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No. XLIL

CHEAP LITERATURE POR ALL CLASSES.

MURRAY'S
HOME AND COLONIAL LIBRARY.

SKETCHES OF GEMM LIFE
Aim
SCENES FROM THE WAR OF LIBERATION
IN GERMANY. PART I.

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SKETCHES OE GEKMAN LIFE,
AND
SCENES FROM THE
WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY.

CHAPTER I.
Parentage and early Life. — State of Germany towards the Close of the
Eighteenth Century. — Diisseldorf. — The Convent of St. Barbara Garten.
— The Convent of La Trappe, at Dusselthal  The French Revolution.
— Voyage up the Rhine. — Strasburg Cathedral  The Costume of the
Women. — State of public Feeling in Strasburg. — Public Rejoicings. —
National Guards. — French Emigrants in the Brisgau. — Viscomte de
Mirabeau. — Reckless Conduct of the Emigrants. 1 785 — 1 792.
Family records have generally been collected and published
either from motives of vanity or for the sake of worldly ad
vantage, but they might undoubtedly be made to serve more
important purposes if properly directed. The successive genera
tions, the increase and duration of a family, their intermar
riages and changes of place and country ; their altered circum
stances ; the varieties of character and talent ; all this, treated
with due discrimination, would afford materials for useful re
flection. The threads of private life, followed through several
generations, would exhibit the course of events in a new
and peculiar form. In this manner a method of genea
logical study might be pursued, having for its object higher
views and nobler purposes than at present : every thing, how
ever, would depend upon the intelligence and good sense of the
author. I do not undertake to give an example of such a
VOL. i. b

2 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. ^chap. i.
method myself, but I will prefix a short account of my an
cestors before I begin to relate my own life.
The race from which I spring has been settled in Westphalia
from the very earliest period. " The old, famous, and noble
family of Von Ense," as it is called by the Westphalian chro
nicler, Von Steinen, separated in early times into two branches,
one of which took the name Von Ense from an old castle near
Arensberg ; and the other that of Schnidewindt. In the re
cords of the thirteenth century we find the Von Enses fre
quently mentioned as knights, lords of castles, high bailiffs,
privy councillors, canons, &c. ; at one time holding military, at
another civil, offices. In the course of time the Von. Enses
gradually quitted the career of arms, and devoted themselves
more exclusively to the learned and clerical professions, in
which equal honours were to be acquired, combined with profit
and intellectual advantages.
This tendency was further promoted by a certain Conrad
Von Ense, surnamed Varnhagen, a canon of Cologne cathe
dral, and pastor at Iserlon, who, in the year 1520, founded
an hereditary vicariate at the church of St. Martin, and en
dowed it with a considerable income. This still remains the
exclusive property of the Varnhagen family. The first incum
bent, Johann Von Ense, likewise called Varnhagen, took an
active part in the Reformation, and, after great opposition, in
troduced the Lutheran form of worship into Iserlon. The next
step was the marriage of the vicar. His first wife — for he
subsequently married a second time — was a Von Kettler, the
sister of the Duke of Courland ; and from her sprung my imme
diate ancestors, who nearly all of them followed the learned
professions, and were either clergymen or physicians. The
family now belonged by position and profession to the burgher
class, and held the liberal opinions which are often to be found
in that station of life.
Meanwhile an event had taken place which caused a great
severance of the family ties. My great-grandfather, who had
settled as a physician at Paderborn, was converted to the Ca
tholic religion by the Jesuits, a body which has always offered
considerable attractions to men of learning. His descendants
naturally were of the same faith, but, although outwardly sepa
rated from their Protestant relations, they always retained a

chap, i.] PARENTAGE AND EARLY LIFE.

freer spirit of inquiry, which was increased by the spirit of the
times and by their devotion to the study of medicine.
My grandfather, after studying at the Protestant University
of Leyden in Holland, travelled over Prussia and Austria, and
selected Vienna as his home : his intention, however, was frus
trated by a quarrel with the famous physician Van Swieten.
He came to Dusseldorf, and, contrary to the usual habit of
the family, took as his wife a foreigner — the daughter of a
merchant at Petersburg.
My father received the usual instruction from the Jesuits,.
without, however, being much influenced by their views and
doctrines. He then, following the example of his ancestors,
studied medicine, first at Heidelberg, subsequently at Strasburg
and Paris. He married a Protestant of Strasburg, to whom
he had been engaged while at the University, and finally settled
at Dusseldorf where I was born on the 21st of February, 1785.

Great changes had taken place during the eighteenth cen
tury: the most toilsome and thankless part of the work was
done, and people were expecting to reap the fruit of their la
bours : a rapid development was taking place, but its results
were still to come. France was the centre whence radiated
a complete change of feelings and opinions : religious views, the-
constitutions of states, education, society, all was to be altered :
old forms were to be abolished ; the very government appeared
to be willing and pliant, and the excitable, clever, and accom
plished French nation had a prodigious effect on other countries :
the influence of its talents and activity reached as far even as
Poland and Russia. The new impulse was communicated to the
heads of the nation, — emperors, kings, princes, and men in the
higher ranks of life were subject to its influence long before it had
descended to the middle and lower classes. North America had
already adopted an independent form of government compared
with which the degree of freedom enjoyed by England, Holland,.
Switzerland, and parts of Germany was nothing.
It would, however, be a great error to suppose that Germany
had not an equal share in the comprehensive labours of that
century : the glory, indeed, was all with the French ; but Ger-

4 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap, j,
many had not been behindhand. The last years of Frederick
the Great shed a lustre over the Prussian monarchy, and the
reforms of the Emperor Joseph H. were working great changes
in the Austrian hereditary dominions and in the whole German
empire. Principles of humanity, freedom of thought, and to
leration, had a strong hold upon those who sat on thrones :
prosperity, commerce, and a general thirst after knowledge
had taken root during an interval of many years' peace. All
classes were actively engaged in the pursuit of instruction,
and in ridding themselves of their several prejudices : in short,
the whole nation had made rapid progress in general intelli
gence. This was remarkably the case on the lower Rhine. This
district, composed of princely states, free imperial towns, arch
bishoprics, electorates, and other spiritual dominions, united
within itself the most various elements : moreover, it enjoyed
free trade with Holland and England, was in constant commu
nication with France, to which it looked for intellectual culture,
manners, and fashions, besides being influenced by its immediate
contact with Prussia, and more remotely with Austria through
Belgium. Dusseldorf had made greater advances than other towns. It
had formerly been a royal residence, and was still considered as
such, although the court had removed to Manheim : as the prin
cipal town in the dukedom of Juliers and Berg, it was the seat
of government, and its position on the Rhine gave it great com
mercial advantages : it was a well-built thriving town, full of
intelligent inhabitants, military and civil officers, provincial
nobility, and strangers who flocked to see its famed gallery of
pictures.* Add to this that a good company of actors per
formed during the winter season,, and sufficient reasons have
been given to entitle Dusseldorf to be considered one of the
most agreeable towns on the Rhine.
My earUest impressions and recollections, however, are not
associated with a town life, but with the garden and with the
Rhine. The back of our little house in a by-street looked out
on the river, and just enough ground was saved from the Rhine
* Now forming part of the collection at Munich  Trmsl.

chap. I.] CONVENT OF ST. BARBARA-GARTEN. 5
by means of piles and stakes to form a little garden. Steps led
from a window of the drawing-room down to this space, which
was laid out in grass-plats and flower-beds : its bright sunny
prospect up the river, the strong running stream, the view of the
opposite banks, and the wholesome fresh air, made it a perfect
paradise for us children. I still remember the pure pleasures,
the happy spirits, and the bright days we then enjoyed. From
my third to my fifth year this garden is associated in my re
collections with pictures of an unbroken summer.
During my early childhood I paid a visit to my father's sister,
who was a nun in the convent of St. Barbara-Garten in Rhein-
berg. She had been admitted into this convent, which was in
tended only for noble maidens, by the favour of the court, and,
young and inexperienced, she eagerly seized this opportunity
of ensuring salvation. During her noviciate she regretted
her determination, but shame and helplessness induced her
to persevere. We found her in the beauty of youth, kind,
composed, and tolerably contented. She played well on the
organ, wrote and drew beautifully, and busied herself worthily
and agreeably in her spiritual duties. My father, whom she
treated with some ceremony, spoke to her without witnesses,
inquired into her circumstances and views, and offered to assist
her in quitting the convent if she wished it. He promised to
do it by force if he could not succeed by fair means : the Prus
sian frontiers, which were close at hand, offered a secure retreat.
She rejected his proposal with many thanks : she had got used
to her mode of life, and could conceive none other.
All this was told to me afterwards. I was then full of the
impression which the beautiful rooms, the good food, and the
numerous company made upon me. The court and garden in
which we passed the evening in the open air offered me every
inducement to play. Nevertheless an impression of awe and
seclusion which prevailed in the place, and the few words of
pity and commiseration which I heard bestowed upon the poor
nuns," made me exceedingly glad to leave the convent.
My good aunt's history had a most melancholy termination.
She grew blind, and lost her senses. Whether it was that the
nuns thought her condition in itself required stern treatment,
or that she uttered expressions which showed her former dis-
B 3

6 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. i.
Uke to monastic life, and which the nuns held to be ungodly,
•obstinate, and deserving of punishment, — I know not what were
the reasons, — but my unfortunate aunt was most crueUy shut up
in a remote dark sort of cellar, where she -passed many years
subject to the hardest privations. Her younger brother, who
was a professor at Cologne^ frequently went with the intention
of seeing her, but could never obtain an interview. He took
advantage of the French being in possession of the country, and,
accompanied by some gens-d'armes, he one day unexpectedly
•demanded admittance in the name of the civil authorities, who
were not to be resisted. The nuns had no time to make any
¦preparations ; and, on foUowing them closely, the most miserable
rspectacle presented itself to bis sight. His unfortunate sister
was seated totally naked on the bare earth ; she had neither a
blanket nor straw, neither table nor chair ! When they brought
her something to eat, the nuns offered her a spoon and a fork :
.she took no heed of them, but seized the food with her fingers,
plainly showing that she had for years lost the habit of using
any thing else, much as the cruel nuns wished to conceal
the fact. When her brother spoke to her she recognised his
Toice, wept, and lamented her condition ; accusing no one, but
only hoping that she might be better treated in future. She
was weak in intellect and stupified, owing most Ukely to her
long years of terrible suffering ; but by no means raving mad,
which alone could have excused such treatment. Her gentle
ness continued unchanged, and works of charity and devotion
were her constant occupation. She lived for some years in a
reUgious community at Cologne at the expense of the nuns, in a
weak but placid state of mind, perfectly quiet, and died at an
extreme old age in 1814.
I had another opportunity of seeing conventual Ufe, and this
presented itself under a very cheerful aspect. Not far from Dus
seldorf there was a convent of La Trappe, the severest of aU
orders of monks. This order has few foUowers : there are only
this one convent in Germany^ another in Italy, and the famous
one in France, estabUshed by the founder of the order. People
gave the most horrible account of the hard, deadening mode
•of life of the wretched brethren ; upon whom, besides deep
*ilence-and a perpetual contemplation of death, the most toilsome

chap, i.] CONVENT OF LA TRAPPE AT DUSSELTHAL. 7
field labours were imposed. If these miserable men were the
subject of commiseration, and were considered as sacrificed to
the most absurd system of superstition, they also gave an op
portunity of praising the spirit of enlightenment, which had
even penetrated the waUs of the darkest of aU convents, and
must eventuaUy destroy them. My memory retained some cir
cumstances of which I did not understand the import until my
riper years explained them. The monks had selected my father
as their medical attendant ; and as there were many sick, I fre
quently went to Dusselthal with him. We never penetrated
into the dark interior of the convent — this may have been dis
mal enough — but the rooms set apart for the reception of the
sick, and the refreshment of visitors, had nothing repulsive
about them. Here, moreover, the strict rule of silence was not
enforced ; the monks chatted, and drank wine with the visitors
to their hearts' content : cakes and fruit were laid before us, of
which a large share feU to my lot, and my pockets were fiUed
with good things to eat on my way home. They put no re
straint on their conversation before a child, who seemed occupied
with rosaries and pictures of saints, and troubled their heads no
more about me. Thus, without intending it, I heard things, the
full import of which I did not quite understand, but which sounded
as if they were not quite right, and gave me the idea that these
holy men were full of roguery and tricks. When the words
told me little or nothing, the look, the sarcastic self-satisfied
laugh, or the repulsive impudent gesture with which these words
were accompanied, explained them aU. On my way home, I
asked my father when a certain monk, who was particularly
kind to me, would be Ul again, so as to talk and drink wine.
It was clear that I conceived the poor creatures looked upon
illness as an advantage, and settled among each other who was
to enjoy his turn. I saw that I was not far wrong, from the
good-humoured way in which my father muttered some words,
laughing to himself, without giving me any further answer.

When I was about six years of age, my mother and sister
visited Strasburg, the sight of which awakened in my mother
the strongest affection for her native town, with which so many
B 4

8 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. i.
tender recoUectiohs were associated, and what she said to my
• father recaUed his old love for the university in which he had
studied. He compared the briUiant and agreeable Ufe of the
capital of Alsace with the smaU and dull society of Dussel
dorf, and he finaUy determined to leave the latter, which was
rapidly becoming more and more a mere provincial town, and
to settle at Strasburg. But there were other motives stronger
than these.
The French Revolution of 1789 had every where produced
great excitement : the friends of improvement, freedom, and
humanity expected a new and general diffusion of prosperity
from this great movement. My father had been among the
first to hail and to record his opinion of these glorious prospects.
It is true that he recoiled with horror from the scenes of vio
lence and cruelty which took place at first, and occasionaUy
recurred ; he wished to see the object of his hopes obtained
only by gentle means. But these cruelties were lost sight of
in the great stream of innovation and improvement. Moreover,
the movement now appeared to be taking a direction favour
able to order ; the National Assembly was busily employed in
framing a fresh constitution, and to belong to the new state of
things in which freedom, law, and brotherly love were re
cognised, seemed to be the happiest lot which could faU to the
share of a weU-thinking man.
The voyage up the Rhine to Manheim was the pleasantest
event, in my youthful life. The cabin was large and comfortable ;
but the deck was most agreeable to us, in spite of the restraint put
upon our actions for fear of faUing overboard. We made
acquaintance with the sailors, learnt the use of much of the
gear of the vessel, and had our attention caUed to the remarkable
objects and towns on the shore. There was no lack of tales
and old legends ; but what captivated us most was to look for
hours on the deep green water, and to follow with our eyes the
ripples and eddies of the stream. The voyage was long and
slow. On the towing-path, at a distance, we saw the team of
horses dragging our vessel with some difficulty against the
current. The middle of the rope, which was tied to the top of
the mast, was generaUy hidden in the water ; but when a stronger
current than usual, or the act of rounding some point, caused

chap. I.] STRASBURG MINSTER. 9
the dripping rope to jump out of the water, and to shine and
glance in the air, our joy knew no bounds, and we waited a
long time for such a sight.
We stayed some time in Mayence, and also in Manheim,
whence we went by land ; and the change from the easy mode
of traveUing in a ship to that by a carriage was very disagree
able to us. After passing Rastatt we saw the huge Stras
burg Minster in the distance, and rapidly approached the
wonderful apparition, which grew larger and clearer every
moment : the road made a turn, and what had hitherto ap
peared a dark mass suddenly became transparent — a magic
network of delicate threads stood out in bold-relief against
the sky, and was every where open to the flood of Ught. — >
No other is equal to this first impression of the Minster : it
overpowers the senses while it quickens the imagination : it
satisfies, yet it creates a feeling of impatience. The effect of
this sight is so powerful, that it is impossible to recede : you
are irresistibly drawn on, and aU other objects fade before this
one, which changes at every step, and keeps the whole atten
tion fixed upon itself alone.
Every Strasburger naturaUy enough looks upon the Minster
as the pride and ornament of his town, — a treasure and glory, of
which the meanest inhabitant has his share. The sight of the
enormous, open worked, but excessively strong waU which rises
perpendicularly from the principal entrance up to the platform
whence springs the tower ; the glorious view from the platform
over the town, and the green landscape watered by the silvery
Rhine ; the sight of the snake-like staircase which winds round
the outside of the tower, gradually tapering, and then losing
itself in the ball and cross, whither the eye scarcely dares to
foUow it — all this is so striking, that even the uncultured mind
of a child cannot fail to appreciate it.
The women stiU wore the peculiar costume which Goethe so
charmingly describes ; but it was rapidly disappearing : during
the course of the Revolution it became rarer, and then totaUy
ceased to be worn. The picture of my mother as a bride re
presented her in a French dress, but with her hair plaited in
the old burgher fashion, in long braids. But this mode of
dressing the hair, and the short full petticoats, were now only to

10 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. r.
be found in the lowest classes, and in fuU perfection in the small
country villages. This costume and the native dialect were
much laughed at by the enUghtened reformers of Strasburg :
as even these scoffers could not always speak the purest Ger
man, they took refuge in French : in talking this language,
however, the pitch of voice pecuUar to the Upper Rhine, and
to a portion of Switzerland, always betrayed their Alsatian
descent. Owing to the Revolution, the French tongue was rapidly
gaining the upper hand. Up to this time aU had felt the influence
of their German origin, and endeavoured to keep up old habits
and old customs. The language, the religion, the costume, the
civil form of government, aU were opposed to the cathoUcism
and absolute power of the French court. But when notions of
civil and reUgious liberty were brought from Paris, fear and
dislike vanished, and were replaced by the most brilliant hopes.
The Strasburgers unhesitatingly joined hands with those who
preached freedom and civil liberty, and desired -to make one
people with these regenerated Franks. The feeble ties of old
habits could not resist the new and stronger impulses.
It was impossible to walk a step in Strasburg without coming
upon some trace of this altered feeling. The revolutionary
movements in Paris had immediately found ready sympathy in
Alsace, and the Strasburgers had gone aU lengths : every
where we heard the new watchwords of freedom spoken, and
saw trees of liberty planted : the cockade was on every hat, —
the tricolor on every pubUc building : — even the women wore
tricolor gowns ; day and night nothing but patriotic songs
were to be heard. The famous ga ira sounded in aU directions :
every Uttle blaekguard knew some of the words, and sang them
at the very top of his voice. Praise of the patriots and destruc
tion to the aristocrats were the two themes of this and many
other popular baUads.
The feeUng of civil Uberty was best exhibited in the
Strasburg national guards: every man capable of bearing
arms was enrolled, — had arms and an uniform given him,
and was regularly drilled : my father, like the rest, took the
prescribed oath. This body of men made a better appearance
than the troops- of the line. The ease with which burghers

chap. i.J STATE OF PUBLIC FEELING IN STRASBURG. 11
may be converted into soldiers has always excited surprise, but
never more than in the first days of the revolution. The
storming of the Bastile, the occurrences in La Vendee, and at
Saragossa, the Spanish guerillas, the Austrian and Prussian
landwehr or miUtia, and, lastly, the Parisians in the three
days of July, have since then sufficiently proved the innate
strength of the masses : but at that time it was held absurd
to imagine that a promiscuous rabble of tinkers and taUors,
as they were caUed, could make any stand against regular
soldiers. The Strasburgers knew that they were laughed at
by those on the other side of the river, but they did not
mind that : they persevered in their drilling, enforced strict
discipUne, and in a short time the national guard was thought
quite sufficient for the protection of this important fortress.
The citizens had raised a few troops of cavalry and a remark
ably effective corps of artiUery, which kept on the best terms
with that belonging to the regular army. The royal artiUery
was distinguished here, as in the rest of France, for its zeal in
the popular cause.
Enthusiasm had reached its height, and a golden age
seemed at hand, for news had come from Paris that the
King had accepted the constitution sent up to him from the
National Assembly. This day, the 14th of September, 1791,
was celebrated as a holyday aU over France, and in no town
was it better kept than in Strasburg. The cannon were
fired at break of day, the troops of the Une and the national
guard were early in motion ; there was no end to the march
ing and counter-marching of the separate divisions, with their
bands of music. At length they all united on parade, and,
after going through their several exercises, the muskets were
fired into the air, and, amid loud shouts of " Vive le roi, vive
la nation!" the troops fraternized with the people. Suddenly
long rows of tables were spread, and aU dined together. When
this spectacle was at an end, aU adjourned to the minster, to
view the preparations made for the evening. The corporation
had arranged aU sorts of amusements for the people: — for the
poor there were dinners at the public expense ; — many distin
guished and rich burghers dined in the open air, and invited
the passers-by to join them. After dinner the crowd went

12 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap, l
out into the fields, sang patriotic songs, and danced. In the
evening the whole town was illuminated, but nothing was
comparable to the tower of the minster, which reared its gi
gantic structure towards heaven covered with thousands of
lamps. People crowded close to it to see the glittering mass in
detail, and then they went to a distance to enjoy a better view
of the whole. Fireworks were discharged from the neigh
bouring viUages, and bonfires were seen in the distant Vosges.
Streams of people fiUed the streets aU night. In the midst of the
general joy, however, there were occasionaUy heard voices incit
ing the people to acts of violence. It was said that the houses of
several aristocrats were not illuminated, and the people were
exhorted to revenge this mark of contempt. On reaching these
houses they were found to be lighted up, and their owners,
instead of ill-treatment, received loud applause. Late at night,
however, the mob broke a few of the mayor's windows, and
burnt him in effigy as a devoted adherent to the king.
But in these joyous days no one could Usten to such
dark forebodings : on the contrary, the newly proclaimed con
stitution promised a succession of prosperous days : quiet and
order seemed to gain ground in the interior, and the recently
awakened spirit of freedom had Uttle to fear from foreign foes.
It was known that aU foreign courts viewed the proceedings in
France with anxiety, and that the Germanic empire made strong
representations against the doings in Alsace, by which it thought
that German interests were affected ; that the Emperor had talked
of a crusade against France, in which the King of Prussia, the
Elector of Saxony, and other potentates, — even Catherine of
Russia, — had, promised to assist him. But the jealousy which
these several powers felt of each other made this junction more
than doubtful. The French emigrants, of whom there were many
in the German frontier towns, especiaUy . at Coblentz, were the
subject of more immediate alarm ; but they were powerless with
out foreign assistance. These men were forming bodies of troops
with which they intended to restore the old state of things in
France. The highest aristocracy, the best generals and of
ficers, those most distinguished about the Court for birth and
rank, were there assembled, and the names of the royal Princes
gave weight and dignity to their cause : it was impossible to
say what relations they might have with Paris and the provinces.

