermen assured us, some
have seen at the lowest bottom of the lake, palaces and towers glim
mering as through glass: but many have beheld, at the approach of a
storm, O'Donaghue's giant figure riding over the waves on a snort
ing white horse, or gliding along the waters with the quickness of
lightning in his unearthly bark.
One of our boat's crew, — a man of about fifty, with long black
hair, which the wind blew wildly about his temples, of an earnest
and quiet but imaginative look, — was stealthily pointed out to me by
one of his companions, while they whispered in my ear that " he
had met him."
You will believe that I quickly entered into conversation with
this boatman, and sought to gain his confidence, knowing that these
people, whenever they anticipate unbelief and jesting, observe an
obstinate silence. At first he was reserved; but at length he became
warmed, and swore by St. Patrick and the Virgin that what he was
going to tell me was the naked truth. He said he had met O'Dona
ghue at twilight, just before the raging of one of the most terrific
storms he had ever witnessed. He had staid out late fishing; it had
rained torrents the whole day; it was piercingly cold, and without
his whisky-bottle he could not have held out any longer. Not a
living soul had been visible on the lake for a long time, — when all
at once a boat, as if fallen from the clouds, sailed towards him; the
oars plied like lightning, and yet no rowers were visible; but at the
stern sat a man of gigantic stature: his dress was scarlet and gold,
and on his head he wore a three-cocked hat with broad gold lace.
The spirit-boat passed him: Paddy fixed his eyes intently upon it:
but when the tall figure was over-against him, and two large black
54

426 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
eyes glared forth out of the mantle, and scorched him like living
coals, the whisky fell out of his hand, and he did not come to him
self till the rough caresses of his other half waked him. She was in
a great rage, and called him a drunken fellow: — She might think the
whisky had brought him to that, but he knew better.
Is it not curious that the costume here described exactly corres
ponds with that of our German Devil of the last century, who is now
come into such great favour again? And yet Paddy had most cer
tainly never heard of the Freischiitz. It seems almost as if Hell had
its 'Journal des Modes.' I was extremely amused at the old man's
penitence and distress after he had finished his story. He loudly
reproached himself for it, crossed himself, and incessantly repeated,
" O'Donaghue, though terrible, looked like a 'real gentleman;' for,"
said he, looking round fearfully, " ' a perfect gentleman' he was, is
now, and always will remain." The younger boatmen were not
such firm believers, and seemed to have a good mind to joke the
ghost-seer a little, but his seriousness and indignation soon overawed
them all. One of these young men was a perfect model of a youth
ful Hercules. With all the overflowing spirits of a body sound to
the core, he played incessant tricks, and did the work of three at
the same time.
We landed at Mucruss Abbey, which stands in Mr. Herbert's
park, notwithstanding which it is plentifully furnished with skulls
and bones. The ruins are of considerable extent, and full of inter
esting peculiarities. In the court-yard is a yew-tree, perhaps the
largest in the world; it not only overtops all the building, but its
branches darken the whole court, like a tent. In the first story I
observed a fire-place, on which two ivy branches, one on each side,
formed a most beautiful and regular decoration, while their leaves
covered the mantel-piece with a mass of foliage.
Our guide here gave us a curious example of the unbounded power
of the Catholic priests over the common people. Two clans, the
Moynihans and the O'Donaghues had been in a state of perpetual
feud for half a century. Wherever they met in any considerable
numbers, a shillelah battle was sure to take place, and many lives
were usually lost. Since the formation of the Catholic Association,
it has become the interest of the priests to establish peace and con
cord in their flocks. Accordingly, after the fight which took place
last year, they enjoined as penance that the Moynihans should march
twelve miles to the north, and the O'Donaghues an equal distance to
the south, and both pronounce certain prayers at their journey's
end; that all the lookers-on should make a pilgrimage of six miles in
some other direction; and in case of a repetition of the offence, the
penance to be doubled. All this was executed vvith religious exact
ness, and ever since the war is at an end.
Continuing our progress for about three miles on this side the
lake, we landed on a thickly wooded shore, and visited O'Sullivan's
waterfall, which, swollen by the rain, was doubly magnificent. The
luxuriance of the trees and trailing plants which overhang it, and
the cave opposite, in which you stand protected from the wet to

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 427
view this foaming cataract, increase the picturesque and wild beauty
of the scene. Here are sweet lonely walks, which lead over the
mountains to a village imbedded in a deep wood, and cut off from all
the world.
But as the sun was still struggling with the clouds, and we were
soaked through and through (by the heavens and the lake whose
waters had more than once washed over us,) and very weary, we
resolved to close our labours for to-day, and to return by Lady Ken-
mare's pretty villa.
As we had still about four miles to go by water, the handsome
young fellow, who by-the-by, in spite of his athletic frame, had a
most remarkable resemblance to Mademoiselle Sontag, offered to bet
three shillings that he would row us home in half an hour. The old
ghost-seer would not undertake such an exertion, but young Sontag
declared he would row for him. We accepted the wager, and now
flew like an arrow across the lake. Never did I see a finer exhibi
tion of power and persistency, amid constant singing, jokes, and
sportive tricks. The rowers won their wager only by half a minute,
but received from us more than double their bet, which all promised
with great glee to drink in the course of the night. To conclude the
whole, they held a conversation, already got up for the purpose, with
the echo of the walls of Ross Castle. The answers had always some
double meaning; for instance, ' Shall we have a good bed?' — answer,
' Bad,' and so on. Sept. 25th.
Unfortunately two Englishmen of my acquaintance arrived to-day,
and joined us, which destroyed my beloved incognito; for though I
am no ' exalted personage,' I find as much pleasure in it as if I were.
When one is unknown, one always escapes some gene, and gains
some freedom the more, however inconsiderable one may be. As I
could not help myself in this case, I contrived at least to perform
half this day's tour by land with my worthy friend the manufacturer,
and let the three Englishmen go together by boat. It was the same
which we had yesterday, and had then engaged for to-day. My po
ney had the high-sounding name of ' the Knight of the Gap.' He
was but a recreant knight, however, and would not move without
whip and spur. Before we came to the great ravine or gap, from
which he takes his name, we had a very beautiful view of the moun
tains from a hill which rises in the midst of the plain. Mountain,
water, and trees, were so happily distributed as to produce the more
refreshing harmony: — the long ravine appears all the wilder and
more monotonous; in the style of Wales, but not so vast. In one
part of it a large mass of rock loosened itself some years ago, and
lies, split in two, across the road. A man had the project of exca
vating these pieces of rock as a hermitage, but remained faithful to
his strange dwelling only three months. The people, with their
usual energy of expression, call it "the madman's rock." Some
way further on we saw an old woman lying cowering on the road,
whose appearance exceeded all that has ever been invented in fairy

428 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
tales. Never did I see anything more frightful and disgusting: I
was told that she was a hundred-and-ten years old; and had survived
all her children and grandchildren. Although in an intellectual point
of view reduced to a mere animal, all her senses were in tolerable
preservation. Her form was neither human nor even animal, but
resembled rather an exhumed corpse reanimated. As we rode by,
she uttered a piteous whine, and seemed satisfied when we threw
her money. She did not reach however to pick it up, but sank back
into her former torpor and apathy. All the furrows of her livid face
were filled with black dirt, her eyes looked diseased, her lips were
of a leaden blue; in short, imagination could conceive nothing so
shocking. We met our boat at Brandon Castle, a ruin rendered habitable,
with a high tower and neglected pleasure-grounds. There are some
pieces of water through which our guides carried us on their backs.
The boat appeared 'a point nomme;' it sailed round a projecting
point just as we reached the shore, and had on board the best bugle-
man in Killarney. He blew a sort of Alpine horn with great skill,
and called forth many a delightful echo. We passed the arch of a
bridge, on which, when the waters are swollen, boats are often
wrecked. Our bugleman told us that he had been twice upset here,
and the last time nearly drowned. He wished, therefore, to be put
on shore, and climb along the rocks past this formidable place; but
the old steersman would not consent, declaring that if the strange
gentlemen remained in the boat it became him to stay, and be drown
ed with them. We all passed quite safely however.
The rock called " The Eagle's Nest," which is the almost con
stant abode of those kingly birds, is of a fine and imposing form.
Not far from it is Coleman's Leap, — two rocks standing upright in
the water at some distance; on which are the marks of feet, three
or four feet deep in the rock. Such leaps and footmarks are to be
found in almost all mountains.
Our boat was fully victualled for a brilliant dinner (a thing which
Englishmen seldom forget,) and as we espied a most romantic cot
tage under high chestnut trees, we determined to land here, and eat
our repast. It would have been extremely agreeable, had not the
dandy spoiled it by his affectation, his want of all feeling for the
beautiful, and his ill-natured ' persiflage' of the less polished but far
more estimable Irishman. He gave him the nickname of Liston
(a celebrated actor, who is particularly distinguished in silly absurd
characters,) and made the poor devil unconsciously act so burlesque a
part, that I was sometimes reluctantly constrained to laugh, though
the whole thing was quite ' hors de saison,' and in the most execra
ble taste. It is possible, too, that the Irishman only affected stupidi
ty, and was, in fact, the most cunning of the two, — at least he ad
dressed himself to eating and drinking with such unwearied perse
verance, while the others were occupied with laughing, that very
little remained for them. I cannot deny that he received powerful
support in this department from me. — A fresh-caught salmon broiled
on arbutus-sticks oyer the fire was an admirable specimen of Irish fare.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 429
We rowed slowly back by moonlight, while the bugleman's horn
started echo after echo from her repose. It was an enchanting night;
and wandering from thought to thought, I reached a state of mind in
which I too could have seen ghosts. The men near me seemed to
me only like puppets; Nature alone, and the sweetness and the ma
jesty that surrounded me, seemed real.
Whence comes it, thought I, that a heart so loving is not social?
that men are generally of so little worth to you? — Is your soul too
small for intercourse with the intellectual world, too nearly allied to
plants and animals? — or have you outgrown the forms of this state
of existence in some prior one, and feel pent up in your too narrow
garments? And when the melancholy tones of the bugle-horn again
trembled in soft notes across the waves, and gave to my fancies the
sounds of a strange language, like the voice of invisible spirits, I
felt like Gothe's fisherman, — as if some irresistible force dragged
me softly down into the calm element, to seek O'Donaghue in his
coral rOcks.
Before we landed, a curious ceremony took place. The boat's
crew, with young Sontag at their head, — who always called me 'his
gentleman,' in virtue of a somewhat larger fee he had received from
me, — asked permission to lie-to at a little island, and to christen this
after me, which could only be done by moonlight. I was therefore
told to stand on a projecting rock: the six boatmen leaning on their
oars formed a circle around me, while the old man solemnly pro
nounced a sort of incantation in a wild measure, which sounded aw
fully in this romantic scenery and the night. Young Sontag then
broke off a largi. irbutus branch, and giving a twig of it first to me,
and then to the gentlemen in the boat, we fixed them in our hats;
the rest he divided among his comrades, and then asked me — with
respectful earnestness what name the island — with O'Donaghue's
permission — was in future to bear? "Julia!" said I with a loud
voice: — on which this name was repeated, not very accurately, three
times with thundering hurrahs. A third man now took a bottle
filled with water, delivered a long address in verse to O'Donaghue,
and threw the bottle with all his might against a piece of rock, so
that it broke into a thousand pieces. A second bottle filled with
whisky was then drunk to my health, and a threefold cheer again
given to Julia Island. The boatmen, to whom the name was strange,
took it for mine, and henceforth called me nothing but Mr. Julia,
which I heard with a melancholy satisfaction.
Your domains are thus increased by an island on the romantic
lake of Killarney: it is only a pity that the next company that lands
on the same spot will probably rob you of it; for doubtless such
christenings take place as often as godfathers are to be found. The
real child, the whisky-bottle, is always at hand. Nevertheless, I
enclose an arbutus leaf from the identical sprig which flourished on
my hat, that you may at least retain undisputed possession of some
thing from your island.

430 LETTERS ON GERMANY, Glengariff, Sept. 26th.
To write to you to-day is really an effort which deserves reward ;
for I am excessively tired, and have, like my father Napoleon, been
obliged to drink coffee incessantly to keep me awake.*
I left Killarney at nine o'clock in the morning in a car of the
most wretched construction, and followed the new road which leads
along the upper and lower lake to the Bay of Kenmare. This road
discloses more beauties than are seen from the lakes themselves,
which have the great disadvantage of affording a picturesque view
on one side only, — the other shore is quite flat. On the road which
lies along the side of the mountain and through a wood, every turn
presents you with pictures, which are the more beautiful from being
framed. I remark, generally, that views seen from the water lose:
they want the principal thing — the foreground.
Near a beautiful cascade, and in the most charming wilderness,
though not far from the road, a merchant has built himself a villa,
and surrounded it with a garden and park. He must have expend
ed at least five or six thousand pounds, — perhaps much more, — and
yet the land is the property of his family only for ninety-nine years;
at the expiration of that time it falls, together with all that is upon
it, to the lord of the soil, Lord Kenmare, and must be delivered up
to him in perfect repair. No German would feel disposed to spend
his money in decorative improvements on such terms: but in Eng
land, — where almost the whole soil belongs either to the government,
the church, or the powerful aristocracy, and therefore can seldom be
purchased in fee; where, on the other hand, industry, fostered by a
wise government, in alliance with agriculture, has enriched the
middling and trading classes, — such contracts are extremely common,
and obviate many of the inconveniences of the distribution of landed
property, without diminishing its great utility to the state.
The ascent now became steeper and steeper, and we soon found
ourselves in the midst of bare heights; for vegetation here seldom
extends above midway up the mountains. It is not as in Switzer
land, where luxuriant verdure reaches almost to the snowy region.
To take Switzerland as a standard by which to try Ireland, would
however be absurd. Both countries afford romantic beauties of a
totally different character; both excite admiration and astonishment
at the sublime works of Nature, though in Switzerland they are on
a more colossal scale. The road was so winding, that after half an
hour's climbing we found ourselves precisely over the pretty cottage
I mentioned, which with its shining gray thatch looked, at that
depth, like a little mouse sunning itself in the green grass; — for the
sun, after a long struggle, had at length become undisputed lord of
the heavens.
Eight miles from Killarney we reached the highest point of the
* The maitre d'hotel who lately published Memoirs of Napoleon, vindicates the
Emperor from this reproach with indignation. His memoirs are certainly most
flattering to that great man, for they prove * qu'il est reste heros meme pour son
valet de chambre.' — Edit.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 431
road, where stands a solitary inn. You look down upon the broad
valley, in whose lap lies the greater part of the three lakes, so that
you behold them all with one glance.
From this point the road descends, leading between naked moun
tains of bold forms to the sea. It was fair-time when I arrived in
Kenmare, and I could hardly penetrate through the bustling crowd
with my one-horse vehicle, especially from the number of drunken
men who would not — perhaps could not — get out of the way. One
of them fell in consequence of an attempt to do so, and knocked his
head so violently on the pavement that he was carried away sense
less, — a thing of such common occurrence that it attracted no atten
tion. The skulls of Irishmen appear to be universally of a more
firm and massive construction than those of other people, probably
because they are trained to receive shillelah blows. While I dined,
I had another opportunity of observing several affrays. First a knot
of people collect, shouting and screaming; this rapidly thickens;
and all at once, in the twinkling of an eye, a hundred shillelahs
whirr in the air, and the thumps, — which are generally applied to
the head, — bang and snap like the distant report of fire-arms, till
one party has gained the victory. As I was now at the fountain-
head, through the mediation of mine host I bought one of the finest
specimens of this weapon, yet warm from the fight. It is as hard
as iron, and that it may be sure to do execution, it is also weighted
at the end with lead.
The celebrated O'Connell is now residing at about thirty miles from
hence, in his solitary fortress in the most desert region of Ireland.
As I have long wished to know him, I sent a messenger from this
place, and determined, while waiting for his answer, to make an ex
cursion to Glengariff Bay, whither I accordingly set out as soon as I
had dined.
Driving is now completely at an end: I can proceed only on a
poney or on foot. I set out, a poney carrying my baggage, and I
and my guide walking by his side. If either of us were tired, the
good little horse was to carry us too. The sun soon set, but the moon
shone bright. The road was not uninteresting, though horribly bad,
often leading through bog and brook without bridge or stepping-
stone. It became indescribably difficult after six or eight miles,
where we had to climb a high and nearly perpendicular hill, tread
ing only on loose and pointed stones, from which we slipped back at
every step nearly as far as we went forward. The descent on the
other side was still worse, especially when a mountain intercepted
the moon's light. I was so weary that I could walk no further, and
seated myself on the poney. This little creature showed almost hu
man intelligence. Going up-hill he helped himself with his nose,
and I think even with his teeth, as a fifth leg; and down-hill, he
wriggled with incessant twisting of his body like a spider. When
he came to a boggy place, in which there was only here and there a
stone, thrown by way of step, he crept as slowly as a sloth, always
trying first with his foot whether the stone would bear him and his
burthen. The whole scene was most singular. The night was so clear,

432 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
that I could see around me to a great distance; but nothing met my
eye save rocks ranged above rocks, of every shape and kind, stand
ing out gigantic, wild and sharp, against the sky. No living crea
ture, not a tree or bush, was to be seen, only our own shadows
trailed after us; not a sound was heard but our own voices, and
sometimes the distant rush of a mountain-stream, or more rarely
the melancholy horn of a herdsman collecting his cattle wandering
amid these pathless wilds. Once only we saw one of these cows,
which, like the mountain-sheep of Wales, have caught the shyness
of wild animals. She was lying in the road, but on our approach
sprang bellowing over the rocks, and vanished in the darkness like
a black spirit
About an hour before you reach Glengariff Bay the landscape be
comes as luxuriant and park-like as it has heretofore been dreary and
barren. Here the rocks arise in the strangest forms, out of Hespe
rian thickets of arbutus, Portugal laurel, and other lovely and fra
grant shrubs. Many of these rocks stand like palaces, smooth as
marble, without excrescence or inequality; others form pointed
pyramids, or long continuous walls. In the valley sparkled solitary
lights, and a gentle breeze waved the tops of the high oaks, ashes,
and birches, intermingled with beautiful holly, whose scarlet berries
were visible even by moonlight. The magnificent bay now glittered
under the web of moonbeams which lay upon it; and I really thought
myself in Paradise when I reached its shore, and alighted at the
door of a pretty cheerful inn. Cheerful as was its exterior, mourn
ing was within its gates. The host and hostess, very respectable
people, came out to receive me, dressed in deep mourning. On my
inquiring the cause, they told me that her sister, the most beautiful
girl in Kerry, eighteen years of age and the picture of health, died
the day before of a brain-fever, or, rather, of the ignorance of the
village doctor: — the poor woman added, weeping, that a week's ill
ness had changed her to forty, so that nobody could recognize the
corpse of the once blooming girl, or those sweet features which were
so lately the pride of her parents and the admiration of all the young
men in the neighbourhood.
She lies close by my bed-room, dear Julia! parted from me only
by a few boards. — Four feet from her stands the table at which I am
writing to you. Such is the world; — life and death, joy and grief,
are never far apart. Kenmare, Sept. 21th.
At six o'clock I was stirring, and at seven in the magnificent park
of Colonel W  , brother of Lord B  , whose family possesses
all the country around the bays of Bantry and Glengariff, perhaps
the most beautiful part of Ireland. The extent of this estate is
princely, although in a pecuniary point of view not so considerable,
the greater part of the land, consisting of uncultivated rocks and
mountains, which pay only the rent of romantic beauties and mag
nificent views. Mr. W  's park is certainly one of the most
perfect creations of that kind, and owes its existence entirely to his

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. -133
perseverance and good taste. It is true, that he could nowhere have
found a spot of earth more grateful for his labours; but it seldom
happens that art and nature so cordially unite. It is enough to say
that the former is perceptible only in the most perfect harmony;
otherwise, it appears to vanish into pure nature: — not a tree or a
bush seems planted by design. The vast resources of distant pros
pect are wisely husbanded; they come upon the eye by degrees,
and as if unavoidably: every path is cul in a direction which seems
the only one it could take without constraint and artifice: the most
enchanting effects of woods and plantations are produced by skilful
management, by contrast of masses, by felling some, thinning others,
^clearing off or keeping down branches; so that the eye is attracted
now into the depths of the wood, now above, now below the boughs;
and every possible variety within the region of the beautiful is pro
duced. This beauty is never displayed naked, but always sufficient
ly veiled to leave the requisite play for the imagination: for a perfect
park, — in other words, a tract of country idealized by art, — should
be like a good book, which suggests at least as many new thoughts
and feelings as it expresses.
The dwelling-house is not visible till you reach an opposite height;
it then suddenly emerges from the mass of wood, its outline broken
by scattered trees and groups, and its walls garlanded with ivy and
roses and creeping plants. It was built after the plan of the posses
sor ; in a style not so much Gothic as antiquely picturesque, such as
a delicate feeling of the suitable and harmonious conceived to be in
keeping with the surrounding scenery. The execution is excellent;
for the imitation of the antique is quite deceptive. The ornaments
are so sparingly and so suitably interspersed, the whole so well con
structed for habitation and comfort, and the part which appears the
oldest has such a neglected and uninhabited air, that the impression
it made, on me at least, completely answered the intention of the
architect; for I took it to be an old abbey, lately rendered habitable,
and modernized just so far as our habits rendered necessary. At
the back of the house are hothouses and a walled garden in beautiful
order, both connected with the sitting-rooms, — so that you live in
the midst of flowers, tropical plants and fruits, without leaving the
house. The climate is the most favourable possible for vegetation, —
moist, and so warm that not only azaleas, rhododendrons, and all
sorts of evergreens stand abroad through the winter, but even, in a
favourable aspect, camellias. Dates, pomegranates, magnolias, lyri-
odendrons, &c. attain their fullest beauty; and the three last are not
even covered. The situation affords extensive views, remarkable
variety, and yet a complete whole, enclosed within high mountains.
Bantry and Glengariff bays are seas in miniature, and supply to the
eye the want of the ocean. On the land side the wavy lines of
mountain seem nearly endless.
The lesser bay of Glengariff, which stretches in front of the house,
is nine miles, the other fifty miles in circumference. Among the
mountains immediately opposite to the park rises another sugar-loaf,
and at its foot a narrow line of hills stretches into the midst of the
55

434 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
bay, where its termination is picturesquely marked by a deserted
fort. The park itself lies along one entire side of the bay, and at
its lesser end borders on that of Bantry, where Lord B  's house
forms the principal object from this side. This whole beautiful do
main was called out of nothing only forty years ago, and is yet only
half finished. Such a work deserves a crown: and the excellent
man who with slender means, but with singular talent and persever
ance, has accomplished it, ought to be held up as a model to those
Irish proprietors who spend their money abroad. I heard with real
satisfaction, that on his and Lord B  's estates party hate is un
known. Both are Protestants, — all their 'tenants' are Catholics;
nevertheless they render an obedience as boundless as it is voluntary?"
and cordial. Colonel W  , indeed, lives like a patriarch among
them, as I learnt from the common people themselves, and settles all
their differences, so that not a penny is spent in the wire-drawings
of the law.
You may be sure that I was eager to make the acquaintance of so
admirable a man: I esteemed myself, therefore, highly favoured by
fortune in meeting him in the park inspecting the operations of his
workmen. Our conversation took a very interesting and, to me,
very instructive turn. I readily accepted his invitation to breakfast
with him and his family; and found in bis wife a lady with whom I
had made a transient acquaintance in the whirl of London. She re
ceived so unexpected a guest most cordially, and introduced me to
her two daughters of seventeen and eighteen. They are not yet out;
for as I have told you, in England, where they bring out horses
' sans comparaison' too early, the poor girls are let to grow almost
old before their leading-strings are taken off and they are launched
into the wicked world.
The family show me all possible civility and kindness; and as the
ladies saw me so passionate, a lover of nature, they urged me to stay
some days, that I might visit the various wonders of their neighbour
hood, especially the celebrated waterfall, and view from Hungry Hill,
in their company. It was impossible for me to stay, as I had already
announced myself at O'Connell's; but shall certainly avail myself of
their invitation on my way to Cork, for such society is not of the
kind that 1 shun.
I therefore contented myself for the present with taking a long
walk with the whole family, first along the bay, to obtain a general
view of the park and garden; then into a wood, in which Lord B 
has a 'shooting lodge.' This spot is as if invented for a romance. All
that the most secluded solitude, the richest vegetation, the freshest
and greenest meadows, surrounded by rocks and mountains; valleys
on whose sides precipitous walls of rock, sometimes a thousand feet
high, thickly-wooded glens, a rapid torrent dashing over masses of
rock and over-arched by picturesque bridges of trunks and arms
of trees; groves amid which the sunbeams play, and the cool
waters refresh a thousand wild flowers; animals sporting about in
joyous security, majestic eagles and gay-plumed singing birds, all
rendered doubly dear to the poetic heart by the sweetest repose and

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 435
retirement; — all that such elements can produce is here found com
bined in the richest profusion. With melancholy regret I quitted
these enchanting fancies of our dear mother earth, and tore myself
away, when we reached the rustic gate, at which my guide and
poney were already waiting for me.
As I took leave of my new friends, and turned my back on the
lovely valley, the heavens were overclouded anew, and on my en
trance into the dreary rocky region which I described to you yester
day, assumed the hue most suited to my disposition and to the sur
rounding objects. Tired of my long ride of yesterday, I wished to
walk; but on my inquiring for my over-shoes, which the wetness of
the road rendered needful, I found that the guide had lost one of
them; and as fine scenery is better enjoyed dry -footed, I sent him
back, hoping to restore to my sorrowful galoche its faithful mate, at
least for the morrow: for to-day I resolved to continue my way
through thick and thin on foot.
A- soft rain began to fall, — -one mountain after another was veiled
from sight; and I wandered on, to the region where only the vast
bones of the earth are visible, casting back many a melancholy lin
gering thought to the lost paradise. Meanwhile the rain became
more and more heavy, and sudden gusts of wind soon announced a
serious storm. I had to climb the high mountain which lies in the
middle of the first half of the way, and already I was met by
torrents of Water which gushed like little cascades through every
cleft. As I am seldom in the way of enjoying such a bath in the
open air, I waded with a great feeling of satisfaction and pleasure
through the streams, throwing myself in some degree into the plea
surable state of mind of a duck. Nothing of that kind is, as you
know, impossible to my mobile fancy. But as the weather became
every minute more dark and stormy, my thoughts also became more
gloomy, and indeed fell almost into the fashionably scornful satanic
vein. The superstition of the mountains surrounded me; I could
not withstand it, and Riibezahl, the Bohemian Huntsman, elfs, fai
ries, and the Evil One himself, all passed before my mind; and I
asked myself, " why should not the Devil appear to me, as well as
to other respectable gentlemen?" At this instant I reached the high
est point of the steep mountain.
The storm howled furiously, water fell in sheets from the heavens,
and the deep basin below me appeared now and then for a minute
from behind its black curtain, and then vanished again in the rolling
mist and the gathering twilight.
A sudden gust of wind now completely inverted my umbrella,
and nearly threw me down. I felt as if some giant fist had struck
me. I turned and saw — nothing: — But how? does not something
move there in the corner? — by heaven it does! My amazement was
not slight when I now discerned, as clearly as darkness and rain
would permit, a figure clad in black from head to foot, with a scarlet
cap on its head advancing at a slow and limping pace towards me.
Now, dear Julia^ ' est-ce moi ou le diable qui ecrira le reste?' or
do you think I am inventing a fable to amuse you. ' Point du tout'

436 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
— Dichtung und Wahrheit* is my motto. At all events I must
close my letter here: I venture to hope my next will be expected
with some impatience. Wholly yours, L  .

LETTER XXXIV.
Kenmare, Sept. 28th, 1828.
Beloved Friend,
Was it the devil or not then? you ask. ' Ma foi, je n'en sais rien.'
At any rate he had assumed a very 'recommendable,' though rather
dangerous form, — that, of a pretty girl, who, wrapped in her long
dark blue cloak, made darker by the rain, and with the red cap of
Kerry on her head, barefoot and shivering with cold, was going to
pass by me, when I asked her what made her limp ? and why she
was wandering alone in such weather? "Ah!" said she, in half-
intelligible patois, and pointing to her foot bound up, " I was only
going to the next village, and I am belated, and I fell into the terri
ble weather, and I have hurt myself very much ;" and then she
looked down with an arch bashfulness, and showed the pretty
wounded ancle. We walked on together and shared the difficulties
of the way,' — helped one another where we could, and at length
found in the valley, first, better weather; then a place of shelter; and
last, a refreshing draught of new milk.
Thus invigorated I wandered on by night; and when I reached
Kenmare, I had walked four German miles in something more than
six hours: I was, however, heartily tired, and as soon as reached my
bed-room I exclaimed with Wallenstein,
"Ich denke einen langen Schlaf zu thun!"f
Derrinane Abbey, Sept. 29th.
This accordingly happened; and I had plenty of time, for the
weather was so horribly bad that I waited in vain, alas! till three in
the afternoon for better. I had sent a messenger to O'Connell the
evening before, and had very inconsiderately paid him beforehand.
I found him at the inn, without an answer and with broken shins.
As soon as he felt the money in his pocket he had been unable to
resist the whisky, and in consequence he and his horse had fallen
down a rock in the night. He had, however, had the extraordinary
sense and thought to send on a friend of his to fulfil his mission;
and at my waking I found a very polite invitation from the Great
Agitator. I have already said that I did not set till three o'clock; and al
though I had to ride seven hours with a most violent rain beating in
my face, and in this desert, where not even the shelter of a single
* Poetry and Truth, — the title of Gothe's auto-biographical work.
f "I purpose to take a long sleep."

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND, 437
tree is to be found, I had not a dry thread upon me after the first
half hour. I would on no account have missed this extraordinary
part of my adventures.
The beginning was certainly difficult. At first I could not get a
horse, for that which I had ridden at Glengariff had hurt his foot.
At length appeared an old black cart-horse, which was destined for
my use, and a sort of cat-like little animal intended for my guide. I
was also in an imbroglio with regard to my toilet. The lost galoche
had not been found, and the umbrella was already unreeled on the
haunted mountain. I replaced the first by a large slipper of my
host's; the second I tied together as well as I could, and then hold
ing it before me like a shield, with a pocket-handkerchief covered
with a piece of oil-cloth over my head, I galloped off in search of
fresh adventures, — a perfect Don Quixote, and attended by a no less
faithful representative of Sancho Panza.
Before I got a quarter of a mile from the town a destructive gust
of wind made a deplorable end of my umbrella, once the ornament
of New Bond Street, and since the companion of so many a disaster.
All its cords broke, and left only a torn piece of silk and-a bundle
of whalebone in my grasp: I gave the remains to my guide, and
surrendered myself without further solicitude or defence to the ele
ments, determined to bear good-humouredly what could not be
altered. As long as we coasted the bay of Kenmare, we rode on as quickly
as possible, the road being tolerable. Soon, however, it assumed a
worse aspect. The entrance to the wilder mountain country is
marked by a picturesque bridge, thrown across a chasm an hundred
feet high, called "The Bridge of the Black Water." The sides of
the chasm were clothed with oaks, — the last trees which I beheld.
I remarked that my valise, which my guide had fastened on his
horse, must inevitably be soaked through, and ordered the man to
endeavour, if possible, to get a mat or sack at the nearest cabin, to
lay over it. This incautious act I had abundant cause to rue: he too
was, apparently, detained by the fascinations of whisky; at any rate,
though I frequently stopped in the hope that he would overtake me,
I did not see him again till just at the end of my journey, which af
terwards caused me the greatest perplexity.
The road, which gradually grew worse and worse, lay for the
most part close to the sea, which the storm threw into magnificent
agitation; — sometimes across a dreary flat of bog, sometimes by the
side of chasms and steep precipices, or through wide chaotic plains,
in which masses of rock were thrown together in such wild confu
sion, that it seemed the spot from which the giants had stormed
heaven. At rare intervals I met a solitary ragged wanderer; and the thought
often recurred to me, how easy it were in this desert region to rob
or murder me without the slightest risk of discovery. My whole
travelling property resides in my breast pocket; for in the Grecian
fashion I carry ' omnia mea' vvith me. But far removed from all
predatory thoughts, these poor good-hearted people invariably greeted

438 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
me with respectful kindness, although my exterior was anything but
imposing, and to an English eye by no means bespoke a ' gentleman.'
I was frequently in utter uncertainty which of the half-impercepti
ble roads I ought to take, but fortunately determined to keep as near
to the sea as possible, which, though not the nearer, was the surest.
Meanwhile time passed on; and when, at long intervals, I met a
human being, and asked "How far is it to Mr. O'Connell's?" the
object of my visit always drew down a blessing upon me. I was
answered with a " God bless your honour!" but the miles seemed
rather to increase than to diminish.
At length it began to grow dark just as I reached a part of the
coast, which assuredly it would be difficult to parallel. Foreign tra
vellers have probably never been thrown into this desolate corner
of the earth, which belongs rather to owls and sea-mews than to men,
and of whose awful wildness it is difficult to give an idea. — Torn,
jagged, coal-black rocks, with deep caverns, into which the sea
breaks with a ceaseless thunder, and then again dashes over the top
of the tower-like crags its white foam; which, drying, is borne by
the wind in compact masses, like locks of wool, over the highest
points of the mountains; — the wailing cry of the restless fluttering
sea-fowl, piercing through the storm with its shrill monotonous
sound; — the incessant howl and roar of the undermining waves,
which sometimes suddenly dashed over my horse's hoofs, and then
ran hissing back again; — the comfortless removal from all human
help; — the ceaseless pattering rain, and the coming-on of night on an
uncertain and entirely unknown road.
I began really to feel uneasy, in earnest, — not half in jest as the
day before. Your eager search for the romantic will turn out as ill
for you, as for the Sorrowful Knight, thought I, and urged on my
tired horse to his utmost speed. He stumbled every moment over
the loose stones, and with great difficulty I at length brought him
into a heavy trot. My anxiety was increased by O'Connell's letter.
He had written to me that the proper approach to his house was
from Killarney, — that carriages must cross thence by water; but that
the road from Kenmare was the most difficult, and that I must there
fore be sure to provide myself with a safe guide. And, as is gene
rally the case when we pursue one train of thoughts with great, per
tinacity, a popular tale of Croker's, which I had lately read came into
my mind. " No land," says he, " is better than the coast of Inve-
ragh to be drowned in the sea; or if you like that better, to break
your neck on shore." Yet thought I — and here my horse suddenly
stumbled, shyed, and turned with such a leap as I had hardly given
the old mare credit for. I now found myself in a narrow pass. It
was still light enough to see several steps before me clearly, and I
could not understand what had struck this panic into my horse.
Making all the resistance he could, and only in obedience to the ad
monitions of my shillelah, he at length went on again; but in a few
steps I perceived with astonishment that the path, which had appear
ed pretty well tracked, terminated directly in the sea. The bridle
nearly dropped out of my hand, as a foaming wave chased by the

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 439
storm sprang upon me like a huge monster, and scattered the narrow
cleft far behind me with its spray. Here was really a difficult situa
tion. Bare inaccessible rocks surrounded me on every side, — before
me rolled the ocean, — there was nothing for me but to retreat. But
if I had lost my way, as I could not but suspect, how could I reckon
on meeting my guide, even by returning; and if I did not meet him,
where was I to pass the night? With the exception of O'Connell's
old castle, there was no hope of meeting with the least trace of a
shelter for twenty miles round. I was already shivering with cold
and wet, and my constitution would certainly not carry me through
a bivouac in such a night. I had doubtless cause for some alarm.
It was useless, however, to consider: I must ride back, that was
clear; and as quickly as possible. My horse seemed to have come
to the same conclusion; for, as if inspired with new force, he bore
me away from the spot at a gallop. But would you believe it: a
black figure was again destined to help me in my difficulty. You
will say this is too much. 'Ce n'est pas ma faute; le vrai souvent
n'est pas le vrai-semblable.' In short, I saw a black figure glide like
a dim phantom across my path, and disappear behind the rocks.
Invocations, prayers, promises, were in vain: — Was it a smuggler
allured to this coast by the ample facilities it offers? or a superstitious
peasant who took my unhappy person for a ghost? At all events it
appeared that he did not choose to venture from his hiding-place,
and I began to despair of the help I had thought at hand; when
suddenly his head peeped out close to me from the cleft of a rock.
I soon succeeded in tranquillizing his fears, and he explained to me
the puzzle of the road terminating in the sea. " This road was made
for low water; the tide is now," he said, " about half in; a quarter
of an hour later it is impossible to pass; but now, if you'll pay me
well, I will try and bring you through, — but we must not lose a
moment." With these words he seated himself at one bound on the
horse behind me, and we made what speed we could back to the
sea, which was rolling with great rapidity.
I felt a strange sensation as we now appeared deliberately to
plunge down into the stormy sea, and had to make our difficult way
amid the white waves and the rocks, which looked like ghosts in
the dim twilight.
We had the greatest trouble too with the horse: however, the black
man knew the ground so perfectly that we reached the opposite
coast in safety, though bathed up to the arms in salt-water.
Unluckily, the terrified beast shyed again here at a projecting
rock, and broke both the rotten girths directly in the middle, a mis
chance for which there was no remedy here. After all my disasters,
I had the agreeable prospect of riding the last six miles balancing on
the loose saddle. My black guide had, indeed, given me the clearest
directions for the prosecution of my journey; but it was now so dark
that the landmarks were no longer visible.
The road lay, as it appeared to me, across a wide moor, and was
at first quite level. After half an hour of rough and stumbling trot
ting, during which I pressed my knees as hard as possible together,

440 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
that I might not lose my saddle, I remarked that the road turned
again to the right into the higher range of mountains; for the climb
ing grew steeper and more continual. Here I found a woman, who
was passing the night with her pigs or goats. The road branched
off into two divisions, and I asked her which I must take to reach
Derrinane Abbey? "Oh! both lead there," said she; "but that
on the left is two miles nearer." Of course I took this, but soon
found to my cost that it was practicable only for goats. I execrated
the old witch, and her traitorous intelligence: — my poor horse ex
hausted himself in vain efforts to climb through the blocks of stone,
and at length, half stumbling, half falling, he threw both saddle and
me. It was impossible to keep the saddle on him alone; it fell down
incessantly, and I was obliged to load my own shoulders with it, and
to lead my horse besides. Till now I had kept in pretty good tem
per; — the spirit was still willing, but the flesh began to be weak: —
the man on the cliff had said, only six miles further, and you are
there; and now, after half an hour's hard riding, the woman insisted
upon it that it was still six miles, the shortest way, to Derrinane. I
began to fear that this mountain fortress was not to be found, and
that I was the sport of Kobolds, who bandied me from one to ano
ther. I seated myself on a stone quite out of heart, fevered with
alternate heat and cold; when, like the voice of an angel in the wil
derness, the shouts of m}^ guide resounded in my ear, and I soon
heard the trampling of his horse's hoofs. He had taken quite a dif
ferent way through the interior of the mountains, to avoid the sea,
and had luckily met the woman whose direction I had followed.
In the delicious feeling of present security, I forgot all my disas
ters, loaded my deliverer with the saddle and my wet cloak, gave up
my horse to his guidance, and seated myself upon his, thus making
what speed I might. We had, in fact, five miles yet to ride, and
that through a mountain-pass surrounded by precipices, — but I can
give you no further description of the road. The darkness was so
complete, that I was obliged to strain my eyes to the utmost to fol
low the man, who appeared only like a dim shadow flitting indis
tinctly before me. I' perceived by the stumbling of my horse that we
were on uneven ground; I felt that it was a continual alternation of
steep ascents and descents; that we waded through two deep and ra
pid mountain torrents, — but that was all: — now and then, indeed, I
suspected, rather than saw, that a bare wall of rock rose by my side,
or the deeper black beneath me betrayed the precipice which yawn
ed below.
At length, — at length a bright light broke through the darkness;
the road grew more even; here and there a bit of hedge was visible ;
and in a few minutes we stopped at the gate of an ancient building
standing on the rocky shore, from the windows of which a friendly
golden radiance streamed through the night.
The tower clock was striking eleven, and I was, I confess, some
what anxious as to my dinner, especially as I saw no living being,
except a man in a dressing-gown at an upper window. Soon, how
ever, I heard sounds in the house; a handsomely-dressed servant ap-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 4
peared, bearing silver candlesticks, and opened the door of a room,
in which I saw with astonishment a company of from fifteen to twen
ty persons sitting at a long table, on which were placed wine and
dessert. A tall handsome man, of cheerful and agreeable aspect, rose
to receive me, apologized for having given me up in consequence of
the lateness of the hour, regretted that I had made such a journey in
such terrible weather, presented me in a cursory manner to his fa
mily, who formed the majority of the company, and then conducted
me to my bedroom. — This was the great O'Connell.
On my return to the dining-room I found the greater part of the
company there assembled. I was most hospitably entertained ; and
it would be ungrateful not to make honourable mention of Mr.
O'Connell's old and capital wine. As soon as the ladies had quitted
us, he drew his seat near me, and Ireland was of course the subject
of our conversation. He asked me if I had yet seen many of the
curiosities of Ireland? whether I had been at the Giant's Causeway?
— " No," replied I, laughing, "before I visit the Giant's Causeway,
I wished to see Ireland's Giants ;" — and therewith drank a glass of
claret to his high undertakings.
Daniel O'Connell is indeed no common man, — though the man
of the commonalty. His power is so great, that at this moment it
only depends on him to raise the standard of rebellion from one end
of the island to the other. He is, however, too sharp-sighted, and
much too sure of attaining his end by safer means, to wish to bring
on any such violent crisis. He has certainly shown great dexterity
in availing himself of the temper of the country at this moment,
legally, openly, and in the face of the government, to acquire a
power scarcely" inferior to that of the sovereign; indeed, though
without arms or armies, in some instances far surpassing it: — for how
would it have been possible for His Majesty George IV. to withhold
40,000 of his faithful Irishmen for three days from whisky-drinking;
which O'Connell actually accomplished in the memorable Clare elec
tion. The enthusiasm of the people rose to such a height, that they
themselves decreed and inflicted a punishment for drunkenness.
The delinquent was thrown into a certain part of the river, and held
there for two hours, during which time he was made to undergo fre
quent submersions.
The next day I had fuller opportunity of observing O'Connell.
On the whole, he exceeded my expectations. His exterior is at
tractive; and the' expression of intelligent good-nature, united with
determination and prudence, which marks his countenance, is ex
tremely winning. He has, perhaps, more of persuasiveness than of
genuine large and lofty eloquence; and one frequently perceives too
much design and manner in his words. Nevertheless, it is impos
sible not to follow his powerful arguments with interest, to view the
martial dignity of his carriage without pleasure, or to refrain from
laughing at his wit. It is very certain that he looks much more like
a general of Napoleon's than a Dublin advocate. This resemblance
n rendered much more striking by the perfection with which he
speaks French, — having been educated at the Jesuits' Colleges at
56

442 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Douai and St^Omer. His family is old, and was probably one of
the great families of the land. His friends, indeed, maintain that
he springs from the ancient kings of Kerry, — an opinion which no
doubt adds to the reverence with which he is regarded by the peo
ple. He himself told me, — and not without a certain pretension, —
that one of his cousins was Comte O'Connell, and ' cordon rouge' in
France, and another a baron, general and chamberlain to the Empe
ror of Austria; but that he was the head of the family. It appeared
to me that he was regarded by the other members of it with almost
religious enthusiasm. He is about fifty years old, and in excellent
preservation, though his youth was rather wild and riotous.
Among other things he became notorious, about ten years ago, for
a duel he fought. The Protestants, to whom his talents early made
him formidable, set on a certain Desterre, — a bully and fighter by
profession, — to ride through all the streets of Dublin with a hunting-
whip, which, as he declared, he intended to lay on the shoulders of
the king of Kerry. The natural consequence was a meeting the next
morning, in which O'Connell lodged a bullet in Desterre's heart;
Desterre'g shot went through his hat. This was his first victory
over the Orangemen, which has been followed by so many more im
portant, and, it is to be hoped, will be followed by others more im
portant still.
His desire for celebrity seemed to be boundless; and if he should
succeed in obtaining emancipation,, of which I have no doubt, his
career, so far from being closed, will I think only then properly be
gin. But the evils of Ireland, and of the constitution of Great Bri
tain generally, lie too deep to be removed by emancipation. — To
return to O'Connell; I must mention, that he has received from Na
ture an invaluable gift for a party-leader; a magnificent voice, united
to good lungs and a strong constitution. His understanding is sharp
and quick, and his acquirements out of his profession not inconsi
derable. With all this, his manners are, as I have said, winning and
popular; although somewhat of the actor is perceivable in them, they
do not conceal his very high opinion of himself, and are occasionally
tinged by what an Englishman would call " vulgarity '." Where is
there a picture entirely without shade!
Another interesting man, the real though not ostensible head of
the Catholics, was present, Father L'Estrange, a friar, and O'Con
nell's confessor. He may be regarded as the real founder of that
Catholic Association so often derided in England, but which by
merely negative powers, by dexterous activity in secret, and by uni
versally organizing and training the people to one determinate end,*
attained a power over them as boundless as that of the hierarchy in
the middle ages; with this difference, that the former strove for light
and liberty, the latter for darkness and slavery. This is another out-
* All the Catholic children in Ireland are carefully instructed, and can at least
read; while the Protestant are often utterly ignorant. The morals of the Catholic
priesthood in Ireland are everywhere exemplary, as were those of the Reformers
in France. The oppressed Church is everywhere the most virtuous; the causes o."
which are easily found. — Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 443
break of that second great revolution, which solely by intellectual
means, without any admixture of physical force, is advancing to its
accomplishment; and whose simple but resistless weapons are public
discussion and the press. L'Estrange is a man of philosophical
mind and unalterable calmness. His manners are those of an ac
complished gentleman, who has traversed Europe in various capaci
ties, has a thorough knowledge of mankind, and with all his mild
ness cannot always conceal the sharp traces of great astuteness. I
should call him the ideal of a well-intentioned Jesuit. As O'Connell
was busy, I took an early walk with the friar to a desert island, to
which we crossed dry-footed over the smooth sand now left by the
ebb. Here stand the genuine ruins of Derrinane Abbey, to which
O'Connell's house is only an appendix. It is to be repaired by the
family, probably when some of their hopes are fulfilled.
On our return we found O'Connell on the terrace of his castle,
like a chieftain surrounded by his vassals, and by groups of the
neighbouring peasantry, who came to receive his instructions, or to
whom he laid down the law. This he can the more easily do being
a lawyer; but nobody would dare to appeal from his decisions:
O'Connell and the Pope are here equally infallible. Lawsuits there
fore do not exist within his empire; and this extends not only over
his own tenantry, but I believe over the whole neighbourhood.
I wondered, when I afterwards found both O'Connell and L'Es
trange entirely free from religious bigotry, and even remarked in
them very tolerant and philosophical views, though they persisted in
choosing to continue true Catholics. I wished I had been able to
conjure hither some of those furious imbeciles among the English
Protestants, — as for instance Mr. L  , who cry out at the Catho
lics as irrational and bigoted; while they themselves alone, in the
true sense of the word, cling to the fanatical faith of their politico-
religious party, and are firmly predetermined to keep their long ears
for ever closed to reason and humanity.
In the course of the day we were to have a hare hunt, (for O'Con
nell has a small pack of hounds,) which would certainly have pre
sented a most picturesque spectacle on these mountains and broad
naked steeps: the bad weather, however, prevented it. I found
much greater enjoyment in repose, and in the very interesting com
pany, to which I am indebted for much instructive information.
Kenmare, Sept. 30th.
Although my kind hosts vvith true Irish hospitality pressed me to
stay a week longer for a great festival which is in preparation, and to
which a large company is expected, I did not think it right to take
this entirely ' a la lettre;' besides which I had such a longing after
Glengariff, that I did not wish to absent myself from it longer than
was necessary for the end I had in view. I therefore took leave of
the family this morning, vvith the sincerest thanks for the friendly
welcome they had given me. O'Connell himself escorted me to the
boundaries of his demesne, mounted on a large and handsome gray
horse, on which he looked more military than ever. The rugged

444 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
way is bare of all vegetation, but affords many sublime views, some
times inland, sometimes to the sea, studded with rocks and islands,
some of which rise completely isolated out of the water like high-
peaked mountains. O'Connell pointed out one to me, on which he
told me he had ordered an ox to be landed that he might fatten on
the rich and undisturbed herbage. After some days the animal took
Such decided possession of the island that he was furious if anybody
attempted to land on it, and attacked and drove away even the fish
ermen who used to dry their nets on the shore. He was often seen,
like Jupiter under his transformation, with uplifted tale and glaring
eyes, bounding furiously along to reconnoitre the bounds of his do
main, and to see if any intruder dared to approach. The emancipated
ox at last became so troublesome and dangerous, that they were
obliged to shoot him. This appeared to me a good satire on the love
of liberty, which as soon as it has gained the power it seeks, degene
rates into violence and tyranny; and the association of ideas brought
many comical images involuntarily before my mind.
We afterwards came to a remarkable ruin, one of those so-called
Danish forts, which were built not by the Danes but against them.
They are more than a thousand years old, and the lower walls, al
though put together without mortar, remain in excellent preserva
tion. At the ruins of a bridge carried away by the swelling of a
mountain-stream, O'Connell stopped to take a final leave of me. I
could not help expressing to the champion of the rights of his coun
trymen, my wish that when we next met, the dungeons and for
tresses of English intolerance might be overthrown by him and his
allies, as completely as these ruined walls had been by the swollen
and overflowing torrent. * So we parted.
As I returned by nearly the same way as I had come, I have lit
tle new to say about it, except that, though the day was fine, it tired
me twice as much as before; probably because my mind was less
excited. Not far from Kenmare I met several loads of stones, planks,
beer, and butter. Everything is conveyed on the backs of horses.
The Irish are very ingenious in means of transport. I have already
described their admirable cars, with which one horse can so commo-
diously draw five or six persons. They have also a sort of car, equal
ly well contrived, for the carriage of hay, wood, &c. ; by means of
which one horse does as much work as three with us. This is ac
complished entirely by the skill with which the weight is balanced.
A car is loaded with long timber, for instance, in such a manner that
the horse is hardly visible under the complete covering of wood, the
ends of which project many yards before the horse's head and behind
the car. The division of the weight at each end is thus so perfect
that the timbers press only on one point, and the horse has thus com
paratively little to draw. The driver helps a little, going up or down
hill, by heaving up or bearing clown the ends, which the slightest
force is sufficient to move.
• The wish of my departed friend is already in part fulfilled, and the future is
big with yet greater changes, — Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 445
In the same manner five or six heavy oak planks are laid flat
across the saddle of a horse, who carries them thus, like a balancing
pole, without much labour, though the same weight in a different
volume, a chest for instance, would suffice to crush him. They have
another ingenious contrivance for transporting stone ; a sort of
wooden baskets or cradles which they hang over the saddle, binding
them on the horse's back over a thick bundle of straw.
The merry humour and good-natured politeness of the people I
met were very engaging. I know no nation of which the lower
classes appear so little selfish; so thankful for the least friendly word
vouchsafed to them by a gentleman, without the least idea of gain. I
really know no country in which I would rather be a large landed
proprietor than here. What I did elsewhere, and earned only in
gratitude and opposition of every kind, would here attach ten or
twelve thousand people to me body and soul; — the only difference is,
that here with much less time and cost I should have attained infi
nitely greater results, since here nature and man make almost every
thing attainable. The people taken in a body, with all their wild-
ness, unite the frank honesty and poetical temper of the Germans,
with the vivacity and quickness of conception of the French, and the
pliability, naturalness, and submissiveness of the Italians. It may
with the fullest justice be said of them, that their faults are to be as
cribed to others, their virtues only to themselves. Now I am upon
this subject, I must relate to you an incident of no great importance
which befell me some days ago: it deserves mention, as illustrative
of the national character.
As 1 was going from Killarney to Kenmare, I met a continual suc
cession of people driving cattle from some neighbouring fair. Most
of them were riding colts they had just bought, without bridles; and
as man and beast were strangers to each other, the latter were not in
a very perfect state of subordination: we were therefore often forced
to stop. At last I grew tired of this; and at the third or fourth ren
contre of the kind, I called out to the people that I had not time to
spend half the day on the road on account of their clumsiness; and
somewhat hastily ordered the coachman to drive on. In an instant
two colts set off with their riders, galloping before the carriage as
hard as ever they could, while the whole drove of cattle took to the
mountains. I was now sorry for my impatience, and desired the
driver to stop again. There were in all four or five drovers whom
I had thus routed, all sturdy young fellows; and the trick I had
played them was certainly one of the most disagreeable that could
be imagined, as it would take them at least half an hour to collect
their dispersed cattle. If a traveller in a miserable one-horse vehi
cle had given such a job to Germans, Englishmen, or Frenchmen,
they would certainly have attacked him with appropriate abuse, and
very likely have tried to catch him and do him some injury. The
behaviour of these good-natured fellows was far different: at once re
spectful and witty. "Oh! murther, murther!" cried one, while his
' crantancarous' colt made another attempt to dart up .the hill, and
nearly threw him ; " God bless your honour! but every gentleman

446 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
in England and Ireland gets out of the way of cattle! Oh, for God's
sake stop now, your honour, stop!" I immediately stopped: and
after the poor devils had had the greatest trouble in fetching back
the part of the cattle that had run thafurthest, they came back to my
car, with a "Long life to your honour!" to thank me for my good
ness, and went merrily off with their recaptured prize. I must con
fess that their behaviour was far more commendable than mine,
which I repaired as well as I could by means of a handsome pre
sent. October 1st: Morning.
Although dreadfully tired I Could not sleep last night, and asked
the host if he had a book. He brought me an old English transla
tion of the Sorrows of Werther. You know highly, how intensely
I honour our prince of poets, and will therefore hardly believe me
when I say that I had never read this celebrated book. The cause
would appear to many very childish. The first time it came into
my hands, the passage at the beginning in which Charlotte wipes
the little boy's dirty nose excited in me such disgust that I could
read no further; and this disagreeable image remained always pre
sent to my mind. I now, however, set earnestly to work to read it,
struck with the strangeness of the accident which led me to read
Werther for the first time in a foreign tongue, and in the midst of
the wild mountains of Ireland. But even here, I must honestly
confess I could not feel any hearty relish for the^ntiquated " Suffer
ings;"* the quantity of bread and butter, the provincial and obsolete
manners, and even the ideas, which were then new, but are now be
come common-place, — like Mozart's beautiful melodies degraded
into street ditties; lastly, the involuntary recollection of Potier's ad
mirable parody, — it was' absolutely impossible for me to work my
self up to the right " communion frame of mind," as Madame von
Frommel calls it. But thus much I could perceive, jesting apart,
that the book was calculated to ' far furore' at one period; for the
morbid state of mind under which Werther sinks is truly German,
and German feeling was just then beginning to make its way through
the materialism which had taken possession of the rest of Europe.
Wilhelm Meister indeed followed it with far different steps; and
Faust has since traversed it with giant strides. We have, I think,
outgrown the Werther period, but have not yet reached that of
Faust ; nor will any age, so long as men exist, outgrow that.
In the tragedy of Faust, as in those of Shakspeare, the whole in
ward man is mirrored forth; the principal figure is a personification
of the eternal mysterious longings of the human heart, the restless
striving after the Unknown and the Unattainable. Hence this drama
can obviously never have a fully definitive end, even were it extend
ed through many more acts than it is. But as the lofty spirit here
treads a path dizzy as the bridge of Al Sirat, he is every moment
* The translation of the title of the book is of a piece with all the rest. Leiden
does not mean sorrows, but sufferings. — Transl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 447
nearer to the bottomless fall than the human animal who remains
quietly on the secure plain, and feeds.
A cousin of O'Connell's, who gives hunting parties on the lake
of Killarney, had promised me one for to-morrow. I have, how
ever, a positive antipathy to going to see what I have seen before,
as long as there is anything new to see ; and I cannot imagine that
dogs and horses can make any great alteration in the features of a
scene I know so well. On the other hand, in Glengariff, amiable
people and a great deal of novelty awaited me: I therefore pre
ferred it, rode once more across the Devil's Mountain, this time by
daylight, and arrived here about an hour ago. I am established in
a pretty little room, and ail the glories of the Bay are spread before
my window.
Before I quitted Kenmare my vanity was put to a severe trial.
The Irish naivete of the innkeeper's daughter made such an agree
able impression on me, that on my return to her father's inn I scarce
ly talked to anybody else, and thus won her good graces. She had
never quilted her native mountains, and was as ignorant of the world
as it is possible to conceive. I asked her, in jest, if she would go
with me to Cork. " Oh no," said she, " I should be afraid to go so
far with you. — Do tell me now who you really are: You are a Jew;
— that I know already." "Why, are you mad?" said I; "what
makes you think I must be a Jew?" " Ah, you can't deny it; hav'n't
you a black beard all round your chin, and five or six gold rings on
your fingers? And are you not an hour washing yourself in a morn
ing, and don't you go through ceremonies such as no Christian ever
saw? Confess it now, — you are a Jew, ar'n't you?" My disclaimer
was of no use. At last, however, she said good-humouredly, that if
I positively would not allow that I was one, she wished at least that
I might ' become as rich as a Jew,' (an English phrase). I confirmed
this with a Christian ' Amen.' October 2nd.
I am just returned from an excursion of sixteen miles with Colo
nel W  to Hungry Hill, a lofty mountain at the end of Bantry
Bay, remarkable for its waterfall, and for Thomas O'Rourke's flight
to the moon on an eagle's back, which began here,' and has so often
been related in prose and verse. Even in Germany this amusing
tale has been repeatedly translated, and has probably fallen into your
hands. The hero of the story is a game-keeper of Lord B  's,
who is still alive, and almost always drunk. On our return Colonel
W  introduced him to me at the inn. He is now extremely
proud of his celebrity, and seemed to me when I saw him to be pro
jecting another visit to the moon.
The quantity of rain which has fallen these few days has added
much to the beauty of the waterfalls. The fall at Hungry Hill en
tirely disappears in dry weather, but after violent rains exceeds the
Staubbach and Terni. Hungry Hill is a huge mass of naked rock
about two thousand feet high. On the land side it forms two steep
terraces, on the ' plateau' between which there is a lake, which of

448 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
course is not visible from below, whence you see only the continu
ous lines of these colossal terraces. The upper one consists of bare
rock, and is divided in the middle by a deep vertical groove, which
looks as if cut by art; the lower, although, also free from any visible
inequality, has its side clothed with heather and coarse grass, on
which hundreds of goats are seen grazing.
Through the groove or channel mentioned above the mass of wa
ter shoots from the highest point of the mountain, falls into the lake
on the lower terrace, and filling that, rushes down afresh in four
distinct cascades on the valley below. These form such vast arches,
that the goats feed peacefully under them, while the streams convert
the meadows below into a temporary lake.
As the spectator who stands below cannot see the division between
the upper and the lower falls, nor the lake which lies between them,
the whole appears one enormous cataract, the effect of which ex
ceeds all description. Colonel W  assured me that when the
waters are at the highest he has seen the arch so enormous, that, to
use his expression, a regiment of soldiers might have marched under
it without a man being wetted; and, as he added, the noise would
serve admirably for the thunder of the cannon.
One of the neighbouring glens was, according to the somewhat
fabulous history of Ireland, the scene of a memorable battle between
the great O'Sullivan and O'Donovan. The people show the remains
of a very old arbutus, on which, as they relate, O'Donovan was
hanged. It is very certain that money and jewels have recently
been found buried deep in the earth in this enclosure.
The eagles of these mountains, vvho build on inaccessible rocks,
play a very principalpart in the popular stories. They are extremely
large and strong, and it is certain that they sometimes carry off even
children. Some time ago an eagle carried of a boy of three years
old, and deposited him, probably because he was too heavy, nearly
uninjured on a shelf of rock, to which the people below climbed and
saved him. The new Ganymede, the 'corpus delicti,' is now liv
ing, and in full vigour. Another more tragical circumstance of the
same kind occurred a few months ago. An eagle bore off a little
girl before her father's eyes, and disappeared with her among the
rocks ; nor could the least trace of the poor child ever be discovered.
October 3rd.
Col. W  is as great a ' parkomane' as I, but not quite such a
' gourmet' Field-sports by land and water furnish his table with
many delicacies. The grouse or moor-fowl are particularly good;
and the oyster-bed on the edge of the park supplies oysters of a
peculiarly fine flavour, and as large as a plate. The bay swarms
with fish and seadogs: — I saw one of the latter sitting on a project
ing cliff just opposite my window, and listening with a delighted and
almost dancing motion to the music of a bagpipe which resounded
from a neighbouring public-house. These creatures are so passion
ately fond of music, that they follow the pleasure-boats, with bands
of music on board, in herds of twenty or thirty. They are decoyed

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 449
in this way by sportsmen. It is really barbarous thus to abuse their
love of the arts!
Unfortunately it rained all day, so thatl was obliged to remain in
the house. In the morning- 1 attended the daily worship of the family,
the female members of which are somewhat bigoted as to form,
though, as it seemed to me, sincerely pious. We all sat round in a circle,
and the mother read one verse out of the Church of England Prayer-
book, the eldest daughter the next, and so on, alternately, imitating
the parson and clerk at a church. After this, the daughter, who
has something reserved and enthusiastic about her, began a strange
and very long prayer, which lasted a full quarter of an hour; during
which all (and of course I among the number,) turned decorously
towards the wall, fell on their knees before their chair, and hid their
faces in their hands., The mother sighed and groaned; the father
seemed somewhat 'ennuye;' the youngest daughter, — a charming
girl, who is a good deal more mundane than her sister, — had now
and then fits of absence; and the son had thought it expedient to
absent himself altogether. I, who think every sincere feeling or
virtuous aspiration, at whatever time of the day, a prayer to God,
believed myself not impiously employed in observing a little what
was going on.
After the company had all stood up, brushed their knees, and
smoothed down their petticoats (for English enthusiasm does not
easily forget itself,) a chapter from the Gospel was read by the mo
ther. The one chosen was that in which six thousand men were fed
on three loaves and two fishes, if I remember right, and much was
still left remaining.
Happily for us, our dinner was not measured out to us upon this
scale, and the gifts of God were consumed with great cheerfulness
and satisfaction. To this, however, I soon gave an involuntary
shock: I happened to speak in jest of the comet of the year 1832,
which, it is predicted, is to approach nearer the earth's orbit than
any hitherto known. I remarked that, according to Lalande's reck
oning, a comet which should approach within fifty thousand miles
of the earth must inevitably exercise such a power of attraction as to
raise the waters of the sea above the top of Chimborazo. If the one
of 1832 comes so near us, said I, we shall infallibly all be drowned.
" I beg your pardon, that is impossible," replied Mrs. W  very
earnestly, " for that would be a second deluge, and you appear to
have entirety forgotten that we are promised in the Bible that there
should never be another deluge, but that the earth should at last be
destroyed by fire." (' II faut avouerquela faveur n'est pas grande.')
" That this destruction is at hand," continued she, sighing, "I cer
tainly believe; for the most learned of our pious men are agreed that
we are now, probably, in the seventh kingdom of the Revelation of
St. John, in which the end of the world is predicted, and in which
our Saviour will come to judge us." What singular people these
'saints' are! On this, mother and daughter fell into such a violent,
and at last such a bitter dispute, that I, unworthy layman,wasobliged
57

450 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
to interpose, and endeavour to re-establish peace. The question was,
whether, at the time of this final catastrophe, men were to be imme
diately judged and then burnt, or first burnt and then judged. The
daughter indignantly asked ('je vous jure que je ne br.ode pas') if
our Saviour, on his coming, was to wait to pronounce judgment till
the world was burnt? She said it was plainly written in the Scrip
tures that he would come to judge the quick and the dead; and how
would this be possible if all were first burnt ? It was clear that the
world would not be burnt till all were judged. This the mother de
clared was perfect ' nonsense!' — that men must necessarily first die,
before they could receive either eternal blessedness or damnation, —
that the passage vvhich speaks of the quick and the dead, regarded
only on the one hand those who would be still living at the time of
the conflagration, or on the other, those who had long lain in the
grave. She insisted therefore, "first burnt, and then judged."
Both now appealed to me, in the hope of strengthening themselves
by the accession of a partisan. I ventured to reply that I really was
not much skilled in these details, and that their dispute appeared to
me very like that in which Madame du Defiant was called upon to
decide, viz., whether St Denis had walked one mile or six without
his head: to which she replied, " que dans ces sortes de choses ce
n'est que le premier pas qui coute!" That I must confess that in the
doctrines of Christ I had always chiefly sought to imbibe rules of
duty, confidence in God, meekness, and love to mao, though I had
unhappily rarely succeeded to the extent of my wishes. I hoped,
however, that I might dismiss all anxiety as to whether we were to
be first judged and then burnt, or first burnt and then judged; that I
believed whatever God did was perfectly well done. I must confess
that I considered myself just, as much in the hand of God, and just as
near to his power, in the present life as after the close of my earthly
career, or even after the destruction of the little globe which we call
' the world.' That judgment was in my opinion for ever going on,
and Was as eternally active as the spirit which creates and vivifies
the universe. This confession of faith had the effect of entirely
reconciling the combatants, by uniting them against me. I retreated
from the field, however, in so dexterous a manner as not entirely to
lose their favour.
In the evening, between torrents of rain, twilight, and sunset, we
had another magnificent effect of light. Our waterfall in the park
was so swollen that it took upon itself to thunder a little too, and
grass and bush were prettily illuminated with gay sunbeams. We
walked about till it was quite dark, saw the Great Sugar-loaf gra
dually change its hue from dark blue into rose-colour, and feasted
our eyes on the clear mirror of the lake, the leaping of the fish on its
surface, and the peaceful sporting of the otters.
Everything here is beautiful, — even the air, which is famed for its
salubrity. There are no tormenting insects; for the bay is so deep,
that the ebb leaves no muddy shore, and the constant gentle breeze
of the valley is probably not agreeable to them. The climate is ex
tremely equable, neither too hot nor too cold ; and the vegetation so

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 451
luxuriant, that only one thing more and one less are wanting to
clothe the greater part of the bare mountains, and even the inter
stices between the rocks, with the richest and most beautiful woods:
these two things are, planters, and goats. The former have no money,
or none that they choose to spend in planting here; the latter suffer
nothing to grow that is not enclosed within double walls. It appears
that these mountainswere formerly covered with forests; but the Eng
lish, who have never had any other thought with regard to Ireland
but how to draw as much money from her as possible, felled them
all. Their remains are still visible in many places.
Another advantage of this spot is, to my taste at least, its perfect
seclusion. It can hardly be reached in a carriage; and with the ex
ception of a few curious travellers, like myself, no attempt is made
to overcome the difficulty of the approach. It is inhabited by a
good-natured people, not congregated in- villages, but scattered in
solitary dwellings amid the mountains, and living a patriarchal life,
unspoiled by the tumult of cities. Nor are they so distressingly
poor as in other parts of the country: their wants are few; turf for
fuel they have for the fetching, grass for their cows in the bogs, and
the sea supplies them with an abundance of fish far beyond what
they can consume. For a landowner, inspired with a spirit of en
terprize and a love of improvement, an inexhaustible field here pre
sents itself. Were I a capitalist, this is the spot where I would
settle. My worthy host takes upon himself to forward this letter imme
diately. Heaven grant that it may find you in the same happy state
of mind which has inspired it! Remember the favourite saying of
my venerable ancestress, — 'Coeur content, grand talent'
Your truly devoted, . L  .

LETTER XXXV.
Glengariff, October 4th, 1828.
Dear Julia,
To-morrow I set out, ' et bien a regret' I carry with me a pre
cious memorial, — one of the few perfectly delightful pictures which
I have met with in my wanderings.
In my walk this morning, I found heath-plants of such luxuriance
hanging from the rocks, that one stalk measured ten feet in length.
The gardener, who accompanied me, drew my attention to another
curiosity. In a secluded spot, not far from the pretty rustic dairy,
a swarm of bees had made a large honeycomb in the open air; it
was suspended to the branch of a blackberry-bush in the thicket.
The weight of the honey bowed the branch to the earth; and they
were still busily adding to the store. The dairy is roofed with
earth, out of vvhich the purple heather is growing. A clear spring
flows through it, on whose banks the Egyptian lotus thrives admira
bly, and stands through the winter.

452 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
In the afternoon I rode out with Colonel W  to visit an eagle's
nest. We first passed the belt of wood in which Lord B  's
pretty shooting-lodge stands, then forded the swollen river three
times, and after some hours riding, reached a wild desert, where at
the foot of a perpendicular rock stand two solitary huts. About five
hundred feet over head is the eagle's eirie, in a cleft overhung with
ivy. At their hatching season they are frequently seen flying home
with fowls, hares, lambs, &c. for the family table; by some curious
instinct, however, they are warned never to carry off anything from
the two families below them, but to respect the same laws of hospi
tality which are observed towards themselves. I was greatly dis
appointed that these monarchs of the rocks did not make their ap
pearance; they were both gone on some distant expedition.
We returned across the Sugar-loaf. This is the haunt of a wild
huntsman, and no mortal tally-ho may sound as far as his right of
sporting extends. If any attempt it, he quickly rushes by with all
his wild troop, and hurries the rash offender along in his train. He
is of a totally different nature from his German comrade. He is an
elfin king, as small as Tom Thumb, splendidly dressed in emerald
green, and accompanied by a train mounted on horses as big as rats,
who gallop over rock and sea with the swiftness of lightning. The
Sugar-loaf itself is the great resort of all the Irish fairies: its caverns
are full of fossil-shells and stones of fantastic shapes, which excite
the curiosity of the visitor; but no native would pass a night in one
of them for all the treasures the earth contains. From the summit
of this mountain, or rather rock, down to the cavern, a strange sport
of nature is visible in clear weather; — two channels or grooves,
winding, but always parallel, which in the distance look exactly like
ruts: what could they be but the track of the fairy queen's carriage,
in which indeed many an old mountaineer has seen her at rise or set
of sun, riding in unearthly pomp to grace the annual feast with her
presence. The old man would doubtless be ready to confirm his
statement with the most solemn oaths, — for he believes it. This it
is which gives to the legends of the Irish such a wonderful charm
that it is almost impossible to withstand it.
Colonel W — — , who was formerly a passionate lover of the chase,
knows every mountain in the district from the summit to the foot,
and ' chemin faisant,' told me so many interesting particulars about
them, that my letter would never come to an end if I attempted to
make it the faithful echo of all his stories.
Hunting is here attended with dangers of no trifling kind. They
are of three sorts: first, the being suddenly surprised in the midst of
the rocks with one of those cold fogs which here frequently come
on, and enwrap the wanderer with almost instant darkness and icy
chill; he has then only the alternative either of perishing from cold
(for the fogs sometimes hang in the gorges for whole days and
nights,) or of falling headlong down some invisible precipice. If he
is in favour with the fairies, he emerges happily into light; but wo
to him who has incurred their displeasure! — his friends find him the
next morning frozen or dashed to pieces. The second peril is of

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 453
quite a different kind. On the wide interminable table-lands, which
blend with the horizon like the sea, not a bush or hillock breaking
the sublime monotony, are extensive bogs, which the game (the
grouse, a bird somewhat like a partridge, peculiar to the British
islands,) chooses as its favourite haunt. These bogs are full of little
clumps like mole-hills, formed by the heather, scattered about at in
tervals. The bogs can only be traversed by jumping from one of
these clumps to another: if in the ardour of the chase the sportsman
misses his leap, and does not find another clump close by to jump to
instantly, he is certain to sink in the morass. The only means of
deliverance is instantly to stretch out his arms, or to hold his gun
horizontally, till help arrives, or till he can struggle on to the next
clump. But worse and more tremendous than all this, is an attack from
one of the wild oxen which inhabit these mountains. Colonel
W  has been several times in this predicament, and always had
the good fortune to escape, though in different ways. Once he or
his servant shot the bull before he came up with them: another time
he took refuge in one of the bogs I have just described, where the
furious beast dare not follow him, but laid regular siege to him for
more than an hour. The history of his latest adventure seemed to
me particularly curious, and proves that man, with strength, courage
and address, may single-handed resist any other living creature.
Colonel W  was accompanied by a friend, and by a native of
these mountains, who led the dogs, and was furnished with a long
white staff, such as is in use here. Just as the Colonel's friend shot
a grouse, he saw at the distance of about eighty feet a bull advanc
ing furiously towards them. Colonel W  called out to his friend
to load instantly, while he fired; and was taking aim, when the man
called out, " Promise me a glass of whisky extra, and I will manage
the beast by myself. " W  fired, but his gun missed fire; his
friend had not loaded; and he had hardly time to call out, "You
shall have a dozen bottles," when this hero of the mountains ran
towards the ox at the same speed with which it was rushing upon
them. In the twinkling of an eye they were together. The young
man, with singular dexterity, caught the horns of the bull, whose
head grazed the earth, darted a step sideways, and then during the
spring of his antagonist, making a similar step backwards, with the
rapidity of lightning caught the bull's tail, without letting go his
stick. All this was done with the quickness of thought; and now
began the strangest race that ever was beheld. The bull tried by
every means to get rid of the burthen hanging at his tail, but in vain.
Up hill and down, over rock, and through river, he ran like mad;
while his companion, like a Kobold, swung himself over every ob
stacle, often flying rather than running, at the end of the creature's
tail. In a short time the bull was wearied by fear and fatigue, and
at length sank down exhausted and powerless at the foot of a green
declivity, immediately in front of the spot where Colonel W 
and his friend beheld vvith astonishment the issue of the contest.
But his punishment only now began, and probably his vicious tern-

454 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
per was on that day cured for ever. For now the mountaineer began
to employ his stick, weighted with lead and armed with an iron
point, which he had providentially kept as an instrument of correc
tion, and belabouring the beast with all his might, forced him to
crawl down the mountain, where he at length sank, with his tongue
hanging out of his mouth and panting for breath, at Colonel W  's
feet, who left him in this state of total exhaustion. The young pea
sant, whom Colonel W  — described as a wonder of youthful power
and agility, seemed, on the contrary, not the least fatigued by his
chase, nor vain of his achievement; but coolly looking about for his
powder-horn and his dogs, did not expend a word on the past, ex
cept jusst to wink to Colonel W  , and say, " Now, master, don't
forget the bottles."
The sight of a fox-chase among these rocks must be magnificent,
— now sweeping along their heights or sides, — now fox and hounds
darting down the steep declivities, all suddenly vanishing like a
shadowy picture in the gorges. Colonel W  once saw such a
one from Hungry Hill, in which the vvhole pack ran under the arch
of the waterfall, while their cry mingled wildly with the roaring of
the cataract, till at last Reynard experienced the same lot which had
befallen three or four of the dogs; he slipped from the polished rock,
and fell, amid shouts and halloos, from a height of several hundred
feet into the midst of the hunters, who were looking on at their ease
from the meadow below.
Shall I tell you any more stories? — Well, then, once more for
witches and fairies: saddle me the poney, and away to the land of
tales and legends; of the land-rocks, and' the waves which for ages
have fretted them away with their snow-white teeth.
Jump up behind me, Julia, ' en croupe,' like an Irish girl, and
follow me quickly through the air, back to Iveragh, O'Connell's
wild region. Truly is it a land of the eagle and the vulture, of the
stormy wave and the rugged rock! But there is a spot in Ballin-
skellig bay, not far from O'Connell's Castle-abbey, where in old
times many a dance was danced, and many a wedding celebrated.
For peaceful and lovely was the lonely spot, with its velvet turf; its
high walls of rock sheltered it from the storm, and sand smooth as
satin edged the sea, which seemed to sleep, like the entire crea
tion, in the clear moonlight, its little billows only lightly ruffled
by the zephyr's breath, rolling and curling with a dreamy soothing
motion.

LETTER XXXVI.
Macroom, October 5th, 1828.
Dearest One,
The parting was hard; but you who wish me in a very different
place, will say that I have staid quite long enough. I tore myself
away from these excellent people and their romantic dwelling. It

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 455
was Sunday; and the worthy lady, in spite of her manifest regard
for me, could not help exclaiming reproachfully, " But how is it
possible that a good man like you can set out upon a journey on a
Sunday?" You know that the English have stamped this day with
a sort of death-like character; dancing, music and singing are for
bidden; indeed, the severely pious hang their canary-birds in some
remote corners, that no voice of song may offend their ears during
these holy hours. This idolatry of the Sunday began in the time of
James the First, and was the cause of furious dissentions. No bread
must be baked, and no useful work performed; but drunkenness and
other vices thrive more luxuriantly than on the week-days. I have
observed that the streets are never so bestrewed with drunken' people
as on Sunday evenings; nor, as is well known to the police, are the
resorts of vice ever so filled. Many English people think dancing
on a Sunday unquestionably a greater crime than a little theft or so;
and I lately read in print a history of Whitby, in which it was se
riously affirmed, that the rich abbey there was doubtless destroyed
because the monks did not only indulge in every possible crime,
rape and murder not excepted, but their sinful abbot had permitted
the repairs of the abbey and other labours to go on on a Sabbath-
day. The worthy Mrs. W  was infected with this same strange
conceit ; and it was somewhat difficult for me to excuse my half-
committed sin on the ground of urgent necessity. To appease her,
I went first with the whole family along the bay to B  church,
which was quite out of my way. In going along, I related to her
the strange vision of one of the sons of my former excellent host,
Captain B  , by which he had been induced to go over to the Ca
tholic church. He was, as he himself told me, a most zealous Pro
testant and Orangeman, and went one day into a Catholic chapel in
Dublin, rather with the intention of making himself merry at the
ceremonies than from any better motive. But the beautiful music
touched him against his will; and as he raised his eyes to the high
altar, the Redeemer stood bodily before him, his eyes fixed intently
on him with an expression of angelic mildness. The divine vision
smiled upon him, beckoned with his hand, and then slowly ascended,
still looking fixedly at him, till at length it disappeared, borne by
angels through the dome. From this moment B  was persuaded
he was an especial object of the divine favour; and in a few days
he became a member of another church which has the exclusive
privilege of ensuring salvation (for the orthodox English Protestants
also believe that they enjoy this monopoly.) How philosophically
did my pious friends reason on this conversion! " Is it possible!"
exclaimed they. "What superstition! Without doubt this was
either a feverish delirium, or the man is a hypocrite, and has good
reasons for what he does. Either he is mad, or he invented the
story for his own profit."
Oh, men, men! How justly does Christ say, "Ye behold the mote
in the eye of another; ye cannot see the beam in your own !" No
doubt this is the case with us all, more or less; and be assured I
make no exception in favour of your poor friend.

456 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
We parted at last, not without emotion; and I seated myself on a
mountain car, drawn by a horse whose appearance was by no means
brilliant. The young ladies were greatly delighted at my eccentric
mode of travelling. The journey I had to accomplish was thirty
miles, and began most tediously. After a little time the wretched
horse was so restive at going up hill, that I was obliged to alight,
rather than run the risk of being dashed down a precipice. The
stubborn beast was now forced to be constantly led, without which
he would not advance a single step. For a long while the driver
trotted sturdily on by his side, but at length could go no further;
and Heaven knows what would have become of us, had we not
luckily met a man on horseback, who consented to harness in his
horse instead of ours. I reached Macroom late in the evening. No
thing struck me much in the way but a long and deep glen, in which
at the time of the White Boy conspiracies, Lord B  and Colonel
W  were attacked by a party who were posted on the heights,
and had a narrow escape for their lives. The White Boys had taken
their measures extremely well, and during the night had loosened
a great mass of rock, which they suddenly rolled down directly across
the road through which the troops were marching. By this means
the detachment of cavalry was not only prevented from advancing,
but was cut off in its rear, and thus placed in a desperate situation.
A great many were killed; the two gentlemen, who rode capital
hunters, luckily escaped. Their good steeds climbed up the almost
inaccessible side of a rock, amidst an incessant shower of musketry.
Colonel W  was slightly wounded in the right arm; Lord B 
escaped quite unhurt.
In this extremely wild region, not far from hence, lies a large
lake with a woody island in its centre. Here stands a chapel of great
sanctity, to which numerous pilgrimages are yearly made. It was
too late for me to see it more nearly.
Macroom is a cheerful pretty place, with a handsome house belong
ing to the uncle of the beautiful African, or rather of her husband.
She gave me a letter to him, but I had not time to use it.
Cork, Oct. 6th.
I left Macroom very early in a ' gingle,' a sort of covered stage
with two horses. It rained and blew again; for, dear Julia, I find
that I am no longer, as the Irish prettily say, ' on the sunny side of
life.' My fellow-travellers were three women and a great cub of five
years old, who made himself extremely disagreeable, and was horri
bly spoiled by his pretty and lively mamma. Although he had a
great loaf, and a cake of similar dimensions, with which he was in
cessantly stuffing himself, and filling the coach with bits and crumbs,
his ill humour broke out at every moment. The scream he then set
up, and the stamping of his feet, which he often placed upon mine
without the slightest reserve; the coaxings of the mother, and her
cries for help to her husband on the outside; then her incessant
prayers to ' stop just a moment,' because the poor little dear was ill
with the motion of the coach, or because he was thirsty, or because

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 457
something or other; her keeping the windows hermetically closed
for fear he should catch cold, in spite of his furred coat; — it was
really a trial of fortitude. The young woman seemed as anxious for
herself as for her child; whenever the coach leaned a little on one
side, she began to stream, and clung to me with both hands, taking
me almost round the neck. This was the most endurable of my suf
ferings; and I often amused myself with increasing her fright. In
the intervals she enlarged with great patriotism on the beauty of the
country, pointed out to me the fine ruins, and told me their histories.
At last she showed me a pointed and tower-like stone, and said that
a Danish king had thrown this across the sea to show his strength.
She would have her husband get down from the roof to admire this
stone, and remarked to him with some contempt that the men now-
a-days were miserable feeble pigmies compared to those giants. At
the same time she gave him the boy to take beside him. The poor
devil made a long face, pulled his nightcap over his ears, and quietly
obeyed orders.
The country was now very fertile, full of rich meadows, with
here and there a stately mansion. Cork lies most picturesquely in a
deep valley on the sea-shore. It has an air of antiquity, which is
rendered more peculiar by the roofs of scale-like slates with which
many of the houses are covered. The two new prisons are magni
ficent buildings; they are erected, the one by the city, the other by
the county: the former is in an antique taste, the latter in the per
fectly Gothic style, and has the appearance of a great fortress.
After I had breakfasted, I hired what they call here a whale-boat,
narrow and pointed at each end, and thence safer and swifter, and
sailed with a fair wind along the bay, which is called the ' river of
Cork,' to Cove, where I intended to dine. A part of this bay,
which is about three quarters of a mile broad, forms one of the most
beautiful harbours in the world. Both shores consist of high hills,
covered with palaces, villas, country-seats, parks, and gardens. On
either side, rising in unequal height, they form the richest and most
varied boundary. By degrees the city advances into the middle of
the picture, and terminates on the brow of the highest hill, with the
imposing mass of the barracks. This is the view from the sea.
Towards Cove it frequently changes, as the windings of the channel
present objects in different positions. One of these pictures was
finely bounded by a Gothic castle, which has been built with great
good taste by the city on a bold projecting rock. Its admirable site
not only gives it importance, but it appears, if I may so say, as if
it grew there naturally; while buildings of this kind in ordinary
situations so often strike one as unpleasant 'hors d'ceuvres.' Though
I think we excel the English in the higher sorts of architecture,
we are very deficient in attention to the objects and the scenery
vvhich surround our buildings; and yet these are the circumstances
which ought generally to decide the style.
This castle seemed built for one of the sea-kings, for the only en
trance is from the sea. A colossal gate, adorned with a coat of arms,
beneath which the waves wash the steps, overarches the dark entry.
58

458 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
I thought of Folko with the vulture's wings returning hither after a
successful sea-fight; and peopled the deep with fantastic beings from
Fouque's " Magic Ring."
We sailed with a fair wind past Passage, a fishing village, and
then past Monkstown, which takes its name from a ruin of a monas
tery in a wood above. The rain, which had ceased for a time, here
began to fall again, but I was requited by a splendid effect. We
turned, near the island of Arboul, into the narrow bay of Cove,
which afforded a very beautiful view; its mouth is bounded on the
left by a high coast, covered with houses and gardens; on the right
by the rocky island I have just named, on which are situated a fort,
marine buildings, and store-houses containing the 'materiel' for the
naval service; before us, in the bay itself, lay several line-of-battle
ships and frigates, and another convict ship at anchor; behind them
arose the town of Cove, built in steps or terraces on the side of the
mountain. While all this was full in our view, the sun, now near its setting,
broke forth from a flame-coloured spot in tbe heavens, below the
rain clouds, while a rainbow more perfect and deeply coloured than
I ever remember to have seen, with both feet on the sea, spanned
the entrance of the bay like a portal of flowers leading from earth to
heaven. Within its gigantic arch appeared the sea and the ships,
shaded from the sun's rays by a mountain behind us perfectly black;
in contrast with which the evening glow resting on the lofty amphi
theatre of Cove, shed such a glory that the sea-mews poised in it
looked like glittering silver, and every vvindow in the town (which
is spread out on the side of the hill) gleamed like burnished gold.
This indescribably beautiful scene not only lasted till we entered the
bay, but just before we landed the rainbow doubled itself, each bow
glowing in equal beauty of colour. We had hardly set foot on the
shore when both disappeared almost instantaneously.
I now established myself very agreeably at the window of the
little inn, in the hope of an excellent fast-day dinner of the most
delicate fresh fish. No part of my scheme was verified but the fast
ing; not a fish, not an oyster was to be had. This, happens oftener
than you would think in the little fishing towns on the coast, every
thing ' disponible' being immediately carried to the great cities. In
this point of view therefore I attained my end but badly, and I was
forced to content myself with the eternal ' mutton-chops.' How
ever, I did not suffer this to disturb my equanimity. I read an old
newspaper or two, not having seen one for a long time, and took my
way homewards by land, when it was nearly dark. An open car,
with a bundle of straw as a seat, was the only carriage I could get.
The wind blew cold and gusty, and I was obliged to wrap myself
closely in my cloak. We skirted the shore at a considerable eleva
tion, and the numerous lights of the ships and marine buildings be
low us were like an illumination. Five flickering flames danced
like Will-o'-the-wisps on the black convict ship, and the report of a
cannon from the guard-ship thundered through the stillness of night.
As this view disappeared, I turned my eyes to the unusually clear

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 459
firmament. Who can look intently on the sublime and holy beauty
of those glittering worlds, and not be penetrated by the deepest and
the sweetest emotions? They are the characters by which God has
from all time spoken most clearly to the soul of man; and yet I had
not thought of these heavenly lights so long as the earthly ones
sparkled before me! But thus is it ever. When earth forsakes us,
we seek heaven. Earth is nearer, and her authority more powerful
with us; just as the peasant stands more in awe of the justice than
of the king; the soldier fears the lieutenant more than the general;
the courtier is more assiduous to please the favourite than the mo
narch; and lastly, the fanatic — but we won't philosophize further
about it, dear Julia; for I need not repeat to you, ' qu'il ne faut pas
prendre le valet pour le roi.' Mitchelstoion-, October 9th. — Morning.
At four o'clock yesterday afternoon I left Cork by the mail. I
was seated by the coachman, whose four horses I occasionally drove.
For about three miles from the city the country continues picturesque;
it then became uninteresting, and soon it was too dark to distinguish.
After a few stages we left most of our passengers, and I took my seat
inside the coach, where I was destined to enjoy a three hours tete-
a-tete with a lady, — unfortunately, however, she was seventy, and
a Puritan. This disagreeable company, combined with the eulogies
which a former travelling companion had pronounced on the newly
built Gothic castle at Mitchelstown, induced me to leave the mail in
the middle of the night and to stay here till the morrow. At seven
o'clock I was waked tc 50 to view this much lauded edifice. I was
sorely disappointed, ?ywere some other strangers who had been
drawn hither by the same object. We were certainly shown a huge
heap of stone which had cost its possessor 50,000/.; but one ingre
dient was unluckily forgotten, — good taste. The building is, in the
first place, much too high for its extent; the style is confused with
out variety; the outline heavy, and the effect small, though the
mass is great. It stands, too, on the bare turf, without the slight
est picturesque break, which castles in the Gothic or kindred styles
peculiarly need ; and the inconsiderable park possessed neither a
handsome group of trees nor a prospect worth describing.
I have thrown away so many words on this abortive work, be
cause, from the name of its possessor, and the great cost of its erec
tion, it enjoys a certain reputation in Ireland. Yet how infinitely
preferable is the place of my excellent Colonel W  , on which
perhaps an eighth part of the money has been spent.
The internal decorations of the castle are of a piece with its exte
rior: in five minutes we had quite enough of them, and as we heard
of a fine prospect from the top of the tower, but the key was no
where to be found, we all returned in no very good-humour to our
inn. Here one of the strangers entertained me during breakfast
with all sorts of interesting stories of this part of the country and
its inhabitants. He told me among other things, that Lord K 
and his family had been remarkable for their very extraordinary ad-