Chap, i.] THE EMIGRANTS IN THE BRISGAU. 13
But the blind fury which they vented upon every thing not
on their side, the impossibility of coming to any terms with the
nation, the inanity of all their previous plans, and their insane
and hateful conduct, — aU this caused them to be considered
as enemies who could reaUy create no serious alarm. 'They
were laughed at, caricatured, and lampooned. The Strasburgers
had one subject for ridicule close at hand. On the other side of
the Rhine, in the Brisgau, the Viscomte de Mirabeau, the brother
of the revolutionary hero, was busied with a free corps which
he was driUing, with the intention of attacking and subjugating
Alsace to the old regime. There were a certain number of old
officers with him, but the rest were the merest rabble. The
proximity of this enemy afforded the Strasburgers daily amuse
ment : every one inquired, with malicious fun, about their
numbers, and made excursions across the river, to Kehl, to see
them at parade. Viscomte de Mirabeau was very fat ; the
urchins at Strasburg made a point, every evening, of burning or
drowning an effigy, which they nicknamed Mirabeau-Tonneau.
My father was dissatisfied with the turn which affairs were
taking, and thought that years would elapse before the troubled
waters of the revolution would run clear : these years he
determined to pass in some quiet spot. Impressed with
these ideas, he refused a very good appointment on the medical
staff of the army, and made his preparations for returning to
Germany. My mother felt very differently. She was in her native
town, among her own relations, and with her old father, whose
death could not be very far distant. She therefore wished to
remain in Strasburg, at any rate tiU it could be settled what our
future life was to be. I know not what took place between my
parents, but it was arranged that I was to travel with my father,
while my sister was to remain with my mother at Strasburg.
The last week was passed in the midst of tears and tender
ness : at length the day of departure came, and, torn almost faint
ing from my mother and sister, I found myself by my father's
side in the carriage which was carrying us rapidly out of the
town on our way to Landau, where, however, we did not re
main longer than was required to prepare for our further jour
ney. This strongly fortified town, which was looked upon as
the bulwark of France on that frontier, was filled with troops

14 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. \ca^.v. i.
of the line, with whom the national guard vigorously co-operated :
the citizens and the authorities were fuU of zeal for liberty
and war. The people crowded round our carriage. " These
traitors," said they, " should not be allowed to go over to the
enemy's camp. Only aristocrats could wish to fly from the land
of freedom." The postmaster refused to 'give us fresh horses
without a special order, the mayor did not choose to be troubled,
and it was with some difficulty that we obtained the necessary
passports from the commandant; we were then aUowed to
proceed. We reached Neustadt and then Manheim without further
impediment. Here every thing was in greater excitement than
before. The French emigrants, more numerous than ever,
were in high favour with the upper classes, and fanned the flame
of hatred against revolutionary France. Nevertheless they made
themselves disliked, and many people regretted having received
them into their houses as guests. They, however, had consi
derable poUtical influence : it seemed certain that they would
shortly become masters of France. It was not to be expected
that the French nation, deprived of its leading men, of its
aristocracy and best officers, could resist the united arms of
Austria, Prussia, and the French princes. The expedition
against France, and the destruction of the revolutionary party,
were looked upon as certain. My father thought otherwise.
He held the revolution to be firmly estabUshed, and its prin •
ciples recognized, and he thought the national guard far more
formidable than the troops who were advancing to attack them.
No one, however, dared to utter such opinions ; the contrary
only were listened to.
We took ship and sailed down the Rhine. The company on
board was mixed, and divided into the same factions which
were shaking the world to its centre. Several emigrants
talked very big : no one was disposed to contradict them,
although their violent language was most disagreeable to
others. On a sudden one of them perceived on my coat a
ribbon, which he recognized as a tricolor. He stared at it
as if he could not believe his eyes, then summoned his feUow
traveUers, and uttered a torrent of words which I could not un
derstand, but which I clearly saw annoyed my father. He was
equally voluble; but what was one against so many? They

chap. i. J CONDUCT OF THE EMIGRANTS. 15
decided that we were concealed revolutionists, and should not be
aUowed to proceed further : they therefore ordered the saUors to
put us ashore. As these showed no incUnation to obey their
commands, and the emigrants persevered in their noise, the scene
suddenly changed. The rest of the company — Germans from
the Palatinate, from Worms and Mayence, who had been until
now quiet spectators of the scene, — instantly took our part, and
declared that if the Frenchmen did not hold their tongues, they
themselves should be thrown into the river, a threat which the
sailors expressed their readiness to carry into execution. The
French were compeUed to be sUent, for they saw that the deed
would soon foUow the threat, and the eddies of the Rhine were
curling under the boat. The Germans were perfectly contented
with having reduced the emigrants to sUence ; and the matter
was soon forgotten. Some of the men were very kind to me, and
a charming lady quietly cut off the fatal ribbon and gave it laugh
ing to my father, telling him that he might, if he liked it, wear
and defend it himself, but that he should leave his child neutral.
He quite agreed with her : he was averse to any thing that
might give offence to others, but had not himself observed this
objectionable ribbon, which the tailor sewed on being the first
that came to hand. I was glad to get rid of it, for the furious
looks of the emigrants frightened me, and I was somewhat
alarmed for my father.
The emigrants were the first to leave the ship at Mayence,
and we saw no more of them: we stopped for two hours,
changed boats, and went down the river with a totaUy different
company. The people of Mayence had a much stronger disUke
to the emigrants than those of Manheim, and we heard them
spoken of on our way to Coblentz with perfect hatred.
Hundreds of stories were told of their pride, their extrava
gance, their violence, and their laughable vanity. Coblentz
was overrun with them : they had there estabUshed their head
quarters, and played the part of lords and masters. The Elector
of Treves, who had received them into his territory, had not a
word to say in the matter: his magistrates were treated with
contempt by these strangers, his troops supplanted; French
courts of law were estabUshed, before which Germans were
forcibly dragged whenever the French had any complaint to make
against them. AU civil order was at an end ; men's homes were

16 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. i.
invaded ; young nobles quartered themselves wherever a pretty
woman struck their fancy : their gaUantry took the coarsest
form, and the grossest immorality prevaUed. The inhabitants
complained to the Elector ; and when he expressed his inabiUty to
assist them in their necessities, they asked his permission to drive
the foreigners out of their country : he begged them, for God's
sake, to have a little patience. This was a terrible predicament
for any German prince ; and one not likely to make him respected
by his own people. The only hope was, that war would soon
break out, whereupon their troublesome guests would be forced
to pass the frontier. The emigrants themselves looked upon
the triumphant march into France as so certain, the acquisition
of power and wealth as so infalUble, that they did not think of
husbanding their resources : on the contrary, they threw away
their money in the most reckless manner, as if they wanted to
be rid of it, so as to have more room for what they were so sure
to obtain. I saw gold pieces, which had been used as marks for
pistol shooting, thrown among the people to be scrambled for.
A peasant girl, who was selling flowers, had gold showered
into her hands, because she was pretty. The most luxurious
feasts took place : it was an amusement to make every one, even
the school-boys, drunk, and to send them reeling to their homes.
But nothing excited greater disgust than the contempt with which
the emigrants treated the rye bread : they took out the crumb,
and kneaded it into peUets, with which they pelted passers-by
or broke windows : they hollowed out the crusts, which the
young viscounts or abbes put upon their feet, and danced about
in the streets amidst loud laughter, until the bread was broken
by the stones and lost in the mud. The manner in which they
treated God's gift was the one sin which the Germans would
least forgive, and upon which they called down the vengeance
of the Lord: and, whenever they could, they laid violent
hands on the offenders. If any emigrants were thrown into
the water, or otherwise maltreated, it was more owing to the
rye bread than to any thing else. The effect produced on the
minds of the people by the conduct of the emigrants along the
whole course of the Rhine should not be overlooked in the
consideration of subsequent events : it was one reason why the
revolutionary armies were so well received when they entered
these countries.

chap, n.] DUSSELDORF. 17

CHAPTER II.
Return to Dusseldorf. — War with Republican France  The Emigrants on
the Rhine. — Execution of Louis XVI., and the Impression it produced.
 Lutheran School at Dusseldorf. — Journey to Hamburg. 1792 — 1794.
Another year was now past, which had brought with it many
changes ; the success of the Frenph had been such as to silence
the menaces of the opponents pf Uberal ideas, and to inspire others
with greater courage. My father's friends the Uberals, who
were numerous and active, unanimously called upon him to join
their ranks. once more. He learned that the authorities would
not oppose his return, — the chanceUor, Count Nesselrode,
told him that he might, come back with perfect security, as
aU Germans who had entered France carried away by revo
lutionary doctrines had been, invited to return, that their past
offences would be forgotten, and every protection afforded them
in their native land.
The ^ar against $ie French still continued, always to the
disadvantage of the Germans; party zeal, for and against the
revolution manifested itself more and more strongly the nearer
the war approached Dusseldorf. The opponents of the revolution
had on their side the advantage of the power in the hands of
government ; but the majority of the people was inclined to the
French, at any rate to their opinions, and the victories and pro
gress of the French were considered as a triumph. The time did
not seem far distant when the arms of freedom would reach us,
and old established forms be. broken up. Every fresh piece of
intelligence in favour of the French brightened our counten
ances, while dismay and confusion were depicted in those of the
upper classes, of the officials, and the clergy. The people with
whom we lodged merely cared about their own peculiar gains :
they declaimed against the times, but made the best use of them.
They obtained from emigrants and refugees many articles of value,
vol. i. c

18 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. rx.
besides money, in payment for lodging. Until now there had
not been many emigrants in Dusseldorf; but on a sudden, owing
to an advance of the French troops, a whole horde of them passed
the Rhine and stopped in Dusseldorf, where they hoped to find
safety. The town was fiUed with them to overflowing, —
they went in large bodies through the streets and market-places,
and French seemed to.be the only language spoken. Our land
lady took this opportunity of letting every hole and corner at
six times the value.
' Although I looked upon the emigrants as enemies, I could
not help being attracted towards them. With joyous vivacity
they quickly suppUed my broken phrases with the words which
were wanting, and declared me a perfect French scholar. Great
lovers of society, they soon made themselves at home every
where, especially with pretty women and girls, even without a
knowledge of their language. Cruelly disappointed hopes and
pressing necessities had subdued the overweening pride which
had given such offence at Coblentz : they were now remark
able for gentleness, courtesy, and good-humoured drollery. Their
society afforded me incessant diversion, and I learned not only
their language, but their manners ; I saw arms and accoutre
ments of all sorts, court dresses, hunting costumes, watches,
time-pieces, crosses, and rings, most of which were sold for a
quarter their value. I beheld, with astonishment, fine ge*ntlemen
cooking their dinners and making their beds with a zeal and
care which no other person could hope to equal.
The news of Louis XVI.'s execution made a deep impression
on aU men : the emigrants were horror-stricken, and wild
with passion. I saw some tear their hair, scratch their faces,
and call down execrations on the murderers, and on the
whole nation, as accomplice in the murder. Others laughed
convulsively, uttered loud shouts, and were ready at" once
to rush to the young King's rescue. There were, however,
some zealots who rejoiced at the event, saying that Louis
deserved his fate for having been one of the chief causes of the
misery of France : it was he who had fostered the revolution by
concessions, and betrayed the crown and the aristocracy.
Now all would be well : neither the young princes nor the
aUies would now. be restrained by false ideas of leniency.

chap, n.] THE EMIGRANTS ON THE RHINE. 19
While some of them kissed the portrait of their King with
tears in their eyes, others flung it to the earth and tram
pled upon it : all this in the same family — in the same room !
The horror inspired among Germans by the spectacle of a King
pubUcly executed was no less strong than among the French :
my father especiaUy lamented the unfortunate Louis. The
party of the emigrants was now distinct from that of the King,
and many said that he had faUen a sacrifice to their mad designs.
The dangers of war had disappeared, but we now felt its effects.
There was a general complaint of the dearness of every thing,
of heavy taxation, and of stagnation of trade. A division of
the Elector's troops left Dusseldorf to join the imperial army ;
we regretted this, and wondered why the emigrants had not
been sent against the enemy. After aU, it was their cause for
which we were fighting, and it was upon their false representa
tions that the war had been undertaken. They were to be seen
daUy in the market-place sauntering up and down, taking up
' the whole length and breadth of the pavement, and pushing aside
chUdren, maid-servants, . and others who wished to walk there.
This was speedily put down by the townspeople ; several emi
grants were severely beaten, and many were threatened with
a ducking in the Rhine, after which they behaved somewhat
more prudently. But their unpopularity daily increased. Most
of them had exhausted all their resources, Uved in a retired
manner, or were much in debt: some endeavoured to gain
their livelihood as they best could. The authorities sent many
out of the town, and others were ordered to cross the frontier,
for disturbing the peace of famiUes. AU this tended to pro
mote the spread of liberal views, and Pichegru was now as
much in favour as Lafayette and Dumouriez had been, and his
name was toasted at pubUc dinners associated with the freedom
of France. It was in vain that the higher orders and the
officials opposed this by all the means in their power ; public
opinion was too strong, and too weU supported by circumstances,
to be so easily put down.
PoUtical circumstances forced my father to quit Dussel
dorf, and it was not without deep emotion, and accompanied
by numerous friends, that, leading me by the hand, he crossed
by the flying bridge to the other side of the Rhine. We were
c 2

20 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. ii.
now in the dominions of the Elector of Cologne, and found a
carriage ready to convey us to Neuss, where we were received
by our friends with open arms. The opinions for which my
father had been exposed to the hatred and persecution of those
high in office, were here so honoured and loved, that we ex
perienced nothing but kindness and sympathy. To be treated
in this manner, and to be praised and made much. of by aU
parties, seemed to me no bad fate ; and I thought that if this
were banishment, there was not so much in it to complain of
after aU.
One of the chief causes. of anxiety to my father now was,
in whose charge he should place me : my education was inter
rupted; he wished it continued^ and did: not Uke me to be ex
posed to aU the accidents of his uncertain Ufe. Two elderly
women of good family offered to take me in, promising to
treat me weU, and to take care that my education , should be
the best that the town of Dusseldorf could afford. They were
Lutherans, and intended to send me to the Lutheran school, •
which was highly .praised, and with justice. My father de-
•termined to try this plan. ,
When I heard that I was to. be separated from him, I thought
I should have died. I was already separated from my mother
-and sister — I scarce ever heard, of their, existence, and now I
was never to see my father again. I was to be sent to the one
place which he could never visit. I clung to him, and asked
in my grief whether he no longer loved me ? His tenderness
appeased me, and his arguments silenced my objections. We
parted^ and I thought it a hardship of whieh I did not dare to
accuse my father, but I accused some dark powers, for the word
-fate was not yet in my vocabulary. .
Fvery thing was admirably arranged for me in Dusseldorf:
-the two ladies were most kind, and the servants attentive : the
house was clean and agreeable, the rooms tastefuUy furnished.
I had a separate apartment : my desk was most temptingly laid
-out with all the pretty nick-nacks of a lady's writing-table.
Moreover, many visitors came to the house, and I was fre-
¦quently taken to the play — in short, every thing seemed per
fection. I honestly expressed my gratitude, but stiU something
was wanting : I longed for my father, — for his love, — for the

chap, ii.] LUTHERAN SCHOOL AT DUSSELDORF. 21
open air in the pleasant garden at Herdt, between Neuss and
Dusseldorf. But I found reUef from that which was expected most to
annoy me — going to school. Here were Ufe, activity, and such
pleasures as I wished for and wanted. The Lutheran commu
nity at Dusseldorf had always had their rights secured to them,
but being a weak minority, had, with tact and discrimination, en
deavoured to maintain their position against CathoUc influences
by means of the admirable manner in which they conducted
their church discipUne and managed their schools. No sooner
had I entered the school than I felt perfectly at home ; my school-
feUows were my dear companions, the teacher commanded
my attention, and I learned easily and willingly under his
guidance : the histories we read, the poems we wrote out, the
elements of natural history, geography, and arithmetic, — aU
pleased me. The school inspector Hartmann gave us religious
instruction, and I Ustened with pleasure to his lectures, although
they contained much that I did not quite understand. I at
tended his sermons on Sundays, and the Lutheran service
made the most agreeable impression upon me. The preacher's-
animation and sympathy with his feUow-creatures — ex
pressed moreover in German — strongly contrasted with the
impression of strangeness and awe with which the celebration
of mass in Latin, and the pomps and ceremonies of the CathoUc
church had fined me. Besides; I was pleased with the idea of
being brought nearer my mother and sister by this connection
with. the Lutheran church, and I pictured to myself in vivid
colours their wonder and joy.
People soon observed the change in me. My father's oppo
nents found new grounds to accuse the reUgious principles
of one who could invite his child to renounce his faith, who
could deUver to eternal damnation — to the instruction of here
tics — the soul of one who, by birth and baptism, belonged to
the Catholic church. They were vehement in their abuse of
Hartmann and those who lent a hand to such a proceeding, nay,
forwarded it to the utmost in their power. This was con^
stantly the subject of conversation between my two protec
tresses and those who visited them. OccasionaUy the CathoUcs-
took my father's part, on the plea that doctrinal differences
c s

22 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. n.
were of smaU importance, that the moral views were the
same in both reUgions, that Protestants had the advantage of
a purer and simpler faith, and that any enhghtened CathoUc
could Usten to Hartmann's sermons with edification. They
thought my father perfectly right in not allowing a. few Lu
theran prayers and psalms to interfere with his sending his
son to the best school in the town : I might still remain a
CathoUc. I was deUghted to hear this, for the idea of con
version was odious to 'me from what I had heard my father say;
and something within me whispered that one might throw off
the old fetters without submitting to new ones.
The ease with which I learnt, and the zeal with which I went
to school, turned but to my disadvantage. At the end of a few-
weeks it was found out that I was fit for better things, and I
was promoted from the lower or German, to the upper or Latin
school. This was honourable enough, but the consequences of
the change were by no means agreeable. The head master of
the Latin school, Rector Reiz, was a learned man, but rough
in his manners. He did nothing to render the change easy. I
sat the youngest boy in the school, on the lowest bench, with
the strange books open before me, and while the master ex
plained the lessons to the older boys — on the upper benches
were boys from sixteen to eighteen, — I conned over my task :
when I asked the boy next me to explain some difficulty, he
made me signs to hold my tongue, while the master, who had
perceived this, said, sarcastically, that he saw I wanted to make
acquaintance with a couple of canes to which he pointed, and
which were lying near him! AU further desire of learning
vanished. I whoUy lost my spirits. In agony lest I should not know
my lessons, I repeated them incessantly, but as they were
beyond my comprehension, it seldom happened that I knew
them by heart, and when I did, the stern face of the rector put
them entirely out of my head. I now had no time for amuse
ment or recreation : the distress of learning took up every mo
ment of my time, and as my two protectresses understood
nothing of aU this, and did not doubt of my abilities, they na
turaUy attributed to perversity and foUy, that, whereas I could
formerly learn every thing, I now did nothing. They, therefore,

chap, n.] LUTHERAN SCHOOL AT DUSSELDORF. 23
held it to be their duty to show me, by their displeasure, what
they thought of my conduct.
How often did I look back with regret to the short but happy
time which I passed in the German school ! There every thing
went well ; the day was properly divided between study and
recreation, and both in moderation. I was praised — at any
rate, not scolded — I saw others contented, and was so myself.
With stiU greater regret did I look back upon those days which
I passed by my father's side : these, however, seemed too far
distant ever to recur.
My father had insisted, to the great annoyance of my two
protectresses, that I should be allowed to pay him a few visits.
The first time he found me looking well, happy, and talking
in high terms of the German school. What I told him of my
life perfectly satisfied him. The zeal which was shown in con
verting me to Protestantism made him shake his head, but
every thing else was so satisfactory that he thought little of
this. But the second time that I visited him after an interval
of a fortnight, every thing was changed : I was pale, thin, and
melancholy, and my short answers provoked fresh inquiries.
This was when I was in the Latin school, and subject to aU sorts
of miseries. His face darkened as he Ustened, and I at last con
fessed with a flood of tears that I was thoroughly wretched.
We sauntered up and down the banks of the Rhine until the
hour came for my return home. My father let me go, but de
sired me to take leave of my two protectresses, and to join him
on the following day : in future I was to remain with him.
They suspected what was coming, as they knew that my father
had to take a long journey, and would not leave me behind.
They were kind in their manner to me, and exhorted me to
cherish my Lutheran incUnations.
I was now happy beyond measure by my father's side.
Throughout all the vicissitudes of my Ufe, in aU trials, and
under aU circumstances, he alone was my fast support. Under
his guidance, I readily devoted a couple of hours a day to
study ; the rest of the time was passed in happy idleness, which,
however, was not without its fruits.
My father's friends visited him daily from Dusseldorf, and
many were the discussions as to his future plans. It was agreed
c 4

24 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap* ii.
on aU sides that Hamburg alone offered every thing that he
could desire; there he would find free German institutions,
and .^complete exemption from the bickerings and quarrels of
the narrow society in which he had lately Uved. Our pre
parations were soon made; and after stopping at Driesberg,
we pursued our journey to Munster, thence to Osnabruck
and Nieuburg, where we staid a few days, and continued our
journey without further adventure to Haarburg on the Elbe.

chap, m.] HAMBURG.

25

CHAPTER HI.
Hamburg. — Klopstock. — The Emigrants in Hamburg. — The Expedition
to Quiberon. — Bookstall in Hamburg  The "Turkish Spy."  La
fayette in Hamburg. — Death of my Father. — Berlin Medical Academy. —
Chamisso. — Fichte. — Louis Goldsmith  Rahel Levin  Poetical Club.
— War between France and Austria  Peace with Prussia. 1 794 — 1806.
From Haarburg we sailed with a favourable wind among the
green islands of the Elbe, and soon had a forest of masts with
Hamburg in the distance before our eyes. We graduaUy worked
our way through large and smaller vessels, and landed safely at
the Baumhaus, where we were met by crowds of busy men and
curious idlers. They took us for French emigrants, looked at
us suUenly, and threw aU sorts of impediments in our way.
But my father soon convinced them of their error, and we were
shortly on our way to one of the hotels on the Buten Quay. My
father and the driver of the cart which conveyed us and our
luggage became exceUent friends ; the latter made excuses for
his mistake. I perceived that the emigrants were disUked by
the common people as much here as elsewhere.
The most briUiant star in the inteUectual world of Hamburg
was Klopstock. He Uved a very retired life, seeing only a few
old friends. I was shown his house in the Konigstrasse, and
he himself was pointed out to me as he was going out for a
walk. He had a dignified, almost solemn air, but seemed shy
and suffering : his features were not good ; they might almost
be called ugly — were it not for a certain noble expression.
Ashe walked, quietly through the streets aU who recognised
him took off their caps. The people of Hamburg treated
those who were any way remarkable with the most genuine
respect. Most of the distinguished men in Hamburg were more or
less incUned to the French Revolution; -they abhorred the

26 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. rn.
cruelties which were practised, but held the principles on
which the movement was . founded. Wealth visibly increased,
and it naturally foUowed that no one was averse to a party
from which so much advantage was derived. But even this
was scarcely sufficient to account for the evident sympathy
which not alone the middle, but the lower classes showed for
the French liberals. All seemed to feel that this party in
France was essentiaUy that of the middle class, whUe the other
was wholly devoted to the cause of royalty: a sentiment of
comprehensive German nationaUty was not yet dreamt of.
The French emigrants did much to assist this view of the
case. No longer tolerated in many countries whither they had
fled, they had come in great numbers to Hamburg as a last
refuge, whence the sea offered them escape, if necessary. Some
among them were doubtless distinguished and honourable men,
but the majority were a wretched crew, intolerable from
their vanity and boasting. These garrulous idlers speedUy
became objects of intense hatred to the plain honest Ham
burgers, who, on the other hand, felt a great interest for the
repubUcans, some of whom they had seen in Hamburg in di
plomatic or commercial capacities, and whom they had learned
to respect.
It struck me, however, as strange that my father, who was
zealously devoted to liberal views, for which, moreover, he had
endured persecution and banishment, did not attach himself to
the party in power ; he had no connexion with the repubUcan
French, — on the contrary, whether by accident or design, he
lived much more with the hated emigrants. He Uked the cul
tivated minds and good manners of the French aristocracy. He
thought that a true friend of the people ought to endeavour to
raise «the standard of the lower classes, and not to descend to
their roughness and ignorance : whoever did this he looked on
as a mere vulgar agitator.
But my father was not so dazzled by fame or by brilUant
talents as to prefer these to more solid qualities. What he best
liked was the honest, hard-working, middle class, among whom
sufficient cultivation of mind is to be found, and whose straight
forward sense and good humour teach them the simplest and
easiest way pf making life agreeable to themselves and others.

chap, m.] BOOK-STALL AT HAMBURG. 27
It was impossible to find better specimens of honourable upright
men than some of the higher artisans and tradespeople of Ham
burg, — a most important and numerous class. Many of the
richest merchants sprung from this class, and stiU belonged
to it, as far as their thoughts, manners, and customs were
concerned. The unfortunate emigrants were shipped off in crowds
to England to take part in the attack on the coast of Brit
tany, for which great preparations were being made. They
said that their leaders had merely to step on the French shore,
and that thousands would flock to the royal standard: they
blamed the EngUsh government for their delay in sending ships
and arms : they wanted nothing else. My father tried to dis
suade some of them from going, but they would not Usten to
him, and hurried off so as not to be too late for the honours and
advantages which they were afraid others would obtain before
them. With these vain hopes they sailed for England, whence
they went to Quiberon. At the end of June the landing was
effected ; by the end of July the whole thing was at an end.
One portion fell in battle, a greater number were taken pri
soners and shot. But a short time before this we had seen these
same men full of zeal and confidence, — we knew many by name
and some of them intimately, — and in a few weeks the news
papers were fuU of their failure, their death-struggle, and
their execution.

We Uved close by the churchyard of St. Nicholas ; there was
a side door into the church, which was shut on week days ; but
a space was left open in which the laudable eagerness of a Ham
burger to turn every vacant space to account had caused a circu
lating Ubrary to be estabUshed — this was winked at for a trifling
consideration by the sexton. Here I found aU that my heart
panted for — tales of knight errantry, ghost stories, romances,
love adventures, and wondrous tales of aU sorts. I had plenty
of books at home which I read with pleasure, but none Uke
these. I could not resist the temptation, and procured myself
the coveted and forbidden pleasure. Although my father had not
expressly said so, I knew that he would not approve such read
ing. I therefore read in secret with aU the eagerness of youth,

28 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. m.
and reveUed in the world of fancy which was open to me. If I
broke off in the middle of a story I was miserable when I could
not procure the' second part. For many years the titles of those
romances which I had been unable to finish dwelt in my memory.
The worst was that I could not afterwards procure them, as
circulating libraries of higher pretensions had a better selection
of books. It was not till twenty years later, in Bohemia, where
such rubbish stUl existed, that I could obtain the sequel of a
romance, the beginning of which I had never forgotten, and I did
not deny myself this pleasure. Hence I learnt the magic power
which fancy exercises, how it changes the meanest thing into
gold; mine had drawn nourishment from the most wretched
materials ; truly it is a good proverb, that a black cow wiU
give white mUk. — I cannot say that this empty reading, which
ended in three months, when it was discovered, did me any
harm. I did not perceive what was bad, and, contrary to Tisch-
bein's ass, which ate pine-apple, thinking it was thistle, I ate
thistles, and beUeved them to be pines. I agree entirely with
Rousseau, that whoever can be spoUt by bad books is already
corrupt. I was equaUy diligent at my lessons ; indeed every
thing went easily, as I always had a pleasure in store ; besides,
conscious of deserving blame, I did not wish to heap up other
causes of complaint against myself. Among other books which
feU into my hands was " The Turkish Spy," a book which was
most popular in its day. It gives a vivid account of the times
of Louis XHI. and XIV., as if written by a Turkish spy then
Uving in Paris. The author, Marana, is -less famous than his
book : though he possesses neither critical skiU nor the art of
presenting his subject dramaticaUy, he has this great merit,  like
his contemporary Gregorio Leti — of having brought a mass of
historical matter in a readable form before the public. The form
he has chosen allows him to place the customs of the East in
strong contrast with those of Europe, and treating the events
as if they were contemporaneous gives them a certain interest :
moreover, the author has the art of weaving the occurrences
closely into his fiction. The Turkish Spy speedily became a
favourite, and I read his despatches with great eagerness.
My mother and sister reached Hamburg in the spring of 1 796.
When I went to the Baumhaus to meet them, my heart beat so

chap, m.] LAFAYETTE IN HAMBURG. 29

thick that I was obliged to stand without speaking a word.
My father was already there, and I embraced him and the
new comers by turns. The lapse of many years had not es
tranged us, and after the first quarter of an hour we were as
intimate as if we had never parted.
In 1797 an event occurred which had long been hoped for
in Europe and America, namely, the release of General La
fayette from his prison at Olmutz. His arrival created the
greatest commotion in Hamburg, where he had enthusiastic ad
mirers, who loved him not only for his political opinions, but for
his sufferings and his virtues. My father and I waited at the
Baumhaus to see him get out of his carriage with his two
daughters : his companions in captivity, Bureau de Puzy and
La-Tour-Maubourg, followed him. At every step he had to
receive fresh embraces, and he blessed the land of freedom
which now welcomed him : to this place he had been accom
panied by an Austrian officer.
My father was now busily employed : his position daily im
proved, and promised ultimate wealth. His zeal won for him
the confidence of the poor, and he had to make exertions be^
yond his strength. Hitherto he had always had exceUent
health, but he now sickened with a liver complaint. He was
his own physician, and beUeved his complaint to be mortal.
During his long illness, we perceived with astonishment a
great change in him. It had struck us, even before he left us,
to try the effect of the waters, of Schwalbach, that bis views
with regard to France had been much modified, — that he
cared less for their victories, and blamed their poUtical and mi
litary proceedings. This change of opinion had become much
more pronounced. The demands made by France on Ger
many at the Congress of Rastatt, the doings in Switzerland
and Italy, nay, Bonaparte's expedition to Egypt, excited his
bitter animadversion. But stiU more remarkable was another
change in him : he had before made me read to him the Psalms
in Latin, St. Augustin, and Boethius ; but with iUness his
love for such books increased, and he now read Thomas a,
Kempis and Hermann Hugo's Pia Desideria. The latter book,
composed by a Jesuit, struck me as chUdish in thought and
tone, and I was surprised to see my father condescend to read

30 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. iii.
it. But his earliest associations were bound up with this book :
he had forgotten it until it was now suddenly presented to him.
AU the pictures of his youth, aU the deUghtful and pure
sensations of early piety were recalled by these pages : a
strong-minded man may weU be aUowed to give way to such
sweet impressions. He drew consolation from Protestant as weU
as from CathoUc sources ; and I frequently saw Wankel's Preea-
tiones Pice in his hands : the only thing he required was, that
the books should be in Latin.
A change of lodging somewhat fatigued my father ; he vi
sibly decUned in strength, and during the night of the 5th of
June he felt suddenly worse, summoned us to his bed-side, and
expired without a word. He died in his forty-third year. He
was buried according to the Protestant form, and on his tomb
were engraved the words " Vir probus et sapiens."

In the year 1800 I entered the medical college , at Berlin,
where I spent two years and a half in unbroken study — even
the holydays were no loss of time. But a circumstance oc
curred which put an end to the good understanding between
me and the principal. I was subjected to an arrest for some
trifling cause : after a few days I was released, but told to
leave the college.
Before I could select some new profession I was taken iU :
the excitement had been too much for my strength. The
iUness took the form of a nervous fever ; after some days,
during which I had death constantly before me, I graduaUy
recovered. During my recovery, my friends and acquaintances were
busy in my service: from aU sides I received offers of as
sistance, and, instead of wanting every thing after such a
catastrophe, I found myself with all that I. could desire.
My friends exhorted me not to over-exert myself, and en
deavoured to discover some mode of life which would offer
me quiet and moderate occupation. They asked me if I had
any objection to become a tutor, for a time, — not to select this
as a profession : they described to me a rich family with two
boys of six and seven years of age, the parents weU-informed,
the society agreeable, where music and foreign languages were

chap, m.] CHAMISSO. 31
to be heard — in short, just what would be useful to me, — an
agreeable life and sufficient occupation. The scheme pleased
me, and I paid my visit of introduction. I was still weak, and
leant on a friend's arm. I was conducted into a Ubrary which
looked on the garden : the books were every thing I could wish
— German, French, and EngUsh. After a few minutes the
master of the house entered. The house, the society, the
scheme of life, all seemed most inviting : my letters of intro
duction were good; my youth, and my recent recovery from
illness, inspired sympathy, and the agreement was soon made.
After a few days I became an inmate of the house, and I began
a happy period of my life, removed from care and anxiety.
It is very seldom that time passes so agreeably as mine did
from the month of May tiU far into the summer ; I entered into
aU the pleasures of Ufe with the energy and zest of youth. My
occupations were just sufficient to make me enjoy my hours of
freedom: my duties did not lower me in my own estimation; and
I had, for the first time in my Ufe, a feehng of individual exist
ence. No one measured with a foot rule what I did, thought,
or wished : no one interfered with my objects or views. The
quaUties which I possessed had hitherto been repressed and
guided by others; I was now free to exert them as I pleased.
This feeling, which arose partly from the change in my position,
was much increased by other fortunate accidents, such as do not
often occur together.
I must first mention my dwelUng-place, which could not be
more agreeable. The house itself — large and roomy — pro
vided with every thing which could insure comfort, was built
between a court and a spacious garden : all the best rooms of
the house looked out upon the garden : shady walks, mown
lawns, high trees and shrubberies, flowers and fruit trees gave
the place great diversity, and this green and blooming spot af
forded daily and hourly opportunities for the purest enjoyment.
At this time I made acquaintance with a Prussian officer
at Charlottenburg. M. de Chamisso * had left France at the
breaking out of the French revolution when quite a lad, and had
come to BerUn as an emigrant. He was first one of the
* Tbe author of" Peter Schlemil, the Shadowless Man."

32 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. m.
widowed Queen's pages, and then joined Gotz's regiment, while
his parents, Uke many other emigrants to whom it was permitted,
eagerly returned to France. Chamisso could not conceal his
nation : his language, manners, and ideas betrayed his origin.
There was withal something strange in his ways : aU sorts
of things annoyed him : his long legs and tight uniform,
his hat, sword, and pigtail, stick and gloves, were constant
sources of indignation, but, above aU, he was incessantly strug-
gUng with the German language, which Ue mastered with great
difficulty. He had composed German elegies and songs, and
had begun a Faust in iambics, and I Ustened with wonder and
admiration to the passages which he recited to me with his
strange pronunciation, in a doorway, where he stood impeding
people's entrance into the room. I immediately spread abroad
a report of this new poet, who was, moreover, the best feUow
in the world, and became my most intimate friend. German
Uterature was the object Of his deepest veneration, and we
worked very much together: we interchanged our views and
opinions, and discuss'ed our favourite authors. I began' less to
admire Klopstock, Vbss, and Wieland, but SchiUer rose daily
in our estimation, and Goethe above aU, whose writings, espe
cially "Wilhelm Meister," were our chief study.' We took every
opportunity of being together* — the most indifferent visit —
every walk and occupation — afforded us an opportunity for
improvement. I was also introduced to Fichte, whose high intellect and cha
racter I looked on with profound reverence. In him I beheld
a wise man, whose actions corresponded with his words and
doctrines, whose thoughts and character were equally pure.
He willingly gave to us, who needed it so much, his instructive
advice, entered into my pursuits, recommended me strongly to
study Classical antiquity, told me that I must learn to know the
history of Rome and of Greece thoroughly, pointed out the
means of acquiring such knowledge, urged me to lead a strict
and diligent life, and advised me as yet to have nothing to do
with purely philosophical studies. I thought him almost a
divinity while he spoke thus to me ; sincerity beamed in his
eyes, while kindness dictated his expressions. Although neither
opportunity nor my own wishes aUowed me strictly to foUow

chap, in.] LEWIS GOLDSMITH. 33
 «
his advice, stiU it had a great effect upon me, and I constantly
had recourse to Fichte in my difficulties. Chamisso and my
other friends were no less influenced by their intercourse with
him : he was the star whose light guided us through aU the
mists and dangers of life, and to which we looked with confi
dence for strength to pursue what was true and good.
To turn to far different matters — an EngUsh Jew, Lewis
Goldsmith, notorious first as the writer of certain poUtical
pamphlets, then as the editor of the Argus, an EngUsh news
paper pubUshed at Paris, and afterwards as the author of a
scandalous libel against the court at St. Cloud, came during
the summer of 1803 to BerUn, and was received as an old
acquaintance in our house. He seemed to be weU provided
with money, and to enjoy all the comforts of life : he could
relate many remarkable stories of poUtical men and passing
events, and declared himself vehemently for the First Consul,
less apparently from conviction than from boastfulness and self-
interest : for he did not conceal the fact that he had staked his
fortune 6n Napoleon, and still less that his happiness con
sisted in living at his ease. His conversation was animated,
but offensive and malignant : much as this displeased us,
it amused the master of the house, upon whom the bold con
fident tone of the feUow had as much effect as the mission on
which he was sent, and which he did not conceal from an old
acquaintance. Goldsmith was on his way to Warsaw, with full
powers to treat secretly with the pretender to the French crown,
afterwards Louis XVHL, and to endeavour to prevail upon
him to renounce his claim to the throne in consideration of a
large sum of money which Napoleon offered to pay. This
was told to me shortly after Goldsmith's departure, with the
idea that my opinion of the man would be much raised thereby.
In fact, the mission was important, and gave an early insight
into the then carefully concealed projects of the First Consul :
all this, however, was afterwards denied. Goldsmith came
back from Warsaw after a while, but made no stay in BerUn ;
his haste proved that he had failed in his negotiation, as indeed
he himself confessed. I was then perfectly indifferent to poU
tical matters : a poem had far greater charms for me than the
VOL. I. d

34 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. m.
whole state of Europe, and an affair of the heart than all battles
and treaties put together.
Here I must mention one person who made a first im
pression on me at this time. One evening, while I was
reading some extracts from Wieland to those assembled round
the tea-table, a visitor was announced, whose name caused a
commotion, in which surprise and pleasure had an equal part.
This was Rahel Levin, or Robert, for she once bore the latter
name. I had frequently heard her mentioned in various
quarters, and always in such terms that I was prepared to see
a most extraordinary person. What I had heard from others
had led me to expect an union of inteUect and simplicity of
nature in its purest and most original form. The blame
which I had heard cast upon her frequently redounded to
her credit. There was much talk of some passion which,
according to common report, far surpassed in vehemence and
misfortune any thing that had ever been sung by poets. To
the amusement of the company, I watched with nervous im
patience for her appearance. A Ught, graceful figure, smaU,
but vigorous, with delicate weU rounded limbs, entered the
room: the hands and feet were peculiarly smaU. The fore
head, shaded by a profusion of black hair, announced intel
lectual superiority; the quick determined glances left one in
doubt whether they were more disposed to receive impressions
or to communicate them, and a settled expression of melan
choly added a charm to her clear and open countenance.
She moved in her dark-coloured dress almost Uke a shadow,
and her greeting was easy and kind. But what most struck
me was the rich soft voice which seemed to come from her in
most soul, and the most extraordinary conversation that I ever
heard. Simplicity and wit, quickness and the charm of soft
ness, were blended in the easy, unassuming manner in which
she expressed the most original thoughts and fancies, all based
upon such deep truth that few found any thing in what she
uttered that they could gainsay. Her generous warmth and
goodness rendered her presence welcome even to the most
commonplace people. The whole visit lasted but a short time,
and I could remember no particular word or phrase worth
repeating ; but I deeply felt the general impression she had

chap, m.] RAHEL LEVIN. 35
produced, and was so fuU of it that after she had left the
room, I could talk and think of nothing else. I did not see
Rahel Levin for many years, but her name remained like
a taUsman impressed on my soul. I little thought that this
first meeting would be foUowed by many others, and that the
most important event and the most lasting engagement of my
life would be bound up with hers.

Chamisso introduced me to the poets of the Musen Almanach,
none of whom I knew. I saw Hitzig, Robert, and Theremin, who
appeared to me a very superior man, and who captivated me by
his rich noble language. As we all had our several occupations
during the day, we settled to meet in the evening. These
poetical tea-parties, at which Uterature and poetry formed the
chief subject of conversation, were first given by Hitzig, whose
rooms were the largest, and whose agreeable and social quaUties
rendered them the pleasantest place of union : we here enjoyed
pure pleasures, after the various occupations of the day. The
subsequent tea-parties given by Theremin and Robert lost the
charm of simplicity ; there was more pretension, and other ob
jects came into play : our society likewise increased. A clever
good-humoured companion of Hitzig, Adolph von Uthmann,
and Chamisso's fellow-countryman, a certain Count de Lafoye,
made no change in our habits. But our evenings became more
noisy and distracted by the introduction of Koreff, a young
physician from Breslau, who was practising has studies at BerUn,
and who was inexhaustible in fun and humour. At the same
time George Reimer, and several other real or pretended lovers
of poetry, joined our parties, which now were more sumptuous.
Eventually, however, they again became more modest as the
society got smaUer : Koreff's tone grew more earnest as our in
timacy increased. We occasionally sat with Chamisso when he
was on duty at the Potsdam or Brandenberg gate, and, amid
various military interludes, passed whole nights discussing
poetry, our plans of study and of life, the execution of which
was, alas t far distant.
Meanwhile a violent war raged in the south of Germany be
tween France and Austria ; even in Hamburg, whither I had
now gone, there were warlike preparations, and every one was

36 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. m.
waiting to see what Prussia would do. There I heard that Cha-
misso's regiment had received orders to be ready to march on a
particular day : we could see our friend if we started immediately.
To reckon up the time, pack up a few things, and get into the
diligence was the work of a few minutes — we saw Chamisso,
and found his rooms already nearly fuU — one lay on a sofa,
another passed the night on a cushion, in a corner of the room.
During the day not a soul was to be found in bis apartments,
but at night we assembled like owls. The march was delayed,
and we spent several weeks in BerUn with Chamisso very
happily. The slow process of arming was now nearly completed, the
troops were rapidly assembUng, and Chamisso was aware that
at any moment Ms regiment might be ordered to leave BerUn.
We had not attained that true zeal which could employ itself aU
day exclusively on political matters : the incessant discussions
on war and the state wearied us, and we in vain endeavoured to
return to the old habits and subjects of conversation which we
had before enjoyed at BerUn. Chamisso was soon to leave us :
his studies must be given up, and poetry neglected. However,
the marching of the troops was delayed, and, as we could re
main at BerUn no longer to the neglect of our own studies, we
returned to Hamburg and set to work again with renewed
•diUgence. We had been in Hamburg but a short time, when the long-
expected march of the troops from BerUn took place, and an ani
mated correspondence with Chamisso fixed our attention more
and more upon the movements of the troops and the events of
the war. Napoleon's victories alarmed us, but we could not
then wish success to his opponents; — indeed, when we thought of
-the French soldiers as the promoters of freedom, our sympathies
were with them. The enigmatical conduct of the Prussian go
vernment held us for some time in suspense; but it eventuaUy
threw aside its threatening attitude and made terms of peace.
Meanwhile the troops did not immediately return to their for
mer post : instead of BerUn, after much marching and counter
marching, Chamisso found himself destined to protect Hanover,
and his regiment garrisoned the fortress of Hameln.

chap, rv.] HALLE. 37

CHAPTER IV.
The University of Halle  Manners of the Students. — Their Clubs. 
Warlike Movements., — Prussian Troops in Halle  Vacation Time 
Field Marshal Von Miillendorf. ] 806.
We were now prepared for a higher sphere of action, and
determined, in the spring of 1807, to go to the university of
Halle. Our road was by Hamburg to Hanover, thence to
Hameln, where Chamisso was expecting us. Great was the
joy at our meeting : we, recapitulated all that we had seen,
read, and thought, and speculated much on our future plans of
Ufe. We passed a few weeks at Hameln very happily, and
then went in the diUgence by Brunswick to HaUe.
It was early on the 21st of April that we entered HaUe.
The rattUng and jolting of the carriage over the rough pave
ment disturbed us out of our deep sleep, and the old-fashioned
quiet town, with its silent streets and closed windows, instantly
roused and interested us. I felt' the importance of the moment
in which I was about to begin the new life for which I had so
ardently longed, and even now doubted having obtained my
wishes. It appeared to me as if I had entered a sanctuary :
the silence seemed so ominous and solemn.
This first sight of an university town struck us much :
the manners of the students interested and amused us : their
behaviour, dress, and language showed their freedom, which,
nevertheless, was kept within due bounds by their own laws,
by poverty, and by other influences. The greater number of
the students Uved after the manner hereditary to the race;
they had their fencing-rooms and duels, as weU as their clubs,
drinking-bouts, and tobacco-smoking; but they by no means
interfered with those who did not Uve after their fashion,
and even allowed them to walk on the broad pavement in the
middle of the street: this was only contested with the Philis-
D 3

38 WAR OF LIBERATION IN SERMANY. [chap. iv.
tines, viz. the town people. The number of students was con
siderable, at least fifteen hundred, who were divided into several
clubs, and no smaU number belonged to none. We naturally
kept clear of such things, and could not conceal from our
selves that, although we lacked the true student spirit, in
many respects we had advanced beyond our companions.
During the whole summer we had heard of warlike move
ments interrupted by hopes of peace : but after Napoleon had
obtained a firm footing in Germany by means of the Rhenish
Confederation, aU idea of peace was at an end, and every one in
Prussia who had a voice caUed loudly for war. Prussian troops
were to be seen in and near Halle on their way to the south
and west, and the desire for war grew stronger every day.
Some hot-headed feUows were furious if peace was hinted at,
or if the superiority of the Prussians over the French was not
at once acknowledged. I distinctly remember meeting an
officer who asserted that the war was as good as ended, — that
nothing could now save Bonaparte from certain destruction.
When I attempted to talk of French generals, he interrupted
me by saying, " Generals ! whence should they spring ? We
Prussians, if you Uke it, have generals who understand the art
of war ; who have served from their youth up : such men wUl
drive the tinkers and taUors, who date only from the Revo
lution, before them like sheep. For God's sake, do not talk to
me any more of French generals, indeed!" This put me out
of temper, and I answered bluntly, that a man became a ge
neral not by the accident of birth, but by actual service ; that
a man's former condition was nothing ; a tinker or a tailor
might make as good a general as a drill serjeant.
The vacation meanwhile commenced. Several of my com
panions made an excursion into Saxony, whUe, by Theremin's
invitation, I went to join him at Berlin. In a few weeks we
expected to return to HaUe ; no one dreamt that any thing
would prevent this. I was, however, reminded aU along the
road, that we were on the eve of some great event ; in every
direction we met soldiers in larger or smaller detachments,
with artillery and baggage waggons. In Treuenbriezen I
saw old Field Marshal von Mullendorf on his way to join
the army ; war was no longer doubtful, and it was thought

chap, rv.] HALLE. 39
that the presence of one of Frederick the Great's heroes would
fill the troops with the enthusiasm of that period, and incite
them to fresh victories. I saw him with a smiling counte
nance making the most confident promises of victory out of
his carriage window to the surrounding crowd ; he then drove
off amid the loud huzzas of the assembled multitude. The
soldiers were singing jovial songs, and rejoicing that at last
they were to be led against the enemy ; every where were
to be seen stragglers and others rushing to join the army.-
The noise died away after leaving Potsdam, — an unusual still
ness prevailed, and the fine summer weather soon banished
from my thoughts all save the objects and expectations which
more immediately concerned myself.

D 4

40 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. v.