460 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ventures. He is now one of the most zealous Orangemen, and is rather
feared than loved. His father, when just twelve years old, was
married to the heiress of the whole property now possessed by the
family, who was just ten. The tutor and governess received the
strictest injunctions to watch the young couple most narrowly, and
to prevent every possibility of a tete-a-tete. But ' somehow or
other,' as my informant said, three years afterwards they found
means to elude their vigilance, and the present Lord was the result
of this little 'equipee.' They had afterwards several children, of
whom I happened to know one at Vienna. He was a remarkably
handsome man, and celebrated for his ' bonnes fortunes;' at one time
the avowed lover of the Duchess of  , whom he treated with
so little ceremony, that once when he invited me to breakfast at the
hotel where they were living, I found the Duchess alone, and he
came into the room some time after, in dressing gown and slippers,
out of his or their chamber.
The youngest child grew up to be one of the most attractive girls
in Ireland. She was just sixteen when a cousin on the mother's
side, a married man, named F  , who then enjoyed' the greatest
celebrity as a resistless seducer, fell in love vvith her, and confirmed
his reputation in so conspicuous a manner, that he actually brought
this beautiful girl, the idolized daughter of an earl, not only to sa
crifice her innocence to him, but to accompany him to England as
his avowed mistress. Here they lived for a year, al first in conceal
ment; but at last he had the effrontery to take her to one of the most
frequented watering-places. Her abode was of course discovered,
and she was carried off at her father's command, and placed in safe
custody in the north of England. F  , perhaps only irritated by
the resistance of the family, determined, let it cost what it would,
to get her again into his power; and as he thought she had been
taken to her father's residence, he hurried off to Ireland in disguise.
Here he lodged in the very inn in which we were breakfasting, and
endeavoured lo discover the place of her concealment. His minute
inquiries, his mysterious behaviour, and the unlucky accident that a
former acquaintance of his met him and remarked that he never saw
a greater resemblance than between this stranger and the notorious
F  , awakened the suspicions of the host, who immediately went
to impart them to Lord K  . The Earl received the communi
cation with perfect apparent indifference, and only enjoined on the
informer absolute secrecy. He then asked at what hour the stranger
generally rose; learned that it was never before eight; dismissed the
host with a present, — and added, that he would examine into the
matter himself at six o'clock the next morning, at which hour he
desired him to expect him, and to be quite alone. Morning came;
and with it, punctually, the Earl. Without any further inquiry he
went up stairs accompanied by the host, and desired the stranger's
servant to open his master's door instantly. The man refused; on
which he broke open the door with his foot, walked up to the bed
in which F  , awakened by the noise, had just raised himself,
looked intently at him; and as soon as he had satisfied himself of

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 461
his identity, drew a pistol from his pocket, and with perfect coolness
blew out the brains of this modern Don Juan, who sank back in the
bed without a groan. The sequel proves how lightly the laws sit on
great men in England, when there is not a still greater who has an
interest in putting them in force. Lord K  was, indeed, brought
to trial; but as he had taken good care to arrange the affair with the
only two witnesses, and to get them out of the way, he was, acquit
ted for want of- evidence. No man in England can be tried twice
for the same offence; so that from this moment, in spite of the per
fect notoriety of the murder, all danger to the murderer was at an
end. The unhappy girl soon after disappeared, — it was reported,
died. Lord K  long survived her; and at a very late period of
his life was famed for the beauty of his mistresses, one of whom
inhabited each of his seats. The consequences of this depravity, at
length, was a separation from his wife, and the bitter hostility and
litigation which subsisted between them till his death. Meanwhile
his eldest son, the present Earl, had married, while yet a minor, in
Sicily; had already three children by his young wife, and lived
completely separated from his country; when suddenly he received
a most affectionate invitation from his father, who promised to forget
and forgive the past. He was induced by this to set out for Ireland
with all his family. Scarcely was he returned, when his father em
ployed all his influence to get the marriage annulled. The young
mother was sent home; and the children, declared illegitimate, were
disposed of in England. The son, contrary to all expectation, seems
to have given in to his father's schemes without much difficulty, and
soon after married a rich heiress. After his father's death he car
ried on a still fiercer lawsuit with his mother than his father had
done, in order to get possession of an estate which she refused him.
In this, however, he could not accomplish his end; nor could she at
a later period obtain hers, which was to disinherit him entirely.
Here is a picture of the manners of the great and noble of the
eighteenth century. Cashel. — Even ing.
My communicative friend travelled on with me to Cashel. The
weather was tolerable, — that is, it did not rain, and that was sufficient
in this watery land to set my worthy Irishman repeatedly exclaim
ing, " What a delightful day!" "What lovely weather!" — I pro
posed to go apart of the way on foot; on which a tall lad of eighteen,
ragged ' comme de raison,' offered himself as guide. He walked
with great difficulty in a sort of slippers, and appeared to have
wounded his feet. I asked him if that was the case: " Oh no," said
he, " it's only the shoes I've put on, because I'm going to be a sol
dier, and must get used to wearing shoes: but the things are such a
plague that I can't get on with them at all."
After my usual fashion of disdaining no sources of information, —
by which means I often glean some ears from conversation even with
the lowest, — I made inquiries of my guide as to the present state of
his country. " Yes," said he, " it's quiet enough here at present,

462 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
but in Tipperary, which we shall soon come to, especially off to the
north, they know how to stand against the Orangemen: O'Connell
and the Association have organized us there, like regular troops: I
belong to them, and I have a uniform at home: if you saw me in it,
you'd hardly know me; — three weeks ago vve all met there, above
40,000 men, to be reviewed. We had all green jackets, (for every
man must get one as well as he can,) with an inscription on the arm
— King George and O'Connell. We have chosen our own officers;
they drill us, and vve can march and wheel already like the redcoats.
We had no arms to be sure, but they could be had too if O'Connell
chose. We had flags,-' and whoever deserted them or got drunk we
threw into the water till he was sober again: but that very seldom
happened. — They call us O'Connell's Militia."
The Government has since prudently forbidden this military dis
play; and my promising citizen-soldier was furious against Lord
K  , who had arrested all his tenants (little farmers who are as
dependent on their lords as serfs) who were present at the review.
"But," added he, " every hour that they sit in prison shall be paid
by their tyrants, whom we had rather see dead than alive; — if they
in Cork here were not such tame sheep! In Tipperary they would
have settled his business long ago: O'Connell never comes here,
even when it's his nearest way, for he cannot endure the sight of
K  ."
This is the spirit of party every where at work! and so well in
formed is this nation of beggars as to the state of their affairs!
The journey to Cahir was not very interesting. The road lies
between two chainsof mountains, the Galtees and the Knockmildown
mountains; but as the wide plain' between them affords little wood
or variety of objects, the view is not agreeable. My travelling com
panion pointed out the highest peak of the Galtees, where the most
renowned sportsman*" of the neighbourhood was buried vvith his dog
and his gun. Not far from thence are subterranean caverns, of un
fathomable extent, full of stalactites. They are accessible only in
the hottest weather ; at all other seasons they are filled with water.
In Cahir there is a beautiful park belonging to Lord Glengall, who
furnished the London caricaturists and the public with so much
amusement last year. At the entrance is an imposing ruined castle
of King John's, on whose tower Lord Glengall's banner is now fly
ing. At the other end of the park is the contrast to this ruin, name
ly, a ' cottage ornee,' in which the possessor resides when he is here.
The situation of this cottage is so charming and so well chosen that
it deserves a fuller description. The whole park, beginning with
the town and King John's castle, consists of a long and narrow val
ley, with a river flowing through meadows. Along these, clumps
of trees and little thickets are beautifully scattered, and a path leads
on each side of the river. The mountain ridges which close the val-
* ' Sportsman'— ' sport' — are as untranslatable as 'Gentleman.' It is by no means
a mere hunter oj- shooter; but a man who follows all amusenients of that and the
cognate kinds, with ardour and address. Boxing, horse-racing, duck-shooting, fox
hunting, cock-fighting, are all ' sport.' — Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 463
ley are completely clothed with wood, through which the paths are
cut. Near the end of the park, which is about three miles long, the
glen opens and discloses a beautiful view of the higher Galtees. But
before you reach this point there is a long isolated hill, directly in the
middle of the valley, rising from the meadow-land. On this side is
built the cottage, more than two-thirds hidden by the wood which
clothes the whole hill. Within this wood is situated the ' pleasure-
ground' and gardens of various sorts,- with flowery walks which
command the loveliest views of the valley on either side. Several
ruins of castles and monasteries are visible on the distant mountains;
but in the immediate neighbourhood all is repose, rural quiet, and
the gay beauty of flowers even in winter.
On my return to dinner, the landlord told me, as a great piece of
news, that the carriage and servants of a foreign Prince had been
waiting for him in Cashel for the last fortnight; but that he was
gone on a secret journey to O'Connell, and that the whole country
was in a stir and wonderment about it. Many thought he was sent
by the King of France, with secret propositions to O'Connell; some
had actually seen him in Limerick, and maintained that he was a
son of Napoleon.
While my host was uttering this and more nonsense of the like
kind, not suspecting that he was talking to the 'personage' himself,
who had just dismounted from a car; he announced that the second
car (the only carriage to be got) was ready, and waited my orders.
I set out, and had soon an opportunity of making fresh philosophical
observations on the power of habit in the beast that drew me. He
was a very good and willing animal; but as soon, as he reached the
place where for fifteen years he had been accustomed to be led to
water, he suddenly stopped, and fire would not have moved him till he
had had his drink. After that he needed no driving; but he repeated
the same manoeuvre when we met a return car, on which occasions
it is usual to stop and exchange information. As if suddenly struck
lame, he drew up and stood stockstill ; as soon as the drivers had
shaken hands over his back he instantly went on of his own accord.
This is really the great secret in the education of man or beast, —
habit, ' voila tout.'- The Chinese are a glorious example of this. I
remember that Once in London, the well-known ambassador of a
great nation tried at great length to convince me that the Chinese
form of government was the best and most efficient, because there
everything remained unaltered: ' C'est plus commode pour ceuxqui
regnent, il n'y a pas de doute.'
About seven I reached Cashel, having passed the Suir, a river
which is called the flower of Ireland, because the richest pastures and
the most beautiful seats lie on its banks. I found a terrible tumult
in the inn, — one of the liberal ' Clubs' were having a meeting and
a dinner.* I had hardly taken possession of. my room, when the
President, in propria persona, and a deputation, came to invite me
* Nothing important or solemn can go on in England without a dinner; be it reli
gious, political, literary, or of what kind it may. — Ed.

464 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
to their dinner. I entreated them to excuse me, on the ground of
the fatigue of my journey and a violent head-ache, but promised to
come in at the dessert, for indeed I was curious to see what was
going forward. The club was instituted with an admirable purpose;
— it consisted of Catholics and Protestants, who proposed to unite
their efforts to reconcile the parties, and to co-operate with all their
might to obtain emancipation. When I entered, I found from
eighty to a hundred persons sitting at a long table; they all stood
up while the president led me to the top. I thanked them ; upon
which they drank my health, and I was again forced to reply. In
numerable other toasts followed, all accompanied by speeches. The
eloquence of the speakers was not very remarkable, and the same
common-places were served up over and over again in different
words. In half an hour I seized a favourable moment to take my
leave. — Forgive me, for I was very tired.
I have not heard anything from you for a long time, and must
wait for letters till I get to Dublin. Only be well, — that is the main
thing for you; and don't cease to love me, for that is the main thing
for me. Your faithful L 

LETTER XXXVII.
Cashel, Oct. 10th, 1828.
Dear and kind Friend,
The " Rock of Cashel" with its celebrated noble ruin is one of the
greatest lions of Ireland, and was mentioned to me by Walter Scott
himself as the most worth visiting after the Abbey of Holy Cross.
It is a rock standing isolated in the midst of the plain. It is odd
enough, that in one of the distant mountains there is a cavity of just
the same size as the rock: — according to the legend, the devil bit it
out in a rage at losing a soul he was carrying off to hell. As he flew
over Cashel he spit the bit out again. Upon this rock M'Cormack,
king and archbishop of Cashel, built a castle and a chapel, which are
both in remarkable preservation. In the twelth century, I think,
Donald O'Brien added the church and abbey. The whole forms a
most magnificent ruin, in which all the details of Saxon architecture
may be studied in the most interesting manner. This has been
greatly facilitated by the labours of the son-in-law of the present
archbishop, Dr. Cotton, who some months ago had M'Cormack's
chapel entirety cleared of the accumulations of dirt and rubbish, and
has, at considerable expense, rendered the whole ruin accessible.
Nothing can be more, strange, — I might say, more barbarically ele
gant, — than these grotesque, fantastic, but often admirably executed
ornaments. Many sarcophagi and monuments found buried under
rubbish or earth, suggest curious and interesting speculations. One
is tempted to think that the frightful images, like Indian idols, must
have belonged to some earlier religion, did we not know how slowly
Paganism gave way to Christianity, how obstinately it still lingers.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 465
I have in my possession a little bell, which One of my ancestors
brought with him from the prisons of the Inquisition, and on which
the Virgin is surrounded with apes instead of angels, some playing
the violin, while others are making somersets in the clouds!
I examined the whole ruin minutely, and climbed to the highest
accessible point just as the sun was setting over the Devil's Bite.
The archbishop had had the kindness to 'send his librarian to show
me the ruin. From this gentleman I learned that the celebrated and
often cited Psalter, written in the Irish language, which is mention
ed in every Traveller's Guide as the standing wonder of Cashel, is a
mere fable; at least, that no such thing was ever known to exist here.
This interested me little; but I was really alarmed at hearing that
the Catholics entertain the idea of restoring and rebuilding the
church, if they could get possession of the ground. Heaven preserve
the sacred ruin from their pious designs!
On a plain in front of the church stands an extremely ancient and
mutilated statue of St. Patrick, on a pedestal of granite. Near this
was formerly to be seen the coronation-seat, said to have been
brought from Portugal hither, and afterwards sent to the coronation
of the Scottish king, Fergus, at Scone, whence Edward I. brought
it to Westminster-abbey, where it now is.
At the foot of the Rock of Cashel stand the very curious ruins of
Hore Abbey, which, it is asserted, were formerly connected with
the castle by subterranean passages. The beautiful proportions and
perfect ornaments of a great window are particularly striking.
October 11th.
One of the gentlemen whose acquaintance I made yesterday, a
man of good family and engaging manners, offered me his horse to
visit the ruins of the Abbey of Athassil, and the park and seat of the
wealthy Earl of Llandaff. The excellent hunters soon carried us to
the spot: the object, however, was not equal to my expectations.
The abbey is certainly a beautiful and extensive ruin; but its situa
tion, in a bog surrounded by ploughed fields without tree or shrub,
is so unfavourable as to deprive it of all picturesque effect. Lord
Llandaff's park is likewise of great extent, two thousand eight hun
dred acres, but has no distinguishing beauties. The trees are not
fine, water almost entirely wanting, and the modern Gothic house,
painted light blue, appeared to me hideous. The possessor is a still
handsome and interesting man of seventy, who has the great, and in
Ireland the rare merit of residing on his property. We found a per
son who is distinguished in society by the foreign polish of his man
ners, in the character of a plain farmer, in marsh-boots and water
proof cloak, standing in the rain directing his labourers. This
pleased me greatly, for reasons you can guess.
On our return, Captain S  gave me a great many interesting
details respecting the really atrocious and crying injustice and op
pression under which the Irish Catholics labour: it is more intolera
ble than that which the Greeks suffer from their Turkish masters.
The Catholics are not allowed to call their places of worship churches,
59

466 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
only chapels; they must have no bells in them, — things inconsidera
ble in themselves, but degrading and insulting in their intent. No
Catholic can, as you know, sit in Parliament, nor be general in the
army, minister of state, judge, &c* Their priests cannot perform
the ceremony of marriage, in cases where one party is Protestant,
and their titles are not recognized by the law. The most scandalous
thing however is, that the Catholics are forced to pay enormous
sums to the Protestant clergy, while they have entirely to maintain
their own, of whom the state takes no notice. This is manifestly
one great cause of the incredible poverty of the people. How in
tolerable must it appear in a country like Ireland, where more than
two-thirds of the whole population are most zealously devoted to the
Catholic religion! In the South the proportion is much larger. In
the county of Tipperary there are about 400,000 Catholics, and only
10,000 Protestants: nevertheless, the Protestant clergy costs the in
habitants the following sums yearly:
The Archbishop - - £25,000,
The Dean - - 4,000,
For about 50 parishes, on an average, each - 1,500,
which charge, of course, falls mainly on the Catholics. Most of the
parsons do not even live in Ireland, but put some poor devil with a
salary of £50 or £60 a year to perform their duties: these are the
far-famed curates: the duties are indeed soon performed, as there are
parishes which do not contain more than ten Protestants; and, in
deed, there is one in this neighbourhood in which not one is to be
found; and not even a church, — only an old ruin, in which the 'farce'
of divine worship is once a year acted to empty walls, during which
a Catholic, hired for the occasion, performs the office of clerk!
Meanwhile, the clergy are year after year wearing away the pave
ment of London and Paris, and living as unspiritual a life as possi
ble. I latety read in an English newspaper, that a clergyman in
Boulogne had lost a large sum at play; that an affair had ensued in
which he had shot his antagonist, and had been obliged immediately
to quit the place and return to his living. Even the higher clergy,
who must at least reside at certain stated periods in their episcopal
and archiepiscopal sees, suffer none of their ill-gotten gains (for
what else can money so acquired be called?) to return back again to
the poor people from whom they have wrung it, but save all they
can, that they may enrich their families.
Can anybody wonder that such institutions have frequently goad
ed the unhappy people to despair and rebellion? and yet at every
struggle their chains are riveted tighter, and eat more deeply into
the bleeding flesh. Wherever you see a beautiful estate and fertile
land, if you ask who is the proprietor, you are generally told "it is
forfeited land," once belonging to Catholics, now to Protestants.
O'Connell told me, that not long ago a law was in force, ordaining
that no Catholic should hold landed property in Ireland; and if a
Protestant could prove before a court of justice that this was in any
* These disabilities have, as is universally known, been since removed, — Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 467
instance the case, the property was taken from the Catholic and given
to him: the only remedy lay in a feigned conversion. But in spite
of this bounty on hypocrisy and deceit, land to the value of millions
of pounds was transferred into the hands of Protestants by this atro
cious process. Is it not marvellous that Protestants, who in a bar
barous age severed themselves from the Romish church on account
of her intolerance and rapacity, should now, in an enlightened one,
cherish the very same vices, — thus incurring a far greater compara
tive load of guilt than they would have had to bear before. Will
this monstrosity, the offspring of despotism and hypocrisy, which
has so long been nourished by the tears and blood of the world, never
be destroyed by more enlightened generations! If ever it is, they
will look back upon us with the same sort of pity as we do upon the
darkness of the middle ages.
In the afternoon I visited the Catholic dean, an extremely agreea
ble man, who lived a long time on the continent, and was chaplain
to the late Pope. His frank and enlightened conversation excited
my surprise ; for we are accustomed to think that every Catholic
must of necessity be a superstitious bigot. Among other things, he
said to me, "Believe me, this country is devoted to misfortune. We
have scarcely such a thing as a Christian among us: Catholics and
Protestants have one common religion, — that of hatred."
Some time* afterwards, Captain S  brought me the latest news
paper, in which my visit to the meeting was mentioned: the few
words I said there, and the other speeches, were dressed up with
the accustomed charlatanerie, and filled three or four columns of the
paper. To give you a specimen of this ' genre,' and at the same
time to cut a figure in your eyes by my eloquence, I translate the
beginning of the article, in which I am puffed in the same style as
that in which a quack doctor sets forth the unparalleled virtues of
his pills, or a horse-dealer those of his horses: — listen.
" As soon as the arrival of the * * * * was known, the pre
sident, accompanied by a deputation, repaired to his apartment, to
invite him to honour our feast with his presence. Shortly after
wards, the * * * * entered the room. His air is ' command
ing and graceful.' He wore moustaches, and although very pale,
his countenance is 'exceedingly pleasing and expressive.' He took
his seat at the upper end of the table, and, bowing to the company,
spoke distinctly and ' with proper emphasis' though with a foreign
accent, the following words: — ' Gentlemen, — Although ill and very
tired, I feel myself too much flattered by your kind invitation not to
accept it with thanks, and to express to you personally the lively in
terest I take in your struggles on behalf of your country. May God
bless this beautiful and richly-gifted land ! which offers to every fo
reigner such manifold enjoyments; but in which I, especially, have
reason to acknowledge with the deepest gratitude, the kindness and
hospitality which I have everywhere experienced. May Heaven, I
repeat, bless this sorely-tried country, and every true Irishman,
whether Catholic or Protestant, who desires the welfare not of any
exclusive sect or party, but of Ireland ! — a welfare that can be attain-

468 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ed only by peace, forbearance, and ' civil and religious liberty,' (a
standing phrase in these islands.) Gentlemen, fill your glasses and
allow me to give you a toast: — 'The King, and Erin go bragh!'
(This is the old Irish motto, which is on the medal of the order of the
Liberator, and signifies ' Erin for ever!')
" The President: — ' Gentlemen, I beg you to participate in my
feelings, and to receive the expression of them from me. May our
1 illustrious guest,' to whose health we now fill our glasses, — if ever
he return among us, — find us in the enjoyment of equal laws and
equal privileges, and in the possession of that internal tranquillity
which alone we have combined to obtain. Three times three: — The
'* * * *.' " I repeated my thanks for the honour done me,
and added, " That nothing could make me happier than to be an eye
witness of the fulfilment of their and my wishes, in a country which
I loved as my own, and quitted with extreme regret."
Now, dear Julia, what do you think of me? Cannot I string com
mon-places as well as another upon occasion? What is no common
place, though reiterated at the end of every one of my letters, is,
the assurance of the tender affection with which I am, and ever
shall be, Your Friend L  .

LETTER XXXVIII.
Cashel, Oct. 12th, 1828.
Dearest Friend,
Why do I like so much to write to you? Certainly because it
gives you pleasure to hear from me from afar: but also, because you
understand me, which nobody else does. This alone would suffice
to enchain me to you for ever, for 1 live in the world, but with you
alone, — as much alone, as if we were on a desert island. Thousands
of beings swarm around me, but I can speak only with you. If I
attempt it with others, my habit and disposition, always to speak the
truth, often cost me dear; or I blunder in some way or other.
Worldly wisdom is as decidedly and unattainably denied to my na
ture, as to the swan — who in winter waddles clumsily across the
frozen lake before your window — the power of running races with
the sledges that glide over it. However, his time too comes, when
he cleaves his own free and beautiful element, or sails through the
blue asther. Then he is himself again.
But back to Cashel. — I used my good friend's horses, which daily
stand at my disposal, for a second excursion to the ruins of Holy
Cross, six miles off, the worthy rival of the Devil's Rock. We
amused ourselves by riding across the country, and leaping some
stone enclosures; and reached a height from which ' The Rock,' as
it is here briefly called, presents the most imposing aspect. The cir
cle of distant blue mountains encircling the rock, which stands alone
in the midst of the fruitful plain; the castle, abbey, and cathedral, —

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 469
which, forming a majestic group, look down from the summit, and
in silent and sublime language relate the history of successive ages;
lastly, the town at its foot, so wretched, although the seat of two
archbishops (a Protestant and a Catholic,) and which also tells its own
mute but intelligible tale concerning the present times, — combine to
awaken varied and contradictory emotions.
Holy Cross is of a totally different character. — Cashel stands in
solitary grandeur, all rock and stone, barren and black, with only
here and there a straggling ivy-branch creeping feebly through a
crevice. Holy Cross, on the contrary, lies in a valley on the banks
of the Suir, buried in copse-wood, and clothed with ivy of such lux
uriant growth that hardly a wall can be seen: and even the lofty
cross, the last which still remains standing,* is so enwreathed with
it, that it seems as if it clung fondly to shelter it from every profane
touch. The interior is magnificent, and contains the beautiful monu
ment of Donough O'Brien, king of Limerick, who founded this ab
bey in the twelfth century; and a canopy, exquisitely carved in
stone, under which repose the ashes of the abbots, — both in perfect
preservation. The view from the tower is beautiful. You are very
near the Devil's Bite, whose grotesque form is too striking not to
have furnished matter for legends to the Irish, who have a story
ready fitted to every extraordinary natural object.
We hastened back sooner than I wished, in consequence of an in
vitation I had received from the Catholic dean to meet the archbishop
and sixteen other clergymen at dinner: no layman but myself was
invited. The table did honour to a chaplain of the Holy Father.
" You never were at a dinner, I dare say," said the archbishop to
me, " at which all the guests were clerical." " Yes, indeed, my
Lord," replied I; " and what is more, I myself was a sort of bishop
a little while ago." "How is that possible?" said he, surprised.
I explained to him, that I * * * *
" We are, therefore," said I, "eighteen priests here assembled; and
I can assure you, that I make no distinction between Catholics and
Protestants; — that I see in both only Christians."
The conversation then turned on religious subjects, and was in a
perfectly free and impartial spirit. Never did I perceive the least
trace of bigotry, or of the disgusting affectation of puritanical rigour.
At the dessert, several sang their national songs, some of vvhich had
no pretension to sanctity. As the one who sat next me remarked
some little surprise on my countenance, he said in my ear, " Here
we forget the foreign * * * *, the archbishop, and the priest, —
at table we are only gentlemen, and meet to enjoy ourselves." This
man was the undisputed descendant of an Irish royal line; and al
though no trace of it remained about him, he was not the less proud
of it. " I have a strange abode for a clergyman," said he; " if ever
* A piece of the true Cross was kept here, and gave its name to the monastery.
Every separate building was, for this reason, ornamented with a lofty cross of stone,
of which only one is preserved.— Editor.

470 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
you visit Ireland again, I hope you will allow me the pleasure of
doing the honours of it to you. It lies immediately under the
Devil's Bite, and a finer view than this same Bite commands does
not exist in all Ireland." He afterwards remarked, that to be a
Catholic in this country is almost a proof of noble blood: as only
the new families are Protestant, the Catholics must of necessity be
the old ones ; for since the Reformation they have made no prose
lytes. The melodies which were sung had a striking resemblance to
those of the Wendish nations. This is one of the many features of
similarity which strike me between those nations and the Irish.
Both manufacture, and have an exclusive taste for, spirit distilled
from corn; both live almost entirely on potatoes; both have the
bagpipe; both are passionate lovers of singing and dancing, and yet
their national airs are of a melancholy character; both are oppressed
by a foreign nation, and speak a gradually expiring language, which
is rich and poetical, though possessed of no literature; both honour
the descendants of their ancient princes, and cherish the principle
that what is not renounced is not utterly lost; both are superstitious,
cunning, and greatly given to exaggeration; rebellious where they
can, but somewhat cringeing to decided and established power; both
like to go ragged, even when they have the means of dressing bet
ter; and lastly, spite of their miserable living, both are capable of
great exertion, though they prefer indolence and loitering; and both
alike enjoy a fertile soil, which the Wendish phrase calls " the roast
meat of poor people." The better qualities which distinguish the
Irish are theirs alone.
I took advantage of the acquaintance I made to-day, to gain more
information respecting the actual proportion in number between
Catholics and Protestants. I found all I had heard fully confirmed,
and have gained some further details: among others, the official list
of a part of the present parishes and livings in the diocese of Cashel,
which is too remarkable not to send it to you, though the matter is
somewhat dry, and seems almost too pedantic for our correspondence.
Catholics.
Thurles has - - 12,000 -
Cashel - - 11,000 -
Clonoughty - 5,142
Cappawhyte 2,800
Killenaule - - 7,040
Boherlahan - 5,000
Feathard - 7,600 -
Kilcummin - - 2,400
Mickarty - - 7,000
Golden - 4,000 - -
Anacarty - - 4,000
Doniskeath - 5,700
New Erin - - - 4,500
In thirteen districts, 78,182 Catholics and 2,379 Protestants.
Each of these districts has only one Catholic priest, but often four
or five Protestant clergymen; so that, on an average, there are

2501

700

"

82

76
514

-a 3

25

1j

400

K

80
120 12

%

90

30^

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 471
scarcely twenty persons to each Protestant congregation. Kilcum-
min is the place I mentioned to you where there is not a single pa
rishioner, and the service, which according to law must be performed
once a year, is enacted in the ruin with the help of a Catholic clerk.
In another, called Tollamane, the same farce takes place. But not
a whit the less must the non-attending parishioners pay the uttermost
farthing of their tithes and other dues; and no claims are so bitterly
enforced as those of this Christian church: — there is no pity, at
least none for Catholics. A man who cannot pay the rent of the
church-land he farms, or his tithes to the parson, inevitably sees his
cow and his pig sold, (furniture, bed, &c. he has long lost,) and him
self, his wife, and probably a dozen children, (' car rien n'engendre
comme les pommes de terre et la misere,') thrust out into the road,
where he is left to the mercy of that Providence who feeds the fowls
of the air and clothes the lilies of the field. ' Quelle excellente chose
qu'une religion d'etat!' So long as such exist, and every individual
is not permitted, as in the United States, to worship God in his own
way, without any civil disability or loss, — so long the age of bar
barism has not ceased. The time must come when in the State, as
in Nature, laws alone must rule. Religion will then be left to her
appropriate functions: she will console us in misfortune, and height
en our pleasures; but she will cease to wield the sceptre or the
sword. The taws alone should employ inflexible restraint; opinion
should enjoy unbounded freedom. The civilized portion of man
kind have a right to demand this at the stage to which they have at
tained, and to which they have fought their way through so much
suffering and blood. What frantic folly, to want to prescribe to
men what is to become of them after death, or what they shall be
lieve about it! It is bad enough that here on earth the best insti
tutions, the wisest laws, must ever be defective ; — let the invisible
Future at least shape itself out to every mind according to that
mind's power and comprehension ! And yet have great and wise
and good men thought themselves justified in exercising this sort of
despotism. But such is human frailty! the same individual will
prove himself sublime in eleven things, and in the twelfth think and
act like an idiot.
While Cardinal Richelieu afforded to all succeeding ages the
model of a great and sagacious minister, his chief solicitude was to
be thought a good poet; and he tortured himself to write wretched
tragedies, which after his death were waste paper. The great
Louis, who might be called the absolute king ' par excellence,' se
riously exclaimed after the battle of Malplaquet, ' Et Dieu, a-t-il
done oublie ce que j'ai fait pour lui?' Cromwell, at once an enthu
siast and the most audacious and most cunning of dissemblers, after
heaping murder on murder and violence on violence, found his con
science tranquillized, when in answer to his interrogatories a clergy
man assured him, that a man who had once felt assured of the mo
tions of grace within him, must be eternally blessed, let him have
done what he would. "Then I am saved," cried the Protector
joyfully, " for I know to a certainty that once, at least, I felt my-

472 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
self in a state of grace." Such are men! and therefore is it that
human authority will never have weight with me, when it is not
confirmed by my own judgment, exercised to the best of my power
after mature reflection. Nay, were even all mankind opposed to
me, it could not alter an opinion so formed. Thank God! we are
all individual minds, and not sheep who must follow one leader.
And what is universal opinion? One is tempted to think it is only
another name for universal error, so frequently does it alter. It
seems to depend only on time and place. If you are born in Con
stantinople you swear by Mahomet; in the rest of Europe by
Moses or Christ; in India, by Brama. Had you come into the
world a subject of Augustus, you would have been a Pagan. In
the Middle Ages you would have advocated fist-law (Faust-recht);
and now you clamour for the liberty of the press, as the one thing
without which it is impossible to exist.* You yourself, in the
course of your short life, — how different is your being! how differ
ent your modes of thinking, as a child, as a youth, as an old man!
Herder was right when he said, " No two drops of water are alike,
— and yet you would give to all mankind the same belief!" We
might add, No atom remains unchanged, and you would bid the
human mind stand still!
Before the archbishop retired, he said to me in a most obliging
manner, " You are, as you tell us, a bishop, consequently you owe
obedience to the archbishop. I employ this my authority to com
mand you to dine here to-morrow with your colleague the Bishop
of Limerick, whom we expect to-day; — I must hear of no excuse."
I answered, taking up the jest, " I readily confess that it does not
beseem me to withstand the discipline of the Church, and Your
Gracet and the Dean know so well how to sweeten obedience, that I
submit the more willingly. "-
I passed the evening in the society of the * * *. I have seldom
found Protestant clergymen so frank and sincere as these Catholics.
We came to the conclusion, that we must either receive blindly the he
reditary faith the Church prescribes; or, if this be not in our power,
form our own religious system as the result of individual thoughts and
individual feelings, — which may rightly be called the religion of phi
losophers. The * * * spoke French most fluently, I therefore quote his
own words: " Heureusement on peut en quelque sorte combiner l'un
et l'autre; car, au bout du compte, il faut une religion positive au peu-
ple." " Et dites surtout," replied I, " qu'il en faut une aux rois et
aux pretres; car aux uns elle fournit le 'par la grace de Dieu, et aux
* A Moor, who was a very enlightened man for his country, and resided a long
time in England, said to Captain L  , " I should not like to serve so powerless
a monarch as the king of England. How different a feeling it gives one to be the
servant of a sovereign who is the image of God's omnipotence on earth, at whose
nod a thousand heads must fly like chaff before the wind!"—' II ne faut done pas
disputer des gouts.'
f ' Your Grace' is tlie title of Protestant archbishops in England, and is given by
all well-bred people, by courtesy, also to the Cathohc archbishops, although the
English law does not recognize their rank.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 473
autres, de la puissance, des honneurs, et des' richesses; lepeuple se
contenterait, peut-etre, de bonnes lois et d'un gouvernement libre."
" Ah," interrupted he, " you think like Voltaire,
" Les protres ne sont pas ce qu'un vain peuple pense,
Et sa credulite fait toute notre science."
" Ma foi," said I, "si tous les pretres vous ressemblaient je pense-
rais bien autrement." October 13th: Evening.
I was unfortunately unable to keep my word with my friendly
Amphitryon. A ' megrim' confined me all day to my bed. The
archbishop sent me word that he would cure me; and, if I would
but bring firm faith, would be sure to drive away the headache-fiend
by a well-applied exorcism. I was, however, obliged to reply, that
this devil was one of the most tractable, and that he respected no
one but Nature, who sends and recalls him at her pleasure, which,
alas! is seldom in less than four-and-twenty hours. I must there
fore cut off even you, dearest Julia, with a few words. October 14th.
' Apres la pluie le soleil!' This day has indemnified me for the
last. I was on horseback by six o'clock, on my way to breakfast at
Captain S  's country-house, where the sportsmen were to ren
dezvous for a hare-hunt. I found six or seven sturdy squires assem
bled: they do not think much, but their life is all the more gay and
careless. After we had eaten and drank the most heterogeneous
things, — coffee, tea, whisky, wine, eggs, beef-steaks, honey, mutton-
kidneys, cakes, and bread and butter, one after another, — the com
pany seated themselves on two large cars, and took the direction of
the Galtee mountains; where, at a distance of about eight miles, the
hounds and horses were waiting for us. The weather was fine, and
the ride very pleasant, along a ridge of hills commanding a full view
of the fruitful plain, enclosed by mountains and richly varied by a
multitude of gentlemen's seats and ruins which are scattered over
the whole level country. I enjoyed these beauties, as usual, alone;
my companions had only dogs and horses in their heads. A spot
was pointed out to me where a strange phenomenon took place ten
years ago. A bog which lay at a considerable elevation, forced up
probably by subterranean springs, was completely loosened from its
bottom, and travelled on in a mass, sixteen feet high and three or
four acres in extent. It moved on in a continual zigzag, according
to the nature of the objects it encountered; and thus passed over a
distance of nine miles till it reached the nearest river, into which it
slowly discharged itself, causing an overflow of the waters. The
rate of its progress was about three miles an hour. It laid waste
everything in its course. Houses were levelled with the earth at its
touch; trees torn up at once by the roots; the fields completely <*o-
vered, and the valleys filled with bog. An immense multitude had
assembled at the end of its course, without the power of offering the
60

474 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
slightest resistance to the progress of this awful and majestic pheno
menon. On our arrival at the appointed place of meeting, the horses were
there, but no dogs. There were, however, a great many gentlemen,
and instead of hunting hares we now all traversed the fields in every
direction in search of the stray hounds. The sort of riding on these
occasions is a thing of which people in our country can form no idea.
Although most of the fields are enclosed by stone hedges from three
to six feet high, and either piled loosely together or regularly ce
mented, and some of them edged by ditches; or strong walls of
earth and stones pointed at the top, from five to seven feet high,
with a ditch on one, sometimes on both sides; — all this is not ad
mitted as any pretext whatever for the riders to deviate from a
straight line. If I mistake not, I have already described to you how
wonderfully the horses here leap; the sagacity is also admirable with
which they distinguish a loose hedge from a firm one; one recently
thrown up, from one hardened by time. The loose ones they spring
over at one leap, — ' clear them,' according to the technical expres
sion; but they take the firm ones more easily, making a sort of halt
at the top. All this takes place equally well in a full gallop, or, with
the utmost coolness, at a foot pace, or with a very short run. Some
gentlemen fell, but were only laughed at; for a man who does not
break his neck on the spot must look for no pity, but on the con
trary, ridicule. Others dismounted at very bad places, and their
docile steeds leaped without them, and then stood still, grazing while
their riders climbed over. I can assure you I very often thought I
should be compelled to follow their example; but Captain S  ,
who knew the excellent horse on which he had mounted me, and
was always by my side, encouraged me to trust with perfect secu
rity to the admirable creature; so that at the end of the day I had
acquired a very considerable reputation even among 'fox-hunters.'
Certainly it is only in Ireland one sees all that horses are capable of;
the English are far behind them in this respect. Wherever a man
could get through, my horse found means to do so in one way or
other, leaping, crawling, or scrambling. Even in swampy places
where he sank up to his girths, he laboured through without the least
hurry or agitation, where a more lively and timorous horse, though
equally strong, would certainly never have made his way. Such a
horse on a field of battle would be beyond all price: but only very
early and perfect training, joined to the excellence of the breed, can
produce such an one. Experience shows that a peculiar bent of
education, continued through centuries, ends in rendering the su
perinduced qualities natural even in animals. I saw pointers in
England, which without any training, stood still and pointed as de
cidedly the first time they were taken out shooting, as if they had
been ever so carefully trained.
The price of these admirable horses was extremely reasonable ten
years ago, but since the English have begun to buy them for hunt
ing, it is greatly raised, and an Irish hunter of the quality of the one
I rode to-day, would fetch from a hundred and fifty to two hundred

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 475
guineas. At the Galway races I saw a celebrated blood-hunter, for
which Lord CI  had given the latter sum. He had won every
'steeple-chase' he had ever run; was as light as he was powerful,
swift as the wind, a child could manage him, and no hedge was too
high, no ditch too wide for him.
At length we found the dogs: the men who had the care of them
having got completely drunk. Our hunt did not end till the ap
proach of twilight. It was become excessively cold, and the flicker
ing fire, with the table spread before it, shone most agreeably upon
us on our arrival at Captain S  's house. A genuine sportsman's
and bachelor's feast followed. There was no attempt at show or
elegance. Glasses, dishes, and all the furniture of the table, were
of every variety of form and date: one man drank his wine out of a
liqueur glass, another out of a champagne glass, the more thirsty out
of tumblers. One ate with his great-grandfather's knife and fork,
his neighbour with a new green-handled one which the servant had
just bought at Cashel fair. There were as many dogs as guests in
the room: every man waited on himself; and the meats and potables
were pushed on the table in abundance by an old woman and a
heavy-fisted groom. The fare was by no means to be despised, nor
the wine either, nor the potheen clandestinely distilled in the moun
tains, which I here tasted for the first time genuine and unadulter
ated. For sweetening a pudding, two large lumps of sugar were
handed about, and we rubbed them together as the savages do sticks
for kindling the fire. That the drinking was on a vast and unlimited
scale you may safely presume: but though many at last could not
speak very articulately, yet no one attempted anything indecorous
or ill-bred; and the few who were much excited, enhanced the mer
riment by many a ' bon mot' or droll story.
I am indebted for the great cordiality, I might say enthusiasm,
with which I am received here, to my visit to the ' Man of the Peo
ple,' with whom the curious believe me to be in God-knows-what
connection. I am greeted with hurrahs in every village I ride
Ihrough; and in Cashel, the market-place, in which my inn stands, is
daily filled with people, who congregate at an early hour, and cheer
me every time I go out. Many press forward and ask leave to shake
my hand, (a no very gentle operation,) and are quite happy when
they have accomplished this.
We rose from table veryr late. I was packed into my host's car
with another gentleman, and set off for Cashel through an icy fog.
Every individual ran out to my assistance. One would draw a pair
of furred gloves on my hands; another lent me a cloak; a third tied
a handkerchief round my neck; — every man insisted on doing me
some little service: and with many a 'God bless his Highness!' I
was at length suffered to depart. The gentleman with me, Mr.
O'R — , wras the most original, and the most drunk of any. Equally
bent on doing me some kindness, he invariably made the matter
worse than he found it. He unfastened my cloak, in trying to fas
ten it; tore off my handkerchief, instead of tying it; and fell upon
me, in his efforts to make room. His poetical humour displayed

476 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
itself as characteristically when we reached the Rock of Cashel. It
was dreadfully cold, and the cloudless firmament twinkled and glit
tered as if bestrewn with diamonds. Between the road and the rock,
however, a thick mist lay along the earth, and covered the whole
surrounding country as with a veil, though it did not rise higher
than to the foot of the ruin. Its base was invisible, and it appeared
as if it stood built on a cloud in the blue aether, and in the midst of
the stars. I had been admiring this striking night-scene some time,
when my neighbour, whom I thought asleep, suddenly cried aloud,
"Ah, there is my glorious rock! look, how grand! and above all,
the sacred place where all my ancestors repose, and where I too shall
lie in peace!" After a pause he tried in a fit of greater ectasy to
stand up, which but for me would probably have ended in his falling
from the carriage. As soon as he was firm on his legs, he took off
his hat reverently, and with a sort of devotion, at once affecting and
burlesque, called out with tears in his eyes, " God bless Almighty
God, and glory to him!" Notwithstanding the nonsense, I was
touched by the feeling which broke through it, and in this at least I
sympathized with my whole soul. October 15th.
Lord H  , whom I knew in London, invited me to spend some
days at his beautiful residence in this neighbourhood. This invita
tion I was obliged to refuse, but went to-day to dine with him. The
well-kept pleasure-ground, and the excavation of a hollow for a little
lake, recalled to me but too strongly the castle where you, my dear!
are now living, to be able to look at it without emotion. When
shall we see each other again! when shall we breakfast under the
three lime-trees with the swans who so trustingly fed out of our
hands, while your tame doves picked up the crumbs at our feet, and
the little coco, surprised and jealous, looked at the audacious birds
with his wise eyes, — a picture at which the ' blase' man of the world
shrugs his shoulders contemptuously, but which touches our hearts
in all its native simplicity.
Lord H  is not one of those Irish nobles who withdraw the
whole of their revenues from their country; he sometimes resides
there: but he understands his interest so ill, that instead of placing
himself at the head of the people, he sets himself in opposition to
them. The natural consequence ensues: Lord Llandaff, though a
Protestant, is beloved: — Lord H  is hated, though personally he
does not appear to me to deserve it. I heard much of his excessive
cruelties towards the Catholics, and I was indeed witness to his vio
lent temper on this subject I think, however, that in this case, as
in so many others, the mere change of one's own point of view
alters all the relations of things. This is a grand rule of the practi
cal philosophy of life, and the effect is certain: for the objects are
only raw material matter; everything depends on the manner in
which the individual understands and shapes them. How many
situations may thus be transformed from black into rose-coloured, as
soon as one resolutely takes off the black spectacles, or puts on the

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 477
rose-coloured ones. With what spectacles will you read my letter?
— I hear your answer, and kiss you for it.
Heaven guard you, and keep you in this mind!
Your devoted L  .

LETTER XXXIX.
Ban  , October 11th, 1828.
Beloved Julia,
Since yesterday I have been an inhabitant of a pretty Gothic cot
tage at the foot of a mountain. From one of my windows I see fer
tile fields: from the other, wood, lake, and rocks. The master of
the house is Mr. O'R  's brother, who possesses besides this
charming residence a very pretty wife, to whom I pay my court a
little, for the gentlemen drink and hunt too much for my taste. The
family estate would have naturally devolved on my whimsical friend;
but as he was always rather a wild bird, who from his boyhood had
a strong propensity for whisky-punch and a joyous life, his father,
having the disposal of it, left it to his youngest son. The brothers
are nevertheless the best possible friends; and the light-hearted
kindly nature of the eldest finds no wormwood in the wine which
he drinks at his brother's table; while on the other side, the younger
respects the poverty of his kindhearted and amusing elder (who gets
regularly drunk every evening,) and lets him want for nothing.
Such a connexion does honour to both, the more, because at the
father's death the lawyers were of opinion that the will might have
been set aside. Both have doubtless acted with as much wisdom as
kindness to leave it uncontested, and thus keep the oyster for them
selves. IL- "
We passed the whole day in rambling about these magnificent
mountain-paths. Others went out snipe-shooting, after which wc
sat at the dinner table till two o'clock in the morning. Very soon
after the dessert was served, the ladies, as usual, left us: and now
the drinking began in earnest. Coffee was brought very late; on
the heels of which followed a stimulating ' souper' of ' devils' of all
sorts,5* raw oysters and pickles. This formed the prelude to potheen
punch, of which several drank from twelve to sixteen large tumblers,
whilst O'R  kept the whole company ' in a roar of laughter' by
his inexhaustible wit and mad tricks. Besides this, every man was
forced to sing a song: I among the rest, a German one, of which no
body understood a word, but all were very politely delighted. At
two, I retired; but all the others staid. As my chamber was unfor
tunately directly over them, it was long before I could sleep for their
noise and laughter.
* These, as my departed friend often declared, were remarkably well prepared
in Ireland. They consist of poultry broiled dry, with Cayenne pepper, or served
with a most burning and pungent sauce. — Editor (addressed to gourmands).

478 LETTERS ON GERMANY, October 18th.
You will wonder at the somewhat coarse and low life I led here,
and to say the truth I wonder at it myself; but it is 'genuine,' that
is to say, perfectly natural to these people, and nothing assumed;
and that has ever a charm of its own, at least for me. Besides, the
lady of the house is really charming, lively and graceful as a French
woman, with a foot like a zephyr.
This morning we hunted hares, and many a bold leap was taken.
In the evening they produced the most celebrated piper of Ireland,
Keans Fitzpatrick, called the King of the Pipers, having been
honoured with the approbation of ' His most gracious Majesty King
George the Fourth.' Indeed, the melodies which the blind minstrel
draws from his strange instrument are often as surprising as they
are beautiful, and his skill is equal to his highly polished and noble
air. These pipers, who are almost all blind, derive their origin from
remote antiquity. They are gradually fading away, for all that is
old must vanish from the earth. October 19th.
In the course of the day we met two men of very suspicious ap
pearance in a wood. My companion very coolly pointed them out
to me as notorious robbers, who had managed, partly by cunning,
partly by the general terror they inspired, to preserve their liberty;
— another proof how defective is the government and how entirely
perverted are all the relations and sentiments of society; two things
by which Ireland is specially characterized. Both of these men, who
called themselves farmers because they rented a little bit of potatoe-
field, were of a singularly striking and national aspect. The one,
a slender man of about forty, handsome, with a wild but imposing
physiognomy, was a highly picturesque figure even in his rags. Con
tempt of all danger was impressed upon his noble brow; — indiffer
ence it all disgrace played scornfully about his audacious mouth. His
history' confirmed the language of his features. He wore three or
four military medals, which he had gained in the wars in Spain and
France. In consequence of repeated proofs of his remarkable cou
rage he had been raised to the rank of a non-commissioned officer,
from which his disorderly conduct soon caused him to be degraded:
he had then served a second time, again distinguished himself, and
again for the same reasons as before been disgraced, though not con
victed of any capital offence. — He is now strongly suspected of be
ing the leader of the band of robbers who infest the Galtees, and
have committed several murders. His companion was in external
appearance the complete reverse of him ; he was, for an Irish farmer,
unusually well clad, that is to say, in whole clothes; sixty years old,
short and thick-set, and in his whole aspect almost like a Quaker.
In his sanctified countenance, however, lurked such an expression of
cunning and of pitiless determination, that he appeared to me much
more terrible than the other. He was prosecuted two years ago for
forging bank-notes; and was very nearly convicted, when he was
rescued from the gallows by a dexterous lawyer to whom he entrust-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 479
ed his case. With tears of gratitude he put fifty pounds into the
hand of his deliverer, lamenting most pathetically that he could not
requite him better. The advocate was satisfied with his success, and
put the notes into his pocket-book. What was his indignation at
finding that Paddy had paid him in the very notes from the conse
quences of the manufacture of which he just saved him! When
the Irish take a bad turn (and the only wonder is that they do not all
do so) they are the most dangerous people in the world; their most
prominent qualities — courage, levity, and cunning, — are but too effi
cient in enabling them to dare everything and to effect much. Oct. 21st.
I had so often laid the hospitality of these worthy squires under
contribution, that 1 was obliged ' en conscience' to make some re
turn. I therefore invited them all to dine with me before my de
parture. In the morning I gave a cock-fight, ' car il faut hurler avec
les loups;' then a concert of the great piper; then we had a ride;
and lastly 'grand festin, grand chere, et bon feu.' During our ride
we came to a spot at which a magistrate named Baker was shot three
years ago. He was a man exactly in the style of the Bailiffs (Amt-
mdner) in Ifilands's Plays; only, alas! there was no noble character
to thwart and counteract him. The day before his death, in dis
charging a man whom he had imprisoned for six weeks on a charge
of suspected revolutionary practices, he publicly said, " Last month
I sent you word that I wanted to speak to you; — you would not
come. I have given you this little lesson for it, which I hope will
make you more complying in future: if not, in six weeks more you
shall swing ; of that you may rest assured!" The county was at that
time under ' martial law,' in consequence of some disturbances ; and
almost unlimited power was given to the local authorities, whose in
solence and atrocity therefore knew no bounds. The immediate
cause of Baker's death was of a kind which deprives one of all pity
for him. He was indebted £500 to a dairyman, partly for articles
supplied to his household, partly for money he had borrowed. This
he had promised to pay as soon as the man found a suitable match
for his daughter, whose portion the money was to be. In a few years
this took place, and the dairyman humbly entreated to be paid. Ba
ker, however, continually put him off under various pretences; and
finding he could obtain nothing but vain promises, the poor fellow
at length threatened him with an action, and set off for Cork to con
sult a lawyer. Taking advantsge of his absence, Baker appeared the
next day at his house, followed by a detachment of soldiers, and
with infernal hypocrisy asked his wife, then pregnant of her seventh
child, whether she knew of any concealed arms, and told her that
her husband was strongly accused of having secreted some. The
woman answered without fear or hesitation, that she was sure no
such thing existed in her house; that her husband would never have
anything to do with such plots; as Mr. Baker himself, who was an
old acquaintance, well knew. " Take care what you say," said Ba
ker; " for if anything is found after you have denied it, you are sub-

480 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ject to transportation for life." The. woman persisted in her denial
"Well, then, at your peril be it," said he. "Soldiers, search the
house thoroughly, and bring me word what you find." They found
nothing; but a second search being made, under Baker's own super
intendence, a loaded pistol was produced by some man, who pre
tended to have found.it under some straw; into which it was always
suspected Baker himself had just thrust it. The woman was imme
diately dragged away, and being regarded as convicted by the pre
sence of the corpus delicti, was, after a short trial, sentenced to trans
portation. In a few days her husband returned, and moved heaven
and earth to obtain her pardon. In vain did he entreat that at least he
might be suffered to go to Botany Bay instead of his unhappy wife,
the pregnant mother of six children. He offered to give Baker the
£500. But this fiend remained inexorable, jeeringly reminding the
despairing husband "that he wanted the money to portion off his
daughter, who," he added, " might now keep house for him, if after
the consequences 'of the search he had still any house to keep. That
he need not trouble himself about his wife's travelling expenses, for
that the Government would generously provide for them." The law
had its course; the poor woman was transported, and is perhaps now
at Port Jackson. The husband, made furious by despair, and join
ed by her brothers and two other men, shortly after avenged her, by
Baker's cruel death. They fell upon him in the open fields, hunted
him like a wild beast, and killed him slowly by a number of shots.
All were taken and hanged.
Tales of horror like this were formerly of daily occurrence in this
unhappy land, and even now have not entirely ceased. That such
a contrast should exist between England and Ireland, and under the
same Government too; that it should be suffered to endure for cen
turies, is indeed afflicting to every philanthropic mind. Unbridled
bigotry, and rapacity unwilling to disgorge any part of its former
prey, are the causes; — six millions of human beings the victims.
I have nothing remarkable to relate concerning my dinner-party:
it was like its predecessors, and lasted far too long.
It was formerly the custom to give parties, of which the sole and
avowed object was desperate drinking,— a fashion which is compara
tively fallen into disuse. It was a common thing for a man to lock
himself into a room with a hogshead of wine and some jolly compa
nions, and not to leave it till the last drop was emptied. Barrington
mentions such a party in his memoirs. It was given in a shooting
lodge, in which the wall had been covered with mortar only the day
before, and was of course still wet. Here the company were locked
in with a pipe of claret, just arrived from France ; and when some
of them who had tumbled against the wall, awoke in the morning
from their night's debauch, they found themselves so thoroughly iden
tified with it that they were obliged to be cut away, some with the
loss of their clothes and others of their hair.
After my guests had exhausted their store of anecdotes, which
were not precisely of a kind to entertain you with, they resorted to
all sorts of practical jokes and 'tours de force.' One of these was

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 4S1
quite new to me. It is an experiment which anybody may try, and
it struct me as curious enough. The wildest and fiercest game-cock
may be rendered motionless, and compelled to lie in deathlike still
ness as long as you please, by simply laying him on a table, with his
beak close to a white line drawn across it. Nothing is necessary but
first to draw this line with chalk, then to take the cock in your
hands and lay him on the table with his beak turned towards it.
You press him down, and there he will lie as if bound by some spell;
his beak stretched out, and his eyes immovably fixed on the white
line, till you take him away. The experiment must be tried by can
dle-light. ' Voila de grandes bagatelles, mais a la guerre comme a la guerre.'
Oct. 22nd.
As Fitzpatrick the piper, whom I had sent for to my party yes*
terday, was still in the town, I had him come to play 'privatim' in
my room while I breakfasted, and observed his instrument more ac
curately. It is, as you know, peculiar to Ireland, and contains a
strange mixture of ancient and modern .times. The primitive sim
ple bagpipe is blended with the flute, the oboe, and some tones of
the organ and of the bassoon : altogether it forms a strange but pretty
complete concert The small and elegant bellows which are con
nected with it are fastened to the left arm by means of a riband, and
the leathern tube communicating between them and the bag lies
across the body; while the hands play on an upright pipe with holes
like a flageolet, which forms the end of the instrument, and is con
nected with four or five others joined together like a colossal Pan's
pipe. During the performance, the right arm moves incessantly
backwards and forwards on the body, in order to fill the bellows.
The opening of a valve brings out a deep humming sound, which
forms an 'unisono' accompaniment to the air. By this agitation of
his whole body, while his fingers were busied on the pipes I
have described, Fitzpatrick produced tones which no other in
strument could give out. The sight, in vvhich you must picture to
yourself the handsome old man with his fine head of snow-white hair,
is most original and striking; it is, if I may say so, tragi-comic. His
bagpipe was very splendidly adorned, the pipes were of ebony orna
mented with silver, the riband embroidered, and the bag covered
with flame-coloured silk fringed with silver.
I begged him to play me the oldest. Irish airs; wild compositions,
which generally begin vvith a plaintive and melancholy strain like
the songs of the Slavonic nations, but end with a jig, the national
dance, or with a martial air. One of these melodies gave the lively
representation of a fox-hunt, another seemed to me borrowed from
the Hunters' Chorus in the Freischiitz; it Was five hundred years
older. ' Les beaux esprits se rencontrent dans tous les ages.'
After playing some time, the venerable piper suddenly stopped,
and said smiling, with singular grace, " It must be already well
known to you, noble Sir, that the Irish bagpipe yields no good tones
when sober: it requires the evening, or the stillness of night, joyous
61

482 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
company, and the delicious fragrance of steaming whisky-punch.
Permit me, therefore, to take my leave."
I offered such a present as I thought worthy of this fine old man,
whose image will always float before me as a true representative of
Irish nationality.
With Fitzpatrick I take my leave of you, dearest Julia, to set out
on my return to Dublin, whence I calculate on despatching my next
letter to you. Your faithful L  .

LETTER XL.
Dublin, October 24th, 1828.
Good and dear Friend,
After leading a half savage life so long, the tameness of the city
appears quite strange. I can now imagine the home-sickness of
the North American Indians, even the most civilized of whom al
ways return to their woods at last. Freedom has such a matchless
charm. Yesterday, after dinner, I left Cashel, taking Captain S  's bro
ther in the carriage with me. While daylight lasted we saw at least
twenty ruins, far and near. One of the most beautiful stands at the
foot of an isolated hill, Killough Hill, called the garden of Ireland,
because, according to the popular tradition, every indigenous plant
in Ireland is to be found on it. The cause of this unwonted fertili
ty is, that it was formerly the summer residence of the fairy queen,
whose gardens bloomed here. The soil still retains some portion of
its wondrous virtues. The ruin has likewise one of the mysterious
slender round towers without any entrance. Some few of them
have an opening or door, not at the bottom, however, but in the
middle. It is impossible to conceive a more romantic watch-tower
for the fairy hill. The weather was remarkably mild and beautiful,
and. the full moon so brilliant that I could read with perfect ease in
my carriage. We slept, nevertheless, through a great part of the
night. I found a letter from you in Dublin; — a thousand thanks for all
the kindness and affection towards me which it contains. Do not
be too anxious as to the situation of your friend. Tell her she must
act as necessity requires, avert what can be averted, postpone in
evitable evil as long as possible, but always bear calmly what is ac
tually present. This at least is my philosophy. Your quotation
from Madame de Sevigne amused me extremely. Her letters are
certainly extraordinary; repeating the same things, and those trivial
enough, though volume after volume; yet by the new turn she con
tinually gives them, always entertaining, sometimes bewitching;
depicting court, city and country with equal grace; taking a some
what affected love for the most insignificant of women as her main
theme, yet never wearying: these were certainly conditions which

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND, 483
no one but herself could have fulfilled. She is not in the least de
gree romantic, nor was she, while living, remarkably distinguished;
but she is, without question, the best-bred model ' du ton le plus
parfait' Without doubt she also possessed ' good temper,' bestowed
by nature, ennobled and refined by art. Art is at least visible
throughout; and probably her letters, which she knew were eagerly
read by many, were carefully polished, and were calculated as much
for society as for her daughter; for the admirable lightness of her
style betrays much more of care than the ' epanchement' of the mo
ment permits. The representation of the manners of the day has a
considerable effect in heightening the interest of the letters; but I
doubt whether such letters written now would enjoy equal success.
We are become both too serious and too avaricious. 'Les jolis riens
ne suffisent plus.' We want excitement, and violent excitement.
Where a giant like Byron appears, little prettinesses sink into insig
nificance. I was just now reading in his works, — for I never travel without
them. I fell upon the description of a scene precisely like many I
have lately witnessed. In what elevated language did I find my
own feelings expressed! I translate it for you as well as I can, in a
sort of poetic prose, and as literally as possible: —
Der Himmel wandelt sich! — Welch ein Wechsel! O Nacht—
Und Sturm und Finsterniss, wohl seydihr wundermachtig!
Doch lieblich Eure Macht — dem Lichte gleich,
Das aus dem dunklen Aug des Weibes bricht. — Weithin
Von Gipfel zu Gipfel, die schmetternden Felsen entlang
Springt der eilende Donner. Nicht die einsame Wolke allein,
Jeder Berg hat eine Zunge gefunden,
Und Jura sendet durch den Nebelvorhang Antwort
Zuruck, dem lauten Zuruf der jubelnden Alpen.
Das ist eine Nacht! — o herrliche Nacht!
Du wurdest nicht gesandt fur Schlummer. Lass auch mich
Ein Theilnehmer seyn an Deiner wilden, fernhin Schallenden Freude
Ein Theii vom Sturme — und ein Theii deiner selbst —
Wie der See erleuchtet glanzt — gleich dem phosphorischen Meer!
Und die vollen Regentropfen — wie sie herabtanzen auf seine Wellen !
Und nun wird Alles wieder schwarz — und von neuem
Hallt der Berge Chorus wieder, in lauter Lust,
Als sang' er Triumph uber eines jungen Erdbebens Geburt!"
* The sky is changed! — and such a change ! Oh night,
And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong,
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the hght
Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along,
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among
Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud,
But every mountain now hath found a tongue,
And fea answers, through her misty shroud,
Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
And this is in the night: — Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be
A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, —
A portion of the tempest and of thee!
How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea,
And the big rain comes dancing to the earth!
And now again 'tis black, — and now, the glee
Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth,
As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.

484 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Is not that beautiful? What true poetic feeling! What a pity that
vve have no good translation of his works. Gothe alone were able
to give a perfectly satisfactory version of them, — if he were not oc
cupied in creating what equals them in grandeur, and surpasses them
in lightness, grace and sweetness. , October 25th.
I called yesterday at the Lord Lieutenant's house in the Phoenix
Park. He invited me to dine with him to-day. The party was
brilliant. He is beloved in Ireland for his impartiality, and for the
favour he has always shown to the cause of emancipation. His ex
ploits as a general officer are well known, and no man has a more
graceful and polished address in society. A more perfect work of
art than his false leg I never saw. The Marquis, although not
young, has still a very fine person, and his artificial leg and foot rival
the otlier 'a s'y meprendre.' The only thing which betrays it, is
some little difficulty in- walking. On the whole, I know few Eng
lishmen who have so good a ' tournure' as the present Lord Lieute
nant of Ireland. When he resides in the city, a very rigid etiquette,
like that of a little court, is observed; but in the country he lives like
a private gentleman. The power and dignity of a Lord Lieutenant
are considerable as representative of the King; but he holds them
only at the pleasure of the ministry. Among other privileges he
has that of creating Baronets; and in former times inn-keepers, and
men even less qualified, have received that dignity. When his
functions cease he gains no accession of rank by the past perform
ance of them. His salary during his continuance in office is £50,000
per annum, and a residence free of charge; so that he can very well
lay by his own income. This, however, the present Lord Lieute
nant does not appear disposed to do: his establishment is very liberal
and splendid. He is surrounded too by very interesting men, who
unite extreme good breeding with frankness and cordiality, and seem
to judge of party questions with moderation and good sense. From
what I have said, it may safely be presumed that Lord Anglesea's
residence here will not be of long duration; and indeed I heard some
hints to that effect. As he suffers dreadfully from Ticdouloureux, I
recommended H  to him, as a person remarkable for cures of
that complaint, and gave his physician the book in which he treats
of it. The Marquis said, smiling, " I shall find no difficulty in ob
taining leave of absence;" at the same time casting a significant
o-lance on his private secretary. This confirmed me in the surmise
I have just expressed. It will be a great calamity for Ireland, who
rejoices in the new and unaccustomed blessing of a governor who
views the disgusting religious dissensions by which she has so long
been torn, with the eye of a philosopher.
Before I drove to the Phcenix Park I attended divine worship in
a Catholic chapel. It is a handsome building: the interior is a large
oval, with a colonnade of Ionic pillars running round it, surmounted
by a beautiful dome, and an excellent alto-relievo in tlie arched roof
above the altar: it represents the Ascension. The figure and expres-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 485
sion of our Saviour are peculiarly admirable. The fancy of the
artist has placed him before us such -as we must imagine him. The
Catholics affirm that they possess genuine portraits of Christ. In
deed, in the south of Germany I once saw an advertisement of a
collection of genuine portraits of God Almighty.
The chief altar stands quite alone, and is of a simple and beautiful
form: it is of white marble, and was made in Italy. The slab on the
top and the base are of dark marble. The front facade is divided
Into three compartments, on the middle is a monstrous pyx of gold
bronze, and on each side bas-reliefs of praying angels.
Above, on the centre of the altar, stands a magnificent temple of
splendid gems and gold, in which the real pyx is kept, and near it
two no less magnificent golden candlesticks. On each side of the
altar stands a tripod, supported by angels with folded wings; on the
tablet at the- top are placed the Host and the wine. The details are
executed in the best possible taste, and a grand simplicity reigns
through the whole. From the roof hangs a massive silver chain,
supporting an antique lamp of the same metal, which is kept per
petually burning. It is certainly one of the most beautiful institu
tions of the Catholic religion, that some churches stand open day and
night to all who long for communion with Heaven. In Italy I
scarcely ever went to rest without visiting one of these; and giving
myself up to the wondrous effect produced in the stillness of night
by the red fantastic light thrown on the vaulted roof by the few
scattered lamps, I never failed to find some solitary figure, kneeling
in supplicating reverence before one of the altars, busied only with
his God and himself, and utterly unmindful of all that passed around.
In one of these churches stood the gigantic statue of St. Christopher,
leaning against the middle pillar, and touching the roof with his
head. On his shoulders was his heavy burthen, the miraculous child;
and in his hand, as a staff, a full-grown trunk of a tree, with fresh
green boughs, which were -renewed every month. The light of a
lamp suspended above, surrounded the infant Christ with a glory,
and threw some rays, as if in benediction, upon the pious giant.
When I compare the Catholic service as it is performed here,
with that of the English Protestant church, I must unquestionably
prefer the former. It may perhaps contain some superfluous cere
monies, some which even border on the burlesque, such as the toss
ing about of the censers, the continual shifting of dresses, &c; but still
this form of worship has a sort of antique grandeur which imposes
and satisfies. The music was excellent; the singers very good, and,
which amazingly enhanced the effect, invisible. Some Protestants
call this a taint of sensuality; but I cannot. discover why the scream
of an unmusical Lutheran congregation, which rends one's ears,
should be more pious than good music, executed by people vvho
have been well taught.* Even with a view to the contents of the
* Much has lately been done towards improving, I might say humanizing, the
music in the churches in Prussia; and the influence of this improvement on tlie con
gregations have been universally found to be very beneficial. — Editor.

486 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
sermon, the comparison was greatly to the advantage of the Catholic
church. While the Protestant congregation at Tuam was entertained
with miracles, swine, and evil spirits, the discourse here was purely
moral and practical. The eloquent preacher had taken envy as his
subject, and said among other excellent remarks, " If you would
know whether you are entirely free from this crime, so afflicting to
humanity, so degrading to the individual who cherishes it, — examine
yourselves thoroughly, whether you never experienced an unquiet
and dissatisfied feeling at the constant and growing prosperity oS>
another ; whether you never felt a slight satisfaction at the tidings
that some mischance had happened to a fortunate neighbour? This
is a serious inquiry, and few will make it earnestly without ad
vantage." The way in which every one reads silently in his prayer-book,
while the sublime music elevates the soul, and withdraws it from
the earthly and trivial, appears to me far preferable to the loud re
sponses and prayers of the Anglican church. During this interval
of silent veneration, little heed is given to the ceremonies, the change
of raiment, or the incensing the priests. But even allowing for
these slight blemishes, the Catholie church strikes the mind, as a
whole, as something congruous and harmonious with itself, and ve
nerable from its antiquity and its consistency: the English Protest
ant church, on the contrary, as something patch-work, incongruous,
and unconnected. In connexion vvith the German church (of course
I mean as it is understood by such men as Krug and Paulus), these
two establishments might be likened to three individuals who were
in a magnificent place, affording every variety of enjoyment, and of
valuable information; but shut out from God's sun and his beautiful
open creation by a high wall. The first of the three was satisfied
with the glitter of the jewels and the light of the tapers, and never
cast one wistful glance toward the few chinks in the wall which ad
mitted some glimpse of daylight. The other two were restless and
dissatisfied; they felt that there was something still better and fairer
abroad, and determined to get over the high wall, cost what it would.
Well provided with everything they thought they should want, they
began this great undertaking. They had many perils, many incon
veniences to encounter, but at length they reached the top. Here,
indeed, they could behold the sun's radiant countenance, but clouds
often concealed it, and the beautiful green of the meadows beneath
was often deformed by weeds and thorns, amidst which terrible wild
beasts roamed prowling about. But nothing could daunt the second
of the three, nor turn him from his enterprise; his intense desire
for freedom conquered all. fear and all doubt: unhesitatingly, he let
himself down inte the new world, and as he left everything behind
him that he might be perfectly unimpeded, he soon disappeared
within the sacred enclosure. As to the third, he remains still sitting
on the wall, between heaven and earth; still living on the food, and
delighting in the finery he brought with him from below, and un
able to wean himself from it, though the rays of the sun, which now
fall uninterrupted on the false tinsel, shows it in all its worthlessness.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 487
Like the ass in the fable, he hesitates between the two bundles of
hay, without knowing which to prefer. Backward he cannot go,
and he has not courage to go forward; the flesh-pots of Canaan de
tain him were he is — so long a's they,last. October 21th.
If I do not choose to make ' allotria,' that is to talk of things
which have nothing to do vvith my travels or my residence here,
living in the world will make my letters very barren. I could draw
out a scheme or formula and have it lithographed, leaving a few
blanks to be filled ad libitum. For instance, " Rose late, and out
of humour. Walked, rode, or drove out to make visits. Dined
with Lord  -, or Mr.  ; dinner good, or bad; conversation,
common places. Evening, a tiresome party, rout, ball, or above all,
amateur concert. N. B. My ears still ache." In London, might
be added, as a standing remark, " The crowd nearly suffocated me,
and the heat was greater than on the highest bench of a Russian
vapour bath. Physical exertion to-day =5 degrees (reckoning a
fox-hunt at 20), intellectual profit therefrom =0. Result, ' Diem
perdidi."' It is not quite so bad here: in this season the fatigue one has to
undergo does not exceed that of a large German town ; but there are
a great superabundance of invitations which one cannot civilly re
fuse. For how truly can I say with the English poet, " How various
are the feelings of guests in that world which is called great and gay,
but which is the most melancholy and tedious of any to those who
cannot share in its gaiety!" October 28th.
I am just returned from a dinner-party, in which there was ra
ther a provincial tone, but no want of pretension. Some things
were comical enough; but the worst of it is, one buys a little laugh
ing with such a quantity of ennui. The dinner too was a real
' mystification' for a ' gourmet,' and the house and park correspond
with it.
My propitious star placed me at table next to Lord P  , a cele
brated political character, who has taken his stand on the good and
noble side, and has remained faithful to the cause of emancipation.
It gave me great pleasure to find that his views of things agreed so
perfectly with those which I had been led to entertain from my own
observations on the spot. One of his expressions struck me by its
' naivete.' 1 remarked to him, that from what I saw, even emanci
pation could do little good; for that the real evil was, that the soil
was the property of an aristocracy, whose interests would always
lead them to reside in England; and above all, the sums which were
extorted from the poor Catholics by the Protestant church. So
long as this remained unaltered, I saw no hope of any better state
of things.
" Yes," replied he ; " but to alter that is impossible. If the Pro
testant clergy were deprived of their wealth they would lose all

488 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
their importance." " How can that be?" replied I, laughing. " Is
it possible that virtue, mild instruction, and pious devotion to the
duties of his office, would not ensure to a clergyman, even of the
highest rank, more respect with a moderate income than immoderate
luxury; or are 20,000/. a-year really necessary ' to make, a Bishop
or Archbishop appear decently in society?'" " My dear Sir," an
swered Lord P  , "such a thing may exist and maintain itself
abroad, but will never do in Old England, where, above all, money,
and much money, is required and necessary to obtain respectability
and consideration." This remark was not applied to the aristocracy;
but it is not the less true that money is essential to its very existence,
although it now affects, with no little display of haughtiness, to esti
mate noble birth far above mere wealth.
Lady M  , who was present, entertained the company as usual
by her wit. She amused me with some diverting anecdotes
% X %¦ % -K X * * if -* * *
It is remarkable, that in no country does one meet half so many
old maids as in England; and very frequently they are rich. Their
excessive pride of wealth, which leads them to think no rank and
greatness sufficient for them, or the exaggerated romantic notions in
which they are brought up, are the causes of this phenomenon.
English girls insist on being loved entirely and solely for themselves.
French women make no such pretension, judging rightly enough,
that this devoted affection will grow out of marriage, where there
are the qualities fitted to produce it; and that where these do not
exist, it will not endure, whatever the lover may say or believe to
the contrary. The English, like true Turks, keep the intellects of
their wives and daughters in as narrow bounds as possible, with a
view of securing their absolute and exclusive property in them as
much as possible, and in general their success is perfect.* A fo
reigner serves as, an amusement, a plaything to Englishwomen, but
always inspires them with some degree of fear and reserve. It is
extremely rare for them to bestow as much of their confidence upon
him as upon a countryman. They regard him as a half atheist, or a
superstitious worshipper of Baal, and sometimes amuse themselves
with attempting to convert him. I do not speak here of the London
Exclusives; they give the same result as the rubbing together of all
colours, — none remains.
* Nothing can be a more astonishing proof of the difficulty of comparing the
moral and intellectual character of two countries than this remark. Eyery Eng
lishman accustomed to the cultivated society of his own country, must be struck
by the extraordinary inferiority of German female education, in proportion to the
high superiority of that of men. The solution is probably this: — The Author was
chiefly confined to fashionable society here, and mixed little with the more instruct
ed classes. In Germany, it is precisely the women of the middling classes who are
so lamentably deficient in education,. — a defect, cf course, there as everywhere at
tributable to those who govern their destiny, and who profess sentiments even more
unworthy than those here attributed to Englishmen. The motive ascribed to the
latter is surely more strong and more noble than the desire of possessing a thorough
cook or a contented drudge  Tkaksi.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 489
October 29 h.
The beautiful weather tempted me out into the country. I rode
about, the whole day, and saw two fine seats, Malahide and Howth.
They have one peculiarity in common; both have remained for nine
hundred years in the possession of the same family, which no Eng
lish seat that I have seen or heard of can boast. Malahide has also
an historical interest, for it belongs to the Talbots; and the armour
of the celebrated warrior, with the mark of a blow from a partisan
on the breast is preserved here. One half of the castle is extremely
old, the other was demolished by Cromwell, and rebuilt in the
antique style. In the former part they showed me chairs five hun
dred years old, and a room in which the rich ' boiserie,' the carved
ceiling and the floor, all of black oak, had remained unchanged
for seven hundred years. The new part contains many interesting
pictures. There is a portrait of the Duchess of Portsmouth, so lovely that
I almost envied Charles the Second even in his grave, the glory of
making her a Duchess. An old picture of Mary Stuart, although
represented at an advanced period of her life, confirmed me in my
conviction of the resemblance of the portrait of this unfortunate and
beautiful queen, which I saw in the County Wicklow. I looked
with interest at a scene at the court of Madrid, with a portrait of
the king seated in great solemnity in a scarlet robe; Charles the First,
as Prince of Wales, dancing rather 'legerement' a minuet with the
Infanta; and the gay, seducing Buckingham magnificently dressed,
and paying assiduous court to one of the ladies of honour.
Howth Castle, belonging to the St. Lawrence family, and inha
bited by Lord Howth, who is no absentee, has been more modern
ized, and with no happy effect. The Grecian portico accords but ill
with the small Gothic windows and the high gables. Here likewise
the sword and armour of a celebrated ancestor vvith a romantic name
is carefully preserved. He was called Sir Armoricus Tristram, and
in the year 1000 gave battle to the Danes on this spot, and I think
lost his life. The antique stables were full of noble hunters: Lord
Howth's hounds are also very celebrated. On my return I went to
the theatre, where Ducrow, the English Franconi, ennobles his art
by his admirable representation of animated statues. This is a high
enjoyment to a lover of art, and far surpasses the ' Tableaux' which
are in such favour on the continent. When the curtain draws up,
you see a motionless statue on a lofty pedestal in the centre of the
stage. This is Ducrow; and it is hardly credible how an elastic
dress can fit so exquisitely and so perfectly represent marble, only
here and there broken by a bluish vein. He appeared first as the
Hercules Farnese. With the greatest skill and precision he then
gradually quitted his attitude from one gradation to another, of dis
play of strength; but at the moment in vvhich he presented a perfect
copy of the most celebrated statues of antiquity, he suddenly became
fixed as if changed to marble. Helmet, sword, and shield, were
now given to him, and transformed him in a moment into the wrath-

490 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ful Achilles, Ajax, and other Homeric heroes. Then came the
Discobolus and others, all equally perfect and true. The last was
the attitude of the fighting Gladiator, succeeded by a masterly re
presentation of the dying Gladiator. This man must be an admira
ble model for painters and sculptors: his form is faultless, and he
can throw himself into any attitude with the utmost ease and grace.
It struck me how greatly our unmeaning dancing might be ennobled,
if something like what I have described were introduced, instead of
the absurd and vulgar hopping and jumping with which we are now
entertained. It gave me pain to see this fine artist (for he certainly
merits no less a name) ride nine horses at once, in the character of
a Chinese sorcerer; drive twelve at once in that of a Russian cou
rier; and lastly, go to bed with a poney dressed as an old woman.
I must now bid you good night, and good-bye for some days.
To-morrow morning early this letter will go by post.
Your faithful L  .

LETTER XLI.
Dublin-, Oct. 30th, 1S2S.
Dearest Julia,
Oh what reproaches! However, three letters at once are a com
pensation for everything. I read the news from home till I nearly
appeased my appetite for it, and can hardly express my gratitude to
VOll l& % id $r :.~ -Jfc ^F H
* * * * * # t * ^
You are indeed right; such an ally as you would be of great use to
me. Governess Prose would have kept Poetry better within bounds;
and the boy who never grows old, and whose nature it is to play
with gay soap-bubbles, would perhaps, under the guidance of a sage
Mentor, have tried to pluck some more solid earthly fruit, instead
of grasping at the rainbow balls. ' Mais tout, ce qui est, est pour le
mieux!' Let us never forget this axiom. Voltaire was wrong to
turn it into jest; and Panglos. was really in the right. This persua
sion can alone console us under all afflictions; and for myself, I con
fess it is the essence of my religion.
Your letter No. I. is wisdom and goodness itself: but, dear Julia,
as far as the former is concerned, it is powder and shot thrown away
upon me. I am too much — what shall I call it? — a man of feeling
and impulse, and shall never be wise, i. e. prudent in a worldly
sense. But I am so much the more accessible to kindness, — yours
only excepted; the measure of which is already so full and over
flowing, that not a drop more can find entrance into my heart. With
this full heart you must once for all be satisfied; your poor friend
can give, you no more. But is it possible that you can find room for
fears that these two years of absence can have changed me towards
you? that I may no longer find in you what I formerly found, —
and so on. Do you know what the English would call this? —

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 491
'Nonsense.' That I can wish nothing more intensely than to see
you again, my unwearied correspondence might surely convince you:
but you quite forget that *****
¦* * * * * # * -* -*
How often have I told you that I am not suited to the world! My
defects as well as my merits, nay even the intellectual character
which you imagine you find in me, are only so many stumbling-
blocks in my way. A man who is intelligent, somewhat poetical,
good-natured and sincere, is commonly awkward and ill at ease in
every-day society. Like all those, — to use the words of an Eng
lish writer, — whose feelings and affections paralyze their advantages,
I do not find out till too late what was the prudent and discreet
course: "an artless disposition," continues the Englishman, "which
is ill adapted to enter the lists with the cunning and the cold selfish
ness of the world." I know a distinguished man, a hundredfold my
superior, who in this respect is in the same predicament, and who
continually laments that he has been transformed from a poet into a
statesman. " I ought to have ended rny life as I began it," said he;
"wandering about the world unknown, and rejoicing undisturbed in
the beauty and grandeur of God's works; or remote from men, shut
up in my study, alone with my books, my fancy, and my faithful
dog."* Oct. 31st.
I spent a very pleasant evening to-day at Lady M  's. The
company was small, but amusing, and enlivened by the presence of
two very pretty friends of our hostess, who sang in the best Italian
style. I talked a great deal with Lady M  on various subjects,
and she has talent and feeling enough always to excite a lively in
terest in her conversation. On the whole, I think I did not say
enough in her favour in my former letter; at any rate, I did not then.
know one of her most charming qualities, — that of possessing two
such pretty relatives,
The conversation fell upon her works, and she asked me how I
liked her Salvator Rosa? "I have not read it," replied I; "be
cause" (I added byway of excusing myself, 'tant bien que mal') "I
like your fictions so much, that I did not choose to read anything
historical from the pen of the most imaginative of romance writers."
"0, that is only a romance," said she; "you may read it without
any qualms of conscience." " Very well," thought I; "probably
that will apply to your travels too," — but this I kept to myself.
"Ah," said she, "believe me, it is only ennui that sets my pen in
motion; our destiny in this world is such a wretched one that I try
to forget it in writing." (Probably the Lord Lieutenant had not
invited her, or some other great personage had failed in his engage-
* We ought perhaps to apologize for suffering this and other similar passages to
be printed. But whoever has read thus far, must interest himself in some degree
for or against the Author: and in either case these unrestrained judgments upon
himself cannot be wholly unwelcome to the reader who likes what is characteristic.
Those who like only facts, may easily pass them over. — Editor.

492 LETTERS ON GERMANY)
ment to her, for she was quite out of spirits.) "What a fearful puz
zle is this world," said she: "Is there a presiding Power or not?
And if there be one, and he were malevolent! what a horrible idea!"
"But in Heaven's name," replied I, " how can a woman of sense,
like you, — forgive me, — utter such nonsense?" "Ah, I know well
enough all that you can say on that subject," said she; "certainty,
no man can give me." This obscurity in a most acute mind was
unintelligible to me, even in a woman. ('Ne vous en fachez pas,
Julie!') Lady M>  's husband, formerly a physician, now a philosopher
and author, and what the French call 'un bon homme,' affecting
moreover the man of taste and judgment, gave me a book of his,
containing a thoroughly materialist system of philosophy: there are,
however, some good things in it, and it has altogether more merit
than I should have expected from the author. I was busied in read
ing it half the night. From the unconnected and daring character
of the whole, I however concluded either that Lady M — ¦ — had
written a considerable portion of it herself, or at least that these
views of things had thrown her mind into such a state of doubt and
confusion, that she had actually imagined the question whether God
might not possibly be malevolent. Your celebrated people are but
men like others, Heaven knows! — scholars and statesmen, philoso
phers and poets. At every acquaintance of this sort that I make, I
think of Oxenstierna, who, when his young son expressed some
hesitation and diffidence as to the part he should play at the Con
gress of Minister in the presence of so many great and wise men,
replied with a smile, "Ah, my son, depart in peace, and see by
what manner of men the world is governed!" Nov. 1st.
' Les Catholiques me font la cour ici.' The * # * sent me
word through his wife, that as I was a lover of their church music,
I should go to their chapel to-day, where the choir would be re
markably full and good, and he himself was to perform the service.
I heard indeed some magnificent vocal music, (in which female
voices took part,) accompanied only by some few notes of a power
ful organ. It was a high enjoyment — this sublime music, which
filled the soul with a fulness of delight, and raised it on its soft
wings above the cares of this lower world, while the whole congre
gation knelt in reverent supplication.
You will begin to think, dear Julia, that I intend to imitate the
Duke of C  , and turn Catholic. And to say the truth, the mo
tives which lead to such a change do not appear to me wholly ab
surd. Protestantism, — such Protestantism as we commonly find, — is
not a whit more rational, and far less poetical and attractive to the
senses. I am fully persuaded, however, that a new Luther or a new
Messiah is at hand, and will help us through all our difficulties and
doubts: then we shall not need to cast a look behind us; — till then,
I can quite imagine that many may find more consistency, at least,
in the Catholic faith. It is no imperfect half-idolatry, but perfect

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 493
and consistent, — a ladder descending from heaven to earth, whose
last Steps are those deified creatures, those kind sympathizing saints
of both sexes, who are so near to us, and who know so well our
human wishes, emotions, and passions! * -* *
* -* * * * * -* =& -* *
When the priest and the acolytes toss about the censers; when the
bishop every minute puts on a fresh embroidered garment, — now
standing still before the altar, now running forwards, then back
wards, then touching the ground with his forehead, and at length
turning himself about like a weather-cock with the pyx:, and then
keeping his eyes fixed upon it as upon a microscope, — I am per
fectly prepared to hear any of the miracles, wonders, or monstrous
absurdities with which religion has been overlaid. But when a man
in simple garb, and quiet reasonable appearance, gets up and speaks
to me of patience, of purity, of eternal truth and eternal love, and
then goes on to ascribe to the God of justice and of love, and to his
noblest and purest interpreter on earth, fables and atrocities vvhich
shock every sound and unperverted understanding, and then requires
me to receive them as something holy and divine, — I turn disgusted
from such hypocrisy or such folly. A bigot may reply, Your sound
understanding is no measure for the ways or the works of God. To
which I answer, But your God is a human being; and our under
standing and our reason, with our knowledge of external nature,
and the experience thence derived, are the only true and genuine
revelation of God, of wh*ch we are all sharers and which no one can
doubt. Man is so formed by nature, that it is his inevitable destiny
for ever to carry on through these means his own education, for ever
to advance in the career of improvement. Thus Christianity was a
consequence of this progressive civilization; as were at an earlier
period the Mosaic law, and at a later the Reformation, and its second
act the French Revolution. Its latest results are the universal liberty
of thought and of printing which have sprung from the latter event,
and all that is now preparing by their more tranquil but so mucb
the more certain operation. In every case we find only the results
of the same gradual civilization. No man can know the highest
point which this civilization will reach; but be that point what it
may, it must always retain its human character, and be furthered by
human means. November 2nd.
My last and longest visit this morning was to the sweet girls I
met, at Lady M — — 's. I took them some Italian music, which they
sang like nightingales, and with a total absence of all pretension and
all affectation. Their father is a distinguished physician; and like
most of the 'doctors' of eminence here, a 'Baronet' or 'Knight,'
a title which is not esteemed a mark of nobility it! England, although
some familes of great antiquity and consideration bear it. There
are, however, Creti and Pleti, as among our lower nobility. A
Baronet is generally called not by his family, but by his Christian,
name; as Sir Charles, Sir Anthony; as in Vienna they say, Graf