CHAPTER V.
War declared between France and Prussia. — General Enthusiasm. — Death
of Prince Louis Ferdinand. — Departure of the Court from Berlin.—
General Schulenburg. — Battles of Auerstadt and Jena. — The French in
Leipsic. — Plundering of Halle. — Their Entrance into Berlin  Bi vouack
in the Lustgarten  Napoleon in Berlin. — Fall of Magdeburg. — Des
perate Condition of Prussia. 1806.
I arrived at Berlin towards the end of September, in anxious
expectation of news from the army. We had seen the reserve,
under Prince Eugene of Wurtemberg, pass through BerUn
on its way to the Elbe ; our only fear was, that peace would
again restore the sword to the scabbard. AU BerUn shared
the general enthusiasm, and scarce any one ventured to express
doubt, or even anxiety as to the results. At length the de
claration of war appeared, dated Erfurt, the 8th of October,
.and we rejoiced that, at any rate, this step had been taken.
This was received as an instalment. But now the desire for
further news, for accounts of victories — of which no one
entertained a doubt — became almost intolerable : this violent
impatience of the pubUc contrasted strangely with the un
broken silence maintained by those at the head of affairs.
Days passed without news ; nothing was to be gathered from
letters or traveUers. Not a sound was heard from the mys
terious district in which the armies were supposed to be en
gaged : the metropoUs seemed cut off from aU communication
with the camp, where the whole strength and the rulers of
the state were to be found. This intolerable state of suspense,
— during which the idle boasting of several military men
graduaUy ceased, — gave occasion first to melancholy fore
bodings, then to the most contradictory and inexpUcable re
ports, and was at last reUeved only by the most terrible news.
The first certain inteUigence which reached us was the death of

chap, v.] GENERAL SCHULENBURG. 41
Prince Louis Ferdinand : it was said that he did not choose to ;
survive the unfavourable issue of the battle of Saalfeld. It is
impossible to describe the sensation caused by the death of this
prince, who was loved and honoured by aU men. Many taxed
him with imprudence, reproaching him for his untimely and
useless death ; but subsequent events proved but too weU that
he could not have chosen a more worthy destiny, and that his
fate was more irreproachable, and more worthy of envy, than
that of most of his comrades.
This beginning did not augur weU. Nevertheless, every
one continued to have perfect confidence in the Prussian arms.
When the report of a lost battle reached the town, no one would
at first beUeve the news : people ran here and there, and
assembled before the houses of the Ministers. They forced
their way into the house of General von Schulenburg, and
asked eagerly for information, from friends and strangers, from
high and low. They went in large bodies from one place to
another, as chance or vague rumour guided them. At length a
printed notice was posted up in all the corners of the streets,
in which Schulenburg made known in a few words that the
king had lost a battle, and that the first duty of the inhabitants
of BerUn was to be quiet. This weU-meant but fooUsh notice
was poor consolation in the increasing bitterness of pubUc
feeUng. The first impulse of the people was one of courage and
action. A number of young men, headed by bold spokesmen,
went to Schulenburg, and offered to form a company of volun
teers : they only wanted to be suppUed with arms and to be led
at once against the enemy. When Schulenburg in evident
embarrassment denied their request, and at last, with some
harshness refused their offer to serve as common soldiers, saying,
that he did not know what to do with the soldiers he abeady
had, much less with raw recruits, — then every one clearly saw
that nothing was to be done but to let ruin come and bear it
quietly. BerUn now saw its former pride and strength cut down, its
hopes destroyed. The royal household, the highest officials, and
other persons of high station, hastily packed up their valuables,
and departed. Afterwards the muskets were aU taken from
the armoury and placed in boats, but something delayed their

42 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. r.
being conveyed to a place of safety. FinaUy, Schulenberg went
with all the troops he could muster, some thousand strong,
towards the Oder, after giving the town into the charge of his
son-in-law, Prince von Hatzfeldt. The people impeded Schulen-
burg's departure: — "Heave you, my children," said he, and
they let him go.
Meanwhile fame had announced a succession of disasters with
out magnifying them, as is usually the case ; on the contrary, the
misfortunes proved to be actuaUy greater and more numerous
than were reported. We were told of the battle of Auerstadt and
of Jena, of the Duke of Brunswick and General von Riichel being
mortaUy wounded, and of the retreat of the troops who were to
have assembled at Magdeburg. We still hoped that the passage
of the Elbe would be defended, and we knew that the reserve,
which had not yet been in action, was stationed at HaUe. But
this comfort speedily vanished : the remainder of the army fled
beyond the Oder ; Prince Eugene of Wurtemberg was attacked
and beaten on the 17th of October by Marshal Bernadotte.
First, the queen, then the king had fled towards Prussia
proper : the French had appeared in Leipsic, had passed the
Elbe at Dessau and near Magdeburg, and were advancing on
all sides in triumph. It is impossible to describe the state of
duU despair and anxious expectation in which the town of
Berlin was plunged. The worst was, that not a Prussian
soldier was to be heard of. We had seen the army go forth in
aU its pride and glory : it seemed as if the earth had swaUowed it
up, and we now saw in its stead the hated and despised enemy
enter the town. No stragglers of the army ever reached BerUn ;
they had aU fled further northwards or had been made prisoners
of war, — some of them basely, without striking a blow, as at
Prenzlau, — others after a stout resistance, as at Lubeck.
All was now care and anxiety at BerUn : the magistrates did
nothing, but left things to take their own course. Prince von
Hatzfeldt had shown himself wanting in vigour, and already
incurred great censure. Many people, having a thought to the
future when an army would be quartered upon them, laid in a
store of wine and good things, in order to appease the fury
of the soldiers by good feeding, while others, mindful of
themselves, got in a provision of potatoes to meet their own

chap, v.] ENTRANCE OF THE FRENCH INTO BERLIN. 43
private wants. A few stiU hoped for the advance of Russian
troops, and a yet smaller number, who stiU thought that they
would find in the French the old soldiers of liberty, rejoiced
in their approach. It was reported that Hessen-Cassel had
separated itself from Prussia, and declared its neutraUty ; and
one man hastily adorned his doorway with the arms of that
power, having obtained licence for so doing from the Hereditary
Princess of Hessen. This however availed him nothing, as the
French did not respect his neutrality, and made no difference
between Hessians and Prussians ; thus, besides the annoyance
of having soldiers biUeted upon him, he had the additional
mortification of seeing his fellow-citizens exceedingly pleased
that his device had failed.
I myself was much moved, not only by the events of the day
at BerUn, but by what had happened at HaUe. The latter
town had been plundered ; the university had been shut up by
Napoleon's command, aU the students ordered to leave the place,
and I was again thrown on the world without a home.
The French, who were not far off, did not come quite so
quickly as was expected ; they had gone considerably to the north
of Berlin, and could scarcely have been aware that it was ready
to receive them. At length, on the 24th of October, the enemy-
appeared. I saw the first French who entered the town. At
about midday an officer, in a blue uniform, accompanied by
three or four chasseurs, rode into the town : they stopped their
horses, hurriedly asked the way towards the municipaUty, or
the mansion-house, told the idlers to stand off, and galloped away
again. There they were then ! Many people stiU maintained
that these were not French, but Russians. This was evident,
said they, from their green uniforms. But in a quarter of an
hour there was no longer room for doubt : large bodies of
cavalry and infantry entered the town, and on the foUowing day
Berlin was fiUed with Marshal Davoust's troops. And now
began a totally new Ufe among the half-stupified inhabitants of
BerUn. We breathed again ; for, instead of wUd unprincipled
plunderers, we found a well-discipUned gay soldiery, who were
disarmed by being addressed in French, and whose officers were,
for the most part, remarkable for courteous manners. This
first favourable impression was not effaced by subsequent rough

44 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. v.
conduct, although it was difficult to satisfy the pressing wants
of so many people. We stiU found that we had to thank God,
if we were to have enemies quartered upon us, that they were
not worse than these. Nevertheless, the slovenly, dirty, ragged
appearance of these Uttle, mean-looking, impudent, witty feUows,
was a strange sight for eyes which, like ours, had been used to
the neatness and. admirable carriage of the Prussians, and we
were the more astonished how such rabble — for they almost
deserved the name — could have beaten such soldiers out of the
field. Some few days later, on the evening of the 27th of October,
Napoleon himself left Charlottenburg, and entered the town at
the head of his guards. It had been said that he would not
trust himself in Berlin.
On the 27th October, I was taking my usual evening walk
by the so-caUed Lustgarten, or park, when I was struck by
a new sight. The whole space in the middle, which had
been always kept carefuUy mown, and even the side-walks
towards the palace, were covered with innumerable watch-
fires, round which the soldiers of the imperial guard were
grouped in all sorts of attitudes. The huge fires shone
upon these handsome men and their gUttering arms and ac
coutrements, and the eye was attracted by the incessantly
recurring national colours of red, blue, and white. About
10,000 men were moving about in this glowing bivouac, near
the gloomy-looking palace in which Napoleon had taken up his
abode. The whole scene made a strong impression upon
me, and when I examined the smaU details, — for every one
was aUowed to go among the troops, — my wonder was in
creased : each soldier, in appearance, manner, and authority,
was Uke an officer, — each man seemed a commander, a hero.
The men sang, danced, and feasted tiU late in the night, whUe
every now and then smaU detachments in an admirable state
of discipUne, marched to and fro with drums and music. It
was such a sight as I had never beheld. I staid there for
hours, and could scarce leave the spot. The imperial guard
remained there for some days, and all eyes were riveted
by the beautiful but hated spectacle. But no subsequent im
pression equalled that of the first night : the fires burned more

chap, v.] STATE OF PRUSSIA. 45
dimly ; part of the troops had been detached elsewhere ; and at
length, smaU bodies of cavalry, with their horses ready saddled
and bridled for instant service, were the only troops left in this
encampment. The numerous body-guard in the court of the
palace was quite sufficient for Napoleon's personal safety.
MeanwhUe the position of Prussia became worse every day.
The lost battles, the bad measures, the want of activity, the
carelessness of the government, were bad enough; but the
capitulations and surrenders of strong places were beyond be-
Uef. The fall of Magdeburg was Uke a dream : a garrison of
above 20,000 men laid down their arms without striking a
blow. One could scarce beUeve that this strong bulwark of
Prussia could be taken without firing a shot. It appeared fabulous,
that the cowardly panic of their commanders should yield two
places Uke Stettin and Custrin, which were reckoned impreg
nable, to the first handful of French cavalry that gaUoped up
to the waUs. The boundless corruption which had been gra
duaUy sapping the foundations of the state now became
notorious. We sank under the shame which had faUen upon
the Prussian arms, without at once comprehending its fuU
extent. In the excess of their grief the Prussians themselves
were the most bitter against their countrymen. In former
days a Prussian officer was the ideal of all that was honourable,
brave, and accomplished; the name now impUed cowardice,
boastfulness, and incapacity. AU looked with anger upon the
enormous power which the army had graduaUy acquired ;
men were only disposed to forgive this when it proved itself
the steady defender of the country, and secured its lasting
glory and conquest. Many now rejoiced at the rapid progress
of the French, as a means of overthrowing this domestic
tyranny. No one who did not Uve in these times can con
ceive the expressions which Prussian patriots used against
the mihtary authorities, nor the bitter contempt with which
names once held in high respect, but to which attached a
suspicion of treason, were now mentioned. The abuse of the
Prussian soldiery was universal, and often unjust : in many
instances the enemy were fairer than the Prussians, and occa-
sionaUy took the part of those men ; but in those times it was
almost impossible to stem the current. A perfect flood of

46 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. v.
pamphlets was poured forth : the secretary-at-war of Cologne
was the first to disclose without shame the weaknesses and
crimes of his own government : others wrote hastily and fool
ishly, endeavouring to fasten their own poUtical abstractions upon
the victorious party, and to show their wisdom by the fulfilment
of their prophecies of victory.
The sights, impressions, interests, and experiences of this
period fiUed and excited my mind, and gave me much cause
for thought. The state of Prussia was important and worthy
of observation. But the French soldiers were in their way
most remarkable ; the mixture of refinement and savageness
gave them a peculiar character, which was not without its
pharm ; and I had a decided liking for many officers whose ac
quaintance I made. I looked upon Napoleon with all the hatred
which was due to the oppressor of freedom in France, and to
the enemy of improvement in Germany ; but I could not avoid
admiring his great quaUties, and when I saw him inspecting the
troops in the Lustgarten, in the midst of his generals, as I
frequently did, and aUowed the whole scene to make its due
impression upon me, I well understood why his soldiers followed
him with enthusiasm in his never-ending career of victory.
Until now, the most beautiful weather, in spite of the late
ness of the season, had made Ufe more tolerable. But suddenly
the weather became gloomy, wet, and cold, and the appearance
of every thing was changed. The French troops had almost
all advanced into Poland or Prussia, and Napoleon joiaed
them with the few that had remained behind. Berlin, now
almost a desert, sank under the accumulated burdens and vexa
tions which daily became more oppressive ; want and misery
were everywhere visible. General von Zastrow had been
sent by the King to Napoleon to sign a treaty of peace ; but it
did not take effect, as the Emperor's unparalleled success made
him reject the terms which he had formerly been disposed to
grant. Nothing remained for us under these disheartening
circumstances, but to look forward "to a series of wretched day»
and to a miserable future.

chap, vt] RAHEL LEVIN. 47

CHAPTER VI.
Fichte's Lectures in Berlin  Schleiermacher. — Meeting with Rahel Levin.
— Description of Rahel. — Her Character. — The Society at her House.
— Her Letters and Journals. — Rahel at Charlottenburg. 1807.
Meanwhile the interval of a year had produced some change,
and a new career was opened to me. The shutting up of the
university of Halle was perhaps a greater loss to me than to
any one else. Every thing was to be found there of which I
stood in need : but at Berlin, where I now was, I occasionaUy
saw Fichte, Wolf, and Bernhardi. Towards the end of Decem
ber Schleiermacher and his sister left HaUe, and came to settle
permanently in Berlin. Fichte now commenced giving lectures
in the hall of the academy before a numerous company, and I
did not fail to attend them. It was curious to hear a German
professor exhorting his hearers to keep up their nationality, in
the midst of a French army : many of his audience thought of
Palm, the bookseller, and felt some fear lest a similar fate
should await the bold lecturer. I likewise attended Schleier-
macher's lectures on ethics. These and other persons in Berlin
formed a select society, and made an agreeable interruption to
our studies.
Among the various persons whom I frequently heard men
tioned in this society were some of the most remarkable men
and women in Germany ; the brothers WiUiam and Alexander
von Humboldt, Frederick Schlegel and his wife, Ludwig
Tieck, and others of Uke eminence, with whose names every
high interest is associated. But no one was more often quoted
and described than Rahel Levin, and I soon conceived the
greatest desire to know her. The lady of the house in which
we met spoke of her as something without paraUel, and when
occasionally some blame interrupted the general flow of praise —
for instance, when it was said that if Rahel paid more attention
to outward appearances, or could manage to assume a tone
more consonant with the general views of society, it would be

48 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. vi.
better, — our hostess did not deny that in all matters of real
importance, she acknowledged Rahel's superiority. It struck
us as remarkable, when we heard a woman whom for inteUi-
gence and accomplishments we looked upon as the pattern of
her sex, speak of another in such terms, placing her above
compare, and we requested her to ask her friend to the house,
that we might judge for ourselves of their- respective merits.
The visit was promised. Rahel appeared ; but staid only an
hour, as she was not weU, and indisposition had unfitted her to
appear to advantage in a smaU society where the impression
was not altogether in her favour. AU further talk with her
was impossible* when Schleiermacher appeared, sat down, and
entered into earnest conversation with her. We were not a
little surprised to see Schleiermacher play a subordinate part,
and apparently with a good will; indeed, he several times
stopped short in his conversation. When her carriage was
announced and she went away with a promise to come again,
Schleiermacher accompanied her to the door, and when he re
turned, his praises of her knew no bounds. But his excitement,
which lasted during the whole evening, proved her power more
than any thing he could say. We were doubly astonished ; for
we had never seen Schleiermacher second to any one, and seldom
so excited. I ardently wished to become better acquainted with
this wonderful creature, before whom all others paled, and I felt
that I must soon be more intimate with her than with any other
person. With a mind prepared to receive new impressions, and
thirsting for fresh stimulus and support, I happened to meet
Rahel one cold spring morning under the Ume trees. I knew
her companion, to whom I spoke, and while I walked a short
distance with them, Rahel, to my delight, joined in the con
versation. I found myself attracted towards her to an extra
ordinary degree, and exerted aU my wit not to let this good
opportunity pass unimproved. Among other things, I managed
to make use of one of her peculiarly expressive phrases which had
reached my ears, in such a manner as to convey at the same
time a compliment and a playful attack. She perceived both,
looked penetratingly at me, as if to measure the extent of my
boldness, and answered that she could endure to hear her words
quoted, but not in a false sense : there was, indeed, something

chap, vi.] RAHEL LEVIN. 49
in the expression which had been incorrectly repeated. I
excused myself by saying that I could not vouch for the accu
racy of quotations which I heard only by accident, and I was
rewarded by her permission in future to come to the fountain-
head at once. I availed myself of this favour the very next
day. Rahel then lived in the Jagerstrasse, opposite to the
Admiralty, under the care of her mother, whose old-fashioned
and admirably-arranged house was open to the most agreeable
society. I had occasionally visited Ludwig Robert in this
very house ; but with what different feeUngs did I now cross
the threshold !
I have a few times in my life felt myself suddenly raised by
the influence of congenial minds into a higher sphere, where
the very air which I breathed, and the impressions which I
received, at once opened to me a new existence. I had more
especially marked 'three such periods in my life, — the dawn of
my intellectual life, at the commencement of my studies at
Berlin, — my first entrance into an independent and active ex
istence, — the inauguration of my student life at Halle, and
eight years after the first epoch I took my fourth step in life,
— my acquaintance with Rahel, — which united in itself all
the elements of the former periods. I do not hesitate to affirm
that during the four-and-twenty years which have passed since
my first acquaintance with Rahel, in which time much that is
new, great, and unexpected has occurred, there has been
nothing in my varied life which will bear the slightest eom-
parison with that event. Rahel is still to me * the newest and
freshest feature in my existence ; and whilst I traee the circum
stances and feelings which accompanied our early connection, I
need not draw upon my imagination to call up the warm and
delicate perfume of those happy days : I feel and enjoy their
influence now as I did then. But I fear that my description
will be tinged with the sadness which, even while I write
this, fiUs my soul when I think upon the manifold, deep, and
passionate sorrows of my dear and early friend.
I cannot attempt to describe my beloved Rahel : to know and
appreciate her thoroughly was possible only to those who held
daily intercourse with her. Even her letters, fuU of genius and
* This was written ia 1832. Rahel died on the 7th March, 1833  Transl.
VOL. I. E

50 WAR OF LIBElt ATION IN GERMANY. [chap. vi.
originality 'as they are, give but an imperfect picture of: her;
mind, the chief quality of which was that natural, unborrowed
vivacity which throws upon every subject new Ughts and shadows:
Of its own, and lends a freshness and a charm to all things, which
no pen. can describe. I wiU only attempt to give a sUght idea
of the impression which She then made upon me.
First; I must Say, that while in her presence I had the fuU,
persuasion that I beheld a real creature — the work of God in:
its purest and most perfect form. She was full of Ufe and soul ;
of a nervous, excitable organisation, in complete harmony with
nature ; her expressions and emotions were unaffected and ori
ginal, and had a certain grandeur from her native simpUcity
and sense ; she was, moreover, quick, exact, and determined in
word arid action. The purest goodness, the most active bene
volence, the deepest sympathy with her feUow-creatures, per
vaded her whole nature. In her aU the exceUences which I
had seen separately in others were united: she possessed in
teUect and wit, penetration and a love of truth, imagination and
humour. She combined with force of character and acuteness
of mind a womanly grace and gentleness, which gave to her
eyes and to her noble mouth an expression of the greatest
sweetness, without at all disguising the vigour and impetuosity
of her passions.
I almost doubt whether my description will enable any one
to form any idea of' such an union of conflicting elements. It
was after some doubts and many errors that I at length came to
a right conclusion : for a long time I was confident of but one
thing ; that I saw before me the most extraordinary and admir
able object. I had no prejudice against her, spite of the dis
advantageous terms in which I had heard her described by
Various people ; and even if I had, it would speedily have
vanished in her presence. Her simple, natural address, the
unaffected ease and sincere kindliness of her conversation,
which at first turned only on indifferent subjects, immediately
dispelled all unpleasant feelings, which were soon succeeded by
others — the offspring of the moment : the freshness of her lan
guage gave a charm, and a character of truth and originaUty
to the most indifferent subjects, and invested the most common
place ideas with a certain elevation. In her presence I felt

chap, vi.] RAHEL LEVIN. 5J
myself in a new atmosphere of poetry, unlike what commonly
bears that name, inasmuch as it was true instead of false, real
instead of apparent. Before long, however, our conversation
turned upon more important matters ; books, persons, and social
relations afforded us various subjects for discussion. We talked
of Frederick Schlegel, Tieck, Madame de Stael, and Goethe,:
and expressed our sentiments and opinions with as much open-,
ness as was consistent with the reserve of a first visit.
We were not long alone ; other people came in, and the
conversation soon became animated and free from restraint.
Every one showed himself in his true colours — there was
nothing to be gained by hypocrisy. Rahel's simpUcity, good
humour, love of truth, and desire to give every one fair play,,
had its due effect. I declaimed with youthful exaggeration
against the French ; another brought out his store of theatri
cal news ; a French officer received sarcastic advice about
his love affairs from Major Von Schack, a witty Prussian ; every
thing'passed off lightly and agreeably. When the tone of con
versation grew harshly earnest, it was interrupted by wit and
humour, and this again by serious topics : it was thus ani^
mated, and at the same time restrained within due bounds.
My impatience aUowed only a few days to intervene between
my first and second visit ; and so rapid was the growth of our
intimacy, that I then became a daily visitor. I was anxious to
gaze upon this new appearance, to approach nearer to these
pecuUar truths, to these disclosures of high import which at
every step unfolded themselves more and more brilliantly
before me, and to enjoy these new sensations the existence of
which I had never before suspected. To my astonishment, I
found that in the same degree in which others try to dissemble
their feelings, Rahel revealed her inmost soul, and spoke of
her sensations, woes, wishes, and expectations, even when they
might bear an unfavourable interpretation, and when she her
self looked upon them as faiUngs and error?, with as much free
dom and truth as if she were saying what was favourable and
flattering, and had to boast of the most undisturbed peace and
felicity. This degree of openness, which I have never seen in
any other human creature, and of which Jean Jacques Rous
seau was only capable in writing, at first caused me some un-

52 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap, vl
easiness, as her passionate confessions often betrayed a certain
harsh, inconsiderate vehemence, and a degree of peculiarity
which would have been repulsive if, as it is usuaUy the case,
there had been something still left unsaid. But with Rahel it
was otherwise : with respect to herself she spoke the whole
truth without reserve. She never attempted to extenuate or
conceal her errors, for she expected from others the candid
and indulgent sympathy for perfect truth which she herself
always felt, but, unfortunately, seldom met with,
I now saw Rahel by degrees in every relation of her Ufe. I
soon perceived that there was an immeasurable gulfif between
her and those about her. She stood alone in the midst of a
wide circle, neither understood, cherished, nor loved as she
required and deserved, but regarded with indifference, or self
ishly made use of for the moment, and then thrown aside.
None denied her extraordinary gifts ; it was conceded that she
was endowed with remarkable powers of mind, wit, and humour :
but others thought themselves possessed of the same quaUties,
with the addition of a greater share of prudence and repose, —
thus they palled their insipid selfishness and languid dulness.
With what Rahel, in her generosity, bestowed upon them of
her abundance, they thought themselves her superiors. Few
could understand her noble aspirations, her generous impulses,
her sacred love of truth. I felt myself aU the more strongly
attracted towards her by the consciousness that I could offer
her a sympathy and an acknowledgment of her merits, which she
too* seldom received.
Our intimacy strengthened daily. I told Rahel aU my most
secret thoughts, and nowhere could I have found truer sym
pathy, or more useful advice. Far from receiving unconditional
praise, I was blamed for much, and could perceive that Rahel
felt more disapprobation than she expressed. But her interest
in me rather increased than diminished, and this made up to me
for the mortification. In her circle, too, I enjoyed the society
of most remarkable men, Prince Louis Ferdinand, Gentz,
Schlegel, the two Humboldts, Tieck, the Prince de Ligne, and
many other diplomatists, artists, and learned men, who fre
quented her society.
But this rich collection of important portraits, to which she

chap, vi ] RAHEL LEVIN. 53
gave me the most Uvely explanations, was not all ; another trea
sure was unfolded to me, which excited my interest still more
strongly. Rahel was one of those rare natures to whom is
given the gift to love. A poet might, indeed, picture to himself
a mind Uke Rahel's, shaken or elated by the strongest passion
of noble natures. But the insight which was afforded to me far
surpassed any thing that I could have imagined. The fire of
passion had here fed upon the noblest nourishment — other
passions and other sorrows appeared trifling in comparison with
hers. The letters and journals which I was permitted to read,
in the strictest confidence, displayed a vital energy, which even
such writings as those by Goethe and Rousseau seldom reach.
The letters to Madame de Houdetot, which Rousseau mentions
as incomparable, may possibly have glowed with as ardent a
flame. These papers, after being long in my possession, were
unfortunately lost or destroyed in 1813, with the exception of
some few which give no sufficient idea of their worth. It
would appear that productions of this nature are destined never
to see the light, but to perish with the persons to whom they
belong. I sat whole nights reading these letters, which opened
to me a class of feeUngs of which until then I had had no idea.
It appeared to me Uke a dream that I had obtained these
papers, and had acquired so close an interest in the existence
therein described.
The beauty and elevation of poetry and philosophy were fuUy
felt by Rahel. Long before it was the fashion to praise Goethe,
she had been struck by his extraordinary genius, and had
placed him above aU other poets. In philosophy, she gave the
first place to the noble Fichte. She was intimately acquainted
with the works of Schlegel, NovaUs, Schleiermacher, Schelling,
and Steffens, and knew most of them personaUy. Gluck,
Mozart, and Righini were her favourites in music. She was
fully alive to the demerits of Kotzebue and Iffland, who then
kept complete possession of the stage, long before Uterary criti
cism had ventured to direct its attacks against these idols of the
public. I had not stood long in this new relation, before I gave my
friends an animated account of my good fortune. At first it
was doubted and treated as a joke. One of my female ac-
E 3

54 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. vi.
quaintances was astonished, and could not comprehend how
Rahel and I could long understand one another : she at the
same time admitted, however, that after her no other woman
would seem interesting or original to me. My college com
panion, Harscher, was her most obstinate opponent : he was quite
capable of recognising and wondering at Rahel's varied quaUties,
but he could not endure her healthful independence of mind, and
envied the ease with which she produced what was true and
beautiful without art or trouble : he grew in a manner jealous
of her, and tried by every means in his power to separate me
from my new friend. He occasionally went with me to Rahel's,
was most kindly received, enjoyed her conversation, and could
scarce find words to express his surprise and admiration. But
this very feeling angered him: he would not be overcome, and
remained away in order, as he said, that he might not yield to
her fascination. At length he saw that his sarcasms and ex
hortations were thrown away, and let me. go my own way,
happy to find that my new passion did not interfere with our
old friendship.
During the summer months Rahel inhabited a small house
at Charlottenburg, and I visited her there as often as I possibly
¦could. The soUtude in which I here ' found my friend gave
leisure for more interesting and confidential conversations. The
quiet, shady place before the door of the smaU house in a re
tired street,, the cool walks in the fragrant garden, or in the
broad shady roads round this retired village, and the beautiful
moonUght evenings/ are closely associated in my recoUection
with the highest' pleasures of the inteUect, and the tenderest
and most passionate feelings of the heart.

The summer had passed away, and the time approached
when the plans upon which we had determined were to be
Carried into effect. The nearer the time for our separation
approached, the more strongly did Rahel and I feel the value
and the happiness of our connexion. We endeavoured to con
quer our grief, but melancholy thoughts crossed us in the
midst of our joys. It now seemed foUy to part, and yet: our
previous resolutions remained unchanged. We had the courage
to separate; I had still much1 to learn, and should only have

RAHEL LEVIN.

been miserable in a Ufe of pleasure and idleness. I was forced
to go in order one day to return an altered man, after having en
dured trials and withstood temptations. But the treasure I had
won remained secure to me : the vicissitudes of life, the world's
variety would have no influence over her. When the day of
separation arrived, and I bethought me that I should no longer
see those eyes, kiss that hand, or hear that voice, I grew faint
hearted, and the idea of leaving Rahel filled me with a despair,
which even the prospect of a future meeting could scarcely
soothe. ..„.
I was at this time twenty-four, and Rahel more than, half- as
old again, a circumstance which might possibly have prevented
our union had it been apparent. But this noble creature who
had already seen so much good and suffered so much evil, stiU
looked young,, and was strong. Our marriage, however, could
not then take place. I had not finished the term of years ap
pointed for study at the university, and I had others of trial
stiU to go through. I had scarcely entered life when internal
troubles, and the oppression of the times carried me along with
them in their course. Military service, journeys, dissipations, the
temptations of vanity, pther, passions, and the misunderstandings
which are incidental to a long absence — nothing could break
that strong tie which bound me to Rahel; I felt a deep con
viction that I had found that which alone pould make, my Ufe
happy, and I never ceased for one moment from my strug
gle to attain my object.,, , Six years passed in this manner,
only broken by some few intervals when; I saw Rahel, and re
newed our plans and hopes. At length, after various turns of
fortune, after peace had been restored, I returned from Paris,
and found Rahel in Bohemia, and after passing a delightful
summer with her, I joined my lot in life with hers in Berlin,
on the 27th of September, 1814.*
* For a further account of this remarkable woman, see " Rahel, ein Buch
des Andenkens fiir ihre Freunde," 3 vols. ; " Varnhagen Von Ense's Gallerie
von Bildnissen aus Rahel's Umgang und Briefwechsel," 2 vols. ; i the " Revue
de Paris," for November, 1837, ,and " Carlyle's Miscellanies," vol. v. p. 314.
— Translator.

E 4

56 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap, vnv

CHAPTER VH.

Jean Paul Friederich Richter at Baireuth. — His Manner and Conversation.
— Jean Paul's Wife and Children. — His Opinions on Rahel, Goethe,
Schlegel, and others. — Jean Paul's Manner of writing. — The Romantic
School. — Tieck and Bernhardt 1 808.

Baxreuth, Sunday, the 23d of October, 1808. — This forenoon
I went to visit Jean Paul. I immediately recognised in a
pleasant, civil, inquisitive woman who opened the door, Jean
Paul's wife, from her Ukeness to her sister. One of the children
was sent to caU his father, who soon came : he had been ex
pecting my visit, owing to letters from BerUn and Leipsic, and
received me most kindly. As he sat down near me on the sofa
I nearly laughed in his face ; as he bent down a little he was
so exactly Uke the description which Neumann had jestingly
given of him in our joint novel of Versuchen und Hindernissen. *
Moreover, his way of speaking and what he said made the
impression stronger. Jean Paul is a large man, with a full,
well-shaped face, small eyes, fiery and glowing at one moment,
and soft and heavy the next ; his mouth has an agreeable ex
pression, and is mobile even when he is silent. His speech is
rapid and almost hasty ; he occasionally stutters, and he has
a pecuUar dialect, which I should find some difficulty in describ
ing, but which appears to me to be half Franconian, half Saxon,
although his language is tolerably correct nevertheless.
I had, first of aU, to tell him all that I knew of his BerUn
acquaintances, and to repeat all the messages with which I
had been charged. He recalled with pleasure the time he
spent as Marcus Herz's neighbour, in Leder's house at Berlin,
where, seven years before, I had seen him walking in a gar
den near the Spree with papers in his hand, which I was
* See further, p. 63.

chap, vii.] JEAN PAUL RICHTER. 57
told in secret we're a part of the " Hesperus." These personal
reminiscences and subjects connected with Uterature, which
arose during the conversation, excited him extremely, and he
soon had much more to say than to hear. His conversation
was pleasing and good-humoured, always full of meaning, un
affected and simple. Although I was perfectly aware that Ids
wit and humour belonged only to his pen, and that while he
could scarce write a note without giving proof of both, his con
versation seldom betrayed either, I was, nevertheless, much
astonished to hear nothing of the sort from him during the
whole time in which he was so excited and allowed himself to
be carried away by the vehemence of his feelings. His man
ner was like his conversation ; not very poUshed, but no ways
strained or pretentious ; it was unstudied, and just what might
be expected from a person of the middle classes. His courtesy
arose from kindness, his manners and bearing were patri
archal, full of consideration to others, but perfectly uncon
strained. Even in the heat of conversation he was true to his
character ; he uttered no sharp word, he made no false repre
sentation, he never watched for an opportunity to take an
unfair advantage : he was invariably gentle, but allowed his own
comprehensive nature to run riot. He first praised every
thing that had lately appeared, and when we entered more fuUy
into the subject, then there was blame and more than enough.
So of Adam Muller's Lectures, of Frederick Schlegel, of
Tieck, and others. He thought that German authors should
always hold to the people and not to the upper classes, among
whom all was corrupted and spoilt, and yet he had just- praised
Adam Miiller fbr understanding how to speak a true word
to the well-instructed men of the world. He was convinced
that nothing could be gained from the gleanings of the Indian
world, but the addition of perhaps some new form of poetry
to those which we already possess — no increase of ideas ;
and yet he had but a few minutes before praised Frederick
Schlegel's studies in Sanscrit, as if some fresh salvation were to
come of it. He could not conceive any one but a Protestant
bein°- a real Christian, and asserted that it was sheer perversion
of intellect when a Protestant turned Catholic, and yet with
these views he had shortly before expressed a hope that the

58 WAR OF. LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap.vil
Catholic spirit in Frederick Schlegel, fused with ,the Hindocy
might work out great good.- He spoke of Schleiermacher with
great respect, but said he pould not enjoy his translation of
Plato, and thought he could trace much more of the godlike
and wise ancient in the enthusiastic Jacobi and Herder, than in
the learned and| acute Schleiermacher. I did not allow these
observations to pass without contradiction. He could not bear
Fichte, of whose ; address to the German nation,, delivered at
Berlin amidst the noise of the French drums, I told him much ;
the determined energy of the man oppressed him, and he said
he could only read this author as a school, exercise,; that the
import of his philosophy no longer interested him.
; Jean Paul was palled out of. the room for something, and I
stayed a. while alone with his wife. I had now to begin afresh
about her native town of BerUn : such, was her interest in the
persons and in what was going on there, that I had, to add
much to what she had already heard. She pleased me exceed
ingly : she was gentle, lady-Uke, and modest, and united to
domestic quaUties of the highest order, greater talents for
society and conversation than Jean Paul appeared to possess.
However, she wilUngly considered herself inferior to her gifted
husband in this respect a3 in others. It was evident that theirs
was .a most happy Ufe. Their three children were beautiful,
captivating, and lively creatures. A boy of about five, Max, was
the favourite of his father, who saw in him a future hero: the
boy was full of strength .and courage, and well-formed. Two
girls, Emma and OttiUe, the one older the other younger than
the boy,. seemed charming; and showed that, however different
they were in many ways, they inherited the , quality of kind
liness which was common to both parents. All three were
devoid of awkward shyness, perfectly free .and easy, and thorough
children: you could see,. that their good quaUties were more this
result of nature than pf education. When Jean Paul returned
it was late, andj was .about to go ; tbJs was only permitted on
condition of teUing my companion that. I should not dine at
home ; I had no hope of bringing Harscher to dinner with me,
as Jean Paul requested. , ;
.Jean Paul was in excellent, spirits, and expatiated on aU man
ner of subjects. Among others, I had brought a greeting from

chap, vii.] JEAN PAUL RICHTER. 59
Rahel Levin, with the modest question, " Whether he stiU re
membered her?" His face Ughted up with pleasure. "Ho-vy
could one forget such a person," said he, impressively : " she is
unique in her way : I liked her much, and should Uke her more
every day ; the impression she made upon me strengthens with
my strength : she is the only woman in whom I have found
genuine wit and humour ! " (Jean Paul had forgotten Madame
de Sevigne, or did not call her peculiar characteristic by its
right name : for what the French praise in her so much as
simplicity, is exactly what, in most eases, we should eaU hu
mour.) He then proceeded to enumerate her several good
qualities. When I interrupted him in the midst of his praises,
and said that all the intellect, acuteness, and wit which he ad
mired so much in Rahel, were in my eyes as nothing compared
with the real goodness of her disposition, he was not astonished,
but immediately believed my assertion, merely repeating that
the other quaUties for which he had praised her stUl were
very great. He set great value upon two letters which he had
received from Rahel, and said that one of them from Paris was
worth ten volumes- of travels; that no one had understood and
described the French and the French world so admirably at
first sight. " What eyes must those be," he exclaimed, " which
could see the whole truth and only the truth so clearly and so
quickly ! When I told him the number of her letters which I
possessed, not aU written but given to me, he envied me greatly.
He said that if we lived in the same town, I must read him at
least a sentence or two out of eachletter : that I had a great trea
sure : that Rahel wrote . admirably ; but that it was necessary
for her to have some one in whom she was much interested to
write to, — she never could sit down and write a book. " I am
more capable of understanding her now than I was in Berlin ;
I should Uke much to see her again. The more I hear of the
remarks and expressions she throws out here and there, the
more astonished I am ! She is an artist, and is from a different
sphere than ours ; she is quite an exception, always at war
with the world, and far beyond its ken ; she will, therefore,
always remain single ! " He said I was very lucky in having
such a friend, and asked, as if to prove me and measure my
value, how one so young had deserved such good fortune? I

60 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. vii.
visibly rose in his estimation through my connexion with
Rahel. By Jean Paul's invitation, I again went to see him in the
afternoon of the 24th of October. He had just returned
from a walk ; his wife, with one of the children, was stiU
out. We talked about his writings, a most difficult chord
with most authors, some of whom will not bear to have it
touched, while others wiU play upon nothing else. He was
more admirable on this subject than I could have expected —
open, unprejudiced, and rational in all he said. What brought
on the discussion was the last annual published by Cotta, in
which Goethe's " mad wanderers " and Jean Paul's " dream of
a madman " appeared. No copy had yet reached Baireuth,
but I had brought one with me from Dresden. Jean Paul
wished to have my copy, and referred me to Cotta, at Tubingen,
for another. " Such phantasies as these,'' said he, " I could
write for ever, as long as I am weU and in the mood. I sit
down to the pianoforte, allow my fingers to run wildly over the
notes, give myself completely up to the impressions of the
moment, and then I write down the images that flit before me,
in a certain predetermined order, it is true, but with so Uttle
connexion that I frequently change the arrangement after
wards." In this manner he once began to write a " heU " such
as no mortal ever yet dreamt of ; much is already done, but is
never intended to see the Ught.
We then talked a good deal about literature and its objects,
and touched upon descriptions of scenery. In this Jean Paul
was a great master, and no wonder, for he has always passed
much of his time in studying nature ; in his youth he spent
half his days in the open air, watching the clouds, the air, the
land and water, the shape of every leaf and blade of grass,
every thing, in short, great and small, keeping accurate notes of
aU that was worth describing. He was a little staggered when
I ventured to assert that Goethe was inferior in this respect,
and he quoted two passages from " Werther" descriptive of
scenery, which certainly were most masterly. But we discussed
the matter some time before we could agree as to the technical
manner in which the subject should be handled. At length,
Jean Paul remarked, that, in order to give a poetical description

chap, vii.] JEAN PAUL RICHTER. 61

of any scenery, the poet should begin by making a sort of ca
mera obscura of another man's breast, and endeavour to see the
object through this medium: this would be most effective;
while nothing could be less Ufe-Uke than an inquisitive tra-
veUer's exact description of the mere material scene. Jean
Paul maintained that a poet should never describe scenery
except through the medium of the imagination, which alone
could give the real and the true. For example, he himself, in
his " Titan," had described particular Italian and Swiss land
scapes most correctly — at least so said the best judges — .with
out ever having seen the places ; and he never was in Nurnberg,
which he has so accurately described in the " PaUsegenesion,"
even to the minutest detail, except for half a day, and that long
after he had written the description. A deep truth is no doubt
contained in this apparent paradox. It requires something
more than the compasses and a foot rule to draw a portrait ; and
the imagination, in order to describe what is actually seen in
nature, should draw upon* its own resources for famiUar images.
The conversation then turned on public events, on the con
dition of Germany, and the oppressions of the French. I disUke
poUtical discussions, but I was delighted to hear Jean Paul's
patriotic sentiments. What he said was profound, sensible,
brave, and thoroughly German. I had much to teU him : of
Napoleon, whom he knew only by portraits ; of Johann von
MiiUer, of whose character and Ufe he was most anxious to
hear ; of Fichte, and of the Marquis de la Romana and his
Spaniards, whom I had seen in Hamburg. Jean Paul never
doubted that the Germans would one day rise against the
French as the Spaniards had done, and that Prussia would
revenge its insults, and give freedom to Germany. All he
hoped was, that his son would Uve to see it : he did not conceal
that he was educating him for a soldier. What I told him
strengthened his convictions ; I brought forward plenty of wit
nesses to prove how hoUow and weak was Napoleon's power ;
how deeply rooted and strong, on the other hand, was the op
position to him in public opinion. Many facts had not pene
trated into this remote province, and Jean Paul Ustened with
avidity to what I had to say. He warned me not to keep a copy of
StSgeman's " Ode to Napoleon," which I had reeited to him, but

62 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. vn.
shortly afterwards, forgetting his own warning, he begged me
to give him one. We shook hands as persons having a eom-
munity of sentiments, and freely expressed our individual opi
nions. The Spaniards were the refrain to every thing, and we
always returned to them.
One of my last evenings in Baireuth was spent in Jean Paul's
company. I stayed to supper contrary to my intention, as I had
promised Harscher not to be late, having to leave Baireuth early
the next morning. Jean Paul was so pressing, and his wife so
thoroughly kind, that I could not resist their joint entreaties.
The best humour prevailed at this meal, which, though simple, was
ample enough to support its South German reputation. Among
other things, Jean Paul made us laugh heartily by offering to
give me a letter of introduction to one of his dearest friends —
at least so he called him — at Stuttgart, but he was obliged to
let me go without it, as he could not recollect his friend's name.
Of a more serious turn, howeveir, was our conversation about
Tieck, Frederick and WiUiam Schlegel, Bernhardi, and others,
of the so-called romantic school. Jean Paul had recognised the
talent of these men in one of his works, but he did not like
them. He was especiaUy angry with Tieck on many accounts.
He accused him of stealing a great part of his comic descriptions
from Bernhardi, some more from his, Jean Paul's writings,
and much from Shakespeare. What was serious and touching,
he said, was taken partly from old popular tales, and ¦ the
witty story of the tailor Tunelli was almost a paraphrase of
some old author. Thus Tieck was subjected to a concursus
creditorum similar to that which the Schlegels had held
upon Wieland. But I opposed Jean Paul in his unjust and
excessive depreciation of Tieck. Bernhardi himself had told
me that the best parts of a work which appeared in his name,
had been reaUy written by Tieck, and I asserted that the
working up of old materials waS an author's acknowledged pri*
vilege. This could never be made a subject of reproach against
a poet, and Tieck's "Genoveva," "Octavianus," and others, were
almost new creations. Lastly, I told him Bernhardi's opinion
was, that — whether he would or no — he was forced to confess
that of all the leaders of the romantic school, Tieck was incom-

chap, vii.} JEAN PAUL RICHTER. 63
parably the most truly original. Jean Paul thought awhile,
balanced the evidence, his heart at once recognised Tieck's merit,
and it happened, as before, that he arrived at a different con
clusion from what one could have anticipated at the beginning
of the conversation. His dislike and depreciation of Tieck
disappeared, and the latter was installed at once as a great
and remarkable poet.
From these conversations I learned to know more of Jean
Paul himself than of those persons whom we discussed. • His
was a great and noble nature : there was no guile or meanness
in his character. He is altogether as he writes, — kindly, hearty,
strong, and brave.
While I thus considered the real worth of this exceUent
man, my conscience suddenly smote me. I could not help
thinking of Neumann's and my joint novel, and of the absurd
figure under which Jean Paul appears in it, under his own name,
and in his own most pecuUar manner. Although the chief part
was Neumann's, still it appeared false in me to leave Jean Paul
without confessing our crime. I therefore told him all about the
novel, how it originated, and how Johannes Von MuUer and Jo-
hann Heinrich Voss were represented as weU as himself. He
heard me complacently to the end, said the joke was a good one,
hoped it was well executed, and praised me for having told him of
it. He understood how it was meant, and said that he knew that
those soldiers of Julius Caesar who sung satirical songs against
him during his triumphal processions were yet the bravest and
truest in his army. It aU depends, said he, upon how your
work is executed. He thought that MuUer and Voss would not
take it weU as they did not understand a joke as he did. He
expressed some annoyance and fear when he heard chat we had
dared to laugh at Goethe, and bring WUhelm Meister on the
scene. " Children," said he, " what have you done." Goethe's
"is an anointed head: he is unUke the rest. I am more
unwilling to give him up to you than myself." He spoke of
Goethe for some time, with increasing admiration, nay with a
species of awe and reverence.
The most beautiful fruit was brought for dessert. Jean Paul
rose from the table, gave me his hand, and said, " Pardon me,

64 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. vii.
I must go to bed ! But, as it is stiU early, stay here in God's
name and chat with my wife : you have much to teU her which
my talking has kept back. I am an old-fashioned citizen,
and it is my hour for going to sleep." He took a candle,
and said good night. We parted with the utmost cordiaUty,
and with mutual wishes to meet again in Baireuth.

chap, vm.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 65

CHAPTER VIII.
The Battle of Aspern. — State of Silesia  Deutsch- Wagram. — The Camp.
 Archduke Charles. — The French cross the Danube. — Storm in the
Marchfeld. — Position of the Austrian Army  Archduke John at Press-
burg.  Failure of the first Attack of the French on Wagram  Arch
duke Charles's Plan of Action. — Napoleon's Arrangements  Attack
upon Atterkla and Wagram. — Defence of Atterkla. — Advance of the
Imperial Guard  Defeat of the left Wing of the Austrian Army. — Re
treat of the Austrians upon Bockfliess and Gerasdorf, 5th and 6th of July,
1809.
After the signal reverses in Bavaria, the taking of Vienna,
and the failure of so many plans from which so much had been
expected, the fate of Austria, and indeed of aU Germany, ap
peared to be sealed. Suddenly, at a time when it seemed hope
less, the Austrians obtained a most glorious victory. The
worn-out and beaten troops, labouring under the disadvantage
of a rapid retreat, had disputed the passage of the Danube, and
after a contest which lasted during the 21st and 22d May,
succeeded in driving the French across the river. The victory
of Aspern resounded throughout Germany, and stirred up
every heart. Until now Napoleon had never been beaten:
this was the first battle that he had lost ; it was a great battle
utterly lost in the open field. Archduke Charles was the first
to gain so important a victory over the greatest conqueror of
modern days : Napoleon in after times repeatedly lost greater
battles, but he never left the crown of victory so undisputed
to one opponent.
In BerUn, and in Silesia — where we then were, — the enthu
siasm was general. The spell was broken, Napoleon was no
longer invincible, he had been stopped in the full career of
victory, his army had been beaten, and he himself might be
crushed as he had hitherto crushed others. When his dan
gerous position in the heart of an enemy's country and the
distance which separated him from France were considered,
his downfaU might weU be expected ; he had predicted his
vol. i. *