494 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Tinterle, Kiirst Muckerle, and so on. The medical Knight of whom
I now speak, received his title in consequence of the establishment
of excellent baths, and is a very interesting man. His wife seemed to
me still more remarkable for talent. She is very superior to her
celebrated relative in accurate tact and judgment, and possesses an
extraordinary power of mimicry, whose comic bent does not always
spare her own family. The daughters, though perfectly different,
are both very original; the one in the gentle, the other in the wild
'genre.' I always call her Lady M — : — 's 'wild Irish girl.' All
three have a characteristic nationality,* and indeed have never quit
ted Ireland.
In the evening Lady M  told me that the translations of her
works, which were often so bad as to destroy the sense, were a
source of great vexation to her. In her Letters on Italy for instance,
where she says of the Genoese " They bought the scorn of all Eu
rope," the translator read for scorn, com, and wrote, ' Genes dans
ce temps achetait tout le ble del'Europe.' November 3rd.
I rose early, and went to the window, when a genuine Irish scene
presented itself to my eyes; such a one as no other country can show.
Opposite to me in the street sat an old woman selling apples, and
smoking her pipe with great satisfaction. Nearer to the house a man
in a ragged dress was performing all sorts of antics, assisted by his
monkey. A regular ring of people, four or five deep, surrounded
him, and at every fresh trick there was a loud shout, accompanied
by such 'demonstrations,' cries and gesticulations, that you would
have thought they were quarrelling, and would soon get to blows.
The recommencement of the acting, however, immediately caused a
deathlike stillness. But now the most lively person of the audience
could not be satisfied to remain a mere spectator; she must take a
part in the. action; and with uncontrollable gaiety sprang into the
magic circle, seized the terrified monkey, and outdid him in antics,
leaps, and grimaces of every kind, which were rewarded by the
redoubled shouts and laughter of the multitude. The rage for acting
grew infectious; many joined the first actress; the order which had
hitherto prevailed became more and more lost in wild confusion:
the original performer, anxious for the safety of his ally the monkey,
or fearful lest he should be corrupted by bad example, broke hastily
off. His retreat soon assumed the air of a hurried flight; the whole
crowd rushed, screaming and shouting, after him, every one tried to
be close at his heels, some jeered at, him, and several shilelahs, which
pleasure had till now kept sheathed, came to view. Others took the
part of the fleeing artist, who meanwhile disappeared; and before
they knew what they were about, the pursuit ended in a universal
battle among the pursuers.
* This is seldom to be met with in fashionable society, from the tyrannical de
mands of English education, which have a very wide influence in the three king
doms. You observe, therefore, that I often confound English and Irish under one
common name; I ought more properly to call them British.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 495
A bachelor's dinner at Lord S  's, at which I was present,
closed my day nearly as tumultuously, though not quite so violently,
and kept me awake till midnight. ' Voila tout ce que j'ai a vous
confer d'aujourdhui.' November 6th.
I spend a great deal of my time with the little nightingales, see
Lady M  frequentl y, and avoid general society as much as I can.
The young ladies keep a burlesque journal, in which they write a
chronicle of their daily 'fata,' illustrated with the most extravagant
drawings, which is infinitely diverting. After that we sing, talk,
or act pictures, in which the mother, with her talent for the drama,
contrives admirable dresses out of the most heterogeneous materials.
You would have laughed if you had seen the ' wild Irish girl,' with
moustaches and whiskers marked with charcoal, pocket-handkerchief
and stick in her hand, come in as my caricature. These girls have
an inexhaustible fund of grace and vivacity, extremely un-English,
but truly Irish.
The eldest, who is eighteen, has brown eyes, and hair of a most
singular kind and expression: the latter has a sort of deep golden
hue without being red, and in the former is a tranquil humid glow,
over which comes at times a perfectly red light like that of fire; but
yet it always remains only an intense glow, not a lightning-flash like
that which often glances from the eyes of the little wild girl. With
her, all is flame ; and under her maidenly blushes there often breaks
out the determination and high spirit of a boy. Indiscreet, and car
ried away by the impulse of the moment, she sometimes gives way
to too great vivacity, which however, from her sweet simplicity and
inimitable grace, does but enhance the charm which distinguishes
her. To-day when my carriage was announced, I exclaimed with
a sigh, "Ah, que cette voiture vient mal a propos!" "Eh bien,"
cried she, with the perfect air of a little hussar, (she was still in male
costume,) "envoyez la au diable." A very severe and reproving
look from ber mamma, and one of terror from her gentle sister,
covered all of her little face, that was not concealed by her disguise,
over and over with scarlet: she cast down her eyes ashamed, and
looked indescribably pretty. Nov. 11th.
Lady M  received me to-day in her authoress-boudoir, where
I found her writing, not without some view to effect, elegantly
dressed, and with a mother-of-pearl and gold pen in her hand. She
was employed on a new book, for whicb she had invented a very
good title, " Memoirs of Myself and for Myself." She asked me
whether she should put ' of myself or ' for myself first. I decided
for the former as the more natural order; for I observed she must
write, before she can have written. Upon this we fell into a spor
tive contest, in which she reproached me with my German pedantry,
and maintained that hitherto ' bonnet blanc' and ' blanc bonnet' had
been the same; the justice of which I was obliged to admit. The
motto she had chosen was from Montaigne, ' Je n'enseigne pas, je

496 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
raconte.' She read me some passages, which I thought very good.
This woman, who appears so superficial, is quite another being when
she takes the pen in her hand.
She told me that she intended to go next winter to Paris, and
wished to go on into Germany, but that she had a great dread of the
Austrian police. I advised her to go to Berlin. " Shall not I be
persecuted there?" said she. "God forbid!" rejoined I: "in Ber
lin talent is worshipped: only I advise you to take at least one of
your pretty young friends, who is fond of dancing and dances well,
so that you may be invited to the balls at court, and may thus have
an opportunity of becoming acquainted with our amiable and accom
plished young military men: they are well worth knowing, and you
may not find any other way of being introduced to them." At this
moment her husband entered, and begged me to get his philosophical
work translated into German, that he might not figure there only as
aide-de-camp to his wife, but fly with his own wings. I promised
all he wished; but observed that a new prayer-book would have a
better chance of success at the present day than a new system of
philosophy, of which we had enough already.
In the evening I took a box in the Equestrian theatre for the
young ladies, who go out very little. Their ' naif delight at the
varied skill of the riders was most charming to witness. The little
one never turned her eyes for a moment from Ducrow's terrific feats ;
she trembled all over with anxiety and eagerness, and kept her
hands fast clenched the whole time.
There was a child of wonderful beauty in the company, just seven
years old, who danced on horseback, performed a variety of parts
with uncommon grace, and especially that of Napoleon, in which
the tiny girl mimicked the abrupt manners of the Emperor most
divertingly, and was rewarded by thunders of applause. My young
friends wished to have a nearer view of her, and I accordingly went
behind the scenes, where she was just undressed, and stood naked
as a little Cupid before the looking-glass. Her part was finished for
the night; and as soon as she was dressed again I took her in my
arms, and brought ' l'enfant prodige,' as she was called in the bills,
in triumph to the box. After the first caresses were over, the little
creature was the most attentive spectator of the performance among
us, though one might have thought she had enough of it every day.
Only a paper of sweetmeats which I gave her had power to distract
her attention for a few minutes. She sat for some time on the lap
of the elder Miss  , who put her down rather suddenly, and ac
cidentally scratched the child's arm against a pin in her dress, so as
to draw blood. We were all afraid she would cry; but the minia
ture Napoleon was only angry, beat the offender as hard as she
could, and cried out indignantly, " Fy, for shame, you stung me
like a bee!" With that she sprung on the lap of tbe younger, laid
her little arms over the edge of the box, and fixed her eyes again
with undisturbed attention on the Siege of Saragossa. Between the
acts Lady C  , to whom I had related the laughable mistake con
cerning me in Limerick, told her I was Napoleon's son. She turned

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 497
quickly round, looked at me fixedly for awhile, and then exclaimed
with the most serious ' grandezza,' " 0, I have played your father
very often, and always gained uncommon applause by it" Thus
natural, droll, and completely free from embarrassment, the little
thing captivated us all; and we saw with regret the end of the per
formance approaching — the signal for us to part vvith her. She
would not let anj'body but me carry her down, because I had
brought her up. When we arrived behind the scenes, where every
place was filled with horses, 1 scarcely knew how we should get
through. She cried out eagerly, while she slapped my arm impa
tiently with her little velvet hand, " Come, are you afraid? only do
you go on, I'll keep the horses in order;" and so saying she dis
tributed, to the right and left, blows on the noses of her old ac
quaintances, who obediently made way for us to pass. " Now set
me down!" said she; and scarcely did her feet touch the ground,
when with the swiftness of a little hare she flew across the back
part of the stage, and vanished in the crowd. Children are cer
tainly the most graceful of all creatures when they are not crippled
and distorted by education: seldom, however, does so much genuine
nature appear on the stage, yet seldomer perhaps on the theatre of
the great world. Nov. 18th.
I forgot to mention to you that I have met O'Connell again here.
I heard him speak at the meetings of the Catholic Association, the
present Irish Parliament, which I visited to-day for the second time.
I was received, as a well-disposed foreigner, with applause, and
O'Connell immediately made room for me between himself and
Lord C  . The room is not very large, and as dirty as the Eng
lish House of Commons. Here too every man keeps his hat on,
except while he is speaking: here too are good and bad orators; but
certainly occasionally less dignified manners than there. The heat
was suffocating, and I had to sit out five hours; but the debate was
so interesting that I scarcely remarked the annoyances. O'Connell
was undoubtedly the best speaker. Although idolized by the great
er number, he was severely attacked by several, and defended him
self with equal address and moderation: on the other hand, he as
sailed the Government without reserve; and in my opinion in too
strong expressions. It was easy to perceive that much intrigue and
several firmly united parties, whose minds were made up before
hand, were to be found here, as in other bodies of the like kind,
and consequently that the discussion was often only a sort of sham
fight. The leaders at least had however studied their parts well.
The three most prominent speakers are O'Connell, Shiel, and Law
less. Mr. Fin and Mr. Ford also spoke well, and with great dig
nity of manner. Shiel is a man of the world, and has even more
ease in society than O'Connell: but as a speaker he appeared to me
too affected, too artificial; and ali he said, too much got up; his
manner was theatrical, and there was no real feeling in the ' deli
very' of his speech, as the English expressively call it. I am not

498 LETTERS ON GERMANY, #
surprised that, in spite of his undoubted talents, he is so much less
popular than O'Connell. Both are very vain, but the vanity of
O'Connell is more frank, more confiding, and sooner satisfied; that
of Shiel, irritable, sore, and gloomy. The one is therefore, with
reference to his own party, steeped in honey; the other in gall;
and the latter, though contending for the same cause, is evidently
jealous of his colleague, whom he vainly thinks to surpass. Mr.
L — ¦ — s is the Don Quixote of the Association. His fine head and
white hair, his wild but noble dignity, and his magnificent voice,
excite an expectation of something extraordinary when he rises:
but the speech, which commences in an earnest tone, soon falls into
the most incredible extravagancies, and sometimes into total ab
surdity, in which friend and foe are assailed with equal fury. He
is therefore little heeded; laughed at when he rages like King Lear,
unmindful of his audience, and of all that is passing around him.
The dominant party, however, use him to make a noise when they
want him. To-day he outdid himself to such a degree in the flight
he took, that he suddenly erected the standard of Deism in the midst
of the Catholic, arch-Catholic Association. Perhaps, indeed, this
was only done to give occasion to O'Connell to call him indignantly
to order, and to bring in a pious tirade; for on the orator's rostrum
as on the tub, on the throne as in the puppet-show booth, clap-traps
are necessary.
I rested myself this evening in the accustomed place. 'Tableaux'
were again the order of the day. I had to appear successively as
Brutus, an Asiatic Jew, Francis the First, and Saladin. Miss J 
was a captivating little fellow as a student of Alcala; and her eldest
sister, as a fair slave, a welcome companion to Saladin. As the
beautiful Rebecca she also- assorted not ill with the Oriental Jew. All
these metamorphoses were accomplished by the mother with the
help only of four candles, two looking-glasses, a few shawls and
coloured handkerchiefs, a burnt cork, a pot of rouge, and different
heads of hair. Yet Talma could not have dressed Brutus better, nor
altered the physiognomy more completely, than with these slight
materials Lady C  had the skill to do.
To conclude, we drew caricatures, and at my request each sister
attempted a portrait of the other. Both succeeded very well, and
are now placed in my gallery. Nov. 19 th.
To-day I found myself compelled to do something which was very
disagreeable to me, and which I had long deferred; I was obliged to
resort to my ' grand expedient,' in order to conquer my aversion.
You will laugh when I tell you what this is; but I find it a powerful
aid in great things as well as in small. The truth is, there are few
men who are not sometimes capricious, and yet oftener vacillating.
Finding that I am not better than others in this respect, I invented
a remedy of my own, a sort of artificial resolution respecting
things which are difficult of performance, — a means of securing that
firmness in myself which I might otherwise want, and which man

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 499
is generally obliged to sustain by some external prop." My device
then is this: — I give my word of honour most solemnly to myself,
to do, or to leave undone, this or that. I am of course extremely
cautious and discreet in the use of this expedient, and exercise great
deliberation before I resolve upon it; but when once it is done, even
if I afterwards think I have been precipitate or mistaken, I hold it
to be perfectly irrevocable, whatever inconveniences I foresee likely
to result. And I feel great satisfaction and tranquillity in being sub
ject to such an immutable law. If I were capable of breaking it
after such mature consideration, I should lose all respect for myself;
—and what man of sense would not prefer death to such an alterna
tive? for death is only a necessity of nature, and consequently not
an evil; — it appears to us so only in connexion with our present ex
istence; that is to say, the instinct of self-preservation recoils from
death; but reason, which is eternal, sees it in its true form, as a
mere transition from one state to another. But a conviction of one's
own unconquerable weakness is a feeling which must embitter the
whole of life. It is therefore better, if it comes to the struggle, to
give up existence for the present with a feeling of inward triumph,
than to crawl on with a chronic disease of the soul. I am not made
dependent by my promise; on the contrary, it is just that which
maintains my independence. So long as my persuasion is not firm
and complete, the mysterious formula is not pronounced; but when
once that has taken place, no alteration in my own views — nothing
short of physical impossibility — must, for the welfare of my soul,
alter my will. But whilst I thus form to myself a firm support in
the most extreme cases, do you not see that I also possess a formi
dable weapon of attack, if I were compelled to use it, however small
and inconsiderable the means may appear to many? I, on the con
trary, find something very satisfactory in the thought, that man has
the power of framing such props and such weapons out of the most
trivial materials, indeed out of nothing, merely by the force of his
will, which hereby truly deserves the name of omnipotent. I can
not answer for it that this reasoning will not appear to you, dear
Julia, distorted and blameworthy: indeed it is not made for a wo
man; while on the other hand a completely powerful mind would
perhaps as little stand in need of it. Every man must however
manage himself according to his own nature; and as no one has yet
found the art of making a reed grow like an oak", or a cabbage like
a pine-apple, so must men, as the common but wise proverb has it,
cut their coat according to their cloth. t Happy is he who does not
trust himself beyond his strength! But without being so tragical
about the matter, this grand expedient is of admirable use in trifles.
For example, to fulfil tedious, irksome duties of society with the
resignation of a calm victim, — to conquer indolence so as to get vi-
* Even religion and morality do not reach all the intricate circumstances and
cases which occur in human society : — witness that conventional honour which is
frequently at war with both, and whose laws are yet obeyed by the best and wisest
of men.
f Nach Hirer Decke strecken.

500 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
gorously through some long deferred work, — to impose upon oneself
some wholesome restraint, and thus heighten one's enjoyment af
terwards, — and many, many more such cases, which this occasional
ly sublime, but generally childish life presents.
After dinner, to drive away blue devils, I took a long ride into
the country towards the mountains. After riding about twelve miles
I came to a bare region of' interminable bog extending in all direc
tions. You would have thought yourself a hundred miles from any
capital. The character of the country was not wild, not so desert
as a plain of sand, but awfully void, lonely, and monotonous. One
single wretched cabin was visible, but in ruins, and uninhabited;
and a white footpath -winded along toilfully through the brown hea
ther, like a huge worm. The whole ground was lightly powdered
with snow, and the wind blew icy cold over the bare heights. Ne
vertheless the melancholy of the scene had such a strange attraction
for me, that necessity alone made me turn my horse's head home
wards. Nearer to Dublin I found an isolated mountain, on which
was a strange caprice; — a house built in imitation of a rock; and in
fact so like one, that it deceived me till I saw the entrance. I reach
ed my inn by moonlight, with a face burning with the keen air. I
had invited Father L'Estrange to dine with me, 'car j'aime les pre-
tres, comme Voltaire la Bible, malgre tout ce que j'en dis.'
I found too a letter from you; but I must complain that you do
not write to me sufficiently in detail. Do consider that every trifle
from home is precious. Whether my favourite horse is well; whe
ther my sweet little friend the parroquet sometimes calls on my
name; whether your domestic tyrant Fancy is more or less naughty;
whether the parrots are .' in good spirits,' the new plantations thriv
ing, the visitors to the baths gay; — all these particulars have an ex
traordinary interest at a distance of some hundreds of miles. But
I see clearly that if I have a mind to know all these things I must
take you by surprise, if it be but for one day. You know that I
hate all scenes and solemnities, all tumultuous meetings, and all
leave-takings; ' un beau matin' therefore you will find me comforta
bly established in your breakfast-room, where I shall receive you
with a smile, as if my long journey had been but a dream; ' et toute
la vie, helas! est elle autre chose?' Seriously, we ought to learn to
take all these things much more coolly and easily than we fancy pos
sible. — An English dandy may serve you as an admirable model.
His best friend and comrade was going to India; and in his emotion
at taking leave of him, was going to grasp both his hands, and to
shake them perhaps for the last time: the « Incroyable,' half ward
ing him off, held out the tip of his little finger to him, while he
lisped smiling, " Strange and horridly fatiguing English custom,
for two men to move each other's arms up and down like the handle
of a pump!"
Your portrait did not give me so much pleasure as it ought. The
features are much too hard, and must be ' softened' before it .can pass
as a representative of the original, — whose image, however, is too
vividly pressed on my heart to want any refreshing.
Your ever faithful L  .

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 501
LETTER XLII.
Dublin, November 20th, 1828.
Beloved Friend,
I frequently meet a man here, B — H — , whose company is
highly interesting to me. Although a clergyman, he is one of the
few independent thinkers who are able to throw off the tyranny of
early impressions and old habits, and to see by the light of reason,
in other words, of divine revelation, alone. In his opinion, too, a
crisis in religious affairs is at hand. " Ecclesiastical establishments,"
said he to-day, " are manifestly the monstrous offspring of the su
blime and the ridiculous, of eternal truth and dark ignorance, of genu
ine philosophy and gross idolatry. The more men learn, the more sci
ence enables us to understand external nature and the nature of our own
being by well-established facts, the milder, the more moral will our
manners as well as our governments become. More slowly, religions
will follow. Even the Christian religion, though in its origin one of
the mightiest efforts towards the amelioration of mankind, ever
prompted by the deepest meditation, and the purest heart has, as the
history of our church shows in almost every page since its establish
ment, deluged the world a hundred times with blood, and given birth
to a succession of the most frantic absurdities; while philosophy and
science have continually acted as humanizers, without everdemanding
such victims, or committing such outrages. The question is, whether
Newton, in discovering the secrets of Heaven, — whether the invent
ors of the compass or the printing-press, — have not done more for
mankind, i. e. more to further the progress of civilization, than any
of the numerous founders of sects and religions, who require that
men should swear exclusive allegiance to them. There may, indeed,
come a time in which religion and poetry will be regarded as sisters,
— in which a religion of state will appear as ludicrous as a poetry of
state. Were I a Turk, I should say to myself, It is certainly diffi
cult to get so entirety free of all the prejudices and superstitions of
childhood, as to regard the persuasion of millions, with a firm un
shaken eye, a's folly: but having once convinced myself that it is so,
I will not remain a Turk. As Christian, I say, I will adhere to the
pure doctrine which my reason can revere; but I will have the cou
rage to reject the mass of unpoetical fables, and all the misrepresenta
tions and disfigurements of the time of its birth, and still more the
bloody and ferocious heathenism incorporated with it by succeeding
ages, even though two hundred millions of men should sincerely re
ceive them as divine, on the authority of men erring as themselves.
This was the principle on which Luther acted, when he took the
first steps towards Reform; but the light which he purified stands
greatly in need of a fresh cleansing. Honour and reverence be to
the churchman vvho shall be great and pure-minded enough to feel
himself called to this god-like work! who shall endeavour to execute
it without compromise or fear of men, though the multitude of hy-

502 LETTERS ON GERMAN V,
pocrites and pharisees will cry out against him ; for history clearly
shows that he has nothing else to expect.
" Has it not ever been the few vvho have seen and acknowledged
the better and the true? Has it not ever been the many who have
proscribed and persecuted them? Was truth on the side of the fanati
cal herd who gave the poison-cup to Socrates? or of that which cru
cified Jesus? or of that vvhich burnt Huss? No; it was not till cen
turies afterwards that the multitude embraced the persecuted faith,
and hardened themselves into the same stubborn and furious ortho
doxy for it, which they had displayed against it. The want of a re
ligion is unquestionably one of the most imperious cravings of our
nature, especially where laws and institutions are yet in their infan
cy. He who cannot frame one for himself, must receive the form
of it from others: — such will always be the many. This easily ex
plains the grounds upon which the power of the church and the
priesthood must ever rest, and why men are thus kept in leading-
strings for hundreds, nay thousands of years. But to strengthen and
perpetuate this power, knowledge must always be repressed in fa
vour of faith. Where inquiry is free, one fraud after another dis
appears, though slowly; — light bursts at length even upon the dark
est corner. When this point is once reached, the fetters laid upon
conscience are broken, and every individual demands a boundless
field for the exercise of his faith and of his judgment. Absolute
sultans, fat dervises, and haughty satraps, must then fall together,
like the dead lees in generous wine. How miserable a figure do
those make, who, at the dawn of such a day, think they can stop
the rising of the sun by turning their backs upon it, or by holding
their antiquated, decayed, and worm-eaten screen, which is no lon
ger in a state to exclude even a moonbeam, before their eyes! They
may for awhile succeed in keeping themselves in the shade, but
they cannot shroud the bright forehead of the day. On the con
trary, their struggles, as impotent as they are passionate, are the
surest harbingers of its inevitable approach."
I agree, for the most part, with B  H  ; but whether his
sanguine hopes will so soon, or indeed ever on this earth, be real
ized, is another question. That the world can no longer be govern
ed on Jesuitical principles, and that the liberty of the press, if firm
ly maintained, works, and will work, incalculable wonders, I am
well convinced: — but men will still be men, and force and fraud
will, I fear, ever predominate over reason.
In the forenoon I visited the courts of justice with Father L'Es-
trange, to hear the military-looking O'Connell plead, in his powder
ed long-tailed wig, black gown, and bands. We afterwards went to
the meeting of the Association, to see the great Agitator in a totally
different character. The meeting was very stormy. Mr. L  s
spoke like a madman, and attacked O'Connell himself so violently
that he almost lost his wonted dignity. He made an admirable re
ply; though he strained too much after wit, which was not always
in the best taste. After this, a dozen spoke at once. . The secretary

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 503
called to order, but had not authority enough to enforce obedience.
In short, the scene began to be rather indecorous, till at last a hand
some young man with enormous whiskers and an ' outre' dress (the
dandy of the Association) sprang on the table, and uttered a thun
dering speech which obtained great applause, and thus restored
peace. I dined at Lady M  's. She had invited me by a note, such as
I have received a dozen of during my stay here: — I must mention
them as characteristic, for I never in my life saw worse calligraphy
or a more negligent style from a lady's pen. The aim of the great
authoress was manifest; — to announce the most perfect 'insouciance,'
the most entire ' abandon,' in the affairs of ordinary life; just as the
great solo dancers in Paris affect to walk with their toes turned in,
that they may not betray the dancer by profession. At table Lady
M  , with her aide-de-camp K. Cl  , 'faisoient les frais
d'esprit oblige.' Mr. Shiel, too, appeared in the character of an
agreeable man of the world. The most amusing part of the entertain
ment, however, was the acting of proverbs by Lady M  ¦ and her
sister, who both extemporized admirably in French. Among others,
they performed 'Love me, love my dog,' as follows:
Dramatis personam: — Lady M  , an old coquette ; Lady C  ,
an Irish ' fortune-hunter;' her eldest daughter, the French femme-
de-chambre ; the youngest, a captain of the Guards, a lover of the
lady. Scene the first: — Lady M  with her maid at her toilet.
Confidential advice of Josephine, in the course of which she betrays
various laughable secrets of the toilet. Distress of the coquette at
the first appearance of wrinkles. Assurances of the Abigail that, by
candle-light, nobody can be handsomer. As a proof of this, the
various lovers are adduced, and love-affairs of former times recapitu
lated. "La comtesse convient de ses conquetes," and with much
humour draws a picture of her triumphs. "Chut!" cries the wait
ing-maid, "j'entends le capitaine." This personage, an exclusive,
enters with great 'fracas,' carrying a little dog under his arm, and
after some tender compliments tells her that he is obliged to rejoin
his regiment, and wishes to leave her his little Fidele, that the fair
countess may never forget to remain ' fidele' to him. Burlesque
protestations, sobs; embraces, farewells. Scarcely is the captain
gone, when the Irishman appears with a marriage-contract in his
hand, by which the countess is to assign over her whole fortune to
him. Like a man well versed in womankind, he treats her some
what cavalierly, though vvith a display of passion, so that after a fee
ble defence and a little scene, she consents-. Meanwhile the Irish
man observes the little dog, and asks with some surprise whose it is.
She stammers out a sort of apologetic answer. O'Connor MacFar-
lane now plays the part of the infuriate jealous lover. The women
vainly attempt to appease him; he storms, and insists on the instant
dismissal of the intruder. The countess makes an attempt to faint,
— but all is in vain; even Josephine, who during the discussion of
the marriage-contract has just received a purse behind her mistress'
back, takes the part of the incensed Iristiman, who with one hand

504 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
holds back his lady, and with the other at length throws the unfor
tunate little dog out at the door. But, alas! at this very moment
the captain returns to bring the collar vvhich he had forgotten, and
Fidele jumps into his arms. The terrified women take to flight; the
men measure each other with their eyes. O'Connor MacFarlane
utters dreadful menaces; but the captain draws his sword, and his
antagonist jumps out at the window. — The skeleton is meagre; but
the spirit, humour, and wit, by which it was filled out, rendered it
extremely entertaining. The imperfections of the costume made it
only more piquant. The ladies, for instance, had put on a coat and
waiscoat over their own dresses, and stuck a hat on their heads;
their swords were riding-whips, and Fidele a muff.
Lady M  afterwards related to me many interesting circum
stances respecting the celebrated Miss O'Neil, whom, as you know,
I regard as the greatest dramatic artist it has ever fallen to my lot to
admire. She said that this extraordinary young woman, who
from the very commencement of her career had given evidence of
the highest genius, remained utterly neglected at the theatre in Dub
lin, where she performed for some years. She was at that time so
poor, that when she returned home at night after the greatest exer
tions, she found no other refreshment than a plate of potatoes and a
miserable bed which she shared with three sisters. Lady M 
once visited her, and found the poor girl mending her two pair of
old stockings, which she was obliged to wash daily for her appear
ance on the stage. Lady M  now procured for her various arti
cles of dress, and took upon herself in some degree the care of her
toilet, which had been extremely neglected. She obtained more
applause after this, though still but little. At this time one of the
managers of the London theatres accidentally came to Dublin, saw her,
and had the good taste and judgment immediately to engage her for
the metropolis. Here she at once produced the most extraordinary
sensation; and from a poor unknown young actress, rose in one mo
ment to be the first star of the theatrical firmament of England. I
still remember her acting with rapture: I have never since been able
to endure the part of Juliet, played even by our best actresses: all
appear to me stiff, affected, unnatural. One must have seen the whole
thread of the life of the Shakspearian Juliet thus spun before one's
eyes to conceive the effect. At first, it was only the sportive youth
ful joyousness of the caressing child: then, when awakened by love,
a new sun appeared to rise upon her; all her attitudes and move
ments assumed a more soft, voluptuous air; her countenance, her
whole person became radiant, — she was the southern maiden devot
ing her whole soul and life to her beloved with all the fire of her
clime. Thus did she burst into the loveliest and richest blossom; —
but care and sorrow soon ripened the noble fruit before our eyes.
The most imposing dignity, the deepest conjugal tenderness, the
firmest resolve in extremity, now took the place of glowing passion,
of the quick sense which seemed framed but to enjoy: — and how
was her despair depicted at the last, when all was lost! How fearful,
how heart-rending, how true, and yet how ever beautiful, did she

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 505
know how to rise even to the very last moment! Certain of her
aim, she sometimes ventured to the very utmost verge of her art, and
did what no other could have attempted without falling into the ridi
culous: but in her, it was just these efforts which operated as electric
shocks. Her madness and death in Belvidera, for instance, had
such a terrific physical truth, that the sight of it was hardly endura
ble; and yet it was only the agony of the soul, showing through
every fibre of her body, which had an effect so powerful, so almost
annihilating, on the spectator. I remember well that on the evening
in which I saw that, I remained wholly insensible to any physical
impression; and even the next morning, when I awoke, wept bit
terly over Belvidera's fate. I was certainly very young then, but
my feelings were those of many; and it was a striking fact, that
Germans, Frenchmen, and Italians, were equally enthusiastic ad
mirers of her; though, generally speaking, one must have a tho
rough knowledge of the language and character of the nation, to feel
perfectly satisfied with its actors. She, however, had no trace of
mannerism; it was only human nature in its truest and noblest form,
which spoke to every human heart. She could not be properly
called beautiful; yet she had a stately person, noble shoulders and
arms, and beautiful hair. But her peculiar charm was that indefina
ble pathetic expression which at the first glance moved the inmost
feelings of the heart. In such features, you think you discover the
trace of every passion, though an unearthly calm is spread over them
like ice over a volcano.
The inhabitants of Dublin had long remained blind to so much
genius and talent; but the year after, when the celebrated, admired,
adored Miss O'Neil returned from London to act a few of her most
popular parts, the infectious enchantment was so powerful, that not
only the whole public was in the greatest state of tumult and agita
tion, but many ladies were carried out from the theatre fainting.
One became really insane from witnessing Belvidera's madness, and
actually died in a mad-house. Really such facts as these render the
enthusiasm of the many almost disgusting.
This great actress was also distinguished for her remarkably amia
ble character: she entirely supported her family, even at the time of
her greatest poverty. She made her first appearance at a little pri
vate theatre in the country: this was afterwards shut, and only oc
casionally used bjr a dilettanti company, when the profits of their
performance were given to the poor of the county. They wrote to
Miss O'Neil, who was then in England, and begged her to conse
crate this place, vvhich had witnessed her first efforts, by the last
triumph of her genius, now the admiration of the three kingdoms;
whatever terfi»s she might propose would be agreed to. She replied,
that she felt herself extremely flattered and honoured by the request;
but that so far from accepting any pecuniary compensation, she
would gladly seize the opportunity of offering this tribute to the
cradle of her humble talents. Only on this condition, and that of
being allowed to contribute her mite to her poor countrymen, would
she appear on the day appointed. — I was assured by eye-witnesses
64

506 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
that they had never seen a more perfect piece of acting than her's on
this occasion. Never had Miss O'Neil been better supported, —
never did she so surpass herself. It was a curious accident that a
young Irish gentleman of fortune fell in love with her that very day,
and shortly after married her. He robbed the public of an inesti
mable treasure; but who can blame him? Miss O'Neil has now
several children, is still charming, and lives happily on her husband's
property. She has never trodden a stage, either public or private,
since her marriage.
[The conclusion of this letter, which, as it appears from the be
ginning of the following one, contains a description of some public
entertainments and occurrences, is missing.]

LETTER XLIII.
Dublin, December llh, 1828.
Dear Julia,
The descriptions of public dinners and the * *
are now at an end, and I must conduct you to a breakfast at the
Post-office. The Director, Sir Edward Lee, a very agreeable and
accomplished man, who gave the entertainment, first conducted us,
in company with a number of elegant ladies, through the various
offices 'pour nous faire gagner de l'appetit.' In one of them, called
the ' Dead Letter Office,' a very strange incident occurred in our
presence. All letters, the address of which is unintelligible, or
which are addressed to persons who cannot be discovered, are taken
into this office, where they are opened at the end of a fortnight, and,
if they contain nothing important, burnt. This seems to me rather
a barbarous custom, since many a heart might be broken from the
loss of what a Post-office clerk might think ' of no importance.' So
it is, however, and we found three men busied in the operation.
Several of us seized these doomed epistles, and turned them over
with great curiosity, when the clerk who stood nearest to me took
up rather a large packet on which there was no address whatever,
only the post-mark of an Irish country town. How great was his
surprise and that of all of us, when on opening it we saw not a sin
gle line of writing, but £2700 in bank-notes! This, at least, ap
peared 'of importance' to all, and an order was immediately given
to write to the town in question to make inquiry about it.
In the evening I went to pay the 'nightingales' a visit, but found
them flown, and only their father at home, with whom I had a sci
entific conversation. He showed me several curious newly invented
instruments; — one among them for ascertaining the exact strength
of the lungs, and therefore invaluable in consumptive diseases. He
told me that a person high in office was given over last year by all
the most eminent physicians in Dublin, as far gone in pulmonary
consumption. Believing his danger to be imminent, he had made

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 507
up his mind to give up his place, and to go to Montpellicr, as the
only means of prolonging his life. Sir A  was at last consulted,
and resolved to try this instrument, which he had just received from
London. Scarcely could he believe his eyes when he found on ex
periment that the lungs of the patient were two degrees stronger
than his own, — he being in perfect health. The disease was now
discovered to be in the liver, though it had exhibited every symptom
of consumption; and in four months the patient was entirely cured,
and kept his lucrative place which he had determined to give up.
I shall not describe to you the various instruments of torture which
I saw; 'tant pis pour l'humanite, qu'il en faut tant. ' A prettier
thing was a barometer, in the figure of a lady, who at the approach
of bad weather holds up her umbrella, in a hard rain opens it, and
in settled fine weather uses it as a walking-stick. To use a lady as
a continually changing prophet of weather! 'Quelle insolence!'
December 8th.
Sir A  , who has a place in the Bank, showed that building to
me this morning. The edifice is fine, and formerly served as a place
of meeting for both houses of the Irish Parliament, whose restora
tion is now so ardently desired. The thing most worth seeing is the
printing of bank-notes. The whole machinery is moved by a mag
nificent steam-engine, while a smaller one fills the boiler with water
and the furnace with coals, so that human assistance is scarcely
wanted. In the first room the printing ink is prepared; in the next
the bank-notes receive their various marks and ornaments. This
process is very rapidly performed. Only one man is employed at
each press; and while he places the blank papers, one after another,
under the stamp, the number of printed notes marks itself in the
inside of a closed box. In the next room they are numbered. This
is done on a small chest; and the machinery numbers them, as if by
invisible hands, from one to a thousand. The man employed there
has nothing to do but to blacken the numbers as they come out with
printer's ink, and to lay the notes in their proper order. All the
rest is accomplished by the machine.
Every note which returns to the Bank after circulation is imme
diately torn, and kept seven years, at the expiration of which time
it is burnt. This last operation leaves a residuum of indigo, copper,
and the materials of the paper, which looks like metal, and glitters
with all the colours of the rainbow. Of course many hundred notes
go to make up an ounce of this substance, of which I carried away
a beautiful piece.
We afterwards ascended the roof of this great building, a sort of
world in miniature, whence, like the ' Diable Boiteux,' we could see
into the surrounding houses; but at length so confused ourselves,
that we thought we should need Ariadne's clue to enable us to find
our way down again. I arrived too late, in consequence, at dinner
at Sir E  L  's ; a thing which is not not taken so ill in Eng
land as with us.

508 LETTERS ON GERMANY,

Dec. 9th.

Lord Howth' invited me to a stag-hunt, whence I am just returned,
equally tired and pleased. My lessons in Cashel were now of great
use to me, for Lord Howth is one of the best and most determined
riders in Great Britain. He had given me a very good horse, in
spite of which I fell twice: this also happened once to Lord Howth
himself, and I followed him so well that I think I brought no dis
credit on our cavalry. At length more than two-thirds of our fifty
red-coats were missing. I was particularly struck with an officer
who had lost an arm, and nevertheless was one of the first: his ad
mirable horse had not refused or missed a single leap.
This sort of hunt is a very agreeable diversion now and then ; but
how a man can devote himself to so utterly unintellectual an amuse
ment three times a week, for six months of every year, and always
pursue it with the same passion, does, I own, remain unintelligible
to me. What, besides, makes stag-hunting much less interesting
in England than on the continent, is, that the stags are tame, and
are trained to the sport like race-horses. They are brought to the
place of rendezvous in a kind of box, and there turned out. When
they have run a certain distance, the hunt begins, and before it
ends the hounds are called off, and the stag is put into the box again
and kept for another hunt. Is not this horribly prosaic, and scarce
ly compensated by the ' agrement' of being in continual risk of
breaking one's neck over -a. wide ditch, or one's head against a high
wall? December 10th.
For some weeks past I have been a frequent visitor at the Gym
nastic Academy. These exercises are become very fashionable in
Great Britain and Ireland. Certainly they are of inestimable value
in the training of youth ; they are a highly improved Turncn,1
but without politics. When one considers what facilities are now at
hand for the physical as well as moral education of man ; how those
whom nature has misshapen are placed within cases of iron till they
are transformed into Apollos ; how noses and ears are created; and
how academies are daily advertised in the newspapers, in which the
most profound erudition is engaged to be communicated in three
y^ears,! — one really longs to be a child again, that one might come
in for a share of all these advantages. It appears as if the law of
gravitation operated in the moral as well as in the physical world,
and that ' the march of intellect' went on in an increasing ratio like
the rapidity of a falling cannon-ball. A few more political revolu
tions in Europe, the perfecting of steam-power for soul and body,
and God knows what we may get to, even without the discovery of
* The German name for the system of gymnastics introduced by the celebrated
Dr. Jahn, and mixed up, by the young men who cultivated them, with the political
opinions designated by the governments as ' Demagogic.' — Thansl.
f The Prussian Landwehr system also forms perfect soldiers, horse or foot, in
two years  Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 509
the art of steering air-balloons. But to return to the Gymnasium,
the utility of which, at least, is undoubted. It strengthens the frame
to such a degree, and imparts such agility to the limbs, that a man
really doubles or trebles his existence by it. It is literally the fact,
that I saw a young man, the arch of whose breast, after an uninter
rupted practice of three months, had increased seven inches; the
muscles of his arms and thighs had at the same time enlarged to
three times their volume, and were as hard as iron. But even much
older people, — men of sixty, — though they cannot expect to effect
such changes, may strengthen themselves very considerably by
moderate exercise in the gymnasium. I constantly found men of
this age, who played their part very well among the young ones who
had but recently begun. Some perseverance is however necessary;
for the older a man is, the more painful and fatiguing is the begin
ning. Many feel themselves for months as if they had been on the
rack, or were set' fast with universal rheumatism. A Frenchman
was at the head of the establishment, although his predecessor had
sacrificed himself, two years before, to the glory of his art: his name
was Beaujeu. He was endeavouring to show two ladies (for there
are also feminine gymnastics) how easy exercise No. 7. was. The
pole broke, and so did, in consequence of his fall, his spine. He
died in a few hours; and, with an elevation and enthusiasm worthy
of a greater cause, exclaimed with his last breath, " Voila le coup
de grace pour la gymnastique en Irlande." His prediction, how
ever, was not fulfilled, for both gentlemen and ladies are more gym-
nastically-minded than ever. December 14th.
As 1 have been unwell for several days and unable to go out, I
haVe no interesting news to give you. You must therefore receive
with indulgence a few detached thoughts, the offspring of solitude;
or if they tire you, leave them unread.
PARLOUR PHILOSOPHY.
What is good or evil fortune? As the former has seldom fallen to
my lot, I have often proposed the question to myself. Blind and
accidental, it certainly is not; but necessary, and part of a series,
like everything else in the universe, though its causes do not always
depend on ourselves. How far, however, we really have it in our
power to bring it on ourselves, is a salutary inquiry for every one.
Lucky and unlucky occasions present themselves to every man in
the course of his life; and the art of seizing the one and averting
the other with address, is commonly what procures for a man the
reputation of fortunate. It cannot however be denied that, in the
case of some men, the most powerful: and the wisest combinations
continually fail, by what we call accident; nay, that there is a sort
of secret foreboding or presentiment, which gives us the dim feel
ing that our project will not succeed. 1 have often been tempted to
think that luckiness and unluckiness are a sort of subjective proper-

510 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ties which we bring with us into the world, like health, strength, a
finely organized brain, and so on; and whose preponderating power
must always attract things magnetically to themselves. Like all
other properties, this of luckiness may be cultivated or let to lie
dormant, may be increased or diminished. The will does much ;
and thence the proverbs, Nothing venture nothing have (Wugen
gewinnt): Boldness and luck go together (Kuhnheit geh'ort zum
Gluck). It is also observable that luckiness, like the other faculties,
falls off with age, that is, with the vigour of the material. This is
certainly not the consequence of weaker or more ill-advised plans
or rules, but appears truly to be the decline of a secret power
which, so long as it is young and vigorous, governs fortune, but in
later years is no longer able to hold her in. High play affords very
good studies on this subject; and perhaps this is the only poetical
side of that dangerous passion: for nothing affords so true a picture
of life as the hazard-table; nothing affords a better criterion to the
observer, by which to try his own character, and that of others.
All rules which avail in the struggle of life, avail also in this; and
penetration combined with energy is always sure, if not to conquer,
at least to make a very able defence. But if it is combined with
the talent or gift of luckiness, a sort of Napoleon of the gaming
table is the result. I am not now speaking of that class of gentle
men ' qui corrigent la fortune.' But even here the resemblance is
still true: for how often in the world do you meet men who govern
fortune by fraud? — the most unfortunate, be it said by the by, of all
speculators. Their occupation is truly drawing water in a sieve; the
collecting of rotten nuts. For what is enjoyment without security?
and what can outward fortune avail where the internal equilibrium
is destroyed?
There are men who, although endowed with distinguished quali
ties, never know how to make them available in the world, unless
they have been from the beginning of their career placed by fate in
their right position. They can never reach it by their own efforts;
because a too feminine fancy, liable to the constant impression of
extraneous forms, prevents them from seeing things as they really
are, and causes them to live in a world of airy floating phantasms.
They set about their projects with ardour and talent; but their fancy
hurries after, mounted on her poetical steed, and conducts them so
rapidly through her kingdom of dreams, to their end, that they can
no longer endure the slow and weary journey through the difficulties
and obstacles of the real road. Thus they suffer one project after
another to fall to the ground before it has attained to maturity. And
yet, like everything else in the world, this unfortunate turn of mind
has its advantages. It prevents a man, indeed, from making his
fortune, as it is commonly called, but affords incalculable comfort
under misfortune, and an elasticity of spirit that nothing can entirely
crush, — for the race of pleasure-giving creatures of the imagination
is absolutely inexhaustible. A whole city of castles in the air is al
ways at the command of mortals of this class, and they enjoy, in
hope, an everlasting variety of realities. Such people may be of

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND, 511
infinite use to other more sedate, reflecting, and matter-of-fact men,
if these latter do but understand the art of awakening their enthu
siasm. Their intellectual faculties derive from a positive steady
purpose, and from the constraint which it imposes, a degree of con
stancy and persevering energy which their own interest could never
have inspired; and their ardour is more durable for the good of others
than for their own. From similar causes, if they are placed by
some superior power on the summit of the hill from the commence
ment of their lives, they will accomplish great things by themselves;
for in this case the most grand and varied materials are already fur
nished; and along with them, the enthusiasm which persons of this
character want, is produced, and fixed on some adequate and deter
minate object. There is nothing entirely new, uncertain, and base
less to create or to found; — -only to employ, to improve, to elevate,
to adorn, what already lies under their eye and hand, with the
acuteness and address of a skilful artist. From such an eminence,
which is their proper station, their keen, far-sighted glance, support
ed by a thousand executive heads and hands, strengthened by their
own inward poetic eye, will reach further than that of more every
day natures. But at the foot or on the slope of the hill this acute
ness of the mental sight is of no use to them, because their horizon
is bounded; and for climbing the toilsome ascent, their indolent
limbs will not serve them, nor could they resist the airy phantoms
which would tempt them from their path. They live and die, there
fore, on the hill, without ever reaching its summit, and consequent
ly without ever being fully conscious of their own power. Of such
men, the well-known saying might be reversed, and we might
say with truth, ' Tel brille zu premier rang qui s'eclipse au second.'
However beautiful and noble the words Morality and Virtue may
sound, the universal distinct recognition of them as the useful is the
only thing that will be truly salutary and beneficial to human so
ciety. He who clearly sees that the sinner is like the savage who
hews down the whole tree in order to come at the fruit, often sour,
or tasteless, or unwholesome; while the virtuous man is like the
prudent gardener who, waiting their maturity, gathers all the sweet
produce, with the joyful consciousness that he has. destroyed no fu
ture crop; — this man's virtue will probably stand on the most secure
basis. The more enlightened men in general are, as to what is good
or profitable for them, the better and more humane will their man
ners and conduct towards each other become. Action and reaction
will then proceed in a beneficent circle; — enlightened individuals
will establish better forms of government and better institutions, and
these again will increase the intelligence of all who live under them.
If matters once reached such a point, that a truly rational and ele
vating system of education freed us from the chimeras of dark times,
dismissed all constraint on religious opinions' among other obsolete
absurdities, while it clearly demonstrated the inward and outward
necessity of Love and Virtue to the happy existence of human so
ciety; while by the establishment of wise, firm, and consistent laws
and political institutions, sprung from the conviction of this neces-