66 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap, vnt
own fate when he told his soldiers at the beginning of the war
that this would be his last campaign in Germany. The Tyrol
was in open hostiUty, the north of Germany, and Prussia, were
ready for any outbreak, England was making active prepara
tions, confederate princes, his aUies on the Rhine might desert,
and the people rise against him — in short, aU the favourable
prognostications with which the Germans had flattered them
selves at the beginning of the war, seemed more Ukely now
than ever to prove true.
FiUed with these hopes and impressions we continued our
journey. Two of my companions were forced to stay in Silesia,
and the remaining four entered Moravia, there to begin our
new Ufe. Here the tone of mind of the people struck us much ;
they were neither vehemently elated by the victory, nor yet
without a due perception of' its importance. A tranquU confi
dence in a right cause, and a steadfast determination to defend
it faithfully, seemed to pervade all classes, and to place them
above the vicissitudes of fortune, without inspiring any unusual
enthusiasm. The old-fashioned system of government in con
nection with a population formed chiefly of Sclavonian elements,
explained this apparent anomaly. Nearly aU those capable of
bearing arms were aUeady engaged in active service ; the
possessors of land, the youths of the towns and viUages, and
even civil officers had been enroUed in the regiments of the
line or the miUtia ; and it was only here and there that a few
weak divisions of raw recruits were to be seen in a state of half
equipment, previous to joining the main army.
At Olmutz we found the detailed official printed report of the
battle of Aspern. We eagerly seized this complete account of
so important an event. The statement was read aloud, com
mented upon, and made a strong impression upon us : many
were the thoughts of the past and of the future which crowded
upon our minds. When we compared the loss of the Austrians
with the number engaged, and found that one in four had been
either wounded or kiUed, we could not help remarking, that
in the event of a sinnlar engagement, one of ourselves was
fated to fall.
We hurried on, fuU of anxiety lest we should miss some im
portant action. It was a wonder that the truce had lasted
until now : it could not continue many days more.

chap, viii.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 67
My companions wished to enter cavalry regiments, but I in
tended to serve in the infantry, and in order to find for myself
some regiment which would suit me, I had purposely brought
no letters of introduction. We parted with light hearts, and I
proceeded with post-horses to head-quarters.
I offered a place in my carriage to a drill sergeant who hap
pened to be going the same road, and his conversation was most
useful to me on many points on which I wanted information.
The ideas which I had until now entertained of the French and!
Prussian soldiery gave way to others of a totaUy different kind.
I reached Deutsch-Wagram early on the 21st of June, and
before I had shaken off the torpor produced by the chiU of the-
night, the postiUion drove to the Archduke's house, which I re
cognised by the flag and the guard of honour. They took me
for a courier, and were about to awaken the Archduke, a pro
ceeding which I with difficulty prevented, by repeatedly assuring
them that I had no despatches to deUver, but had come on
purely personal business ; at last, I made them understand that
Archduke Charles was on no account to be disturbed. I found
myself, however, in a curious predicament. Every house in
the viUage was fiUed to overflowing with staff officers or
others connected with the army, and sentinels stood before
nearly every door. An inn, therefore, was out of the question.
As the whole place seemed profoundly quiet, and no one took
the smaUest heed of me, I tried my luck in the nearest house,;
where some people appeared to be stirring. Here I found
several quartermasters, who took compassion on me, and asked
me to share their breakfast. I now gave myself up to thej
strange impressions produced by the scene, and to a further con
sideration of my venture. A few officers entered, and, after a
short conversation, they considered me as already their com
panion in arms, and gave me good advice, by which, however, I
profited the less as they were by no means unanimous. -¦ I
then wrote a memorial, stating, as shortly as I could, the object
I had in view, and sent the letter to the proper authorities.
As the sun rose, the head-quarters were fuU of Ufe, and I
went out into the fields. I surveyed Deutsch-Wagram, and the
camp, and wondered how it was that a stranger, — probably the
only civiUan among so many thousand soldiers, — was allowed
F 2

68 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. vtii.
to wander about unchaUenged : no one questioned me as to my
name or occupation, and my passport had not been asked for
since I left Olmiitz. A confused mass of human beings was in
motion before my eyes. The huge encampment was full of
soldiery, and in Wagram itself the various streams seemed to
unite. All sorts and conditions of men in different costumes,
in and out of uniform, at work or on duty, in search of news
or of pleasure, buying and selling, were hurrying to and fro.
Some of the uniforms of the Austrian regiments are extremely
beautiful ; the hussars, the lancers, and the Hungarian grena
diers are the finest among them : in comparison with these the
German foot soldiers look mean, although in large masses their
appearance is impressive. The dress of the generals is remark
able ; their stone-blue coats and red breeches offering the
strongest contrast between what is almost invisible and most
staring. Similar contrasts were presented by their figures and
the expression of their faces : perfect ease and pedantic stiff
ness, light humour and deep fixity of purpose, comfortable
dulness and wild passion ; aU these were depicted in their coun
tenances. The eye was not so much struck by individual
Germans, Frenchmen, WaUoons, Sclavonians, Italians, and
Magyars, as by the general mixture of aU these nations. The
most curious characteristic of the Imperial army was not that
the individuality of so many different nations, languages, forms,
and manners remained, but that they were all held together by
some strong attractive power. I almost fancied myself in the
midst of the soldiers described by SchiUer in Wallenstein's camp ;
and, indeed, this army consisted for the most part of the same
materials. The strange scenes which met the eye, the old-
fashioned phrases which caught the ear, brought back to my
recoUection the once-popular novel of " Simplicissimus ;" and
when the provost-marshal was pointed out to me, going his
rounds, I thought I saw before me the Rumor-meister, or queUer
of disturbances, in the wild times of the Thirty Years' War.
In head-quarters was great excitement, and a certain de
gree of splendour and gaiety; but in the camp itself every
thing looked quiet and serious. The ground was accurately
measured out, and strict order maintained in the spaces left for
passage. A careful watch was kept over all : no noise, no dis
putes, were permitted : the troops were busily employed in clean-

chap, viii.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 69
ing their arms and accoutrements, or in other routine work ;
but most of them were at driU. From early dawn the several
divisions, large and small, were on parade ; the blanks left by
former heavy losses were filled by raw recruits, who were drilled
as well as haste would allow. This active drilling and the re
gularity and precision with which the various duties were per
formed, imparted to this warUke activity a character of peaceful
order. Three times a day the trlbps were drawn up under arms for
prayers; the beat of drum summoned the sergeants and cor
porals to receive orders ; at a given signal the soldiers silently
formed in line : numerous outposts kept constant watch at their
several stations, and when darkness came on, their chaUenges
alone broke the stillness of the night. The troops lay in the
open air; in the midst of each regiment was a single tent,
which served as a chapel, and afforded shelter for the colonel.
All the other officers, like the common soldiers, contented them
selves with a trench dug in the ground, which some of them
covered with twigs and grass, as some protection against the
weather. The remarkable energy, tranquillity, moderation, and
obedience of this army, was an exact type of the German cha
racter : and, compared with the restless and dissolute life of the
French soldiers, gave every promise of success, more especially
under the command of the best Austrian general of the day. A
few instances may serve to show what these Austrian soldiers
were in those days. A man badly wounded was brought to the
rear, and in answer to the inquiries of his comrades how he
felt ? said, " Oh, very well — the enemy is in full retreat
towards the Danube." A grenadier's musket was bent double
in his hand by a cannon ball, he looked with amazement at the
damage, saying in a tone of regret, " 'Twas such a good gun !"
An officer asked a troop of grenadiers who had been in the
thick of the battle, where the bataUion was ? " We are the
batallion," was the short answer: — the rest had been kiUed.
This and the foUowing day I passed in endeavouring to form
an accurate idea of the nature of the country and of the camp.
Since the battle of Aspern the Austrians had remained almost
on the same spot, only slightly drawing back and spreading
their line. Aspern and Esslingen weU fortified, and filled with
F 3

70 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. vm.
troops, were in our front. The Danube flowed between us and
the French, who were posted and protected by strong works on
the island of Lobenau, or, as it was more commonly caUed,
Lobau. Higher up by Nussdorf, and even further, the right
wing of the Austrian army rested on the Danube ; thence it
stretched towards Stamersctorf and Wagram, and the left wing
which was furthest from the Danube extended as far as Mark-
grafen-Neusiedel, in the Marchfeld. Deutsch-Wagram was the
Centre of our position. To the leflrof this spot the ground rises
and forms on the east a high table land, which faUs in terraces
towards the south. Some hundred paces in front a brook, caUed
the Russbach, planted with wiUows, flows down from Wolkers-
dorf towards the plain of Marchfeld through Wagram, Baum-
ersdorf, and Markgrafen-rNeusiedel. In the far distance, across
the plain beyond the Danube, the tower of St. Stephen's church
at Vienna stood out against the hazy horizon. It was strahge
thus to have the capital occupied by the enemy ever before us,
and to be able only to reach it with the eyes. The Austrian
head-quarters were not fortified, as the position offered great
natural advantages. In the event of a second engagement the
Marchfeld offered a fine arena for the movements of cavaUy.
On the other hand, aU along the Danube, especially by Aspern
and Esslingen, which were the best places for crossing the
river, very strong and extensive works had been thrown up.
Both armies had ceased firing, and lay observing each other
from their positions. The longer this cessation of hostilities lasted
the greater would be the advantage to the Austrians. Napoleon
was in an enemy's land, in the midst of a hostile people ; the
passes over the Danube were guarded, Vienna already felt the
want of provisions, the Tyrol was in arms, Styria by no means
secure, and Hungary daily becoming more formidable. The
Austrians endeavoured, by sending troops to the Upper Danube,
still further to impede the French in their operations, and to in
crease the insurrection in their rear ; while lower down, on the
right bank of the Danube, Archduke John bravely defended the
strong tete de pont at Pressburg against the daily attacks of
the French troops. WeU might Archduke Charles say that
every day that he staid there and kept the French army in
active, might be considered a victory : besides, *delay was of
further importance in a political point of view.

chap, viii.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 71
I had wished to see the Archduke, and an opportunity soon
occurred. In the evening I had heard him for an hour playing
on the pianoforte in which he was a master ; shortly after he
mounted his horse and rode about the. camp : he then returned
and walked afoot. His appearance was most engaging ;
he looked like a brave, honest, kind-hearted man; his com
manding eye and earnest manner inspired confidence, as well as
respect and awe ; his small slender figure was by no means de
ficient in strength, but gave tokens of that nervous temperament
for which he was remarkable. The rude fatigues of war had
not deprived his, Umbs of a certain soft grace, but what most
distinguished the Archduke were his simple and natural manners,
and the total absence of aU affectation. The languor of his
movements would lead one to suspect in him want of energy,
but the fire of his eye forbade the thought. His undaunted
courage, that tender care of others which made him always sa
crifice himself, his honest firm sense, and the glory of his former
victories, had won for him the love of the army. The officers
and men aUke, especiaUy the Bohemian troops, were devoted to
him. Wherever he appeared he was greeted with loud cheers,
which betrayed his presence to the enemy: and it was with
difficulty that this cheering could be prevented. As commander-
in-chief his power was greater than any Austrian general had
exercised sinee Wallenstein. He had immediate command over
every thing ponnected with the army: he pould promote and
dismiss, reward and punish without appeal ; the conduct of the
war was left entirely to him, and the finances of the state were
placed at his disposal. There was, however, some difficulty
with regard to Hungary in this respect, and other secret
motives interfered with his power from the very beginning.
For two long days I had wandered about head-quarters and
the camp, and my dreary lack of occupation became more unbear
able every hour. By some misunderstanding a direct negative
had been given to my memorial, and I had lost aU hope of getting
a commission when I was referred to the colonel of the regi
ment Vogelsang, stationed on the high plateau to which I have
before aUuded, to the left of Wagram. This colonel was Count
.Von Bentheim from WestphaUa, a handsome young man of capti
vating manners, who had been appointed to the command of this
F 4

72 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. vm.
regiment as a reward for his distinguished bravery at Aspern.
A few words explained my wishes, and Count Bentheim
welcomed me into his regiment, which I entered as ensign in
the first company, under the brave Captain Von Marais. I
bought the accoutrements of an officer who had been kiUed at
Aspern, exchanged the hat for the schako, girded on the sword
and the broad belt clasped with the Austrian eagle, made ac
quaintance with the officers, and slept with them in a trench,
dug in the earth, next to my captain and another officer, as if
I had done so all my life.
The following days passed heavily enough. The excessive
heat had burnt up the grass and the leaves : the willows by the
Russbach were long since leafless, and even stripped of their
bark ; not a shadow was to be seen upon the endless plain, only
thick clouds of dust, raised in eddies by sudden gusts of wind
for a moment veiled the glaring sun, and covered us with a
shower of hot sand. The drilling had to be suspended, and we
crept back into our mud hut. With the best intentions my
feUow officers were but sorry companions. The views taken
by northern Germans were incomprehensible to the Aus
trians, who saw in war merely a trade from which to gain
all the advantage they could, and who looked forward with
pleasure to garrison life in Prague. The colonel was the
only one who knew Gentz, and had heard of Frederick Schlegel ;
to the rest these were names like any others. Moreover, the
regiment consisted chiefly of Bohemians, who spoke only their
own language. There was no enthusiasm, no poetry : even the
excitement of danger was denied us : not a shot was fired, and
profound quiet reigned around. It was rumoured that there
would be no further engagement; peace was talked of and
even wished for. There could be no doubt that some negotia
tion was going on, as French employes were constantly seen in
Wagram : it was even said that Napoleon's confidant, Duroc,
had been sent with proposals to the Archduke.
The worst trial was now over. On the evening of the
30th of June, after a hot, wearisome, wasting day, which pro-.
mised just such another for the morrow, we were cheered by
the welcome sound of a cannonade on the Danube. We soon
learned that a party of French had come across from the
Lobau in boats to a meadow called the Mill Island, which was

chap, vm.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 73
only separated from the left bank by a small arm of the Danube
They had thrown a bridge over this arm, and protected it with
outworks. Our batteries at Esslingen opened upon the French
to hinder their passage : they replied with their guns on .the
Lobau. It was said that the negotiation was at an end, that
the Emperor Napoleon had concentrated his troops, and meant
shortly to pass the river with his whole force, and to give battle.
This showed how rightly the Archduke had judged in thus
obstinately keeping his position, as it proved that the enemy
could find no better place for his passage than the one which
had been fortified and prepared for his reception. During the
night we saw the alarm fires in the plain below us, and the
whole camp was in motion. The cannonade ceased for a time,
but about one in the morning the regiments quartered on the
heights near Wagram were ordered to break up their quarters,
and to advance five or six mUes nearer the Danube, towards
Wittau and Rasdorf. We expected the enemy's attack every
moment : the cannonade was renewed at intervals. However,
the French did not advance, but contented themselves with
completing the works at the bridge. Archduke Charles went
first to Rasdorf, thence to Stadt-Enzersdorf, where he surveyed
the enemy's operations from the church tower ; he then took
up his quarters in Breitenlee. Meanwhile, it became evident
that the preparations for passing the Danube at this spot were
too insignificant to be in earnest, and that the enemy merely
wanted to divert our attention from his real object, which was
to pass the river higher up, either at Nussdorf, or lower down at
Ort, by which movement the right or the left flank of the
Austrian army, as it was then posted, would be threatened. It
was therefore deemed more advisable in this state of uncer
tainty as to which point the enemy would select, to fall back
again into a position where our troops might meet either
contingency. In consequence of this determination we unex-.
pectedly received orders, on the 3d of July, to occupy our for
mer position at Wagram. This march forwards and backwards
is not mentioned in the Austrian despatches, and yet our ad
vance was by no means unimportant, as, if adhered to, it
would have forced the enemy to fight under circumstances
precisely similar to those of Aspern, while our falUng back
again gave him, instead of a narrow field, the advantage of

74 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. vin.
an extended line of attack. As we lost the battle of Wagram,
we may deplore having given up the advantage of the narrow
field of action nearer to the Danube.
We had no longer, the prospect of having to pass another
day with no further amusement than that of being burnt up by
the sun or smothered in dust. We had no distinct idea of
the enemy's , intention, but could guess from their movements
that some great plan was in preparation. The fortifica
tions on the island of Lobau, the repairing and protection
of the bridges over the Danube, the building of new bridges
between the several islands and the shore, the continued labour
of carpenters and shipwrights, the arrival of artiUery and
powder waggons — none of this escaped our notice. Our sus
picions were confirmed by the movement of the troops who
kept .pouring in from the upper and lower Danube. From
Bisamberg we saw the so-caUed Italian army advance towards
the Danube. Archduke Charles determined to destroy Napoleon's
plan, to begin the attack himself, and to cut off Napoleon from his
reserved point at Lobau. The Austrian divisions on the Upper
Danube had received orders to give the enemy no rest, whUe
Archduke John was told to leave the tete de pont at Pressburg,
and to march along the right bank of the Danube. A* seven
o'clock on the evening of the 4th of July, these orders were
countermanded, and he was directed to transport his troops over
to the left bank of the river, and to advance immediately as far
as Marcheck, so that in the event of a battle he might act upon
the enemy's right flank. We too were ordered to be ready
for action. On the evening of the 4th of July we were told,
if we heard a cannonade, to remain quiet till break of day,
and then to. be in marching order. Accordingly, as soon
as it was .dark we heard heavy firing on the Danube in our
front: the sky was lighted up with the incessant flashing of
cannons, bombs, and grenades. The contest lasted two hours
on both sides. A*; the very moment while we were endea
vouring to destroy their works on the Lobau, the French were
striving to ruin ours and to burn Stadt-Enzersdorf. The
Austrian artiUery had Uttle effect upon the strong works of
Lobau, and the French at Miihlau, against which point our
cannon was directed, from an idea that they intended to cross
there, suffered but little from our shot, as they lay down on

chap, vm.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 75
the ground. On the other hand, the enemy's shot told fearfully
upon us : their artiUery was more numerous and better served,
their plan better laid and carried out with greater energy. In
a short time Stadt-Enzersdorf was in flames, and our batteries
availed Uttle against their superior force. The horizon had
been lighted up for a time by the conflagration of this viUage,
when the sky suddenly grew black with thunder clouds, the
rain feU in torrents, the flames slackened, the artillery fired
seldomer, — a storm so frightful as no one remembered to have
seen burst over the Marchfeld, whieh rocked with the crash of
the thunder ; and, what with the pouring of the rain and the
howUng of the wind, there was such a war of the elements
that artiUery cpuld scarce have been heard in it.
The enemy, who were prepared for all ventures, were sin
gularly benefited by this storm. They had selected as their
point for crossing the river, the open country on the left bank
of the Danube, by MiihUeithen and Wittau, nearly opposite the
Lobau. The French troops made good their landing, and the
blaze of the burning viUage of Stadt-Enzersdorf facilitated their
falling into line, unmolested by us. The Austrians thought the
French extremely unlikely to select this point for their passage.
The attempt was bold, and would have been fuU of danger, had
the fourth division of the Austrian army remained at Wittau, or
had it immediately returned there. The success which crowned
the French attack displayed Napoleon's masterly skiU and admir
able arrangements, the certainty with which his orders were
executed, and the precision and rapidity of his movements. He
reckoned upon carrying his point before the Austrians could
stop him. By ten o'clock at night General Oudinot had esta
bUshed on the other side of the river 1500 voltigeurs, under
General Conroux : their landing was protected by the fire of
ten gun-boats. The Austrian outposts retreated without much
loss from the works they had erected, and the enemy obtained a
firm footing on the plain before MiihUeithen. Meanwhile Co
lonel Sainte-Croix, Massena's adjutant, had landed with 2500
men near Schonau. Six bridges, for which the materials had
long been ready, were now thrown across the Danube. First
the infantry crossed the river, and over the next bridge the
cavalry, and artiUery of Marshal Massena ; a Uttle lower down,

76 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. vin.
the troops of Marshal Davoust and of General Oudinot passed
over, taking up their positions in an orderly quiet manner.
Before three in the morning above 40,000 were concentrated
near MiihUeithen, and many more were foUowing. The rear
most troops had crossed by mid-day, while the foremost had
been already some time engaged with our troops. The fol
lowing was the original order of battle. The fourth division,.
under Massena, was placed, as the left wing, on the Danube :
the second division, under General Oudinot, formed the centre ;
while the third, under General Davoust, formed the right wing,
abutting upon Wittau. Behind these the troops of Marshal
Bernadotte, or the ninth division, the Italian army under Eu-,
gene Beauharnais, and the eleventh division, under Marmont,
formed the second Une. The guards and the cuirassiers brought
Up the rear, as a reserve. Napoleon's army consisted of about
160,000, of which 15,000 were cavalry: he had 600 pieces of
cannon. The passage of the river and the getting into Une was
accompUshed, in the midst of the storm, with extraordinary
rapidity and precision : it commenced during the night, and
was finished by broad day.
The first dawn of day, on the 5th of July, showed us what
had happened : the storm had subsided,, the sun gave pro
mise of a hot day, and at about four the cannonade re
commenced with increased fury. Volumes of smoke rose
again from Stadt-Enzersdorf, which, in spite of the brave
efforts of a battalion of the regiment Bellegarde, was carried by
assault after a short resistance. The castle of Sachsengang,
between MiihUeithen and Wittau, shared the same fate. A por
tion of the Austrian troops, under General Von Nordmann, for
a moment threatened the right flank of the French near Rutzen-
dorf, but General Oudinot quickly repelled the attack, and the
French soldiers deployed, supported by a large park of artiUery.
Marshal Davoust drove the Austrian outposts out of Gross-
hofen, and advanced from Rutzendorf against Markgrafen-Neu-
siedel, his extreme right being covered by two dragoon regi
ments under Grouchy and PuUy, and by a division of Ught
horse commanded by general Montbrun. The centre, under
Bernadotte, advanced against Pysdorf and Rasdorf : Massena's
right rested on Breitenlee, while his left was protected by the
Danube, and he took possession of our works at EssUngen and

chap, vrn.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 77
Aspern as fast as the Austrians quitted them. The fortifi
cations raised against the Lobau were open in the rear, and
being outflanked, were no longer tenable. The Austrians
therefore slowly quitted them, one by one, taking even their
heavy guns with them.
Archduke Charles had been unable to prevent the French
from passing the river under cover of the stormy night. The
enemy had not only gained a firm footing, but had formed into
line, and were advancing to attack us. All the divisions of their
army were in motion, their communication with each other
secure and perfect. The several divisions of the Austrian
army, on the other hand, were too much separated to be able to
meet so formidable and rapid an enemy, much less drive them
back over the Danube. The whole Austrian force was under
100,000 men, with 410 pieces of artillery; the troops were
distributed in the following manner: — A vanguard consisting
of artiUery, cavalry, and infantry, under Field Marshal Von
Nordmann, had been stationed on the Danube, supported by
the sixth division under Count Von Klenau. In his rear, the
fifth division under Prince Von Reuss-Plauen, held the country
about Bisamberg. To his left, near Hagenbrunn, were placed
the third division under Count Kolowrat, then near Siiuring,
the grenadiers, under Field Marshal Von Prochaska, and at
Breitenlee the mass of cavalry under Prince Liechtenstein.
Further, at Wagram, the first division was commanded by the
cavalry officer, Count Bellegarde, and in the same direc
tion, close by Baumersdorf, was the second division under
Prince Hohenzollern, while the fourth division was at Mark-
grafen-Neusiedel, under Prince Rosenberg. For this pur
pose, only the three divisions behind the Russbach, and the
cavalry, were handy for action; the grenadiers were not so,
and both the divisions at Bisamberg were nearly eight miles
from the scene of action. Under these circumstances, Arch
duke Charles found himself compeUed not to give battle by the
Danube, but to draw back bis forces from the river ; and while
the French were advancing, he was employed in concentrating
his troops. He determined to stand the first brunt of the
action in an advantageous position between Stamersdafe and
Markgrafen-Neusiedel, and then to become the attacking party

78 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap, viii,.
himself; by directing his whole force against the left flank
of the French, he hoped to cut off their communication with
the "bridges they had built over the Danube, while Arch
duke John should unexpectedly fall upon the enemy's right
flank and rear, and strike the decisive blow. In this spirit
aU his arrangements were made. The outposts as well as the
detachments of the sixth division, which had been pushed
forward along the Danube, were ordered to faU back gradually
before the French, fighting the while ; the former were to join
the left, the latter the right wing of the main position. The
fourth division and the grenadiers were ordered up from their
positions, which were too distant, so as to reduce to a smaller
compass the wide half circle formed by the army. The troops
on the Danube at Linz and Krems were too far off to be sent
for ; moreover, in the event of the French being defeated, they
might render most efficient service in those districts. On the
other hand, a message was sent early on the 5th of July to
Archduke John at Pressburg, directing him to march with all
speed and with such troops as he could get together, by Mar-
check, so as to take part with the left wing in the approaching
action. A second order to this effect was despatched later, as
from the exposed condition of the left flank, whieh had no
point on which to rest, it was feared that it could not stand its
ground till the decisive moment; The courier despatched dur
ing the evening of the 4th, as weU as those sent later, arrived
safely -at Pressburg. They announced on their return to the
camp, that the troops from Pressburg could not possibly arrive
the same day, but that nothing was likely to impede their
presence on the battle field on the 6th of July. It seemed
probable, considering the large number of troops engaged, and
the great extent of the field of action, that the battle could
be made to last until then.
A portion of Prince Liechtenstein's cavalry had been ordered
to advance front Breitenlee towards Rasdorf and Pysdorfy
to observe the enemy's motions ; for a long time it stood
its ground under a murderous fire, which swept off a
sixth of the HohenzoUern regiment of cuu-assiers, and so
many officers, that a young Prussian ensign of the name of
Gustavus Von Barnekow found himself next in command to

chap, viii.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 79
the colonel. The young man had shown such bravery as to
attract Archduke Charles's especial observation. About mid
day, this body of cavalry had a serious engagement with Mar
shal Bernadotte's division, near Rutzendorf, and several times
forced the Saxon cavalry under his command to retreat. In
this encounter, it so happened that two regiments fought
hand to hand, one of Austrian cuirassiers, the other of Saxon
dragoons, both of which regiments had been raised by, and
named after, Duke Albert of Saxe Teschen. The Austrian
cavalry for some time maintained their ground, but were forced
to give way before the advancing foot and the artillery. Na
poleon directed his chief attack against the central position of
Wagram and the Austrian left flank, the extreme point of
which was marked by an old square tower, near Markgrafen-
Neusiedel. The Austrians guessed Napoleon's plan, planted
a battery on the mound, and would have thrown up some en
trenchments had the enemy given them time. By mid-day
Napoleon's right wing had reached Glinzendorf ; his centre
was at Rasdorf; the left wing had made less progress, and
had only advanced as far as Aspern. Stronger batteries con-f
tinued to advance, larger masses of troops were brought into
action : the whole Une blazed with fire. From our high po
sition, the movements of the enemy had resembled those of a
chess-board, but the battle approached nearer, and the cannon-
balls came whistling over our heads in lavish profusion, while
we replied from our batteries. The foot were now ordered to
He down, and the balls at first did little execution : but as the
enemy approached, we stood to our arms. Archduke Charles
and his staff rode along our line, drew bridle in front of us,
looked over the plain along which the enemy was rapidly
advancing, gave out his commands in a manner that showed
his disregard of death and danger, and his complete absorption
in his duties. The battle gave to his manner a remarkable
enthusiasm, — an air of high joyous courage, with which again
he inspired his soldiers. The men looked on him with pride
and confidence : many cheered him. After he had ridden on
towards Baumersdorf, one of his adjutants galloped up, saying,
" Volunteers, forward ! " In an instant the whole company of
Captain Von Marais was in motion; we thought that we

80 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap, vnr,
were to storm a French field battery which was advancing
through the corn fields in front, and we hastened joyfully down
the slope of the hill. Then came a second adjutant with orders
that we were only to occupy the Russbach, and to prevent the
enemy from crossing it. We were to reserve our fire until
they were close upon us. Dispersed in skirmishing parties,
and concealing ourselves as well as we could from the enemy's
shot and musketry behind the willow trees and in the standing
corn, we remained ready for action. For above an hour we
continued on this spot with the shot whistling in every di
rection over our heads. We soon perceived the enemy's supe
riority : they fired double the number of shots, although their
guns were not so well served, but we admired the active zeal
and enduring valour with which the unequal contest was
maintained. As our guns were in batteries, the French could
more easily avoid the shot, while their artillery, being planted
in all directions along the Une of the Russbach, served them
more effectually than our skirmishers served us. General
Oudinot had at least forty cannon directed against Baumers-
dorf, but as often as his troops entered the burning village,
they were driven out by the brave General Count Ignatius Von
Hardegg. Napoleon saw with impatience that the day was drawing
to a close and nothing decisive done. He had calculated
on striking the blow at once, and was resolved not to have
directed all his force upon a single point in vain. He
rapidly arranged his troops for a general charge. Marshal
Bernadotte was commanded to advance upon Wagram by At
terkla, and by taking this place to force the centre of the Aus
trian line. At the same time two close storming parties were
to cross the Russbach to the right and left of Baumersdorf, to
scale the heifhts, and to drive the Austrians from their post. .
Meanwhile, the enemy's foot were already close upon us, the
skirmishers were ordered to fall back into line, and a tremendous
fire was opened along the whole front. The loud reports, the
sharp cracking noise caused by the incessant fire of small arms,
the rattUng jingle made by the handling of above 20,000
muskets, all crowded together in so small a space, was the only
thing that made a new and strange impression upon me in this my

chap, vra.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 81
first battle. The rest partly accorded with what my imagination
had already pictured to me, and partly even feU short of it.
Every thing, — even the thunder of the artiUery, — appeared to
me insignificant in comparison to the incessant cracking of the
small arms — that weapon by which even modern warfare is
rendered so murderous. While this continued, and Archduke
Charles galloped to Wagram, where the firing began Hkewise to
be heavy, there came a report that the left flank was attacked
by French cavalry. It proved, however, to -be a body of in
fantry, who had elimbed the heights^ -under cover of tbe smoke
from the guns and from the burning tillage of Baumersdorf.
The enemy, however, were soon forced to retreat beyond the
Russbach, while General Count Ignatius von Hardegg dashed
out of Baumersdorf; and falUng upon the retreating French;
drove them with great loss far into the plain towards Rasdorf.
The enemy who had crossed the Russbach from the left of
Baumersdorf, consisted of two divisions, led by Generals Mac-
donald and Lamarque, in conjunction with two other divisions';
commanded by General Grenier, and led by Eugene Beauhar-
nais in person ; they took advantage of a ravine which quickly
led them up to the height between Our first and second divisions.
The French attacked the flank of the first division, and threw it
into disorder ; a fierce contest ensued ; both parties fired point
blank, and then crossed bayonets. The enemy's attack on our
"left flank was too vehement to be resisted ; the Une was broken,
and some ;of our regiments were forced back upon ! the second
line. At the first onslaught, a shot hit me in the thigh, and from
that moment I could only be an idle spectator of what was going
on.
¦ For some time the confusion was very great, and threatened
serious consequences. Archduke Charles came up with his staff,
tried to estabUsh order, and put himself at the head of the
troops, who eventuaUy recovered their lost ground. Prince
HohenzoUern now returned with his light horse, and charged
the enemy, who thus attacked on aU sides, suffered severely.
They were without artiUery, which they had been obUged te
leave on the other side of the Russbach, and the eavaHy 'after
passing the brook with difficulty, attempted to retrieve the
lost ground, but they were entirely cut to pieces by Prince
vol. i. a

82 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. vm.
HohenzoUern's light horse and four squadrons of hussars. But
few escaped. Wherever the battle was hottest Archduke
Charles was foremost. Captain Weitenfeld of the regiment of
Vogelsang, cut down a Frenchman in the very act of discharg
ing his piece at the Archduke. A French officer who thought
to make a good prize, was shot down as he called to the Arch
duke td surrender. The Archduke was sUghtly wounded,
which did not, however, prevent him from remaining on horse
back or for a moment interrupt his attention to his duties.
The Prince of Orange (the present king of the Netherlands),
who held the rank of general in the Austrian army, had two
horses shot under him. Both sides suffered severely.
Meanwhile Marshal Davoust had crossed the Russbach at
Markgrafen-Neusiedel with a portion of his troops, and had
brought forty guns to bear upon the Austrian position, with
great effect. At the same time the two divisions of Morand and
Friant attacked the Austrians from the left bank of the Russ
bach, while the light cavalry under General Montbrun en
deavoured to turn our left flank. Prince von Rosenberg
however repeUed all these attacks : the French retreated back
over the Russbach before dark, and encamped that night be
yond GUnzendorf.
Somewhat later than these failures, the attack against Wagram
itself began. Marshal Bernadotte led the Saxons against this
position, which was bravely defended by Colonel von Oberndorf
at the head of the regiment Reuss-Plauen. After this officer
had been wounded the French succeeded in reaching the middle
of the viUage, but were received by so murderous a cross fire
from two battalions which advanced from both sides, that they
retreated with great loss. Darkness prevented any further at
tempts. The country was Ughted up with burning viUages;
close by us flames burst from Baumersdorf and Wagram. This
scene and the welcome sight of our colonel with the colours
in his hand were the last which I saw.
Whilst I and the other wounded were being carried to the
rear, the baUs were flying over and about us, and we heard
the thunder of the artiUery until late in the night, when it
gradually ceased, and we carried away with us the impression
of having won the battle. Napoleon's bold attempt Jo break

CHAP.vm.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 83
the Austrians' line by one grand charge, had entirely failed,
and had ended in his own partial discomfiture.
He could not conceal his anger and annoyance, and attributed
his want of success partly to the unhappy accident that the
French and Saxons had by mistake fired upon one another, and
partly to the negligence of Bernadotte, whom he hated and
wished to lower in public estimation. Nevertheless, he had
reason to thank fortune, even though she denied him the victory
on that day, for defending him from a greater misfortune. For
had Archduke Charles been able to bring fresh troops into action,
had he had at his disposal a numerous body of cavalry with which
to have followed up his advantage, it would have gone hard with
the French army. The four French divisions which had been
driven back from the heights, involved those behind them in
their retreat ; the whole line was in confusion, and kept falling;
back aU night. The imperial guard alone maintained their
ground at Rasdorf, and formed a rallying point for the rest.
The Austrian divisions which had not yet been engaged, were
too far off; nor could they have left their positions without
danger. Archduke Charles had not above 10,000 horse in the
whole army, and some of these were dispersed about in various
divisions, the others had been engaged all day. The night was
passed by both armies in making preparations for battle.
This time the Austrians seem to have arranged their plan of
action with greater skUl and boldness than the French, who
were affected by the unfavourable issue of the last night's con
test. Napoleon contented himself with concentrating his troops
round Rasdorf during the night so as to be able to bring them
to bear upon any direction, and it was not till daybreak that he
determined upon renewing the attack. Archduke Charles had
again taken up his quarters in one of the few houses left stand
ing at Wagram, and before midnight he had planned and sent
the following order of battle to all his generals.
His right flank, consisting of the sixth and third divisions
and the grenadiers, was to attack the enemy's left ; their right
would rest upon the Danube, and they were to advance along
the course of the river from Stamersdorf towards Breitenlee
and Sussenbrunn ; their left was to be covered by Prince Liech-

84 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. viii.

tenstein's cavalry. The advance of the centre was planned in
connection with this movement : the first division to proceed
fo Atterkla, defended on the left by the Russbach, and still
keeping possession of the heights to the left of Wagram j this
last position was Ukewise assigned to the second division.
The left flank, consisting of the fourth division, was directed to
occupy the attention of the French, and keep them in check
until Archduke John, who was on his way from Pressburg,
could fall upon the enemy's rear. The fifth division was to re
main as a reserve at its post on the Upper Danube, where
some French troops had showed themselves. One brigade of
the third division, with a battery of guns, was placed on the
heights near Stamersdorf. The sixth and third divisions were
to leave their ground at one, the grenadiers at three, and the
first and fourth divisions, at four o'clock. The troops were ordered
to keep perfect silence, and not to throw away their shot. The
infantry were drawn up in battalions with skirmishers in front.
Archduke Charles had introduced this system into the army, and
it had succeded admirably at Aspern. - The battalion's, con
sisting generally of six companies each, -formed into squares,
twelve or eighteen deep, and planted at regular intervals, op
posed an impenetrable mass. In this array they marched, re
pulsed and even attacked bodies of cavalry, -and were not easily
broken in a retreat ; but it is true that they laboured urider
great disadvantage; when exposed to the fire of artiUery.
- The Archduke's intention was to cut off the communication
¦of the French with Lobau, and then to beat them in the plain of
the Marchfeld. But, alas ! the execution by no means equaUed
the vigour and brilliancy of the plan. Some time elapsed before
the troops received their- several orders, owing to the darkness
of the night, and even then they did not move with sufficient
quickness to reach their destinations in due time. Fresh orders
were despatched- to Archduke John at two o'clock on the morn
ing of the 6th of July, urging him to hasten his advance.
Napoleon, whose plan was by no means so prudent or so well-
laid as it was afterwards represented, determined on the 6th df
July to renew with greater vigour the' attack which had failed
on the previous day. He appears to have wavered once or
twice and to have acted upon the spur of the moment, by which

chap. vm.J THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 83;
he several times ran great risk. of losing the battle. To render
the attack more successful, he concentrated his army in the fields
round Rasdorf, which formed his head-quarters, and where, at
the head of his guard, he intended to await the issue of the
battle. Marshal Davoust, with the right wing, came nearer the
centre of the position, and placed himself near Grosshofen;
Marshal Massena, with the left wing, was ordered to quit the
Danube and to approach Atterkla, leaving only the division of
Boudet at Aspern to protect the bridges at Lobau. These*
arrangements had been made, and Napoleon was impatiently
awaiting the execution of his orders, when the firing of cannon,
and musketry unexpectedly resounded, along the whole line
from Markgrafen-Neusiedel to Wagram, and by its increasing
noise showed that the Austrians were already advancing. Struck
with the boldness of this attack, Napoleon paid greater attention
to the disposition of his -troops, lest he should expose some
weak point to his determined foe. For the first hour or so, the
French attack was conducted without much courage or impetu
osity — on several points they were beaten back, and it was
some time before they at aU recovered their usual temper. If
Napoleon intended to have renewed his attack against Wagram,
it would have been impossible at this moment, as the Austrians
clearly had the advantage at that point.
The first division of the Austrian army, where Archduke
Charles had taken up his quarters, had the smaUest distance to
march. Captain von Tettenborn, who commanded a body of
light horse of the Klenau regiment, which formed the vanguard
found Atterkla deserted by the Saxons, who had fallen back
during the night upon Rasdorf. He took possession of the
village, which was fiUed with wounded Saxons ; several officers,
some of them belonging to Bernadotte's staff, were taken pri
soners. Tettenborn drove back several advanced posts of the
enemy, and then joined some regiments which meanwhile had
advanced, in order to cover two batteries, the fire of whieh
forced the French division of Dupas, forming the right wing of
their advanced guard on the Russbach, to retire towards Rasdorf.
The chasseurs and infantry under General Karl von Stutterheim
took possession of Atterkla. The whole of this division of , the

85 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. vm.
Austrian army then advanced between Atterkla and Wagram,
the leading troops in squares at regular intervals, those behind
them in close line. This was the first real encounter of the day ;
and while many of the Austrian divisions were stiU advancing
to take up their positions, the French were able to bring the
cannon belonging to all the troops that were concentrated at
Rasdorf to meet this attack. The Austrians soon lost the ad
vantage they had gained, as with far inferior artiUery they had
to contend with the superior force of their adversaries. Never
theless they fought for several hours with great firmness and
courage. Meanwhile the fourth division of the army had left the heights
near Markgrafen-Neusiedel at about four o'clock, and advanced
to the attack of Grosshofen and GUnzendorf, both of which
viUages were held by Marshal Davoust with artiUery and in
fantry, while two bodies of cavaHy were formed in double lines
just behind. The third division of the French army was at
that moment in the act of making for the centre of Napoleon's
position, according to his orders. The French skirmishers had
retired, and the Austrians, in spite of a murderous fire, had
advanced close to the villages above named, and were preparing
to storm them. This attack kept the French to their original posi
tion. General Puthod remained with his troops at Grosshofen,
and General Friant at GUnzendorf, while Marshal Davoust
threatened to attack our flank with the Gudin division. Napo
leon himself at the head of a portion of his guards, and foUowed
by the heavy cavalry under Generals Nansouty and Arrighi,
galloped up to this position. He brought a heavy train of ar
tillery to bear upon the Austrians, while he sent strong de
tachments of every description of troops to Loibersdorf,. where
they passed the Russbach, and then directed their march upon
Ober-Siebenbrunn. This side movement along his and the
whole flank, compelled Prince von Rosenberg to keep back his
cavaby, which was to have supported the infantry, in order to
observe the enemy's motions. Just as the Austrians were in
the act of charging the enemy, the Archduke sent orders for the
left wing to halt, for the right wing was too far off to take part
in the engagement, and the left would thus have had to bear
the whole brunt of the action, especially as nothing was yet

chap, viii.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 87
seen of Archduke John's division. This delay, which arose from
no local disadvantage on our side, but which was considered
necessary, was the first bad symptom as to the ultimate issue of
the battle. The enemy saw the advantage to be gained, and was
not slow to profit by it. On the heights above , Stamersdorf
glittered the bayonets of the Austrian troops intended to act
against the left wing of the French army, but the contest had
not yet begun, and Napoleon saw that he should have time to
beat our left wing before his own right could run any danger ;
he could afford to reinforce the latter from his centre before it
was actually beaten. He gave Arrighi's cuirassiers to Marshal
Davoust, ordered him to persevere vigorously in the attack
against Markgrafen-Neusiedel, and then returned to Rasdorf.
The rest of Napoleon's guards, which had been directed to ad
vance to the assistance of the right wing, were ordered to march
back upon Rasdorf. Meanwhile Marshal Davoust had sufficient
force at his disposal to be able to spread out his troops to the
right, and to press more and more upon the Austrian left flank.
The French continued to bring up more artiUery, and destroyed
several of our batteries by their murderous fire. The Austrian
left wing was thus reduced to act merely on the defensive.
The grenadiers of Sauring advancing by Gerasdorf against
Siissenbrunn, now made their appearance on the field of battle ;
the first and second divisions were supported on both flanks
and in the rear by cavalry. At length the sixth division also
commenced an attack upon the left wing of the French between
Breitenlee and Hirschstatten. Their numerous infantry was at
Aspern, and the plain between Aspern and Stadelau was covered
with parties of skirmishers. A general charge completed the
confusion produced by the effective fire of the Austrian guns,
which at this particular spot were more numerous than the
French. General Augustus von Vecsey cleared the plain of the
French skirmishers : Major Michailowich at the head of the
battaUon St. George, stormed the village of Aspern and ad
vanced against the left wing of the enemy, while General
Count von Walmoden at the head of Liechtenstein's hussars,
charged the right wing, kiUed a large number of men, and
took nine guns. The French retreated with the loss of many
c 4

88 ' WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap, viii.,
prisoners, some by Aspern towards the Miihlau, the others by-
EssUngen to Stadt-Enzersdorf. Count von Klenau then took
possession of Aspern and Esslingen, and of the works which
had been erected within this district. The troops drawn up in
squares between Aspern and Breitenlee, waited to see what
would happen to their left. It was now ten o'clock, and the
battle had continued without intermission in the other parts of
the field. '
Meanwhile, the third division had advanced in two Unes from
Gerasdorf to Siissenbrunn ; its right rested on Breitenlee, which
was held by three battaUons. Count von Kolowrat did not wait
for his left wing to come up, but boldly attacked the enemy's
left wing near their main position at Rasdorf, and advanced as
faras Neuwirthaus : for some time, he had the advantage, but
could not maintain his ground, and was obUged to faU back
with his right wing upon Breitenlee.
The Emperor Napoleon galloped along the whole extent of
the French line, encouraging his troops, who received him with
loud cheers. Nearly opposite Atterkla he met Marshal Massena,
who came up with three divisions. Massena was in a carriage,
as a fall had prevented him from riding. Napoleon embraced.
him, ordered him to attack Atterkla without delay, and then
galloped >back to Rasdorf to see what Prince Eugene's and
General Oudinot's divisions were about. He was incessantly
occupied in giving orders as to the movements of the troops.
He continued to send fresh bodies of men towards Markgrafen-
Neusipdel, so as to turn the Austrian left flank. He felt con
fident that he was strong enough to attack our left wing and
our centre at the same moment. The first and most important
object was to take Atterkla, so as to secure his own centre
already endangered by the impetuous advance of the Austrians.
Marshal Massena ordered a strong, body of cavalry to draw
up in the plain near Rasdorf, and to advance against Atterkla
and Breitenlee-: he , put himself at the head of two strong di
visions of infantry and stormed Atterkla right and left, as he
conceived that General Carra Saint-Cyr's division did not carry
On ti|e attack- with sufficient vigour. Neither the constant
foe of the .Austrian grenadiers, nor the murderous discharge of.
artillery, stopped the determined advance of the French; whole

chap, vni.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 89
ranks were mown down at every step ; but they continued to press
forward to the charge. ¦ The Austrians gave way before their
impetuous attack, the French succeeded in taking Atterkla;
and forced their way into the Austrian line. The danger was
imminent: success at 'this point would be decisive. The
French thought their victory secure, and threw themselves
between the Austrian 'squares, with the intention of separating
and beating them by turns. But just at this moment the dis
order produced by the impetuosity of the attack- was injurious
to the French. Archduke Charles, Count von BeUegarde, and
other generals and staff officers, by great exertions, restored
order among the scattered troops, formed them into squares,
and charged the enemy at the point of the bayonet. The
French could not speedily collect their forces, were driven
back in disorder^ out-flanked, and cut down in great numbers
before they could reach Atterkla. Two French regiments,
the 24th and the 4th, were nearly exterminated, — more
than 1000 men fell, above 500 were made prisoners, and four
colours were taken. One of Count Kolowrat's battaUons led by
Major Haberein, and the three grenadier regiments* Scovaux,
Putheany, and Brzezinski, stormed Atterkla, and retook it
from the enemy after a severe contest. General Charles von
Stutterheim was here wounded by a cannon ball, whereupon
the Archduke entrusted the further command of this village
to his brother, Archduke Louis. The French several times
renewed their attack upon this position with fresh troops, but
their attempts to retake Atterkla were repulsed every time
by General MerviUe with the sacrifice of many men killed
and wounded, besides the loss of two more colours. The
Austrians likewise lost a considerable number of men ; and
General MerviUe, after twice driving the French out of the
village into which they had penetrated, was at length struck
down by a musket shot. The French cavalry had meanwhUe
remained drawn up on the plain; they were kept in check
by a body of Austrian cavalry on their flank under Prince
Maurice von Liechtenstein. The two cavalry regiments, Kron
Prinz and Rosenberg, had saved the artillery planted in front of
Atterkla, which in the first moment of the enemy's attack had
been given up as lost. When Napoleon saw that his troops