512 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
sity, it imposed sufficient restraint to ensure the permanent adher
ence to these by the salutary habits produced, — Paradise would exist
on earth.
Mere penal laws, whether for here or hereafter, without this pro
found conviction, — all worldly policy, in the sense of clever, adroit
knaves, — all prophets, all superhuman extra-revelations, heaven, hell,
and priests, — will never bring us to this:* indeed, so long as all these
hang on the spokes, the wheel of improvement will revolve but
slowly and painfully. For this reason, so many strive with all their
might against such a result; nay, even Protestants protest back
wards, and many desire to establish a new continental embargo to
shut out foreign light
' Au reste,' one cannot take it amiss of any man ' qu'il preche
pour sa paroisse.' To require from an English archbishop with
50,000/. a year that he should be an enlightened man, is as prepos
terous as to expect from the Shah of Persia that he should transform
himself into a constitutional monarch of his own free will. There
are few men. who would voluntarily refuse a rich and splendid sine
cure, where nothing is required of them but to fling a little dust in
the people's eyes, or to be a despot ruling millions with his nod. It
is the business of human society, if possible, to put things upon such
a footing that none of us, be our good-will for it ever so great, can
either get such a sinecure or become such a despot.
When I was a child, it often happened to me that I could get no
rest for thinking of the fate of Hannibal, or that I was in despair at
the battle of Pultawa; — now 1 am grieving over Columbus. We
are greatly indebted to the distinguished American, Washington
Irving, for this history. It is a beautiful tribute to the great naviga
tor, brought from the land which he gave to the civilized world, and
which appears destined to be the last station traversed by the cycle
of human perfectibility.
What a man was this sublime endurer! Too great for his age:
for forty years he was deemed by it but a madman; during the rest
of his life he was the victim of its hatred and jealousy, under which
he sank at length in want and misery. But such is the world: and
it would be enough to make us mad, did we fix our minds upon par
ticulars, and did not reflection soon teach us that for wise Nature the
individual is nothing, the species everything. We live for and
through mankind, and everything finds its compensation in the great
whole. This reflection suffices to tranquillize any reasonable man;
for every seed springs up, — if not exactly for the hand that sowed
it, yet be it evil or good, not one is lost to the human race.
What has often and bitterly vexed me, is to hear people lament
the wretchedness of this life, and call the world a vale of sorrows.
This is not only the most crying ingratitude (humanly speaking,)'
but the true sin against the Holy Ghost. Is not enjoyment and well-
* It is perhaps hardly worth remarking, that at the time in which eternal hell-
fire was the most sincerely and generally believed in, morality was at the very
lowest ebb, and the number of great crimes a thousandfold what it now is. —
Editoii.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 513
being manifestly throughout the world the positive natural state of
animated beings? Is not suffering, evil, organic imperfection or dis
tortion, the negative shadow in this general brightness? Is not cre
ation a continual festival to the healthy eye, — the contemplation of
which, and of its splendour and beauty, fills the heart with adora
tion and delight? And were it only the daily sight of the enkin
dling sun and the glittering stars, the green of the trees and the gay
and delicate beauty of flowers, the joyous song of birds, and the
luxuriant abundance and rich animal enjoyment of all living things,
— it would give us good cause to rejoice in life. But how much still
more wondrous wealth is unfolded in the treasures of our own
minds! what mines are laid open by love, art, science, the observa
tion and the history of our own race, and, in the deepest deep of
our souls, the pious reverential sentiment of God and his universal
work! Truly we were less ungrateful were we less happy; and but
too often we stand in need of suffering to make us conscious of this.
A cheerful grateful disposition is a sort of sixth sense, by which we
perceive and recognize happiness. He who is fully persuaded of its
existence may, like other unthinking children, break out into occa
sional complaints, but will sooner return to reason; for the deep and
intense feeling of the happiness of living, lies like a rose-coloured
ground in his inmost heart, and shines softly through the darkest
figures which fate can draw upon it.
Paradoxes of my friend B  H  . Yes, certainly the spi
rit rules in us and we in it; and is eternal, and the same which rules
through all worlds; but that vvhich vve call our human soul, vve frame
to ourselves here. The apparent double being in us, — of vvhich one
part follows the impulses of sense, while the other reflects upon the
nature and movements of its companion, and restrains it, — naturally
arises from the (so to say) double nature and destiny of man, who is
framed to live as an individual, and also as an integral part of society.
The gift of speech was a necessary condition of this latter form of
existence, which without it could never have arisen. A solitary
man is, and must remain, nothing better than an extremely intelli
gent brute; he has no more a soul than any other such: — the expe
riment, may be repeated any day. But as soon as the man begins to
live with other men, as soon as the interchange of observations is
rendered possible to him by speech, he begins to perceive that the
individual must submit to what is for the good of the whole — of the
society, that is, to which he belongs; that he must make some sacri
fices to its maintenance: this is the first rise of the moral principle,
the essence of the soul. The feeling of his own weakness and un
certainty next gives birth to religion ; the feeling of need of others
like himself, to love. Selfishness and humanity now enter upon that
continual antagonism which is called, I know not why, the inexpli
cable riddle of life; though with my view of the matter, nothing
appears to me more natural and consequential. The real problem
for mankind is, merely to establish the proper balance between these
two poies. The more perfectly this is attained, the better and the
happier is thenceforward the condition of the man, the family, the
65

514 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
state. Either extreme is pernicious. The individual who tries to
benefit himself alone, must succumb at length to the power of the
many. The romantic enthusiast who starves himself to feed others,
will be called by men, (who are ready enough to admire any sacri
fice made to them, though they often laugh at it too,) magnanimous,
or foolish, according to their peculiar fancy: but such conduct can
never be general, and can never become a norma or pattern for imi
tation — in other words, a duty. Martyrs who give themselves to
the flames in honour of the sacred number three, or let the nails grow
through the back of the hands to the glory of Brama, belong to this
same class, though to the lowest step of it; and receive, according to
the prevalent notions of their age, the appellation of saint or mad
man, but are at all events mere exceptions (Abnormitdten). Not
that I mean to deny that a rational abnegation and sacrifice of oneself
for the good of others is noble and beautiful: by no means. It is
unquestionably a beautiful, that is, a beneficent example of the vic
tory of the social over the selfish principle, which forms a refreshing
contrast to the far too numerous instances of those whose views
never extend beyond themselves, and who end in becoming the piti
less remorseless criminals against whom society is compelled to de
clare everlasting war. But since vve are bound to ourselves more
nearly than to society, by that law of self-preservation which is ne
cessary to our existence, egotists are more common than philanthro
pists, vicious men than virtuous. The former are the truly rude and
ignorant, the latter the civilized and instructed. (An 'avviso' by
the by to all governments who wish to rule in the dark.) But
as even the most civilized have a substratum of rudeness, just as the
most highly polished marble when broken exhibits the rough grain
beneath, philanthropy herself cannot deny that she is the offspring
of self-interest, — that she is indeed only self-interest diffused over
the whole of mankind.
Where this feeling, therefore, displays itself in a very grand and
energetic manner, though it be for the sole advantage of the indivi
dual, the possessors of it, such as are commonly called great men and
heroes, compel the admiration even of those who disapprove their
course of action. Nay, experience teaches us, that men who, with
consummate indifference to the good of others, have heaped innume
rable sufferings on their fellow men, if they have at the same time
manifested a gigantic and over-mastering power, and been favoured
by fortune, have invariably been the objects of the high admiration
even of those who suffered under them. This shows what I said
before, that necessity and fear are the germs of human society, and
continue to be the mightiest levers under all circumstances; and that
power (or strength) is always the object of the greatest reverence
and admiration. Alexander and Caesar cut a greater figure in his
tory than Horatius Codes and Regulus (admitting the latter not to be
fabulous personages.) Disinterestedness, friendship, philanthropy,
generosity, are flowers of rarer growth; they generally unfold them
selves at a later season, and with a more delicate fragrance. To the
philosophic mind the highest power manifests itself in perfect good-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 515
ness; and devoted ness to others in the end becomes the highest en
joyment to the individual himself.
Another, and, as it seems to me, a striking proof that what we
call Morality is entirely the growth of social life, is, that, as it ap
pears to me, we recognize no such principle in our conduct towards
other beings. If it were in our power, we should willingly enough
pluck a star from heaven and analyse it for the benefit of our science;
nor, if we had an angel in our power, should we be very scrupulous
in our treatment of him, were we certain we had nothing to fear from
him. That our treatment of the lower animals, and in too many
cases of the negroes, is utterly and purely selfish, and that we must
have reached a high point of civilization before even vve cease to tor
ment them or to let them suffer uselessly and wantonly, is but too
obvious a fact. Nay more; men, even among each other, throw off
the positive moral principle, as soon as a power which they recog
nize as competent partially dissolves the obligations of society. As
soon as war is declared, the most virtuous soldier kills his fellow
man ' ex officio,' though perhaps he be but the compulsory servant
of a despot whom in his heart he regards as the scum of the earth: or
the Pope, in the name of the religion of love, absolves men from
every sentiment of truth, rectitude or humanity; and immediately
the pious burn, torture, kill, lie, ' con amore,' and die satisfied and
blessed, in fulfilment of their duty, and to the glory of God !
The lower animals, which are destined to live for themselves alone,
know no virtue, and have, therefore, no soul, as it is truly said.
Yet in the domestic animals, notwithstanding the low order of their
reasoning faculty, — from education and from the sort of social inter
course in which they live with man, we may perceive very obvious
traces of morality, and the gradual creation of a perception of right
and wrong. We see that they are capable of disinterested love;
capable even of great self-sacrifice without the motive of fear: — in
short, they enter upon the same path as men, their souls begin to
germinate and expand; and had animals the faculty of speech, it is
possible they would advance to a level vvith ourselves.
Our best and most useful study would be, to endeavour to see
what we are, and wherefore we are so, without vain hypotheses or
tedious discussions: — this is the only road to a permanent spread of
clear and enlightened ideas, and consequently to true happiness. It
may be questioned whether German philosophy has not chosen too
poetical a path; whether it do not rather resemble a rocket, which
soars into the heavens in a thousand sparkles and tries to assimilate
itself to the stars, but soon vanishes into nothing, — than a fire which
gives out beneficent light and heat. How many eccentric systems
of this kind, from Kant to Hegel, have glittered their moment, and
then either rapidly expired, or lived on, divided into obscure and
unprofitable fragments!
It. is very problematical whether society have reaped so much
practical advantage from them as from the now so little valued
French philosophers, who stuck to what was near at hand; and in
the first place so effectually divided the main nerve of the boa of

516 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
priestly superstition with their sharp operating-knives, that it has
never since been able to do more than feebly drag itself about. The
philosopher ought surely to embrace actual life in his speculations
(the greatest of all sages was not less practical, than comprehensively
intelligent); and men who instruct mankind in this manner stand
higher in the history of its benefactors than the most astonishing of
the firework-makers above mentioned.
The true and only object of philosophy is unquestionably the in
vestigation of truth; — of such truth, be, it observed, as can be inves
tigated, for such alone can give any results. To inquire into the
incomprehensible is to thrash straw. The most direct way to the
attainment of discoverable truth is in my opinion now, as in the days
of Aristotle, only that of experiment. At a later stage of science we
may venture to say with justice, Because the law is so, experience
must confirm my conclusions; but this law could only have been
discovered by means of prior experiment. Lalande might very
fairly maintain that such and such stars must stand in such and such
relations, although the most accurate observation seemed to prove
the contrary, because he already knew the unalterable rule; but
without Newton's falling apple, &c, — without the previous and
long-continued observations of individual phenomena, and the truths
thence elicited, — the secrets of the heavens were still a book with
seven seals.
But if philosophy would seek out truth, she ought above all to
seek it in relation to the human species. Histories of mankind, in
the widest sense, and whatever can be deduced from them for the
behoof of the present and the future, must ever be her chief object.
By following this direction, we may gradually succeed in arriving,
from the knowledge of what has been and is, at the knowledge
of causes; i. e. why things are so,, and not otherwise: and then again,
going back from fact tu fact, may approach to fundamental laws, and
thus find out a norma or rule for the future. Although the first
causes of all existence should for ever remain undiscoverable by us,
it were sufficient, could we clearly and distinctly ascertain what
were the original powers of our being, what they have become, and
what direction we ought to endeavour to give to their further growth.
Here the reflection will forcibly present itself, that a further pro
gression and improvement are only possible in the element of free
dom, and with an unrestrained interchange of ideas. The most noble
and important invention by or for mankind, was therefore indisputa
bly that of printing. Happily, it wTas born quick and active, for
the human intellect was at its birth sufficiently matured to employ
this mighty engine for the furtherance of the greatest ends. This
invention alone has since rendered it possible to call into life that
gigantic power, which nothing will long be able to withstand — pub
lic opinion. By this I do not mean the clamours of the mob, but
the judgment of the best and wisest, which, since they have found
an organ, have penetrated to all, and in the end must effect the de
struction of those mere clamours.
Without printing, there would have been no Luther; — and until

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 517
that epoch, had Christianity really been able to make its way? At
the time of the thirty years' war, at the time of the English Queen
Mary, at the time of the Inquisition, 'horribile dictu!' had Christi
anity rendered men more merciful, more moral, more benign? I
see little evidence of it. Freedom of the press was the great step
which at once brought us infinitely nearer to the grand end — the
universal diffusion of intelligence; and has given such an impulse to
human affairs, that we now learn and accomplish more in ten years
than our ancestors did in a hundred. The mass of information and
intelligence thus accumulated, is what we must look to for the ame
lioration of the condition of mankind. In every age there have
been illustrious men, — men, perhaps, whom no succeeding age will
surpass or equal: but they stood alone; and although their effect on
the world was not utterly lost, they could generally diffuse but a
partial and momentary light, which the lapse of time dimmed or
quite obscured. Let us take as an instance Christ, who, as Gibbon
has shown, appeared under peculiarly favourable circumstances. How
many men have called, and do callj themselves after his name; and
how many are true Christians? He, the most liberal, the most
tolerant, the most sincere and benign of men, has served for nearly
two thousand years as a shield to despotism, persecution, and false
hood, and lent his exalted and sacred name to a new form of hea
thenism. It is therefore, I repeat, only the mass of knowledge, the intelli
gence which has pervaded a whole nation, which can form the basis
of permanent, solid and rational institutions, through which society
and individuals may be made better and happier. Towards this the
world now tends. Politics, in the highest signification of the word,
is the religion of the present time. For that, all the enthusiasm of
mankind is awakened; and should crusades now be undertaken, that
alone would be the object. The notion of representative chambers
has now-a-days a more electric effect than that of a ruling church;
and even the fame of the warrior begins to grow pale, by the side
of that enlightened statesman and citizen.
"Prove all things, and hold fast that which is good!"
But now 'treve de bavardage.' In the mountains I should not
have bored you with so much of it ; but within the dingy walls of a
city I feel as Faust did within those of his study. But a little breeze
has sprung Up. To-morrow a fresher gale will swell my sails.
Wherever I am, — in prison, or under the blue sky, — I am, and shall
ever be, Your true, heartily devoted, L  .
P. S. This is my last letter from Dublin. I have had my car
riage packed and sent to S  ; dismissed my Englishmen, and shall
travel under the ' non de guerre' you know of, — which is now be
come 'romantic,' by Bath and Paris with one honest Irish ¦ servant.
I shall neither hurry, nor stay longer than necessary. The most
difficult business — taking leave of friends — is done, and nothing now
detains me.

518 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
LETTER XLIV.
Holyhead, December I5lh, 1828.
Dear and faithful Friend,
You have often called me child-like, and no praise is more grate
ful to me. Yes, Heaven be praised, dear Julia! children we shall
both remain, so long as we live, though a hundred wrinkles sat upon
our brows. But children are fond of play, are rather ' inconsequent,'
and are ever on the watch for pleasure: ' C'est la I'essentiel.' Thus
then you must judge of me, and never expect much more from me.
Do not therefore reproach me with wandering about without an ob
ject. Good Heaven! has not Parry, with his object, been obliged
to sail three times to the north pole, and at last return without attain
ing it? Has not Napoleon for twenty years heaped victory on vic
tory to pine away at last on St. Helena, because he had attained his
object too early and too well? And what is generally the object of
men? Not one of them can give an exact and definite account of it.
The ostensible aim is always merely a part of the whole, often only'
the means to an end; and even the real and ulterior end frequently
changes its form and its motives as these change their aspect. Thus
it was with me. People have also collateral objects, which often
seem the principal ones, because they do better to announce. Thus
again it was with me. ' Au bout du compte' I am satisfied, — and
what can one have more?
Neptune must have a peculiar affection for me, for whenever he
gets me in his power he keeps me as long as he can. The wind was
directly contrary, and blew with great violence. On the sea and on
high mountains the lucky principle in me becomes extremely feeble.
I scarcely ever had a favourable wind at sea; nor a clear, sky, when
I had climbed thousands of feet nearer to it.
Yesterday evening at eleven o'clock I quitted Dublin in a post-
chaise in a beautiful clear moonlight night. The air was mild and
balmy as in summer.. I recapitulated the last two years, and called
up all their events in review before me. The result did not displease
me. I have erred here and there, but I find my mind on the whole
become firmer and clearer. In detail I have also gained and learned
some things. I have not impaired my physical machine: and lastly,
I have imprinted many an agreeable picture in the volume of my
memory. I feel my good spirits and my enjoyment of life ten times
stronger than they were in the morbid state of mind in which I quit
ted you; and as this is of more value than all external things, after
giving myself patient audience, I looked forward into the unknown
future vvith cheerfulness, and relished the present with delight. The
present consisted in the furious driving of the half-drunk postilions:
we went along a lofty embankment, or causeway, close to the sea,
in the pale moonlight, ' hop, hop, hop, dahin imsausenden Gallop,'
till we reached a very handsome inn at Howth, where I slept. A
magnificent Newfoundland dog of enormous size gave me his com
pany at tea, and again in the morning at breakfast. Perfectly white

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 519
with a black face, the colossal creature looked like a polar bear, who
in a fit of absence had put on the head of one of his black relatives.
I wanted to buy him, but the host would not part with him on any
terms. In the night I had a strange dream: — I found myself entangled in
political affairs, in consequence of which my person was watched
and my life threatened. My first escape from death was at a great
hunting party, in which four or five disguised huntsmen fell upon
me in the thickest part of the wood, and fired upon me, but did not
hit me. The next thing was an attempt to poison me: and I had
already swallowed a green powder, which had been given to me as
medicine, when the Duke of Wellington carne in, and said to me
very coolly, "It's nothing; I have just taken the same, here is the
antidote." After taking this, the usual operation of an antidote fol
lowed. (Probably this was from anticipation of my voyage.) In a
short time I was better than before. — I set out, and was soon near
the end of my journey, when I was attacked by robbers, who pulled
me out of my carriage, and dragged me through brambles and ruins
to a very high narrow wall, along the top of which we hastily step
ped, while it seemed to totter under our feet. We walked on and
on, and it seemed to have no end; and besides the fear, I was tor
mented by gnawing hunger, from which the robbers suffered equally.
At last they called out to me that I must find them something to eat,
or they would kill me. Just then I thought I heard a soft voice whis
per " Show them that door." I looked up, and saw a high building
like an abbey, overgrown with ivy and overshadowed by black
pines, without door or window, except a ' porte cochere' of bronze,
shut, and of colossal height. With sudden determination I exclaim
ed, "Fools! why do you ask food of me, when the great storehouse
is before you?" " Where?" growled the captain. " Open that gate,"
replied I. As soon as the band perceived it, all rushed upon it, the
captain foremost; — but before they could touch it, the huge gates
slowly and silently unclosed themselves. A strange sight presented
itself. We looked into a vast hall which appeared to us of endless
length; the roof overarched our heads at a giddy height; all around
was magnificently adorned with gold, and with beautiful bas-reliefs
and pictures, which seemed to have life and motion. On either side
against the wall was ranged an interminable row of grim-looking
wooden figures, with faces rudely painted, clad in gold and steel,
with drawn sword and lance, and mounted upon stuffed horses. In
the middle the vista was closed by a gigantic black steed, bearing a
rider thrice as big and as terrible as the rest. He was cased from
top to toe in black iron. As if inspired, I cried out, " Ha, Rudiger!
is it thou! venerable ancestor, save me!" The words echoed like a
loud thunder-clap in a hundred peals along the vaulted roof; and vve
thought we saw the wooden figures and their stuffed horses roll their
eyes horribly. We all shuddered; — when suddenly the gigantic
knight flourished aloft his terrible battle-sword like a lightning-flash,
and in an instant his steed with fearful bounds and curvetings was
close upon us; when a clock struck with awful sound, and the giant

520 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
stood again a motionless statue before us. Overpowered by terror,
we all took to flight as quickly as our legs would carry us. To my
shame I must confess I did not remain behind. I had reached an old
wall, but fear turned my feet to lead. I now perceived a side door,
and was going to attempt to get through it, when a frightful voice
yelled in my ear " Half past seven." I was ready to sink on the
earth from terror, — a strong hand grasped me, — I opened my eyes
bewildered, and my Irish servant stood before me — to announce to
me that if I did not get up immediately, the steam-packet would infal
libly sail without me. — You see, dear Julia, as soon as I set out
on my travels, adventures await me, though but in my sleep. I
found the people occupied in getting on board a handsome carriage,
stuffed with I think even more comforts and superfluities than I
take with me when I travel in this manner. The valet and ser
vants were busy, alert, and respectful; while a young man of about
twenty, with light hair carefully curled, and very elegantly dressed
in deep mourning, sauntered up and down the deck with all the in
dolence of an English ' man of fashion,' taking not the smallest no
tice of his property or of what his people were doing. As I after
wards learned, he had just succeeded to an estate of 20,000/. a year
in Ireland, and was now going abroad to spend it. He was hasten
ing to Naples; and appeared such a goodnatured young fellow that
even sea-sickness did not put him out of humour. While talking
with him, I thought — reflecting upon the difference between us,
' Voila le commencement et la fin!' One whom the world sends
forth, and says ' Partake of me ;' and the other whom she calls home,
and says ' Digest me.' May Heaven only preserve my stomach in
good order for the operation ! But these melancholy thoughts arose
only from the ' qualms' of the steam-boiler and the sea; and after a
little reflection I rejoiced in the sight of this young creature, so rich
in hopes, as much as if the illusions had been my own.
This evening I intend to proceed with the mail, and hope that a
good dinner will put an end to the nausea left by the long transit.
Shrewsbury, Dec. 16th: Evening.
Things did not turn out so well as I expected: the dinner was by
no means good, but on the contrary, vile; and the voyage left me
a ' migraine,' vvith which I was obliged to set out at midnight. For
tunately we were but two in the comfortable four-seated coach, so
that each had a whole side to himself. I slept tolerably; and the air
and gentle motion had so beneficial an effect, that at seven, when I
waked, my head-ache was nearly gone. The Holyhead mail is bound
to go two German miles in an hour, all stoppages included."* We
arrived here to breakfast, and I staid to see the city. I visited first
the castle, the greater part of which is of extreme antiquity: it is
built of red stone: the inside is somewhat modernized. The view
from the old 'keep,' on which there is now a summer-house, over
* Our Eilltuischen -will never approach the English stage-coaches till the post is
entirely free, and till there is an equal competition of travellers: — neither is to be
expected. — Editoh.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 521
the river Severn and a rich and fertile valley, is very beautiful and
cheerful. Close by is the prison, in which I saw the poor devils at
work in the treadmill. They were all dressed in yellow cloth, like
so many Saxon postilions, to whose phlegm this exercise would often
be advantageous. From this new-fashioned establishment for educa
tion I wandered (travelling back eight hundred years in a minute,)
to the remains of an old abbey, of which only the church is in good
preservation and in use. The painted windows in this, as in almost
all the churches in England, were destroyed by Cromwell's fanatics,
but are here remarkably well restored with newly painted glass.
The founder of the abbey, Roger Montgomery, (first Earl of Shrews
bury and one of William the Conqueror's followers,) lies buried in
the church under a fine monument. Near him lies a Templar, ex
actly like the one at Worcester, except in the colouring. He lies
with his legs crossed in the manner which distinguishes the tombs
of his order. The Earl of Shrewsbury not only built and endowed
the abbey, but died within its walls as a monk, in expiation of his
sins. Thus did the elasticity of the human mind soon find means to
lay spiritual curb and bridle on the rough power of the knights.
The city is very remarkable, from its numerous ancient houses of
the most extraordinary form and architecture. I frequently stood
still in the streets to sketch one in my pocket-book: this always col
lected a crowd about me, who stared at me astonished, and not un-
frequently disturbed me. The English ought not to wonder, there
fore, if the same thing happens to them in Turkey and Egypt.
Hereford, Dec. 11th.
It cannot be denied that after being deprived of it for some time,
one returns to ' English comfort' vvith increased relish. Change,
however, is the soul of life, and gives to everything in its turn a
fresh value. The good inns, the neatly served ' breakfasts and din
ners,' the spacious, carefully warmed beds, the civil and adroit wait
ers, struck me, after Irish deficiencies, very agreeably, and soon
reconciled me to the higher prices. At ten in the morning I left
Shrewsbury again in the mail, and reached Hereford at eight in the
evening. As it was not cold I got outside, and gave my place within
to my servant. Two or three ordinary sort of men, and a pretty
animated boy of eleven, were my companions. The conversation
was furiously political. The boy was the son of a man of consider
able landed property, and was travelling home from school, a hun
dred miles off, to spend his Christmas holidays. This custom of
throwing children so early on their own resources, unquestionably
gives them through life that feeling of independence and self-reli
ance which the English possess above all other nations, and especial
ly above the Germans. The joy and vivacious restlessness of the
child as he approached his home, both touched and delighted me.
There was something so natural and so intense in it, that I involun
tarily thought of my own childhood, — of that invaluable, and at the
time unvalued, happiness which we know only in retrospect.
66

522 LETTERS ON GERMANY, Monmouth, Dec. 18th.
To-day, dear Julia, I have once more had one of those romantic
days which I have long been deprived of; one of those days whose
varied pictures delight one like fairy tales in childhood. I am in
debted for it to the celebrated scenery of the river Wye, which even
in winter asserted its claim to be considered one of the most beauti
ful parts of England.
Before I quitted Hereford I paid a very early visit to the cathe
dral, in which I found nothing remarkable except a handsome porch.
I was near being too late for the mail, which in England waits for
nobody. I literally caught it flying, but used it only for the thirteen
miles from Hereford to Ross, which we traversed in an extremely
short time, though with four blind horses. At Ross I hired a boat,
sent it forwards five miles to Goderich Castle, and took my way thi
ther on foot. My road lay first through a churchyard, on an emi
nence commanding a beautiful view; then through a rich luxuriant
country like that on Lake Lugano, to the ruin, where I found the
little boat with two rowers and my Irishman already waiting. I had
to cross the river, which is here rather impetuous, in order to reach
the hill crowned with the old castle. — The ascent on the slippery
turf was arduous enough. As I entered the lofty archway, a blast
of wind took my cap off my head, as if the spirit of the place would
teach me respect to the shade of its knightly possessor. The awe
and admiration could not be enhanced, however, with which I wan
dered through the dark passages and the spacious courts, and climbed
the crumbling staircase. In summer and autumn the Wye is never
free from visitors; but as it probably never entered the head of a
methodical Englishman to make a tour in winter, the people are not
at all prepared for it, and during the whole day I found neither
guide nor any sort of help for travellers. The ladder, without which
it is impossible to reach the top of the highest tower, was not forth
coming; it had been removed to winter quarters. With the help of
the boatmen and my servant I constructed a Jacob's-ladder, by means
of which I scrambled up. From the battlements you overlook a
boundless stretch of country: — the robber knights who inhabited
this fortress had the advantage of seeing travellers on the road at
many miles distance. After I had duly grubbed into every hole and
corner, and descended the hill on the other side, I breakfasted with
great enjoyment in the boat, while it was rapidly borne along on
the swift current. The weather was beautiful, the sun shone bright,
— a very rare occurrence at this season, — and the air was as warm
as in a pleasant April day with us. The trees had indeed no leaves;
but as their branches were extremely thick, and they were inter
mixed with many evergreens, and the grass was even greener and
brighter than in summer, the landscape lost much less in beauty
than might have been imagined. The soil is uncommonly fruitful;
the gentle hills are clothed from top to bottom vvith wood and copse;
few ploughed fields, chiefly meadows interspersed with trees, while
every bend of the winding stream presents a church, a village, or a

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 523
country house, in a succession of the most varied pictures. For
some time we hovered on the boundaries of three counties, — Mon
mouth on the right, Hereford on the left, and Gloucester before us.
In a picturesque spot, opposite to iron-works whose flames are visi
ble even by day, stands a house, one half of which bears the stamp
of modern times, the other half that of gray antiquity. This is
the place in which Henry the Fifth passed his childhood, under
the care of the Countess of Salisbury. Lower down in the valley
stands the little humble church in which he was christened and she
was buried. Agincourt and Falstaff, knightly times, and the crea
tions of Shakspeare, occupied my fancy, till Nature, older and
greater than all, soon made me forget them: for now our little bark
glided into the rocky region, where the foaming stream and its shores
assume the grandest character. These are craggy and weather-beaten
walls of sandstone, of gigantic dimension, perpendicular or over
hanging, projecting abruptly from amid oaks, and hung vvith rich
festoons of ivy. The rains and storms of ages have beaten and
washed them into such fantastic forms, that they appear like some
caprice of human art. Castles and towers, amphitheatres and forti
fications, battlements and obelisks, mock the wanderer, who fancies
himself transported into the ruins of a city of some extinct race.
Some of these picturesque masses ape often loosened by the action
of the weather, and fall thundering from rock to rock with a terrific
plunge into the river, which is here extremely deep. The boatmen
showed me the remains of one of these blocks, and the monument
of an unfortunate Portuguese Whom it buried in its fall. This ex
traordinary formation reaches for nearly eight miles, to within about
three of Monmouth, where it terminates in a solitary colossal rock
called the Druid's Head. Seen from a certain point it exhibits a
fine antique profile of an old man sunk in deep sleep. Just as vve
rowed by, the moon rose immediately above it, and gave it a most
striking effect.
A short time afterwards we passed through a narrow part of the
stream between two shores wooded to their summits, till vve came
in sight of a large hare plateau of rock, called King Arthur's Plain;
— the fabulous hero is said to have encamped here. In half an hour
we reached Monmouth, a small ancient town, in which Henry the
Fifth was born. A lofty statue of him adorns the roof of the town-
hall; but nothing remains of the castle in which he first saw the
light, save an ornamented Gothic window, and a court in vvhich tur
keys, geese and ducks were fattened. This would have been more
suitable to the birth-place of Falstaff.
I went into a bookseller's shop to buy a ' Guide,' and unexpect
edly made the acquaintance of a very amiable family. It consisted
of the old bookseller, his wife, and two pretty daughters, the most
perfect specimens of innocent country girls I ever met vvith. I went
in just as they were at. tea; and the father, a very good-natured man,
but unusually loquacious, for an Englishman, took me absolutely
and formally prisoner, and began to ask me the strangest questions
about the Continent and about politics. The daughters, who obvi-

524 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
ously pitied me — probably from experience — tried to restrain him;
but I let him go on, and surrendered myself for half an hour ' de
bonne grace,' by which I won the good-will of the whole family to
such a degree, that they all pressed me most warmly to stayT some
days in this beautiful country, and to take up my abode with them.
When I rose at length to go, they positively refused to take anything
for the book, and ' bongre, malgre,' I was forced to keep it as a pre
sent. Such conquests please me, because their manifestation can
come only from the heart. Chepstow, Dec. 19th.
As I was dressed early, and after a rapid breakfast was going to
set out, I discovered, not without a disagreeable surprise, that my
purse and pocket-book were missing. I remembered perfectly that
I laid them before me in the coffee-room last night; that I was quite
alone, and that I dined and wrote to you there; that I referred to
the notes in my pocket-book for my letter, and used my purse to
pay the boatmen. It was clear, therefore, that I must have left it
there, and the waiter have taken possession of it. I rang for him,
recapitulated the above facts, and asked, looking earnestly at him, if
he had found nothing? The man looked pale and embarrassed, and
stammered out that he had seen nothing but a bit of paper with writ
ing on it, which he believed was still lying under the table. I look
ed, and found it in the place he mentioned. All this appeared to
me very suspicious. I made some representations to the host, a
most disagreeable-looking fellow, which indeed contained some im
plied threats: but he answered shortly, That he knew his people;
that a theft had not occurred in his house for thirty years, and that
my behaviour was very offensive to him ; — that if I pleased, he
would immediately send to a magistrate, have all his servants sworn,
and his house searched. But then, added he with a sneer, you must
not forget that all your things, even to the smallest trifle, must be
examined too; and if nothing is found on any of us, you must pay
the costs and make me a compensation. ' Qu'allai-je faire dans cette
galere?' thought I, and saw clearly that my best way was to put up
with my loss — about ten pounds — and to depart. I therefore took
some more bank-notes out of my travelling-bag, paid the reckoning,
which was pretty moderate, and thought I distinctly recognized one
of my own sovereigns in the change he gave me: — it had a little cut
over George the Fourth's eye. Persuaded that host and waiter were
partners in one concern, I shook off' the dust of my feet, and stepped
into the postchaise with the feelings of a man who has escaped from
a den of thieves.
To render a service to future travellers, I stopped the chaise, and
went to inform my friend the bookseller of my mishap. The sur
prise and concern of all were equal. In a few minutes the daughters
began to whisper to their mother, made signs to one another, then
took their father on one side; and after a short deliberation, the
youngest came up to me and asked me, blushing and embarrassed,
" Whether this loss might not have caused me a ' temporary embar-

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 525
rassment,' and whether I would accept a loan of five pounds, which
I could restore whenever I returned that way:" at the same time
trying to push the note into my hand. Such genuine kindness
touched me to the heart: it had something so affectionate and disin
terested, that the greatest benefit conferred under other circum
stances would perhaps have inspired me with less gratitude than this
mark of unaffected good-will. You may imagine how cordially I
thanked them. " Certainly," said I, " were I in the slightest diffi
culty, I should not be too proud to accept so kind an offer; but as
this is not in the least degree the case, I shall lay claim to your ge
nerosity in another way, and beg permission to be allowed to carry
back to the Continent a kiss from each of the fair girls of Mon
mouth." This was granted, amid much laughter and good-natured
resignation. Thus freighted, I went back to my carriage. As I
had gone yesterday bjr water, I took my way to-day along the bank
of the river to Chepstow. The country retains the same character,
— rich, deeply-wooded and verdant: but in this part it is enlivened
by numerous iron-works, whose fires gleam in red, blue, and yellow
flames, and blaze up through lofty chimneys, where they assume at
times the form of huge glowing flowers, when the fire and smoke,
pressed down by the weight of the atmosphere, are kept together in
a compact motionless mass. I alighted to see one of these works.
It was not moved, as most are, by a steam-engine, but by an im
mense water-wheel, which again set in motion two or three smaller.
This wheel had the power of eighty horses; and the whirling ra
pidity of its revolutions, the frightful noise when it was first set
going, the furnaces around vomiting fire, the red-hot iron, and the
half-naked black figures brandishing hammers and other ponderous
instruments, and throwing around the red hissing masses, formed an
admirable representation of Vulcan's smithy.
About midway in my journey the country changed, as it did yes
terday, into a stern rocky region. In the centre of a deep basin,
encompassed by mountains of various forms, we descried immedi
ately above the silver stream the celebrated ruins of Tintern Abbey.
It would be difficult to imagine a more favourable situation, or a
more sublime ruin. The entrance to it seems as if contrived by the
hand of some skilful scene-painter to produce the most striking ef
fect. The church, which is large, is still almost perfect: the roof
alone and a few of the pillars are wanting. The ruins have received
just that degree of care which is consistent with the full preserva
tion of their character; all unpicturesque rubbish which could ob
struct the view is removed, without any attempt at repair or embel
lishment. A beautiful smooth turf covers the ground, and luxuriant
creeping plants grow amid the stones. The fallen ornaments are
laid in picturesque confusion, and a perfect avenue of thick ivy-
stems climb up the pillars and form a roof over-head. The better to
secure the ruin, a new gate of antique workmanship, with iron or
naments, is put up. When this is suddenly opened, the effect is
most striking and surprising. You suddenly look down the avenue
of ivy-clad pillars, and see their grand perspective lines closed, at a

526 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
distance of three hundred feet, by a magnificent window eighty feet
high and thirty broad: through its intricate and beautiful tracery
you see a wooded mountain, from whose side project abrupt masses
of rock. Over-head the wind plays in the garlands of ivy, and the
clouds pass swiftly across the deep blue sky. When you reach the
centre of the church, whence you look to the four extremities of its
cross, you see the two transept windows nearly as large and as beau
tiful as the principal one: through each you command a picture per
fectly different, but each in the wild and sublime style which harmo
nizes so perfectly with the building. Immediately around the ruin
is a luxuriant orchard. In spring, how exquisite must be the effect
of these gray venerable walls rising out of that sea of fragrance and
beauty! A Vandal lord and lord lieutenant of the county conceived
the pious design of restoring the church. Happily, Heaven took
him to itself before he had time to execute it.
From Tintern Abbey the road rises uninterruptedly to a consider
able height above the river, vvhich is never wholly out of sight.
The country reaches the highest degree of its beauty in three or
four miles, at the Duke of Beaufort's villa called the Moss House.
Here are delightful paths, which lead in endless windings through
wild woods and evergreen thickets, sometimes on the edge of lofty
walls of rock, sometimes through caves fashioned by the hand of
Nature, or suddenly emerge on open plateaus to the highest point of
this chain of hills, called the Wind-cliff, whence you enjoy one of
the most extensive and noble views in England.
At a depth of about eight hundred feet, the steep descent below
you presents in some places single projecting rocks; in others, a
green bushy precipice. In the valley, the eye follows for several
miles the course of the Wye, which issues from a wooden glen on
the left hand, curves round a green garden-like peninsula rising into
a hill studded with beautiful clumps of trees, then forces its foaming
way to the right, along a huge wall of rock nearly as high as the
point where you stand, and at length, near Chepstow Castle, which
looks like a ruined city, empties itself into the Bristol Channel, where
ocean closes the dim and misty distance.
On this side of the river, before you, the peaked tops of a long
ridge of hills extend along nearly the whole district which your eye
commands. It is thickly clothed with wood, out of which a con
tinuous wall of rock festooned with ivy picturesquely rears its head.
Over this ridge you again discern water, — the Severn, five miles
broad, thronged with a hundred white sails, on either shore of which
you see blue ridges of hills full of fertility and rich cultivation.
The grouping of this landscape is perfect: I know of no picture
more beautiful. Inexhaustible in details, of boundless extent, and
yet marked by such grand and prominent features, that confusion
and monotony, the usual defects of a very wide prospect, are com
pletely avoided. Piercefield Park, which includes the ridge of hills
from Wind-cliff to Chepstow, is therefore without question the finest
in England, at least for situation. It possesses all that Nature can
bestow; lofty trees, magnificent rocks, the most fertile soil, a mild

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 527
climate favourable to vegetation of every kind, a clear foaming
stream, the vicinity of the sea, solitude, and, from the bosom of its
own tranquil seclusion, a view into the rich country I have described,
which receives a lofty interest from a ruin the most sublime that the
imagination of the finest painter could conceive, — I mean Chepstow
Castle. It covers five acres of ground, and lies close to the park on
the side next the town, though it does not belong to it.
England is indebted to Cromwell for almost all her ruined castles,
as she is to Henry the Eighth for her crumbling churches and reli
gious houses. The former were destroyed with fire and sword ; the
latter only suppressed, and left to the corroding tooth of time, and
the selfishness and wantonness of man. Both agents have been
equally efficacious; and these two great men have produced an effect
they did not contemplate, but vvhich resembles that of their per
sons, — a picturesque one. I strolled through the park on foot, and
let the carriage follow by the high road: I reached the ruin at the
verge of twilight, which increased the Avvful grandeur of its appear
ance. The castle contains several extensive courts, and a chapel; a
part of it is in good preservation. Large nut and yew-trees, orchards
and beautiful turf, adorn the interior; trailing plants of all kinds fes
toon the walls. In the least ruinous part of the castle lives a woman
with her family, who pays the Duke of Beaufort, the possessor, a
rent, for permission to show the ruins to strangers, of whom she
consequently demands a shilling. You see that in England ' on fait
fleche de tout bois,' and that an English nobleman with an income
of sixty thousand a year, neither disdains to take the widow's mite,
nor to lay strangers under regular contribution. To be sure there
are some little German sovereigns who unfortunately do much the
same. Satisfied with the employment of my day, as well as tired with
climbing, and soaked with rain which had fallen within the last
hour, I hastened to my inn, my dishabille, and my dinner. — I felt
something unusual in the pocket of my dressing-gown. I pulled it
out surprised ; and with shame I saw — my purse and pocket-book.
It Ltit now occurred to me that I had slipped them into this unac
customed place from the fear of leaving them on the table.
This shall serve as a lesson to me for the future, never to draw
any unfavourable conclusions merely from the embarrassment and
confusion of an accused person. The bare thought that others could
suspect them may produce the same symptoms in men of irritable
nerves and a quick sense of honour, as the consciousness of guilt in
others. You will trust to the heart you know so well, that I instantly
despatched a letter to my friend the bookseller, exculpating the host
and waiter, and enclosing two pounds as some compensation to the
latter, which I begged him to deliver with my sincere apologies. — I
ate my dinner with more relish after I had atoned for my offence to
the best of my power. Your faithful L  .

528 LETTERS ON GERMANY,

LETTER XLV.
Bristol, December 20th, 1828.
Dear Julia,
I hope you follow me on the map, which will make my letters
more intelligible to you, though you cannot enjoy with me the beau
tiful views, of vvhich I shall bring you back faithful copies in the
portfolio of my memory.
I revisited the magnificent castle this morning. A blooming girl
was my guide, and formed a graceful contrast to the blackened tow
ers, the dreadful prison of the regicide Marten, and the dark dun
geons, to which we descended by a long staircase. I next visited a
church with a remarkably beautiful Saxon porch, and a highly orna
mented font in the same style. Here the unfortunate Marten lies
buried. He was one of Charles the First's judges, and was impri
soned in Chepstow Castle for forty years, without ever, as it is as
serted, losing his spirits. After the first few years his confinement
seems to have been less rigorous, and to have gone on gradually be
coming less severe. At least the girl showed me three rooms, of
which the lowest was a most horrible hole, — while she ciceronised
in the following words: " Here Marten was put at first, while he
was wicked ; but when he became serious, he was moved a story
higher; and at last, when he was religious, he had the room with the
beautiful view."
At two o'clock I set out for Bristol on a crowded stage-coach;
notwithstanding the violent, rain, I with difficulty obtained a place
on the box. We crossed a handsome bridge, affording the best point
of view of the castle, which stands on a perpendicular rock over
hanging the Wye, a position which gives it its peculiarly picturesque
character. We kept Piercefield Park, and its wall of rocks on one
side the river, long in view. I remarked to the proprietor of the
stage, who drove, that the possessor of this beautiful estate must be a
happy man. "By no means," replied he; "the poor devil is over
head and ears in debt, has a numerous family, and wishes witi* all
his heart to find a good purchaser for Piercefield. Three months
ago everything was settled with a rich Liverpool merchant, who
was going to buy it for his youngest son; but before the bargain was
completed, this son married an actress, the father disinherited him,
and the thing went off." Here was matter for moralizing.
Meantime the weather grew worse; and at length ended in a com
plete storm. We had it in our backs indeed, but the passage across
the Channel was extremely unpleasant: the four horses, all the lug
gage, and the passengers, were huddled ' pele mele' into a little
boat, which was so crowded one could hardly move. The post next
to the horses was really one of danger, for they sometimes shyed at
the sails, especially when they were shifted.
On one of these occasions a gentleman fell, together with the box
on which he was sitting, directly under them. The good natured
animals, however, only trod on him a little, they did not attempt to

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 529
kick him. The boat, driven violently by the wind, lay quite on her
side; and the waves incessantly dashed over us, and wetted us from
head to foot. When we reached the end of our voyage, the landing-
was equally wearisome and dirty; and I lost, to my great annoyance,
a part of Lord Byron's works. I was told that accidents often hap
pen at this ferry, from the frequent storms and the numerous rocks.
About six months ago the boat went down with the mail, and
several persons lost their lives. We could not reach the usual land
ing-place, where there is a house, and were obliged to disembark on
the shore, whence we walked to the inn along a strand of red and
white veined marble. Here we got into another stage, filled with
twenty persons, and drove (but not so quickly as the mail,) to Bris
tol. — I could see nothing of this admired city but the bright lamps
and gay well-stored shops. Bath, December 21st. Evening.
When I question my memory what it is that makes the Wye so
much more beautiful than most rivers, I find that it is the mark
ed and bold character of its shores, which never fall away into tame
monotonous lines, nor exhibit an unmeaning variety: that it is
almost always skirted by wood, rocks, or meadows enlivened by
houses; seldom by fields, or cultivated land, which though useful
are rarely picturesque. Its numerous and bold windings cause an
incessant change in the grouping of the shores, so that the same ob
jects present themselves under a hundred different and beautiful
aspects. This, by the way, is doubtless the ground of the prefer
ence landscape gardeners have given to winding roads over straight,
and not that imaginary line of beauty about which so much has been
said. As the objects which present themselves along the Wye are almost
always few, and in large masses, they invariably form beautiful pic
tures, — for pictures require to be bounded or framed. Nature cre
ates according to a standard which we cannot judge of in its total
effect; the highest harmony of which must therefore be lost to us: —
Art strives to form a part of this into an ideal whole, which the eye
and mind of man can take in. This is in my opinion the idea which
lies at the bottom of landscape gardening. But Nature herself here
and there furnishes a perfect pattern or model for such creations of
art, — a landscape microcosm; and seldom can more such models be
found within the same distance than in the course of this voyage,
where every bend of the river presents a fresh feast of art, if I may
so speak.
Pope somewhere says,
" Pleased Vaga echoes through its winding bounds,
And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds."
The German language with all its richness is somewhat awkward
and intractable for translation, especially from the English, which
from being made up of various languages, possesses a peculiar facility
67

530 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
in rendering foreign thoughts.* To me these two lines appear
almost untranslatable: as often as I have attempted it, the thought lost
all its grace; — perhaps, however, the awkwardness was mine.
It is no small»ad vantage to the Wye, that two of the most beauti
ful ruins in the world lie on its banks; and never was 1 more convinced
than here, that a prophet has no honour in his own country. How
else would so many Englishmen travel thousands of miles to fall into
ecstacies at beauties of a very inferior order to these! I must ask
one more question; — why ruins have so much stronger an effect on
the mind than the highest perfect specimen of architectural beauty?
It seems almost as if these works of man did not attain their full per
fection till Nature had tempered and corrected them: — and yet it is
well that man should again step in, just at that point where Nature
begins to efface all traces of his hand. A vast and well-preserved
ruin is the most beautiful of buildings.
I have already mentioned that the environs of Bristol have a high
and a deserved reputation. In luxuriance of vegetation and fertility
they can be surpassed by none, — in picturesque effect by few; ' C'est
comme la terre promise.'" Whatever one beholds, and (as a gourmand
I add) whatever one tastes, is in full perfection.
Bristol, a city of a hundred thousand inhabitants, lies in a deep
valley: Clifton, which rises in terraces on the hills immediately
above it, seems only a part of the same town: it is easy to conceive
that extraordinary effects must result from such a situation. Three
venerable Gothic churches rise out of the confused mass of houses in
the valley. Like the proud remains of feudal and priestly dominion
(for these, though hostile brothers, went hand in hand), they appear
to rear their gray heads with a feeling of their ancient greatness, in
scorn of the mushroom growth of modern times. One of them
especially, Radcliffe Church, is a wonderful structure; — unfortu
nately, the sandstone of which it is built has suffered so much from
time, that its ornaments are nearly fretted away. I went in while
the organ was playing; and although I entered in the most quiet and
respectful manner, and placed myself in a corner whence I could
catch a stolen glance at the interior, the illiberality of the English
Church would not allow me this satisfaction, and the preacher sent
an old woman to tell me that I must sit down. As it is not the cus
tom in Catholic churches to interrupt the devotions of a congrega
tion on such light grounds even if strangers go in without any cau
tion to view whatever is worth seeing in the church, I might justly
wonder that English Protestant piety should have so little confidence
in its own strength, as to be thus blown about by the slightest breath.
The riddle was explained to me afterwards: I should have had to
pay for my seat, and the truly pious motive was the sixpence.
* Few persons will agree with this position of the Author. If it be true, how
doubly discreditable to English translators is the comparison of their performances
with such translations as Voss's Homer, Schleiermacher's Plato, Schlegel's Shak
speare and Calderon, &c. For any approach to these wonderful transfusions, where
are we to look j* At the abortive attempts at presenting to England any idea of
GO tlie?— Transl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 531
However, I had had enough, and left their ' mummery'* without
paying. As soon as I returned to the inn I ordered apostchaise, seated myself
on the driver's seat, — not like the Emperor of China, as the place of
honour, but as the place for seeing, — and began my excursions in
the environs. I first visited the warm baths. They are situated-just
at the beginning of a rocky valley, which has a great resemblance to
the Planische Grund near Dresden, only that the rocks are higher and
the expanse of water much finer. Just in this spot we met the mayor
in his state equipage, much more splendid than that of our kings on
the continent. It formed a curious contrast vvith the solitary rocky
scenery. As he passed, the postilion pointed out lo me a distant
ruined tower called ' Cook's Folly,' the property of a former mayor,
a merchant, who ruined himself in building it, and now lives in a
ruin. He could not complete the Gothic castle which he began to
build in a most beautiful situation ; perhaps it is a greater ornament
to the scene in" its present state.
Ascending from the rocky valley we reached an extensive table
land, which serves as a race-course, and thence over rising ground to
Lord de Clifford's park, the entrance to which is very beautiful. You
drive for about a mile and a half on the side of a high hill, through
a winding avenue of primeval oaks, planted far enough from each
other to stretch out their giant arms on every side to their full ex
tent before they touch. Beneath their branches you catch the finest
views of the rich vale of Bristol. It is like a noble gallery of pic
tures; under every tree you find a different one. To the right, on
the rising ground appears a dark belt of plantation edging the green
turf. Laurel, arbutus, and other evergreens border the road, till at
a sudden turn the house and flower-garden burst upon the eye in all
their decorated beauty. At the end of this park lies a ridge of
hills, along whose narrow crest you drive some miles, and arrive
at a noble sea view. At our feet lay the Russian fleet at anchor.
It is bound to the Mediterranean, and in the storm of last week
narrowly escaped shipwreck on this coast: — the English declare
this was entirely caused by the ignorance and unskilfulness of the
sailors. I afterwards made the acquaintance of the Captain and five
other officers. To my great surprise they spoke no foreign language,
so that our conversation was limited to signs: in other respects they
seemed a polite and civilized sort of people.
Not far from this park is an interesting establishment called 'The
Cottages.' The proprietor, Mr. Harford, has endeavoured to real
ize the ' beau ideal' of a village. A beautiful green space in the
midst of the wood is surrounded by a winding road; on it are built
nine cottages, all of different forms and materials; — stone, brick,
wood, &c, and roofed with thatch, tiles, and slate; each surrounded
with different trees, and enwreathed with various sorts of clematis,
rose, honeysuckle, and vine. The dwellings, which are perfectly
* 'Popish mummery' is the name given by English Protestants to the Catholic
worship; — their own fully answers to the same description. — Editor.

r>32 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
detached though they form a whole, have separate gardens, and a
common fountain, vvhich stands in the centre of the green, oversha
dowed by old trees. The gardens, divided by neat hedges, form a
pretty garland of flowers and herbs around the whole village. What
crowns the whole is, that the inhabitants are all poor families, whom
the generous proprietor allows to live in the houses rent-free. No
more delightful or well chosen spot could be found as a refuge for
misfortune: its perfect seclusion and snugness breathe only peace
and forgetfulness of the world.
Immediately opposite to the wood, a modern Gothic castle rears
its head at a distance, from amid ancient oaks. I wished to see it,
as well as the park around it, but could not get permission. When
ever the high road lies through an English park, a part of the wall
is replaced by a ha-ha, or a transparent iron fence, that the passer-by
may throw a modest and curious glance into the forbidden paradise:
but this effort exhausts the stock of liberality usually possessed by
an English land-owner. As it was Sunday too, I gave up all hope
of moving the churlish porter to make any exception in my fa
vour: on his brow was clearly written the converse of Dante's in
fernal inscription, ' Voi che venite — di entrare lasciate ogni spe-
ranza.' I returned by way of Clifton, from which Bristol appeared to lie
under my feet. The scene was greatly enlivened by the multitude
of gaily dressed church-goers of both sexes, whom I met in every
road and lane. In strong contrast with these cheerful groups, was
a large house painted entirely black, with white windows, and look
ing like an enormous catafalque. I was told it was the public hos
pital, and a gentleman offered to show it to me. The interior was
much more attractive than the exterior: its fine spacious apartments,
and the exquisite cleanliness which pervades every part, must ren
der it a most comfortable abode for the sick and suffering. In no
place did I perceive the slightest offensive smell, except in the apo
thecary's shop. The right wing of the building is appropriated to
male, the left to female patients; in both, the lower story to medi
cal, the upper to surgical cases. The operating room was remark
ably elegant, furnished with several marble basins, into which water
was turned by cocks, so that in any part of the room the blood
could be instantly washed away. In the centre was a mahogany
sort of couch with leather cushions for the patients. In short, there
was everything that an amateur could desire. But beneficent as is
their art, surgeons are generally rather unfeeling; the gentleman
who accompanied me did not form an exception. In one of the
apartments I observed a woman who had completely covered her
self with the bed-clothes, and asked him in a low voice, what was
her disease. " 0," replied he quite aloud, " that is an incurable case
of aneurism; as soon as it bursts she must die." The shrinking
motion and the low groan under the bedclothes shovved me but too
clearly what agony this intelligence caused, and made me deeply
regret my inquiry. In one of the men's wards I saw a man lying
in bed, white and motionless as marble; and as we were at a con-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 533
siderable distance, I asked the nature of his disorder. " I don't
know myself," replied my companion, " but I'll soon ask him."
" For Heaven's sake don't," said I: but he was off in an instant,
felt the man's hand as it lay motionless, and came back saying with
a laugh, " He is cured, for he is dead."
Towards evening I hired one of the little carriages that ply be
tween Bath and Bristol, and drove to the former place. I was alone,
and slept all the way. On waking from my ' siesta,' I beheld in
the moonlight an extensive illuminated palace on a bare height, and
learned that this was the benevolent endowment of a mere private
man, for fifty poor widows, who live here in comfort, indeed in
luxury. Numerous other rows of lamps soon gleamed in the ho
rizon, and in a few minutes we rolled over the pavement of Bath.
Bath, Dec. 22nd.
Since the day on which I communicated to you the important in
telligence that the sun had shone, I have not seen his beneficent
face. But, in spite of fog and rain, I have wandered about the
whole day long in this wonderful city, which, originally built in
the bottom of a deep and narrow hollow, has gradually crept up the
sides of all the surrounding hills. The magnificence of the houses,
gardens, streets, terraces, and semicircular rows of houses called
' crescents,' which adorn every hill, is imposing, and worthy of
English opulence. Notwithstanding this, and the beauty of the sur
rounding country, fashion has deserted Bath, and fled with a sort
of feverish rage to the unmeaning, treeless and detestably prosaic
Brighton. Bath is still much resorted to by invalids, and even the
forty thousand opulent inhabitants suffice to enliven it; but the
fashionable world is no longer to be seen here. The once cele
brated king of Bath, the formerly ' far-famed Nash,' has lost
more of his ' nimbus' than any of his colleagues. He who now
fills the office, instead of driving through the streets with six horses
and a retinue of servants, (the constant cortege of his august prede
cessor,) goes modestly on foot. No Duchess of Queensberry will
he send out of the ball-room for not being dressed according to law.
The abbey church made a great impression upon me. I saw it for the
first time splendidly lighted, which greatly heightened the singular as
pect of its interior. I have often remarked that almost all the ancient
churches of England are disfigured hy scattered modern monuments.
Here, however, there are so many, and they are placed with such an
odd kind of symmetry, that the complete contrast they present to the
simple and sublime architecture produces a new and peculiar kind of
picturesque effect. — Imagine a noble lofty Gothic church, of the
most graceful proportions, brilliantly lighted, and divided in the cen
tre by a crimson curtain. The half immediately before you is an
empty space, without chair, bench, or altar; the ground alone pre
sents a continual mosaic of grave-stones with inscriptions. The
walls are inlaid in the same manner up to a certain height, where a
horizontal line divides them, without any intervening space, from
the busts, statues, tablets and monuments of every kind, of polished

534 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
black or white marble, or of porphyry, granite, or other coloured
stone, which are ranged above: — the whole looks like a gallery of
sculpture. Up to the line under these monuments, all was in bril
liant light; higher up, it gradually softened away; and under the
tracery of the arched roof, faded into dim twilight. The clerk and
I were quite alone in this portion of the building, while a still more
brilliant light gleamed from the other side of the glowing curtain,
whence the softened voices of the congregation seemed to visit us
from some invisible sanctuary.
Many interesting names are recorded here; among others, the
celebrated wit, Quin, to whom Garrick erected a marble bust vvith a
poetical inscription. — Waller's bust has lost the nose; — it is asserted
that James' the Second, in a fit of bigotry, struck it off with his sword
shortly after his accession to the throne. Dec. 23rd.
Have you ever heard of the eccentric Beckford — a kind of Lord
Byron in prose — who built the most magnificent residence in Eng
land, surrounded his park with a wall twelve feet high, and for
twelve years suffered nobody to enter it? All on a sudden he sold
this wondrous dwelling, Fonthill Abbey, with all the rare and costly
things it contained, by auction, and went to Bath, where he lives in
just as solitary a manner as before. He has built a second high tower
(there was a celebrated one at Fonthill,) in the middle of a field; the
roof of it is a copy of the so-called Lantern of Diogenes (the monu
ment of Lysicrates) at Athens. Thither I drove to-day, and could
imagine that the view from it must be as striking as it is said to be.
There was however no admittance, and I was obliged to content my
self with tlie pictures of my fancy. The tower is still unfinished,
though very lofty; and stands, like a ghost, in the wide open soli
tude of a high table-land. The possessor is said, at one time, to have
been worth three millions sterling, and is still very rich. I was
told that he was seldom visible, but that when he rode out it was
with the following retinue: — First rides a grayheaded old steward;
behind him, two grooms with long hunting whips; then follows Mr.
Beckford himself, surrounded by five or six dogs; two more grooms
with whips close the procession. If in the course of the ride one of
the dogs is refractory, the whole train halts, and castigation is im
mediately applied with the whips; this course of education is con
tinued through the whole ride. Mr. Beckford formerly wrote a
very singular, but most powerful romance, in French: it was trans
lated into English, and greatly admired. A high tower plays a con
spicuous part in that also: the denouement is, that the Devil carries
off everybody.
I must send you another anecdote or two of this extraordinary
man. — When he was living at Fonthill, a neighbouring Lord was
tormented by such an intense curiosity to see the place that he caused
a high ladder to be set against the wall, and climbed over by night.
He was soon discovered, and taken before Mr. Beckford ; who, on
hearing his name, contrary to his expectations, received him very

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 535
courteously, conducted him all over his house and grounds in the
morning, and entertained him in a princely manner; after which he
retired, taking the most polite, leave of his Lordship. The latter,
delighted at the successful issue of his enterprise, was hastening
home; but found all the gates locked, and no one there to open them.
He returned to the house to beg assistance; but was told that Mr.
Beckford desired that he would return as he had come, — that he
would find the ladder standing where he had left it. His Lordship
replied with great asperity, but it was of no use; he must e'en return
to the place of his clandestine entrance, and climb the ladder. Cured
for ever of his curiosity, and venting curses on the spiteful misan
thrope, he quitted the forbidden paradise.
After Fonthill was sold, Mr. Beckford lived for awhile in great
seclusion in one of the suburbs of London. In the immediate neigh
bourhood was a nursery garden, extremely celebrated for the beauty
and rarity of its flowers. He walked in it daily, and paid fifty guineas
a-week to the owner of it for permission to gather whatever flowers
he liked.
In the evening I visited the theatre, and found a very pretty
house, but a very bad play. It was Rienzi, a miserable modern tra
gedy, which, with the graceless ranting of the players, excited nei
ther tears nor laughter, — only disgust and ennui. I soon left Mel
pomene's desecrated temple, and visited my friend the clerk of the
Abbey Church, to ask permission to see the church by moonlight.
As soon as he had let me in, I dismissed him; and wandering like a
solitary ghost among the pillars and tombs, I called up the more so
lemn tragedy of life, amid the awful stillness of night and death.
Dec. 24th.
The weather is still so bad, and hangs such a drapery over all dis
tant objects, that I can make no excursions, and am obliged to con
fine myself to the town; vvhich indeed, by the number and variety
of its prospects, affords interesting walks enough. I begin every
time with my favourite monumental church, and finish with it. The
architect who built this magnificent structure went quite out of the
beaten track of ornaments and proportions. On the outside, for in
stance, near the great door, are two Jacob's ladders reaching to the
roof, where the ascending angels are lost from sight. The busy
heaven-stormers are extremely pretty; and the design appears tome
conceived completely in the spirit of that fanciful architecture, which
blended the most childish with the most sublime ; the greatest mi
nuteness of ornaments with the vastest effect of masses; vvhich imi
tated the whole range of natural productions, — gigantic trunks of
trees, and delicate foliage and flowers; awful rocks, and gaudy gems,
men and beasts; and combined them all so as to strike our imagina
tions with wonder, reverence, and awe. This has always appeared
to me the true romantic, i. e. true German, architecture; — the off
spring of our most peculiar spirit and fashion of mind. But I think
we are now wholly estranged from it; it belongs to a more imagina
tive and meditative age. We may still admire and love its models,

536 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
but we can create nothing of the same kind, which does not bear the
most obvious stamp of flat imitation. Steam-engines and Constitu
tions now prosper better than the arts, — of whatever kind. — To
each age, its own.
As I love contrasts, I went this evening straight from the temple
crowded with the dead, to the market-place, equally populous in
another way, and equally well lighted, where all sorts of provisions
are sold under covered galleries. Everything here is inviting and
elegant; subjects for a thousand master-pieces of Flemish pencils;
and a luxurious sight for the ' gastronome,' who here contemplates
his beauties of Nature. Enormous pieces of beef, of a juicy red
streaked with golden fat; well-fed poultry, looking as if stuffed with
eider-down; magnificent vegetables; bright yellow butter; ripe and
fresh fruit, and tempting fish, presented a picture such as my aston
ished eyes never beheld. The whole was heightened by the bril
liancy of a hundred variegated lamps, and decorated with laurel and
red-berried holly. Instead of one Weihnachtstisch,* here were a
hundred; the caricatures of market-women did admirably for the
gingerbread dolls (Pfefferkuchenpupp>en,) and we buyers for the cu
rious and wondering children. The most brilliant assembly could
hardly have amused me more. When I saw a grave-looking sheep
holding a candle in each foot, and thus lighting himself; or a hang
ing fowl, in whose rump they had stuck a red wax taper; a calf's
head with a lantern between its teeth, next neighbour to a great
gander illuminated by two huge altar tapers; or an ox-tail, through
which a gas tube was passed, ending pompously in a tuft of flame, — -
I made the most diverting comparisons with an assembly in my na
tive land; and found the resemblances often more striking than those
of the celebrated portrait-painters W  and S  .
Living is very cheap here, especially in the so called boarding-
houses, where a man is well lodged and admirably boarded for two
or three guineas a-week, and finds agreeable and easy society: equi
pages are not wanted, as sedan-chairs are still in use.
Eight-and-twenty hours have at length appeased the angry hea
vens, and to-day was what is here called " a glorious day," — a day,
that is, in which the sun occasionally peeps out from between the
clouds. You may be sure that I took advantage of it: I ascended
the hill near the town, from which you have a bird's-eye view of
the whole, and can distinguish almost every separate house. The
Abbey church lies, like the kernel, in the centre; the streets radiate
upwards in every direction, and in the bottom of the valley the
Avon winds like a silver riband. I continued my way along a pretty
walk to Prior Park, a large and formerly splendid mansion, built by
a haughty Lord, but now possessed by a meek Quaker, who lets the
house stand empty, and, true to the simplicity of his faith, lives in
the stable.
Thus passed the morning. — By twilight and moonlight I tookan-
* The decorated well-replenished table well set out in every family on Christmas-
eve.— Tlt.VNS.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 537
other walk to the other side of the town, and found the view still
more magnificent in the stillness of the clear night. The sky was
of a pale green, and on the right hand masses of black deeply in
dented clouds were piled up. The hills cut their rounded outlines
sharply upon the clear sky, while the whole valley was filled with
one curtain of blue mist, through vvhich you saw the glimmering of
a thousand lamps, without being able to distinguish the houses. It
seemed a sea of mist, out of which countless stars twinkled with
multiplied rays.
I closed the day with a hot bath in the principal bathing establish
ment; and found the accommodations convenient, clean and cheap,
and the attendants prompt and respectful. Dec. 26th.
The bad habit of reading in bed occasioned me a laughable mis
fortune last night. My hair eaught fire, and I was forced to bury
my head in the bedclothes to extinguish it. The injury is horrible;
— one entire half of my hair was destroyed, so that I have been
obliged to have it cut almost close to my head all over. Happily my
strength does not reside in my hair.
A letter from you consoled me on waking. Your fable of the
nightingale is charming. Had L  imagined that, and in his
twentieth year said, " Be dead to the world till your five-and-thir-
tieth," how brilliantly and prosperously could he now (according to
the world's standard) enter it. In the course of that time I too have
often accused the world and others; but"when dispassionately view
ed, this is as- foolish as it is unjust. The world is, and will be, the
world; and to reproach it with all the evil that accrues to us from it,
is to be like the child vvho would beat the fire because he has burnt
his finger in it. L  should therefore regret nothing; for if he
had slept fifteen years like a marmot, he would not have enjoyed ani
mation or consciousness. Let us stick to the belief, ' que tout est
pour le mieux dans ce meilleur des mondes.'
Heartily wishing that you may always clearly perceive this great
truth, I take my leave of you most tenderly, and am, as ever,
Your faithful L  .

LETTER XLVI.
Salisbury, December 21th, 1828.
Beloved Friend,
Yesterday evening at seven o'clock I left Bath, again by the
mail, for Salisbury. My only companion was a widow in deep
mourning; notwithstanding which, she had already found a lover,
whom we took up outside the town. He entertained us, whenever
he spoke of anything , but farming, with those horrible occurrences
of which the English are so fond that the columns of their newspa
pers are daily filled with them. Perhaps he was one of their ' ac-
68

538 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
cident makers,' for he was inexhaustible in horrors. He asserted
that the Holyhead mail (the same by which I came) had been wash
ed away by a waterspout; and horses, coachman, and one of the pas
sengers, drowned.
After some hours the loving pair left me, at a place where the
widow was proprietress of an inn (probably the real object of John
Bull's tenderness,) and I was quite alone. My solitude was not of
long duration, for a very pretty young girl, whom we overtook in
the dark, begged that we would take her on to Salisbury,. as she
must otherwise pass the night in the nearest village. I very willing
ly took upon myself the cost of her journey. She was very grate
ful; and told me she was a dress-maker, and had gone to pass her
Christmas vvith her parents; and that she had staid rather too late,
but had reckoned on the chance of getting a cast by the mail. — We
reached this city at midnight, where a good supper but a cold and
smoky bedchamber awaited me. , December 28th.
Early in the morning I was awakened by the monotonous patter
of a gentle rain, so that I am still sitting over my breakfast and my
book. A good book is a true electrical machine: one's own thoughts
often dart forth like flashes; — they generally, however, vanish as
quickly; for if one tries to fix them at the moment with pen and ink,
the enjoyment is at an end; and afterwards, as with dreams, it is not
worth the pains. The book by which I electrified myself to-day, is
a very ingenious and admirable combination of the fundamentals of
history, geography, and astronomy, adapted for self-instruction.
These little encyclopaedias are really one of the great conveniences
of our times. Accurate knowledge of details is indeed necessary to
the accomplishment of any thing useful, but the walls must be built
before the rooms can be adorned. In either sort of study, superficial
or profound, I hold self-instruction to be the most efficacious; at least
so it has always been with me. It is, however, certain that many
men can, in no way, acquire any real knowledge. If, for instance,
they study history, they never perceive the Eternal and the True:
to them it remains a mere chronicle, which their admirable memory
enables them to keep at their fingers' ends. Every other science is
learned in a like mechanical manner, and consists of mere words.
And yet this is precisely the sort of knowledge commonly called
fundamental; indeed, most examiners by profession require no other.
The absurdities still committed by these learned persons in many
places, would furnish abundance of most diverting anecdotes if they
were brought to light. I know a. young man who had to undergo a
diplomatic examination a short time ago, in a certain Resident. He
was asked " how much a cubic foot of wood weighed?" Pity he
did not answer, "How much does a gold coin weigh?" or, "How
much brains does a dolt's head contain?" Another was asked in the
course of a military examination, " Which was the most remarkable
siege?" The respondent (a nationalized German) answered, without
the slightest hesitation, " The siege of Jericho, because the walls

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 539
were blown down with trumpets." Conundrums might be made
out of these examinations; indeed I rather think that tiresome di
version sprung from them.
Many clergymen still ask, "Do you. believe in the Devil?" A
' mauvais plaisant,' who did not care much for being turned back,
lately replied, 'Samiel, help!' Evening.
About three o'clock the sky cleared a little; and as I had waited
only for that, I jumped into the bespoken gig, and drove as hard as
an old hunter would carry me to Stonehenge, the great druidical
temple, burial place, or sacrificial altar. The country round Salis
bury is fertile, but without trees and in no way picturesque. The
wondrous Stonehenge stands on a wide, bare, elevated plain. The
orange disk of the cloudless sun touched the horizon just as, astounded
at the inexplicable monument before me, I approached the nearest
stone, which the setting beams tinged with rose-colour. It is no
wonder that popular superstition ascribes this singular group to de
moniac power, for scarcely could another such work be achieved
with all the mechatiical means and contrivances of our times. How
then was it possible for a nearly barbarous people to erect such
masses, or to transport them thirty miles, the distance of the nearest
quarry?* Some have maintained that it was merely a sport of Na
ture, but no one who sees it will assent to this.
I was not the only spectator. A solitary stranger was visible from
time to time, who, without seeming to perceive me, had been going
round and round among the Stones incessantly for the last quarter of
an hour. He was evidently counting, and seemed very impatient
at something. The next time he emerged, I took the liberty to ask
him the cause of his singular demeanor; on which he politely an
swered, "that he had been told no one could count these stones
aright; that every time the number was different; and that this was
a trick which Satan, the author of the work, played the curious: that
he had within the last two hours confirmed the truth of this state
ment seven times, and that he should inevitably lose his senses if he
tried again." I advised him to leave off, and go home, as it was
growing dark, and Satan might play him a worse trick than this.
He fixed his eyes upon me sarcastically, and with what the Scotch
call a very ' uncanny' expression, looked about him as if for some
body; then suddenly exclaiming "Good-bye, Sir!" strode off, like
Peter Schlemil, casting no shadow, ('tis true the sun was set,) with
seven-league steps across the down, where he disappeared behind the
hill. I now likewise hastened to depart, and trotted on towards the
high tower of Salisbury Cathedral, which was just visible in the
twilight. Scarcely had I gone a mile, when the high crazy gig
broke, and the driver and I were thrown, not very softy, on the
turf. The old horse ran off with the shafts, neighing merrily, to
wards the city. While we were crawling up, we heard the trotting
* The description in detail is omitted, as familiar to the English reader — Tkans.

540 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
of a horse behind us; — it was the stranger, who galloped by on a
fine black horse, and cried out to me, " The Devil sends his best
compliments to you, Sir, 'au revoir ;' " and darted off like a whirl
wind. This jest was really provoking. "0, you untimely jester!"
exclaimed I, "give us help, instead of your 'fadaises.' " But the
echo of his horse's hoofs alone answered me through the darkness.
The driver ran almost a mile after our horse, but came back without
any tidings of him. As there was not even a hut hear, we were
obliged to make up our minds to walk the remaining six miles.
Never did a road seem to me more tedious ; and I found little com
pensation in the wonders which the driver related of his hunter,
when, twenty years ago, he was the ' leader of the Salisbury hunt.'
December 29th.
I have turned this day to very good account, but brought home a
violent headache in the evening, probably the effect of my last
night's adventure.
Salisbury's far-famed Cathedral boasts of the highest tower in Eu
rope. It is four hundred and ten feet high, — five feet higher than
the Minster at Strasburg, if I mistake not. It is at any rate far more
beautiful. The exterior is peculiarly distinguished by an air of new
ness and neatness, and by the perfection of its details. •For this it is
indebted to two grand repairs which in the course of time it has
undergone; the first, under the superintendence of Sir Christopher
Wren ; the second, of Mr. Wyatt. The site of this church is also
peculiar. It stands like a model, perfectly free and isolated on a
smooth-shaven plain of short turf, on one side of which is the
Bishop's palace, on the other high lime-trees. The tower termi
nates in an obelisk-like spire, with a cross, on which, rather omi
nously, a weather-cock is planted. This tasteless custom disgraces
most of the Gothic churches in England. The tower is five-and-
twenty inches out of the perpendicular. This is not visible, except
on the inside, where the inclination of the pillars is perceptible.
The interior of this magnificent temple is in the highest degree im
posing, and has been improved by Wyatt's genius. It was an ad
mirable idea to remove the most remarkable old monuments from
the walls and obscure corners, and to place them in the space be
tween the grand double avenues of pillars, whose unbroken height
would almost turn the head giddy. Nothing can have a finer effect
than these rows of Gothic sarcophagi, on which the figures of knights
or priests lie. stretched in their eternal sleep, while their habiliments
or armour of stone or metal are lighted with rainbow-tints from the
painted windows. Among Templars and other knights, I discovered
' Richard Longsword,' who came to England with the Conqueror:
near him, a giant figure in alabaster, the sword-bearer of Henry the
Seventh, who fell at Bosworth Field, where he fought with two
long swords, one in each hand, with which he is here represented.
The cloisters are also very beautiful. Long finely proportioned
corridors run at right-angles around the chapter-house, which is sup
ported, like the Remter in Marienburg, by a single pillar in the

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 541
centre. The bas-reliefs, which surround it in a broad entablature,
seem to be of very fine workmanship, but were half destroyed in
Cromwell's time. In the centre stands a worm-eaten oaken table of
the thirteenth century, on which — as it seems from tolerably credi
ble tradition — the labourers employed in building the church were
paid every evening, at the rate of a penny a-day. The ascent of
the spire is very difficult: the latter half must be climbed by slender
ladders, like the Stephansthurm in Vienna. At length you reach
a little door in the roof, thirty feet under the extreme point. Out
of this door, the man who weekly oils the weathercock ascends, in
so perilous a manner that it appears inconceivable how a man of
seventy can accomplish it. From this door, or rather window, to
the top, is, as I have said, a distance of thirty feet, along which
there are no other means of climbing than by iron hooks projecting
from the outside. The old man gets out of the little window back
wards; then, on account of a sort of penthouse over the window, is
obliged to bend his body forward, and in that posture to feel for the
first hook, without being able to see it. When he has reached it,
and caught fast hold, he swings himself up to it, hanging in the air,
while he feels out the projection over the window with his feet, after
which he climbs from hook to hook. It would certainly be easy to
contrive a more convenient and less dangerous ascent; but he has
been used to it from his childhood, and will not have it altered.
Even at night he has made this terrific ascent, and is delighted that
scarcely any strangers, not even sailors, who generally climb the
most impracticable places, have ventured to follow him.
As we reached the first outer gallery around the tower, the guide
pointed out to me a hawk which hung poised, in air twenty or thirty
feet above us. " For many years," said he, " a pair of these birds
have built in the tower, and live on the Bishop's pigeons. I often
see one or other of them hanging above the cross, and then suddenly
pounce upon a bird: they sometimes let it fall on the roof or gallery
of the church, but never stoop to pick up prey which has once fallen,
— they let it lie and rot there, if I don't remove it."
The Bishop's palace and garden lay in a picturesque group be
neath us, and all the chimneys were smoking merrily, for ' His Lord
ship' was just arrived, but was preparing for a journey to a watering-
place. The guide thought that they saw the ' Lord Bishop' twice
or three times a-year in the cathedral. ' His Lordship' never preaches:
his sacred functions consist, as it seems, in the spending of fifteen
thousand a-year with as much good taste as it has pleased God to
bestow upon him; — the labour is sufficiently performed by subalterns.
This beautiful Establishment is the only one we on the Continent
want to complete our felicity, — the only one which it is worth our
while to copy from England. On my return, 1 walked for some time
longer in the darkening church, amid the noble monuments of old
heroes, whom my imagination summoned from their tombs.
I took care to secure a more substantial carriage than that of yes
terday, and drove very comfortably to Wilton, the beautiful seat of
the Earl of Pembroke. Here is a valuable collection of antiques,

1
542 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
tastefully arranged by the deceased Earl, who was a great lover of
art. It is placed in a broad gallery running round the inner court,
communicating With the apartments on the ground-floor, and finely
lighted from one side. It affords a most interesting walk, winter
and summer, and is within a few steps of every room. The win
dows are ornamented with the coats-of-arms, in coloured glass, of
all the families with which the Earls of Pembroke have been allied
by marriage, — a rich collection, which includes even the royal arms
of England. In the halls are placed the coats of armour of the old
warriors of the family, and those of their most distinguished pri
soners; among them, the Grand Constable Montmorenci, a French
Prince of the blood, and several others. Unquestionably these old
recollections of a high and puissant aristocracy have their poetical
side. The Chatelaine who conducted me about seemed herself to have
crept out of a colossal coat of armour: she was full six feet high, and
of a very masculine aspect, nor could anybody be better versed in
the history of the Middle Ages. On the other hand, she murdered
the names of Roman emperors and Grecian sages most barbarously.
She explained some rather equivocal subjects quite circumstantially,
and in very droll connoisseur language.
One of the adjoining rooms is filled with family portraits, which
derive more of their value and splendour from the hand of Holbein
or Vandyke than from the personages they represent. After a cer
tain lapse of time, the nobility of genius outshines that of birth,
' comme de raison.' The house contains several other valuable pic
tures; among which an Interment of Christ by Albrecht Diirer, ex
ecuted in the most finished manner in water-colours, was the most
striking. The Countess's garden, upon which the library opens, is laid out
in the old French style, and is terminated by a small very richly
ornamented temple, which has one great singularity. It was built
by Holbein, but does no credit to his taste: it is, on the contra
ry, an ugly overloaded thing. The garden is extremely pretty
and elegant: it reflects honour on English women of rank, that most
of them are distinguished for their taste and skill in this beautiful
art. We should fall into a great mistake if vve hoped that any Eng
lish gardener whatever were capable of producing such master-pieces
of garden decoration as I have described to you in my former let
ters.* These all owe their existence to the genius and the charming
taste for the embellishment of home which characterize their fair
owners. As it was positively forbidden to admit any stranger without a
written order from the possessor, 1 should not have obtained a sight
of the house had I not practised a stratagem, which the lord of the
mansion will of course forgive, if he ever knows it. I announced
myself to the Chatelaine as a Russian relative of the family, vvith a
* The letters alluded to belong to the first part, which see. — Editoh  (See
Preface.)

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 543
name she could neither read nor speak. — It is really too annoying to
drive four miles for an express purpose, and then to turn back with
out accomplishing it: I therefore lay my oblige falsehood entirely at
the door of these inhuman English manners. With us, people are
not so cruel; and never will an Englishman have to complain of si
milar illiberality in Germany.
On the other side of the town lies an interesting place, Langford,
the seat of the Earl of Radnor; an extensive park, and very old cas
tle of strange triangular form, with enormously massy towers whqse
walls are like mosaic. In insignificant, low and ill-furnished rooms
I found one of the most precious collections of pictures; master
pieces of the greatest painters; hidden treasures, which nobody sees
and nobody knows of, — of which so many exist in English private
houses. There is a Sunrise and a Sunset by Claude. The morning
exhibits -rEneas with his followers landing on the happy shores of
Italy, and makes one envy the new-comers to the paradise which
this picture discloses to them. In the evening scene, the setting sun
gilds the magnificent ruins of temples and palaces, which are sur
rounded by a solitary wild country; — they are allegorical repre
sentations of the rise and fall of the Roman Empire. Water, clouds,
sky, trees, the transparent quivering atmosphere, — it is all, as ever
in Claude, Nature herself. It is difficult to imagine how a man in
his five-and-thirtieth year could be a cook and a colour-grinder, and
in his five-and-fortieth give to the world such unequalled produc
tions. The wondrously beautiful head of a Magdalen by Guido,
whose tearful eyes and warir^ rosy mouth certainly seem to invite
rather to a thousand kisses than to repentance; a Holy Family by
Andrea del Sarto, brilliant in all the pomp of colour; and many
other ' chef-d'ceuvres' of the most illustrious masters, riveted me for
many hours. A portrait of Count Egmont would have served but
ill as a frontispiece to Gothe's tragedy ; for the joyous-liearted, mag
nificent visionary, here appears a corpulent man of forty, with a bald
pate and. a thoroughly every-day physiognomy. His friend of
Orange, hanging near him, exhibited a face of far different intellec
tual character. Between them hung the gloomy Alba, who pursued
cruelty as a luxury.
Besides the pictures and some antiques, this seat contains a rare
and precious curiosity, — a chair or throne of steel, which the city
of Augsburgh gave to the Emperor Rudolph the Second, which Gus
tavus Adolphus stole, and an ancestor of Lord Radnor's bought at
Stockholm. The workmanship is admirable. How do all the fine
steel works of our day, — those of Birmingham, or the Berlin iron
ornaments, — fade before this splendid piece of art into miserable
trifles and toys! You think you see before you a work of Benve
nuto Cellini; and know not which to admire most, the fine execu
tion and the elegance of the details, or the tasteful and artist-like dis
position of the whole. London, December 31st.
Yesterday I was obliged to sacrifice to my hereditary foe ' mi
graine:' to-day I travelled in continual rain to the metropolis, and

544 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
shall depart to-morrow morning for France. — The country had little
in it attractive; but the conversation on the outside of the coach was
the more animated. It turned, during nearly the whole day, on a
famous 'boxing-match,' in which a Yankee had, it seemed, 'cheated
a John Bull ; and, bribed by the principal patrons of the art, had won
ten thousand pounds. Cheating, in every kind of ' sport,' is as com
pletely in the common order of things in England, among the high
est classes as well as the lowest, as false play was in the time of the
Count de Grammont. It is no uncommon thing to hear ' gentle
men' boast of it almost openly; and I never found that those who
are regarded as ' the most knowing ones' had suffered in their repu
tation in consequence; — ' au contraire,' they pass for cleverer than
their "neighbours; and you are only now and then warned with a
smile to take care what you are about with them. Some of the
highest members of the aristocracy are quite notorious for their
achievements of this description. I heard from good authority, that
the father of a nobleman of sporting celebrity, to whom some one
was expressing his solicitude lest his son should be cheated by a
'Blacklegs,' answered, "I am much more afraid for the Blacklegs
than for my son !" To every country its customs!* — Another cha
racteristic trait of England, though in a lower step in society, was,
that the coachman who drove us had lost two hundred pounds in this
same unlucky match, and only laughed at it; giving us significantly
to understand that he should soon find another dupe, who should pay
it him back with interest. What advances must the ' march of in
tellect' make on the continent before.the postilions of the Prince of
Tour and Taxis, or the Eilwagen drivers of the Herr von Nagler
will be able to lay such bets with their passengers!
Some miles from- Windsor we passed through a sort of country
uncommon in England, consisting only of sand and pebbles. A
magnificent building, with a park and garden, has been erected here,
— the New Military College, whieh is fitted up with all the luxury of
a princely residence. The sand and stones made me feel at home,
— not so the palace. While I was eyeing the soil with looks of ten
der affection, ' car a toute ame bien nee la patrie est chere,' we saw
a gray old fox, which with sweeping brush galloped across the heath.
Our bet-loving coachman saw him first, and cried out, " By God, a
fox! a fox!'7 "It'sadog," replied a passenger. " I bet you five to
four 'tis a fox," rejoined the steed-compelling hero. " Done!"
replied the doubter, — and soon had to pay; for it was indeed an in
dubitable fox, though of extraordinary size. Several hounds, who
had lost the scent, now ran in sight, and a few red coats were also
visible. All the passengers on the mail screamed and hallooed to them
which way the fox was gone, but could not make them understand.
The time of the mail is rigorously fixed, and all unnecessary delays
forbidden: but here was a national calamity impending; the pack
and the hunters had lost, the fox! The coachman drew up, and
* Landlich, sittlich,~2i German proverb, to which I do not recollect any corres
ponding English one.— T^ansl.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 545
a
several sprang down to show the party, which now every moment
increased, the right way. We did not get afloat again till we saw
the whole hunt once more in full pursuit; whereupon we all waved
our hats, and shouted ' Tallyho!' As soon as our consciences were
thus entirely set at ease, and the fox delivered over to his inevitable
fate, the coachman whipped on his horses to make up for the delay,
and the rest of the way we dashed along at a rattling gallop, as if
the Wild Huntsman himself were at our heels.
Dover, January 1st, 1829.
The box of the mail-coach is become my throne, from which I
occasionally assume the reins of government, and direct four rapid
steeds with great skill. I proudly overlook the country, hurry for
wards, which every governor cannot boast; and yet wish for wings
that I might the sooner get home to you.
I found all the towers in Canterbury decorated with flags in cele
bration of New-year's day. I commemorated it in the proudest and
most beautiful of all English cathedrals. This romantic edifice, be
gun by the Saxons, continued by the Normans, and recently re
stored with great judgment, forms three distinct and yet connected
churches; with many irregular chapels and staircases, black and
white marble floors, and a forest of pillars in harmonious confusion.
The yellow tone of the sandstone is very advantageous, especially in
the Norman part of the church, where it is beautifully relieved by
the black marble columns. Here lies the brazen effigy of the Black
Prince, on a sarcophagus of stone. Over him hang his half-moul
dered gloves, and the sword and shield he wore at Poictiers. A
number of other monuments adorn the church; — among them, those
of Henry the Fourth and Thomas a Becket, who was killed in
one of the adjoining chapels. A great part of the old painted win
dow is preserved, and is unrivalled in the splendour of its colours.
Some parts of it are only patterns and arabesques, like transparent
carpets of velvet: others appear like jewellery formed of every varie
ty of precious stones. But few contain historical subjects. What
gives this magnificent cathedral a great pre-eminence over every
other, in England, is, that there is no screen in the middle to cut and
obstruct the view, and you see the whole extent of the aisle, — from
four to five hundred paces long, — at one glance. The organ is con
cealed in one of the upper galleries, and when it sounds produces a
magical effect. I timed my visit so luckily, that just as I was
going out, almost in the dark, the choristers began to sing, and their
beautiful music filled the church, at the same time that the last sun
beam glowed through the window in tints of sapphire and ruby.
The Archbishop of Canterbury is primate of England, and the only
subject in Great Britain, except the princes of the blood, who has the
dignity of prince. I believe, however, he enjoys it only in his see,
not in London. This Protestant clergyman has sixty thousand a
year and may marry; — more I know not by which to distinguish
him from the Catholic ecclesiastical princes.
69

546 LETTERS ON GERMANY, o Calais, Jan. 2nd.
At length I set my foot once more in beloved France. How
ever little advantageous is the first contrast, I yet greet this, my
half-native soil, the purer air, the easier, kinder, franker manners,
almost with the feeling of a man escaped from a long imprisonment.
We waked at five o'clock in the morning at Dover, and got on
board the packet in utter darkness. We had already walked up and
down for at least half an hour before there appeared any preparation
for sailing. On a sudden the rumour was spread that the ' boiler' was
damaged. The most timid immediately made their escape to shore;
the others cried out for the Captain, who was nowhere to be found.
At last he sent a man to tell us that we could not sail without dan
ger, and our luggage was accordingly transferred to a French steam-
packet which was to sail at eight o'clock. I employed the interval
in seeing the sun rise from the fort which crowns the lofty chalk
cliffs above the town. The English, who have money enough to
execute every useful plan, have cut a passage through the cliff, form
ing a kind of funnel, in which two winding staircases lead to the
height of two hundred and forty feet. The view from the top is
highly picturesque, and the sun arose out of the sea, almost cloud
less, over the extensive prospect. I was in such an ecstasy at the
scene that I nearly lost my passage. The vessel sailed the moment
I was on board. A violent wind carried us over in two hours and
a half. The sea-sickness, this time, was endurable; and an excellent
dinner, such an one as no English inn can offer, soon restored me.
This Hotel (Bourbon) is, as far as cookery goes, one of the best in
France. Jan. 3rd.
My first morning walk in France was quite delicious to me. The
unbroken sunshine; the clear sky, which I had not seen for so long;
a town in which the houses are not put in eternal mourning by coal
smoke, and stood out bright and sharp from the atmosphere, made
me feel at home again, and I walked down to the harbour to take
my last farewell of the sea. There it lay before me, boundless
everywhere except in one spot, where a black line of something like
cloud, probably the concentrated fog and smoke of the island, de
noted the existence of the English coast. I followed the jetty (a
sort of wooden dam), and found myself at length entirely alone.
I saw nothing living but a sea-bird, swimming by with the swiftness
of lightning, often diving, and then after an interval of several
minutes reappearing at .some distant spot. He continued this sport
a long while; and so agile and full of enjoyment did the creature
seem, that I could almost fancy he took pleasure in exhibiting his
feats to me. I was giving in to a train of fancies which insensibly
grew out of this exhibition, when I heard the step and the voices of
an English family behind me, — and away we went, bird and I.
On the ramparts I met a French bonne with two English children,
miracles of beauty, and very elegantly dressed in scarlet cachemire

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 547
and white. The youngest had taken fast hold of a tree; and with
true English love of liberty and determination, refused in the most
decided manner to go home. The poor French girl vainly murdered
all sorts of English coaxings and threats which she could command.
" Mon darling, come, allons," exclaimed she, in a tone of distress.
<' I won't," was the laconic answer. The stubborn little creature
interested me so much that I walked up to the tree to try my luck
with her. I had better success; for after a few jokes in English,
she followed me readily, and I led her in triumph to her bonne.
But as I was going away, the little devil seized me with all her
might by the coat, and said, laughing aloud, " No no, you shan't
go now; you forced me away from the tree, and now I'll force you
to stay with us!" And I actually could not escape, till, amid playing
and battling, during which she never quitted her hold of me, we
reached the door of her parents' house. " Now I have done with
you," cried the little thing, while she ran shouting and laughing
into the house. "You little flirt!" cried I after her, "French educa
tion will bring forth little fruit in you."
Returning to the town, I visited the celebrated B— — . I see
you turn over the ' Dictionnaire Historique et des Contemporains'
in vain. Has he distinguished himself in a revolution, or a counter
revolution? Is he a warrior or a statesman? ' Vous n'y etes pas.'
He is less and greater, — as you choose to take it. In a word, he is
the most illustrious, and was, in his time, the most puissant of dan
dies London ever knew. At one period, B  ruled a whole gene
ration by the cut of his coat; and leather breeches went out of fashion
because all men despaired of being able to reach the perfection of his.
When at length, for weighty reasons, he turned his back on Great
Britain, he bequeathed to the land of his birth, as his last gift, the im
mortal secret of starched cravats, the unfathomableness of which had
so tormented the ' elegants' of the metropolis that, according to the
' Literary Gazette,' two of them had put an end to their lives in de
spair, and a youthful Duke had died miserably ' of a broken heart'
The foundation of this malady had however been laid earlier. On one
occasion, when he had just received a new coat, he modestly asked
B  his opinion of it. B  , casting a slight glance at it, asked,
with an air of surprise, " Do you call that thing a coat?" The poor
young man's sense of honour received an incurable wound.
Although it is no longer dress by which a man gives the ton in
London, it is merely the vehicle that is altered — not the thing.
The influence which Br  , without birth' or fortune, without a
fine person or a superior intellect, merely by a lofty sort of impu
dence, a droll originality, love of company, and talent in dress, ac
quired and maintained for many years in London society, forms an
admirable criterion by which the tone and quality of that society
may be estimated; and as I have briefly described in my former
letters some of those who now occupy the place B  once filled,
you will perhaps agree with me, that he excelled them in good-hu
mour and social qualities, as well as in innocence of manners. It
was a more frank and, at the same time, more original and harmless

548 LETTERS ON GERMAN?,
folly, which bore the same comparison to that of his successors, that
the comedy and the morality of Holberg do to those of Kotzebue.
Play at length accomplished what even the hostility of the heir to
the throne could not. He lost everything, and was obliged to flee;
since which time he has lived in Calais, and every bird of passage
from the fashionable world dutifully pays the former patriarch the
tribute of a visit', or of an invitation to dinner.
This I did also, though under my assumed name. Unfortunately,
in the matter of dinner I had been forestalled by another stranger,
and I cannot therefore judge how a coat really ought to look ; or
whether his long residence in Calais, added to increasing years, have
rendered the dress of the former king of fashion less classical; for I
found him at his second toilet, in a flowered chintz dressing-gown,
velvet night-cap with gold tassel, and Turkish slippers, shaving, and
rubbing the remains of his teeth with his favourite red root. The
furniture of his rooms was elegant enough, part of it might even be
called rich, though faded ; and I cannot deny that the whole man
seemed to me to correspond with it. Though depressed by his pre
sent situation, he exhibited a considerable fund of humour and good
nature. His air was that of good society; simple and natural, and
marked by more urbanity than the dandies of the present race are
capable of. With a smile he showed me his Paris peruque, which
he extolled at the cost of the English ones, and called himself ' le ci-
devant jeune homme qui passe sa vie entre Parjs et Londres.' Pie
appeared somewhat curious ^ibout me; asked me questions concern
ing people and things in London, without belying his good breed
ing by any kind of intrusiveness; and then took occasion to con
vince me that he was still perfectly well-informed as to all that was
passing in the English world of fashion, as well as of politics. " Je
suis au fait de tout," exclaimed he; " mais a quoi cela me sert-il?
On me laisse mourir de faim ici. J'espere pourtant que mon ancien
ami, le Due de W  enverra un beau jour le Consul d'ici a la
Chine, et qu' eusuite il me nommera a sa place. Alors je suis sauve. "
* * * And surely the English nation ought in justice to do
something for the man who invented starched cravats! How many
did I see in London in the enjoyment of large sinecures, who had
done far less for their country.
As I took my leave, and was going down stairs, he opened the
door and called after me, " J'espere que vous trouverez votre che-
min, mon Suisse n'est pas la, je crains." "Helas!" thought I,
"point d'argent, point de Suisse."
That I may not leave you too long without intelligence, I despatch
this letter from hence. Probably I shall soon follow it. I shall,
however, stay at least a fortnight in Paris, and execute all your com
missions. Meanwhile think of me with your usual affection.
Your faithful L  .

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 549

LETTER XLVII.
Paris, January 5th, 1829.
Mv MOST DEAR AND VALUED FRIEND,
I could not write to you yesterday, because the diligence takes
two days and a night to go from Calais to Paris, though it stops but
once in twelve hours to eat, and then only for half an hour. . The
ride is not the most agreeable. The whole country, and even its me
tropolis, certainly appears somewhat dead, miserable, and dirty, af
ter the rolling torrent of business, the splendour and the neatness of
England. The contrast is doubly striking at this short distance.
When you locrts at the. grotesque machine in which you are seated,
the wretchedly harnessed cart-horses by which you are slowly drag
ged along, and remember the noble horses, the elegant light-built
coaches, the beautiful harness ornamented with bright brass and po
lished leather of England, you think you are transported a thousand
miles in a dream. The bad roads, the miserable and dirty towns,
awaken the same feeling. On the other hand, four things are mani
festly better here, — climate, eating and drinking, cheapness, and so
ciability. ' Mais commengons par le commencement." After I had
exchanged my incognito passport for one equally provisional, and
valid only as far as Paris, in the course of which operation I had
nearly forgotten my new name, I approached the wonderful struc
ture, which in France people have agreed to call a diligence. The
monster was as long as a house, and consisted, in fact, of four dis
tinct carriages, grown, as it w,ere, together; the berfine in the mid
dle; a coach with a basket for luggage behind; a coupe in front;
and a cabriolet above, where the conducteur sits, and where I also
had perched myself. This conducteur, an old soldier of Napoleon's
Garde, was dressed like a waggoner, in a blue blouze, with a stitch
ed cap of the same material on his head. The postilion was a still
more extraordinary figure, and really looked almost like a savage:
he too wore a blouze, under which appeared monstrous boots coated
with mud; but besides this he wore an apron of untanned black
sheep's-skin, which hung down nearly to his knees. He drove six
horses, harnessed three-and-three, which drew a weight of six thou
sand pounds over a very bad road. The whole road from Calais to
Paris is one of the most melancholy and uninteresting I ever saw. I
should therefore have read nearly all the way, had not the conversa
tion of the conducteur afforded me better entertainment. His own
heroic deeds and those of the Garde were an inexhaustible theme;
and he assured me without the slightest hesitation, " que les trente
mille hommes dont il faisoit partie dans ce tempsla," (that was his
expression,) "auraient ete plus que suffisans pour conquerir toutes
les nations de la terre, et que les autres n'avaient fait que gater l'af-
faire." He sighed every time he thought of his Emperor. "Mais
e'est sa faute," exclaimed he, "ah! s  d  il serait encore
Empereur, si dans les cent jours il avait seulement voulu employer
dejeuhes gens qui desiraient fair e fortune, au lieu de ces vieux

550 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
Marechaux qui etaient trop riches, et qui avaient tous peur de leurs
femmes. N'etaient ils pas tous gros et gras commes des monstres?
Ah! parlez moi d'un jeune, Colonel, comme nous en avions! Celui-
Ia vous aurait flanque ca de la jolie maniere. — Mais apres tout I'Em
pereur aurait du se faira tuer a, Waterloo CQmme notre Colonel. Eh
bien, Monsieur, ce brave Colonel avait recu trois coups de' feu, un
a la jambe, et deux dans le corps, et pourtant il nous menait encore
al'attftque, porte par deux grenadiers. Mais quand tout fut en vain et
tout fini pour nous; Camerades, dit-il, j'ai fait ce que j'ai pu, mais
nous voila. — Je ne puis plus rendre service a I'Empereur, a quoi
bon vivre plus long temps? Adieu done, mes Camerades — Vive
I'Empereur! Et le voila qui tire son pistolet, et le decharge dans sa
bouche. C'est amsi, ma foi, que I'Empereur aurait d>u finir aussi."
Here we were interrupted by a pretty girl, who ran out of a poor-
looking house by the road side, and called up to -us, (for we were at
least eight ells from the ground,) "Ah ga, Monsieur le Conducteur,
oubliez vous les craipes?" "0 ho! es tu la, mon enfant?" and he
rapidly scrambled down the accustomed break-neck steps, made the
postilion stop, and disappeared in the house. After a few minutes
he came out with a packet, seated himself with an air of great satis
faction by me, and unfolded a prodigious store of hot smoking Ger
man Plinzen, a dish which, as he told me, he had learned to like so
much in Germany, that he had imported it into his own country.
Conquests are, you see, productive of some good. With French
politeness he immediately begged me to partake of his ' goute,' as
he called it; and patriotism alone would have led me to accept his
offer with pleasure. I must however admit that no farmer in Ger
many could have prepared his national dish better.
He was greatly troubled and distressed by a strange machine,
nearly in the form of a pump, placed near his seat, with which he
was incessantly busied; now pumping at it with all his might, then
putting it in order, screwing it round or turning it backwards and
forwards. On inquiry, I learned that this was a most admirable
newly-invented piece of machinery, for the purpose of retarding the
diligence without the aid of a drag-shoe. The conducteur was
amazingly proud of this contrivance, never called it by any other
name than ' sa mechanique,' and treated it with equal tenderness and
reverence. Unhappily this prodigy broke the first day; and as we
were forced in consequence to creep more slowly than before, the
poor hero had to endure a good many jokes from the passengers, on
the frailty of his ' mechanique,' as well as on the name of his huge ve
hicle, 'l'Hirondelle,' a name which truly seemed to have been given
it in the bitterest irony.
It was irresistibly droll to hear the poor devil, at every relay, re
gularly advertise the postilion of the misfortune which had happened.
The following dialogue, with few variations, always ensued: " Mon
enfant, il faut que tu saches que je n'ai plus de mechanique." " Com
ment, s  d  , plus de mechanique?" " Ma mechanique fait
encore un peu, vois-tu, mais c'est tres peu de chose, le principal
brancheron est au diable." "Ah, diable!"

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 551
It was impossible to be worse seated, or to travel more uncom
fortably or tediously than I in my lofty cabriolet; and indeed I had
now been for some time deprived of my most familiar comforts: yet
never were my health or my spirits better than during this whole
journey: I felt uninterrupted cheerfulness and content, because I
was completely free. Oh! inestimable blessing of freedom, never
do we value thee enough! If every man would but clearly ascer
tain what were actually nece'ssary to his individual happiness and
content, and would unconditionally choose what best promised to
secure that end, and heartily reject all the rest (for we cannot have
everything at once in this world), how many mistakes were avoided,
how much petty ambition crushed, how much true joy and pleasure
promoted! All would find a great over-proportion of happiness in
life, instead of torturing themselves to the very brink of the grave to
obtain what gives them neither tranquillity nor enjoyment.
I will not weary you with any further details of so uninteresting
a journey. It was like the melo-drame " One o'clock," and as tire
some. The day we left Calais we stopped at one to dine; at one in
the morning we supped: the next day at one we had breakfast or
dinner at Beauvais, where a pretty girl who waited on us, and a
friend of Bolivar's, who told us a great deal about the disinterested
ness of the Liberator, made us regret our quick departure; and again,
at one in the morning, we had to fight for our luggage at the Cus
tom-house at Paris. My servant put mine upon a ' charrette' which
a man crowded before us through the dark and dirty streets to the
Hotel St. Maurice, where I am now writing to you in a little room
in which the cold wind whistles through all the doors and windows,
so that the blazing fire in the chimney warms me only on one side.
The silken hangings, as well as the quantity of dirt they cover; the
number of looking-glasses; the large blocks of wood on the fire; the
tile parquet, — all recall vividly to my mind that I am in France, and
not in England.
I shall rest here a few days and make my purchases, and then
hasten to you without, if possible, seeing one acquaintance; • car
cela m'entrainerait trop.' Do not, therefore, expect to hear any
thing new from old Paris. A few detached remarks are all that I
shall have to offer you. January 6th.
To make some defence against the extreme cold, which I have
always found most insufferable in France and Italy, from the want
of all provision against it,. I was obliged to-day to have all the chinks
in my little lodging stuffed with ' bourlets.' When this was done, I
sallied forth to take the customary first walk of strangers, — to the Bou
levards, the Palais Royal, Tuilleries, &c. for I was. curious to see what
alterations had taken place in the course of seven years. On the
Boulevards I found all just as it was: in the Palais Royal, the Duke
of Orleans has begun to substitute new stone buildings and an elegant
covered way for the narrow old wooden galleries, and other holes
and corners. When it is finished, this palace will certainly be one

552 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
of the most magnificent, as it has always been one of the most sin
gular and striking, in the world. Perhaps there is no other instance
of a royal prince inhabiting the same house with several hundred
shopkeepers, and as many inmates of a less reputable description,
and deriving from them a revenue much more than sufficient for his
'menus plaisirs.' In England a nobleman would think the exist
ence of such a society under his roof impossible; but could it by
any means find admittance, he would at least take care to have it
cleaner. In the palace of the Tuilleries and the Rue Rivoli all the improve
ments which Napoleon began were in much the same state as he left
them. In this point of view Paris has lost much in the Imperial
dynasty, which would have rendered it a truly magnificent city, and
the luxury of decoration must soon have been followed by that of
cleanliness. One is tempted to wish that the Pont de Louis Seize
were among the unfinished things; for the ludicrously theatrical sta
tues, at least twice too big in proportion to the bridge, and seeming
to crush the pillars they stand upon, have much more the air of
bad ' acteurs de province' than of the heroes they are meant to re
present. As cooks are to be numbered among the heroes of France, first on
account of their unequalled skill, and secondly of their sense of ho
nour, (remember Vatel,) I come naturally in this place to the restau
rateurs. Judging by the most eminent whom I visited to-day, I
think they have somewhat degenerated. They have, to be sure,
exchanged their inconveniently long ' carte' for an elegantly bound
book; but the quality of the dishes and 'wines seems to have deterio
rated in proportion ¦ to the increase of luxury in the announcement
of them. After coming to this melancholy conviction, I hastened
to the once celebrated ' Rocher de Cancale.' But Baleine has
launched into the sea of eternity; and the traveller who now trusts
to the rock of Cancale, builds upon the sand: 'Sic transit gloria
mundi.' On the other hand I must give all praise to the Theatre de Ma
dame, where I spent my evening. Leontine Fay is a most delight
ful actress, and a better ' ensemble' it would be difficult to find.
Coming directly from England, I was particularly struck with the
consummate truth and nature with which Leontine Fay represented
the French girl educated in England, yet without suffering this
nuance to break in any degree the harmony and keeping of the
character. It is impossible to discover in her admirable acting the
slightest imitation of Mademoiselle Mars; and yet it presents as
true, as tender, as pathetic a copy of nature, in a totally different
manner. — The second piece, a farce, was given with that genuine
ease and comic expression which make these French ' Riens' so de
lightful and amusing in Paris, while they appear so vapid and absurd
in a German translation. The story is this: — A provincial uncle
secretly leaves his little country town, in which he has just been
chosen a member of a ' Societe de la Vertu,' in order to reclaim his
nephew, of whom he has received the most discouraging accounts,

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 553
from his wild courses. Instead of which his nephew's companions
get hold of him, and draw him into all sorts of scrapes and ex
cesses. Mademoiselle Minetle brings, by her coquetry, old Martin to give
her a kiss, at which moment her lover, the waiter, comes in with a
pig's head, stands speechless with amazement, and at length letting
the head slide slowly off the dish, r.ries out, " N'y a't-il pas de quoi
perdre la tete?" This certainly is a silly jest enough, yet one must
be very stoically inclined not to laugh heartily at the admirable drol
lery of the acting. The rest is as diverting: Martin, alarmed at
having been caught in such an adventure, at length consoles himself
with the thought that he is not known here; and in the midst of his
' em barras,' accepts an invitation to a ' dejeuner' from Dorval, who
has just come in. The 'dejeuner' is given at the theatre. Martin
at first is very temperate; but at length the truffles and dainties tempt
him, ' et puis il faut absolument les arroser d'un peu de Champagne.'
After much pressing on the part of his hosts, and much moralizing
on his own, he consents to drink one glass 'a la vertu.' ' Helas, il
n'y a que le premier pas qui coute.' A second glass follows, 'a la
piete;' — a third, ' a la misericorde;' and before the guests depart, we
hear Martin, drunk and joyous, join in the toast, ' Vivent les femmes
et levin!' Play follows: — at first he will only join in a game of
piquet; from piquet he is led on to ecarte, and from ecarte to hazard;
loses a large sum, and at last learns, ' pour le combler de confusion,'
that he and his plan were betrayed from the first, and that his ne
phew had put him to the trial instead of being tried by him, and
had unfortunately found him very frail. He gladly agrees to all
that is required of him, 'pourvu qu'on lui garde le secret:' and the
piece concludes with the arrival of his old friend, who comes by
extra post to announce to him that he (Martin) was yesterday elect
ed by acclamation president of the ' Societe de la Vertu' in his na
tive town.
Jan. 7th.
In spite of the < bourlets' and a burning pile of wood in my chim
ney, I continue to be almost frozen in my ' entresol.' There pre
vails moreover a constant ' clair-obscur,' so that I see the writing
implements before me as if behind a veil. The small windows and
high opposite houses render this irremediable; you must forgive me,
therefore, if my writing is more unintelligible than usual. You must
have remarked that the preposterously high rate of postage in Eng
land taught me to write more carefully, and especially smaller; so
that a. Lavater of handwritings might study my character in the mere
aspect of my letters to you. It is in this, as in life; we are often
led by good motives to begin to contract in various ways: soon how
ever the lines involuntarily expand; and before we are conscious of
it, the unfelt but irresistible power of habit leads us back to our old
latitude. An English officer, whom I found to-day in the Cafe Anglais, re
peatedly asked the astonished 'gargon' for < la charte,' concluding I
70

554 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
suppose, that in liberal France it formed a part of the furniture of
every cafe. Although the French seldom take any notice of the
' qui pro quos' of foreigners, this was too remarkable not to draw
forth a smile from several. I thought, however, — how willingly
would some reverse the Englishman's blunder, and give the French
people ' cartes' instead of 'e.hartes.'
I was greatly surprised in the evening at the Opera Francais, which
I had left a kind of bedlam, where a few maniacs screamed with
agony as if on the rack, and where I now found sweet singing in
the best Italian style, united to very good acting. Rossini who, like
a second Orpheus, has tamed even this savage opera, is a real musi
cal benefactor; and natives as well as foreigners have reason to bless
him for the salvation of their ears. I prefer this now, though it is
not the fashion to do so, to the Italian Opera. It combines nearly
all that one can desire in a theatre ;^the good singing and acting I
have mentioned, with magnificent decorations, and the best ballet in
the world. If the text of the operas were fine poetry, I know not
what further could be wished; but even as they are, one may be
very well content; for instance, with the ' Muette de Portici,' which
I saw to-day. Mademoiselle Noblet's acting is full of grace and
animation, without the least exaggeration. The elder Nourrit is an
admirable Massaniello, though he, and he alone, sometimes scream
ed too loud. The costumi were models; but Vesuvius did not ex
plode and flame properly, and the clouds of smoke which sunk into
the earth instead of ascending from it, were a phenomenon which I
had not the good fortune to witness when I ' assistai' at a real erup
tion of that mountain. Jan. Sth.
A French writer somewhere says, " L'on dit que nous sommes
des enfans; — oui, pour les faiblesses, mais pas pour le bonheur. "
This, thank God! I can by no means say of myself. ' Je le suis pour.
l'un et pour l'autre,' in spite of my three dozen years. I amuse my
self here in the solitude of this great city uncommonly well, and can
fancy myself a young man just entering the world, and everything
new to me. In the mornings I see sights, saunter from one museum
to another, or go ' shopping.' (This word signifies to go from shop
to shop buying trifles, such as luxury is always inventing in Paris
and London.) I have already collected a hundred little presents for
you, so that my small apartment can hardly contain them, and yet I
have scarcely spent eighty pounds sterling for them. In England it
is the dear?iess, but here the cheapness, that is expensive. I am
often constrained to laugh when I see that a cunning French shop
keeper thinks he has cheated a stiff islander admirably, while the
latter goes off in astonishment at having bought things for a sixth
part of what he had given for the very same in London.
I continue my scientific researches among the restaurateurs, which
occupy me till evening, when I go to the theatre, though I have not
time to complete the course either of the one or the other.
During my ' shopping' to-day in the Palais Royal, I observed an

HOLLAND, AND ENGLAND. 555
affiche announcing the wonderful exhibition of the death of Prince
Poniatowski at Leipsic. I am loath to omit anything of this national
kind, so that 1 ascended a miserable dirty staircase, where I found a
shabbily dressed man sitting near a half-extinguished lamp, in a dark
room without a window. A large table standing before him was
covered with a dirty table-cloth. As soon as I entered he arose and
hastened to light three other lamps, which however would not burn,
whereupon he began to declaim vehemently. I thought the expla
nation was' beginning, and asked what he had said, as I had not given
proper attention. " Oh rien," was the reply, " je parle seulement
a mes lampes qui ne brulent pas clair." After this conversation with
the lamps had accomplished its end, the cloth was removed, and dis
covered a work of art which very much resembled a Nuremberg
toy, with little moving figures, but on the assurance of the owner
was well worth the entrance money. In a nasal singing tone he
began as follows: " Voila le fameux Prince Poniatowski, se tournant
avec grace vers les ofKciers de son corps en s'ecriant, Quand on a
tout perdu et qu'on n'a plus d'espoir, la vie est un opprobre et la
mort un devoir.
" Remarquez bien, Messieurs, (he always addressed me in the
plural), comme le cheval blanc du prince se tourne aussi lestement
qu'un cheval veritable. Voyez, pan a droite — pan a gauche, — mais
le voila qui s'elance, se cabre, se precipite dans la riviere, et dispa-
rait." All this took place; the figure was drawn by a thread first
to the right, then to the left, then forward; and at last, by pulling
away a slide painted to represent water, fell into a wheelbarrow that
stood under the table. "Ah! — bien! — voila le prince Poniatowski
noye ! II est mort! — C'est la premiere partie. Maintenant, Messieurs,
vous allez voir tout a l'heure la chose la plus surprenante qui ait
jamais ete montree en France. Tous ces petits soldats innombrables
que vous appercevez devant vous (there were somewhere about
sixty or seventy), sont tous vrasment habilles ; habits, gibernes,
armes, tout peut s'oter et se remettre a volonte! Les canons
servent commes les canons veritables, et sont admires par tous les
officiers de genie qui viennent ici." In order to give ocular demon
stration of this, he took the little cannon off the carriage, and the
sword-belt off the soldier, nearest to him, which was to serve as
sufficient proof of his assertion. "Ah,— bien! vous allez mainte
nant, Messieurs, voir manoeuvrer cette petite armee comme sur le
champ de bataille. Chaque soldat et chaque cheval feront separe-
ment les mouvements propres, voyez! Hereupon the whole body of
puppets, who had not moved during the first act, (probably out of
respect for Prince Poniatowski,) now made two simultaneous move
ments to*the sound of a drum which a little boy beat under the ta
ble: the soldiers shouldered their arms, and set them down again;
the horses reared and kicked. While this was going on, the ex
positor recounted the French bulletin of the affair with increasing
pathos— and thus closed the second act, I thought there could hard
ly be anything better to come; and as a few fresh spectators had
dropped in, and I found it impossible any longer to endure the hor
rid stench of two lamps which had gone out, I fled from the field of

556 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
battle and all its wonders. Tragical enough was it, however, to see
that gallant self-devoting hero so represented.
I was much pleased at the Opera with young Nourrit's Count Ory.
Connoisseurs may exclaim as they like against Rossini; — it is not
the less true that in this, as in his other works, streams of melody
enchant the ear,— now melting in tones of love, now thundering in
tempests; rejoicing, triumphant, at the banquet of the knights, or
rising in solemn adoration to heaven. It is curious enough that in
this licentious opera, the prayer of the knight, which is represented
as merely a piece of hypocrisy, is the very same which Rossini had
composed for Charles the Tenth's coronation. Madame Cinti sung
the part of the Countess very well ; Mademoiselle Javoureck, as
her page, showed very handsome legs, and the bass singer was ex
cellent. The ballet I thought not so good as usual. Albert and Paul are
not grown lighter with years, and, except Noblet and Taglioni, there
was no good female dancer.
In the opera, I remarked that the same actor who played one of
the principal parts in the ' Muette' sustained a very obscure one to
night in the chorus of knights. Such things often occur here, and
are worthy of all imitation. It is only when the best performers
are obliged to concur in the ' ensemble,' be the part allotted to them
great or small, that a truly excellent whole can be produced. For
this ' ensemble' much more is generally done in France than in
Germany, where the illusion is frequently broken by trifles which
are sacrificed to the ease and convenience of the manager or actor.
Hoffman used to say, that of all incongruities none had ever shocked
him more than when, on the Berlin stage, a Geheimerath of Inland's,
after deporting himself in the most prosaic manner possible, sudden
ly, instead of going out at the door in a human manner, vanished
through the wall like mere air.
Jan. 10.
It is an agreeable surprise to find the Museum, after all that it has
restored, still so abundantly rich. Denon's new ' Salles' now afford a
worthy station to most of the statues. It is only a pity that the old
galleries are not arranged in the same style. Much would' not be
lost by the demolition of the painted ceilings, which have no great
merit in themselves, and harmonize so ill with statues. Sculpture
and painting should never be mixed. I shall not dwell on the well-
known master-pieces; but let me mention to you some which par
ticularly struck me, and which I do not remember to have seen
before. First: A beautiful Venus, discovered a few years since%in Milo,
and presented to the King by the Due de Riviere. She is repre
sented as victrix ; according to the opinion of antiquarians, either
showing the apple, or holding the shield of Mars with both hands.
Both arms are wanting, so that these are only hypotheses. But how
exquisite is the whole person and attitude! What life, what tender
softness, and what perfection of form ! The proud triumphant ex-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 557
pression of the face has the truth and nature of a woman, and the
sublimity and power of a deity.
Second: A female figure clothed in full drapery (called in the
Catalogue ' Image de la Providence'); — a noble, idealized woman; —
mildness and benignity in her countenance, divine repose in her
whole person. The drapery perfect in grace and execution.
Third: Cupid and Psyche, from the Villa Borghese. Psyche,
sunk on her knees, is imploring Cupid's forgiveness, and the sweet
smile on his lips shows that her prayer is inwardly accepted. Lay
men, at least, can hardly look without rapture on the exquisite beauty
of the forms, and the lovely expression of the countenances. The
group is in such preservation, that only one hand of the God of Love
appears. to have been restored.
Fourth: A Sleeping Nymph. The ancients, who understood how
to present every object under the most beautiful point of view, fre
quently adorned their sarcophagi with such figures, as emblems of
death. The sleep is evidently deep; but the attitude is almost vo
luptuous: — the. limbs exquisitely turned, and half concealed by dra
pery. The figure excites the thought rather of the new young life
to come, than of the death which must precede it*
Fifth: A Gipsy, — remarkable for the mixture of stone and bronze.
The figure is of the latter: the Lacedaemonian mantle, of the former.
The head is modern, but has a very charming arch expression, per
fectly in character for aZingarella, such as Italy still contains.
Sixth: A magnificent Statue in an attitude of prayer. The head
and neck, of white marble, have the severe ideal beauty of the an
tique; and the drapery, of the hardest porphyry, could not be more
light and flowing in silk or velvet.
Seventh. The colossal Melpomene gives its name to one of the
new galleries, and below it an elegant bronze railing encloses some
admirably executed imitations of antique mosaic by Professor Bello-
ni. This is a very interesting invention, and I wonder to see it so
little encouraged by the rich.
Eighth: The bust of the youthful Augustus. A handsome, mild,
and intelligent head; very different in expression, though with the
same outline of features, from the statue which represents the empe
ror at a later period of life, when the power of circumstances and the
influence of parties had hurried him into so many acts of tyranny
and cruelty, till at length his native gentleness returned with the at
tainment of uncontested and unlimited power.
Ninth: His great general, "Agrippa. Never did I behold a more
characteristic physiognomy, with a nobler outline. It is curious that
the forehead and the upper part of the region of the. eye have a strong
resemblance to a man, who, though in a different sphere of activity,
must be numbered among the great, — I mean Alexander von Hum
boldt. In the other part of the face the resemblance wholly disap-
* Thus should we ever regard, represent, and treat death. It is only a perverted
view of Christianity (perhaps the Jewish groundwork of it), which has made death
so gloomy, and with a coarse animal feeling, as unpoetical as it is disgusting, chosen
skeletons and marks of decomposition as its emblems  Editoh.

558 /LETTERS ON GERMANY,
pears. The more I looked at this iron head, the more I was con
vinced that exactly such an one was necessary to enable the soft Au
gustus to become and to remain lord of the world.
Tenth. The last, and at the same time most interesting to' me,
was a bust of Alexander, the only authentic one, as Denon affirms,
in existence; a perfect study for physiognomists and craniologists:
for the fidelity of the artists of antiquity represented all the parts
with equal care after the model of nature. This head has indeed all
the truth of a portrait, not in the slightest degree idealized,* — not
even remarkably beautiful in feature; but, in the extraordinary pro
portions and expression, distinctly telling the history of the great
original. The ' abandon' of the character, sometimes amounting to
levity, is clearly betrayed by the graceful inclination of the neck and
the voluptuous beauty of the mouth. The forehead and jaw are
strikingly like those of Napoleon, as is also the entire form of
the skull, both behind and before (animal and intellectual.) The
forehead is not too high, — it bespeaks no ideologist — but compact,
and of iron strength. The features are generally regular and well
turned, though, as I have already remarked, they have no pretensions
to ideal beauty. Around the eye and nose reigns acuteness of mind,
united with determined courage and a singular elevated astuteness,
and at the same time with that disposition towards sensual pleasures,
which combine to render Alexander such as he stands alone in his
tory, — a youthful hero, no less invincible than amiable, — a hero re
alizing all the dreams of poetry and fiction. Gifted with the same
combination of qualities, neither Charles the Twelfth of Sweden nor
Napoleon would have met their overthrow in Russia; nor would the
one now be regarded as a mere Don Quixote, nor the other as a man
who employed his powers only as a calculating tyrant. The whole
forms a being whose aspect is in the highest degree attractive, and,
though imposing, awakens in the spectator courage, love, and confi
dence. He feels himself happy and secure within the reflection of
this wondrous countenance; and sees that such a man, in any condi
tion of life, must have excited admiration and enthusiasm, and have
exercised boundless influence.
I must mention one lovely bas-relief, and a singularly beautiful
altar. The Bas-relief, for which, like so many others, France is in
debted to Napoleon, is from the Borghese collection. It represents
Vulcan forging the shield for iEneas: Cyclops around him, all with
genuine Silenus' and fauns' faces, are delightfully represented. But
the most delightful figure of the group' is a lovely little Cupid, half
hiding himself behind the door with the cap of one of the Cyclops.
All in this elegant composition is full of life, humour and motion,
and the truth of the forms and correctness of the outlines are mas
terly. The Altar, dedicated to twelve Deities, is in form like a Christian
font. The twelve busts in alto-relievo surround it like a beautiful
* As Napoleon said of his own head: " Carree, autant de base que de hauteur."
— Editor.

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 559
wreath. The workmanship is exquisite, and the preservation nearly
perfect. The gods are placed in the following order: Jupiter, Mi
nerva, Apollo, Juno, Neptune, Vulcan, Mercury, Vesta, Ceres, Diana,
all separate; lastly, Mars and Venus united by Cupid. I wonder that
this graceful design has never been executed on a small scale in alabas
ter, porcelain or glass, for ladies' bazaars, as the well-known doves
and other antique subjects are. Nothing could he better adapted for
the purpose; and yet there was not even a plaster cast of it to be
found at Jaquet's (the successor to Getti, ' mouleur du Musee ;') nor
nor had he any of the subjects I have mentioned merely because
they are not among the most celebrated; though some that are, are
certainly not of a very attractive character. Men are terribly like
' les moutons de Panurge:' they implicitly follow authority, and suf
fer that to prescribe to them what they shall like.
In the picture-galleries, the forced restitutions would be consider
ably less remarked, if the places were not filled by so many pic
tures of the modern French school, which I confess, with very few
exceptions, produce somewhat the effect of caricatures upon me.
The theatrical attitudes, the stage dignity, which even David's pic
tures frequently exhibit, and the continual exaggeration of passion,
appear like the work of learners, compared with the noble fidelity
to nature of the Italian masters, and even make us regret the charm
ing truth and reality of the German and Flemish schools. Of all
these famous moderns, Girodet displeased me the most: no healthy
taste can look at his Deluge without disgust. Gerard's entry of
Henry the Fourth appears to me a picture whose fame will endure.
The number of Rubens' and Lesueur's pictures which have been
brought from the Luxemburg, but ill replace the Raphaels, Leonar
do da Vincis, and Vandykes, which have disappeared. In short, all
that had been brought here since the Restoration, whether new or
old, makes but an unfavourable impression. This is not lessened by
the bad busts of painters which have been placed at regular intervals,
and which, even were they better as specimens of sculpture, are
wholly out of place in a collection of paintings. The magnificent
long gallery affords, however, as before, the most agreeable winter
walk; and the liberality which leaves it constantly accessible to
strangers cannot be sufficiently praised.
When I think how still more deplorable is the state of painting in
England, how little Italy and Germany now merit their former
fame, I am tempted to fear that this art will share the fate of painting
on glass ; nay, that its most precious secrets are already irrecoverably
lost. The breadth, power, truth and life of the old masters, their
technical knowledge of colouring, — where are they now to be found?
Thorwaldson, Rauch, Danneker, Canova, rival the antique;* but
where is the painter who can be placed by the side/ of the second-
rate artists of the golden age of painting?
* A countryman of August Wilhelm Schlegel ought to take shame to himself for
the omission of the illustrious name of Flaxman, whose genius was cast in a mould
far more purely, severely and elegantly Gredc, than that of any modern sculptor
whatever. — Tkans.

560 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
In a side court of the Museum stands the colossal Sphinx from
Drovetti's collection, destined for the court of the Louvre. It is of
pale-red granite, and the sculpture is as grand as the mass is stupen
dous. It is perfectly intact, except the nose; this had just been
replaced by one of plaster of Paris, which had not received its last
coat of colouring. The sight of it made me involuntarily laugh;
and, thinking of the strange chain of events which had brought this
giant hither, I internally exclaimed, " What do you here, you huge
iEgyptian, after a lapse of three thousand years, — in this new Baby
lon, where no sphinx can keep a secret, and where silence never
found a home?"
/ In the evening I went to the Theatre Porte St. Martin to see
-> Faust, which was performed for the eightieth or ninetieth time.
The culminating point of this melodrame is a waltz which Mephisto-
pheles dances with Martha; and in truth it is impossible to dance
more diabolically. It never fails to call forth thunders of applause, —
and in one sense deserves it; for the pantomime is extremely ex
pressive, and affects one in the same manner as jests intermingled
with ghost stories. Mephistopheles, though ugly, has the air of a
gentleman, which is more than can be said for our German devils.
The most remarkable part of the scenery is the Blocksberg, with
all its horrors, which leave those of the Wolf's Glen far behind.
Illumined by lurid lights of all colours, gleaming from behind dark
pines and clefts in the rock, it swarmed with living skeletons, glit
tering snakes, horrible monsters of deformity, headless or bleeding
bodies, hideous witches, huge fiery giants' eyes glaring out. of bushes,
toads as big as men, and many other agreeable images of the like
kind. In the last act, the scene-painter had gone rather too far,
having represented heaven and hell at the same time. Heaven,
which of course occupied the upper part of the scene, shone with a
very beautiful pale-blue radiance; but this was so unbecoming to the
complexion of Gretchen's soul, as well as to that of the angels who
pirouetted round her, that they looked more like the corpses on the
Blocksberg than the blessed in heaven. — -The devils, who danced im
mediately under the wooden floor of heaven, had a much more advan
tageous tone of colour, which they certainly deserved for the zeal with
which they tore the'effigy of Faust into pieces till the curtain fell.
The theatre itself is tastefully decorated with gay paintings and
gold on a ground of white satin. The many-coloured flowers, birds
and butterflies, have a very lively agreeable effect. The interior of
the boxes is light blue, and the lining an imitation of red velvet^
Besides the annoying cry of the limonadiers, who, to a German ear,
make such singular abbreviations of the words ' orgeat, limonade,
glace,' there was a Jew who wandered about with ' lorgnettes,'
which he let at ten sous for the evening; — a trade which I don't re
member to have observed before, and which is very convenient to
the public.
This letter will probably travel to you by sledges, for we have a
truly Russian climate, though unhappily no Russian stoves. Hea
ven send you a better temperature in B  ! Your L 

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 561
LETTER XLVIII.
Paris, January \2th, 1829.
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 General de 1'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 re
vealed 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 Em
press Josephine, who at length fell their victim. At first, Napoleon
took the part of his wife, and was often reproached for it by his mo
ther, who called him tyrant, Tiberius, Nero, and other considerably
less classical names, to his face. The General assured me, that Ma
dame had frequently told him that Napoleon, from his earliest in
fancy, 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 peutetre pour voir sa carcasse
et toute sa famille jettees dans les egouts de Paris."
At Napoleon's coronation, the Empress-mother, in whose house
hold 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
71

562 letters on Germany,
etiquette, wondered at this strange commission, executed it, how
ever, punctually, and informed her there were but two fauteuils,'
one chair, and so many 'tabourets.' "Ah! je le pensais bien,"
cried Madame Mere, red with rage, "la chaise est pour moi — mais
ils se trompent dans leur calcul !" Walking quickly up to the omi
nous 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 exaspe
rated, was obliged to make ' bonne mine a mauvais jeu,' and got
out of the scrape by throwing the whole blame on poor Count Segur;
"etl'on vit bientot," added the General, "le digne Comte arriver
tout effare, et apporter lui-meme un fauteuil a sa Majeste l'Empera-
trice Mere." It is characteristic, and a proof that the thing origi
nated in no respect with Josephine, but entirely with the Emperor
himself, that at the marriage of Maria Louisa the very same inci
dent 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
anything 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 ' affiche' 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 cere
mony and etiquette with such punctuality that the whole court was
in a perfect ecstasy 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

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 563
often earnestly warned the King against the Prince of the Peace, a<i
well as against the insatiable ambition of his own brother, of whom
he spoke on every occasion without the slightest reserve. The con
fidence, 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 magni
ficent fete, 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 hon
oured 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 fami
liarity 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 admir
ed 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 Lucian, 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 mischiev
ous 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 dia
monds, 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 \3th.
The turn of the Gaiete 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 defec-

564 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
tion of the public to the romantic banner. Peoplejvere 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 intelli
gence. The cause of this was the horrible ennui I had suffered at the
Theatre Francais. 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 dullness,
was the excellence of the melodrame of the Gaiete; and in spite of
all the long litany that may be repeated by classicists as to coarse
colouring, ' coups de theatre,' 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 Theatre Francais.
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 Tal
ma, and Duchesnois, who is now really ' au dela 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 a la
Talma,) while all the rest exhibited a truly hopeless picture of me
diocrity, 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 ut
terly without plot, and the wit flat and coarse.
Setting aside ' que tous les genres sont bons hors le genre en-
nuyeux,' 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 Shak-
speare,' 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, " Gliick 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

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 565
ancient architecture. The interior is grand, and the illusion pro
duced 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. Denis 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 Napo
leon. The rows of trees have been carefully preserved; and not, as
on the Donhofsplatz in Berlin, large trees cut down and little misera
ble sticks planted in their stead. The numerous ' Dames blanches'
and Omnibuses have a most singular appearance. These are car
riages containing twenty or thirty persons: they traverse the Boule
vards 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 Eng
land 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 coach
man 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 long
est ' course' costs only a few sous. — I know few things more amus
ing 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 Varietes; and I recognized the originals of many of Bru-
nets 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 characteris
tic 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 them
selves, 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 sub
stantial enjoyment than it does to those a step or two below them.

566 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
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 philo
sophy 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 II 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; ' II Diavolo non puo 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 in
itiated 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 gout'
To have done with theatres I visited three this evening. First I
saw two acts of the new and most miserable tragedy, Isabelle de
Baviere, at the Theatre Francais. 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-

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 567
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, ' a 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 music
ally 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 ra
ther 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 Pa
risian ' agremens' 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 Notre Dame,
and regretted as I passed the Pont Neuf that this spot had been as-

568 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
signed to the statue of Henry the Fourth. It stands most dispro
portionately 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 " Voila la Morgue!" I told him to stop
(' car j'aime les emotions 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 re
cognized. 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, — " su-
perbes," 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 rela
tives: misery seemed to have no share in his fate.
One of the guardians of the place told me a curious fact; — in win
ter, the number of deaths by drowning, which is now the fashionable
mode of self-destruction in Paris, is less by two-thirds than in sum
mer. 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 exer
cise their power even in death, and despair itself is still ' douillet,'
and enthralled by the senses.
You remember the three portals of Notre Dame, with the oaken
doors ornamented with beautiful designs and arabesques in bronze,
and how striking is the whole facade, 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 ex
terior, is rendered still more mean by a new coat of paint.
Continuing my drive, I alighted for a minute at the Pantheon.
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 Ma
dame. Over the side altar was written ' Autel privilegie.'

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 569
The association of ideas which this inscription suggested, led me
to the neighbouring menagerie, 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 pa
tiently 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 comfort
able 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 Pantheon or Notre 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 mueh 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 instru
ment 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 Desaix'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 Freres Provengaux,' 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, "AH 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 chim
neys, 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 Very's chimneys. But as no
thing of this sort happened, I followed the brilliant front of the Va-
rietes, 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 ex
tremely pretty little actress, Mademoiselle Valerie, and a much bet
ter and fresher exterior than formerly. Among the agreeable novel
ties is a drop curtain of real cloth, instead of the usual painted dra
peries. The rich folds of dark blue contrasted well with the crimson,
gold and white, of the theatre. It is not rolled up stiffly and awk-
72

570 LETTERS ON GERMANY,
wardly like the others, but draws back gracefully to either side. The
great theatres would do well to imitate this. Jan. 16 th.
Formerly Anas were the fashion; now it is Jlmas, ' 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 sud
denly find yourself in the centre of the globe, — which Dr. Niirn-
berger 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 in
troduced 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? 1 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 decadence.' 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 Lepreux
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 natura,' 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. Ve
nice was a bad painting, and the light so yellow that it looked as if
its just indignation at the French, who destroyed its political exist
ence 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 statute of Peter.
Passing over the well-known Panoramas and Cosmoramas, I bring
you at last to the Uranoiama in the new Passage Vivienne. This is
a very ingenious piece of mechanism, exhibiting the course of the

HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. 571
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 hun
dred 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 ad
mired 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 do
ings. 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.

YALE UNIVERSITY

a39002 0022.2735i+.b