90 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. vm.
were flying in confusion, he rode up to the spot, and with
Massena's help succeeded in restoring some sort of order. It
was high time, for new measures were presently .required to
meet other contingencies.
The successful defence of Atterkla frustrated Napoleon's
hopes of breaking the Austrian Une at that point. Not knowing
that his troops had once actually taken this viUage, he re
peatedly exclaimed, " Oh, that I had but been in possession of
Atterkla, even for a few minutes !" The bravery of the Aus
trian troops had averted a great danger. Meanwhile the
attack of the French on Atterkla had impeded the advance
of the Austrians. The several divisions of our army had not
been able to draw nearer to each other, nor were our troops
sufficient to cover the extended line of action. It is true that
the two remaining grenadier brigades of Murray and Steyrer
joined the line from Atterkla and Breitenlee, but their bat
talions could only form the advanced guard, and the cavalry had
to be drawn up behind them to protect their rear. This in
duced Prince John von Liechtenstein to advance further, and
with the aid of the third and sixth divisions to attack the main
position of the enemy in the flank and rear. Massena's march
from the Danube on Rasdorf and Atterkla, which we have
mentioned above, had given freer scope to the right wing of
the Austrian army ; and by this movement Prince von Liech
tenstein hoped to cut off Napoleon's communication with the
Lobau. The third and sixth divisions had only to bend to the
left, when they would be in the rear of the French army, and
would thus place it between a cross fire.
Napoleon not only saw the danger which threatened him, but
turned it to good account. He drew considerable bodies of
troops from his centre, and ordered them to prepare for an at
tack : meanwhue Massena advanced his division to the left,
towards Neuwirthaus, against the third division of the
Austrians. General Macdonald, with three other divisions, took
Massena's place, and Prince Eugene, with the guards, followed
to support this movement. A tremendous fire of artillery opened
the way for them. Marshal Bessieres led on to the attack six
regiments of the heavy cavalry of the imperial guard : Napo
leon spoke a few encouraging words to each regiment, and re'

chap, vm.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. St
commended the men to use the point, and not the edge of the
sword. This body of troops charged the Austrian grenadiers
and the third division before they had formed. Prince John
von Liechtenstein drew back his right wing again, towards
Siissenbrunn, thus leaving a space open to the enemy, which,
however, was exposed to the cross fire of the Austrian grena
diers and of the third division. Some infantry regiments were
drawn up close behind, and beside the French cavalry; they
advanced in spite of the cross fire, and charged the battaHons
St. George and Fisch with the bayonet. The Austrians stood
their ground firmly, and poured a murderous fire upon the French
infantry each time it advanced, while the grenadiers of Porter
and Leiningen repulsed the French cavalry. One body of the
enemy which advanced up to the very bayonets of the regiment
of St. George, lost their leader, who was pulled from his horse,
taken prisoner, and moreover was exposed, in our ranks, to two
charges from his own cavalry and to a tremendous fire from the
French artillery. Count von Leiningen took a French staff
officer prisoner single-handed in front of his battalion.
But Napoleon had other plans in reserve. " The artillery of
the imperial guard shall advance," said he ; and sixty pieces of
artillery, under Colonels Drouot and DaboviUe, were brought
from beyond Rasdorf. Forty other guns joined these, and pro
ceeded in the midst of a tremendous fire from the Austrians.
These 100 pieces of artillery, covering about a mile of ground,
poured a fire of grape and canister shot, more deadly than any
of our people had ever seen before ; the Austrians suffered se
verely, and their great guns were shattered. Several battaUons
repeatedly charged in the midst of this murderous fire, with the
view of taking the French artiUery; but they were driven back
or cut down by the iron hail, The French Ukewise suffered
severely, and lost a good many artiUerymen and horses.
Napoleon had ordered Marshal Massena to turn back towards
the left, but suspended his further advance. He himself re
mained between Rasdorf and Atterkla, perfectly unmoved in the
midst of the heaviest fire, watching every incident in the battle,
and giving his orders accordingly. By repeated marches and
counter-marches the order of battle in his centre had been
broken several times ; but he restored it by bringing up fresh

B2 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [ch^p. vm.
troops. MeanwhUe accounts reached him from Massena that the
right wing of the Austrians was gradually gaining ground, that
Boudef's division had been driven back upon the Lobau with
the loss of its cannon, that the Austrians were close upon the
bridge, and . that their guns would shortly be directed against
the rear of the French army. Until now, Napoleon had re
ceived, all reports without a word in reply, contenting himself
with looking, eagerly towards Markgrafen-Neusiedel. When
he saw that Marshal Davoust had secured the heights above
that spot, and that his fire, would shortly bear upon the Aus
trians': flank, he exclaimed "Now is the time!" He ordered
Massena to attack the Austrian right wing, and he formed the di
visions of Lamarque, Broussier, and others into line, and directed
General Macdonald to advance at their head by Atterkla upon
Siissenbrunn, against the third division of the Austrian army,
whose left wing received the first shock. The Archduke who
was present in that division, led on his troops and changed
therdefence into an attack. General Vukassovich during the
advance received a mortal wound, Count Saint Julien and
General LiUenberg charged the left flank of the enemy who
begun to, waver. Napoleon ordered up the cuirassiers of
General Nansouty and the cavalry of the imperial guard, under
General Walther, to support the infantry, but they too were
driven back by the heavy fire. Whereupon the French division
of Serras and the Bavarian division of Wrede advanced, and
were followed by the young guard under General ReiUe. . The
divisions of Pachtod and Durutte moved on either side of
Macdonald, to make room for him, the one towards Wagram
and the , other towards Breitenlee. The battle had now raged
on both sides with great fury and obstinacy for some time, but
the Austrians had deeidedly lost ground.
It was mid-day, and the battle continued along the whole Une.
Where the troops had not been in actual action — as was the
case with the whole secpnd division of the Austrian army ap
pointed to guard the Russbach near Baumersdorf, or where
they had stopped in their advance, and this was the predica
ment of the sixth division of the Austrians at Aspern, where.
they were waiting for the others — they were nevertheless ex
posed all the time to a tremendous fire from the French artillery,

chap, viii.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. $3
extending in an unbroken line from the Danube to beyond
Markgrafen-Neusiedel. Indeed, the number of guns and the
weight of metal seemed to increase every moment.
Meanwhile the left wing of the Austrian army was equaUy
hard pressed. At about ten o'clock the French troops which had
crossed the Russbach at Loibersdorf, drove back General von
FreUch's ' corps of observation, placed near Ober-Siebenbrunn,
and thus turned the left flank of the fourth division of the
Austrian army, whieh they proceeded to attack. To meet this
threatened danger Prince von Rosenberg ordered up two of his
regiments to the flank, and formed the rest into squares. But
three other bodies of French marched from Ober-Siebenbrunn
and GUnzendorf, covering their advance with the fire from a
large number of guns: The Archduke; hurried to this quarter
and placed the troops in order. He directed the Hohenzollern
cuirassiers to charge and drive back the French infantry.
Seeing the impossibility of succeeding^ and perceiving the im
minent danger in which his left flank was now placed by the
enemy's cavalry he ordered the cuirassiers to attack the latter,
while he himself gaUoped up to the infantry where his presence
seemed most necessary. Markgrafen-Neusiedel . was, bravely
defended against several attacks from the enemy. But at length,
after the Archduke had been summoned elsewhere by the danger
which now threatened his right wing, the weary Austrians gave
way to the superior force of the French, and left them in pos
session of the village. The brave General Peter, von Vecsey
was here mortally wounded. The appearance of Archduke
John in the rear of- the French army was now most anxiously
looked for; this alone could give a favourable turn to the
battle. It was already feared that he would arrive too late ;
but as long as- there was any hope, the Austrians were bound to
maintain their ground. MeanwhUe the French brought fresh
troops to their right, and endeavoured more completely to turn*
our left flank. By this movement but few French troops were
left opposite to the second division of the Austrian army. When
Prince HohenzoUern saw that his front was in no danger;
while the fourth division was hard pressed, he, of his own
accord sent to their assistance five battalions and four squa
drons -of horse. This advance of fresh troops to the extreme

94 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. vm.
left flank brought a momentary reUef, but did not change the
fate of the battle. The contest was too unequal. Marshal
Davoust had a third of the whole French army in this quarter.
The Austrian troops were aU engaged in action ; there were
no troops reserved for any sudden emergency, while the French
had a constant supply of fresh men ready to be sent in aU
directions from their reserves at Rasdorf. General Oudinot
again advanced against Baumersdorf and attacked the second
division of the Austrians. But the battle continued to be most
furiously contested at Markgrafen-Neusiedel. The French
divisions Gudin and Puthod in six soUd masses with a nu
merous park of artiUery, and with a number of skirmishers
in front, frequently stormed this position ; while the divisions
Morand and Friant kept extending their Une to the right. The
Austrian cavalry under Field Marshal Count von Nostitz,
General Count von Wartensleben, Colonel Sardagna, and
Prince von Coburg, who was wounded by a buUet, repeatedly
charged the enemy. They several times drove back the ca
valry of Generals Grouchy and.Montbrun, but were too weak
to make any impression on the French infantry, and were
eventaUy compeUed to faU back. Mayer's infantry brigade, at
the head of which Field Marshal von Nordmann had placed
himself, stood several of the enemy's charges ; but when this
brave leader was kiUed, General Mayer wounded, and more
troops were brought against them, the Austrians were forced
to give way, and the enemy gained ground. It was now that
the division Morand attacked and carried by storm the tower of
Markgrafen-Neusiedel. During this attack, or according to some
accounts earlier in the day, or on even the day before, Colonel
Oudet of the seventeenth regiment of the line feU, whose charms
of person and character Charles Nodier mentions in such high
terms. The right wing of the Austrian army, placed near the
heights, still kept its ground; at their head Field Marshal
Prince von Hohenlohe-Bartenstein, and the brave Prince von
Hessen-Homburg, who was here wounded by a baU, repulsed
several attacks of the French. Prince von Rosenberg en
deavoured to retake the tower of Markgrafen-Neusiedel, but
the cross fire which mowed down his men, and the superior
force of the enemy, compeUed him to give up the attempt. The

chap.vhj.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 95

Austrians could no longer reckon upon or wait for Archduke
John's arrival : the last moment at which his troops could have
effected a diversion in our favour on the rear of the French was
past. The right wing of the Austrians had until now been vic
torious, the centre had stood its ground, but the left wing was out
flanked and beaten, and its fate decided the issue of the whole
battle. At about one o'clock the fourth division received orders from
the Archduke to retreat. Once more the Austrian cavalry
charged and repulsed Arrighi's squadrons, and gave the infantry
time to faU back ; but the enemy still continued to press upon
the Austrians, who retreated in good order towards Bockfliess.
Had the wooded heights of Hohenleithen been sufficiently
fortified to afford a resting-place for our troops, the left wing of
the Austrian army might have stood its ground some time, and
perhaps have repulsed the enemy with considerable loss. We
had commenced throwing up some intrenchments in the fore
noon ; but before the work had made any progress, it was given
up as useless : it was too late. The fourth division of the
Austrian army remained all night on the heights, and kept pos
session of Bockfliess. The regiments of Hiller and Sztarray pro
tected the rear, and kept the enemy at a proper distance. A
weak body of troops maintained their position at Bockfliess
against the French cavaby, until four squadrons of Archduke
Ferdinand's hussars came to their assistance, charged, and
drove off the enemy. A few battaUons and some hussars, under
Field Marshal Count von Radetzky, guarded the fords over
the Weiden-bach, near Schweinwart and Hohen-Ruppertsdorf.
The second divison of the Austrian army, the left wing of which
was completely exposed, was now vigorously attacked, and
suffered most severely from a murderous discharge of artiUery
on its flank : it now commenced its retreat. The enemy like
wise attacked the Austrians in front, and did great execution
upon them with a most destructive cross fire. General Count
Ignatius von Hardegg defended Baumersdorf against aU attacks,
and only gave up possession of the village to the French
on receiving orders to that effect. Behind Wagram the troops
were obliged to turn back a little and to break, in order to cross
the Russbach, which here makes a bend towards the west : the

96 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap, vm,
French cavalry seized this opportunity to attack them, but were
driven back by the unexpected fire of several battaHons in some
outworks on the' Russbachj and by the charge of Vincent's regi
ment of light horse. - The Austrian artiUery was safely carried
across, and the whole- division marched without loss, by Saur
ring, towards Enzersfeld. One brigade of the first division,
which had been placed on the heights near Wagram, foUowed
this movement : the remaining troops of this division stiU kept
their position at Atterkla, where Lieutenant Lofner's battery;
on the left wing, caused great annoyance to the French ; it
was, however, soon silenced by their guns. It was past two
o'clock before this division of the Austrian troops received
orders to retreat, which it effected slowly and in good order.
When the enemy pressed too muck upon the Austrian troops,
Colonel Count von Bentheim, at the head of the regiment Vo
gelsang, charged, and thus kept them for some time at bay.
The march was thus ''continued- in- the best . order towards
Gerasdorf. We were compelled to leave a great number of
wounded in Atterkla, Siissenbrunn, Gerasdorf, Baumersdorf,
and other villages. Few of these were saved, as the fire, which
had partly Consumed these vUlages the day before, • and which
had been nearly extinguished, broke out afresh. It was now
the turn for the grenadiers and the cavalry to commence their
retreat, which they did towards Gerasdorf. They suffered
severely, and a cannon-baU' kiUed Field Marshal D'Aspre as he
was leading the grenadiers through the burning village- of At
terkla. The third division feU back upon the heights of Sta
mersdorf"; by the way of Siissenbrunn, in such good order that
the French for some time made no attempt to impede their
retreat ; but when it became dusk the French" guards made a
sudden attack upon them, took a battery, and attempted to
foUow up their advantage : the French cavalry meanwhile en
deavoured to cut their way into the infantry of the first division
of the Austrian army; but this division formed into squares, and
drove them back three successive times. The Austrian cavalry
now gaUoped up;' Liechtenstein's cuirassiers charged the flank
of the enemy, while the Schwarzenberg lanpers and the Klenau
light horse made repeated attacks upon the French; Captain
von Gallois, at the head of his regiment, recovered the lost

CHAP.vm.] THE BATTLE OF WAGRAM. 97
battery from the enemy's hands, while Tettenborn, with his
squadron of Hght horse, drove back the French cuirassiers.
The sixth division quitted EssUngen at one, and Aspern at
two o'clock ; it continued to retreat towards Stamersdorf, keeping
up an incessant running fight with the enemy. Here, again, our
infantry formed into squares ; and, supported by the Kienmayer
hussars, repeUed the French attacking parties. The retreat
was so well conducted, that all the attempts of the French com-,
mander, in which he was zealously seconded by his troops,
faUed in throwing our men into the disorder of a regular flight.
Napoleon admired the strict discipUne kept by the slowly re
treating Austrian divisions, and gave the Archduke full praise
for the obstinacy of his resistance, and for his admirable con
duct of the retreat.
Both armies had been strained to the utmost, and the loss was
great on both sides. The French had concentrated aU their
forces ; and during the battle they had brought aU their troops
from the other bank of the Danube, so that they must have had
about 200,000 men, of whom 160,000 had been actuaUy en
gaged. On the side of the French above 14,000 men were
killed and wounded, and 7000 made prisoners. They likewise
lost twelve eagles and colours, and eleven cannon. Of their
leaders LasaUe and Duprat were kiUed ; Bessieres, Wrede, and
fourteen other officers were wounded. The Austrians were
deprived of the assistance which they expected from Arch
duke John's detachment ; it was not tiU past four o'clock that
his advanced troops reached Ober-Siebenbrunn, and made a
few prisoners in the rear of the French army. But, as the
battle was already lost, and the French could bring a suf
ficient force to meet this unexpected attack, Archduke John
retraced his steps. The enemy showed no incUnation to im
pede his march. He did not come upon the traces of any
forces sent to keep him in check, or even to watch his move
ments. His approach had not been expected or observed, and
the French army had been exposed to the greatest danger from
this quarter. It is in vain that General Pelet, in his otherwise
admirable work, attempts to make us beUeve that, at the com
mencement of the battle, Napoleon foresaw and prepared to
VOL. I. H

98 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. viii.
meet this contingency. The facts are clearly against ¦ him.
Archduke John was much blamed for the lateness of his arrival.
His talents and his courage no one would think of disputing ;
but we must observe in general that the Austrians do not shine
in moving large masses of troops with ease and expedition, and
even Archduke Charles, much as he improved the Austrian
army in other respects, could not compete in this with the enemy.
On the side of the Austrians, at most 100,000 men fought at
Wagram, and they lost above 20,000 kiUed and wounded, and
about 8000 made prisoners. Four generals were left on the
field of battle ; among them General von Nordmann, whom the
French bulletins designated a traitor, as he was of French ex
traction and had served under Dumouriez ; the Archduke and
ten generals were wounded. The Austrians lost nine cannon,
and only one standard. " It is one of the most remarkable
accidents of this battle," says the Austrian report, " that the
victors lost more trophies than the conquered."
The events of the following day proved how Uttle the courage
and moral force of the Austrians or their leader were affected.
With the exception of the fourth division, which, however,
shortly rejoined the others, the Archduke had, with great skill
and prudence, directed the retreat of his army upon Znaym,
and not upon Brunn as was expected. He then formed his troops
into line behind the Taya, and offered battle to the victors on
the 10th and 11th of July, which likewise, after various
changes, ended in favour of the French. An armistice, which
was shortly foUowed by the treaty of Vienna, put an end to
further hostilities. Personal motives meanwhile had induced
Archduke Charles to resign the command of the army. The
terms of the treaty of Vienna were remarkably disadvantageous
to Austria. Nevertheless, this campaign of 1809, especiaUy the
battles of Aspern, Wagram, and Znaym, inspired Germany with
a feeling of courage which did not perish. This war made a
deep impression even on the French, and when their soldiers
talked of the battle of Wagram, a feeUng of respect damped
their natural' boastfulness ; and all Germans, who had at heart
the cause of their country, and the glory of their feUow
countrymen, looked upon Archduke Charles and the Austrian
army of 1809, with pride and confidence.

chap, ix.] ZISTERSDORF. 99

CHAPTER IX.
Personal History. — The Hospital at Zistersdorf. — Wounded Austrian
Officers. — Absolution given to One of my Companions  The Franciscan
Monk. — Arrival of the French in Zistersdorf. — State of the French
Army. — Character of the Colonel. — The wounded Austrians declared
Prisoners of War, and sent to Vienna. 1809.
To return to my own personal history : when the ball struck
my leg, I felt a blow that went through me ; on looking, I saw
two streams of blood running down my thigh — the baU had
gone clean through it. I had, however, no time for thought ;
the regiment, the left wing of which was vigorously assaulted
by the enemy, was in full retreat, carrying with it the right
wing, and I had to exert aU my remaining force not to be left
behind. Two soldiers took me under the arms, and half
carried, half walking, I managed to reach the rear. Several
cannon-balls plunged about us, one of them so close to us as to
cause one of my supporters to faU — luckUy without a wound ;
the other conveyed me a few hundred paces further, and then
returned to the battle, which was now pretty equal. I could
not walk alone, and stood looking towards the battle-field. It
was then that I saw the colonel on horseback, with the colours in
his hand, leading on his men. Their charge and the clouds of
smoke arising from our burning camp, prevented me from
seeing any thing further. To the right and left of Wagram
and Baumersdorf I likewise saw flames and columns of smoke,
while the roar of the artiUery increased every moment. Several
wounded men who came by, rendered me some assistance ; one
soldier carried me a Uttle way until we reached a broken
powder-waggon which, being empty, was driven to the rear.
Upon this I found a seat, and was driven slowly along in the
cool of the evening with a whole train of wounded men, who
H 2

100 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. ix.
groaned and complained bitterly. The jolting of the cart gave
me excruciating pain, and when the flow of blood, which had
continued until now, ceased, my whole leg grew cold and
stiff. Like the others, I suffered from extreme thirst, and the
chill of the night air was* hard to bear. By a lucky accident
my Bohemian servant, who was sUghtly wounded in the hand,
followed this waggon ; he found me out in the dark, and
remained constantly at my side. During the course of the
night we reached Bockfliess, where a surgeon looked bastily at
my wounds, and I shortly afterwards feU into a profound sleep.
About daybreak the noise woke me ; not only the room in
¦which I lay, but the whole housp, and even the street, was full of
wounded men : we were to be conveyed stUl further as soon as
possible. The roar of the cannon announced that the battle had'
begun again. ,
, My wounds had opened again during the night : as I could
not raise myself, I was carried on my straw mattrass, which
with a pair of sheets I had bought for, a considerable sum,. to
the waggon. My own servant, and two other wounded men
were placed upon the same .waggon, and in this, company we
went pn, I neither asked nor cared whither. The day was op
pressively hot : the sun poured itg.fiood pf light over the cloud-.
less sky, and every thing glowed around me.. The roar of
the artillery accompanied us : it sometimes appeared to come
nearer, and the sight of some straggUng fugitives caused us
some alarm lest we should fall into the. enemy's hands ;. but we
went never the faster'for this. The Sclavpnian peasant does
not aiter the pace of his team, besides every stone which the
wheel went over made us exclaim — ¦ " Pomali ! " for the jolt went
to our very marrow. There was not a tree, nor even a bush, to
afford us a momentary shade; no refreshment save very bad
water to be got. By the time we reached a place where we,
were to stay for one hour, the, mid-day sun had raised bUsters.
aU over my face and neck. A young officer, who had been
¦ordered to this spot to superintend the -grounded, pitied my con
dition, and ordered the cart to.be pqyered.with.the boughs of a
filbert tree which grew near : this was done in spite of the re
monstrances of the proprietor. I found such a reUef from the
shade and the sight of the green boughs-, that I no longer felt

chap, ix.] THE HOSPITAL. 101
the torture of- my wounds, and occasionaUy fell into a sort of
pleasant dreamy state, in which I even made verses in honour
of the tree which had done me such signal service. I cannot how
remember the actual words, but the sensations which gave rise
to them are still present to my mind. Unluckily these feeUngs
were frequently broken by the cry of pain wrung from me by
the stumble of the horse, or the jolting of the rough waggon.
In the evening we reached Zistersdorf, a small viUage, where
arrangements had been made for establishing an hospital, ¦ even
before the battle of Aspern. However, I was not taken to the
hospital, but to a cottage belonging to some poor people, where^
for the first time, my wounds were properly dressed by the-
viUage surgeon, as no army surgeon had yet arrived. I had
another very tolerable night. On the foUowing day, however,
I was seized with fever ; for twenty-four hours, I suffered
excruciating torture, and could not conceal from myself that it
might end fataUy. The surgeon had been summoned elsewhere,
and the bandage therefore remained unchanged; the wound
was much inflamed, arid required instant attention. This I
only obtained at the end of four days, when I was conveyed to
the hospital and placed in a sort of cellar with two other
wounded officers ; here my leg was bandaged by an assistant j.
and with the exception of frightening me a little at first, no
staff surgeon could have treated me better. As I had been
able to walk a little, I believed the thigh bone to be uninjured,
and said so to the assistant. ' But when he saw the wound and
the direction that the ball had taken, he confidently pronounced,
" There can be no doubt but that the bone is shattered ! "
This sounded like my death warrant ; my knowledge of surgery
made me feel certain that in this case I must lose my
leg, an operation which was hardly practicable so high up.
On the most favourable supposition, I should not be able to
leave my bed for six or eight months ; whereas, in the case of
its being merely a flesh wound, I might be cured in as many
weeks. Although I could not but give credit to the assistant's
confident assertion, a small voice within me whispered that he
might yet be wrong. After many days, embittered by this-
dread, the assistant confessed that he might be mistaken,
H 3

102 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. ix.
and at length said, almost with a tone of regret, that my case
would not long be serious. His method of treatment was ex
cellent : he handled the wound as gently and as Httle as pos
sible, and dressed it only with camphor water with perfect
success. My spirits rose, and I was able to sit up and write a
Httle. The assistant at first opposed this ; but when he saw
how bent upon it I was, and how rapid was my recovery, he at
length consented. The time I spent in writing was the happiest
in the day, and made up for many long and dismal hours. But
as .the letters were sent round by Vienna, ¦ the uncertainty of
their ultimate fate somewhat damped my zeal in writing them.
My interest in pubUc events was at first so intense, as to
make me forget my own personal griefs ; but this decreased
every day, as the accounts got worse and worse. The reports,
few and uncertain as they were, all agreed in this, — that after
Wagram, we had lost another battle at Znaym, that an ar
mistice had been proclaimed, and that peace would shortly be
declared, which aU agreed in saying would be most dis
advantageous to us. The worst was that on aU sides, I
heard wishes expressed for peace on any terms; the few
officials of the place, the burghers, the clergy, the surgeons,
even the officers and the soldiers in the hospital, all wished for
peace, and confidently predicted it to be near at hand. There
was consequently nothing more to detain me in Austria, and I
longed to be weU and at BerUn. Meanwhile, my patience was
heavily taxed. The two officers who shared my room were
but sorry companions, and too dull to understand my feelings.
The younger one, who was barely fifteen, and whose foot had
been shattered by a cannon-ball, was beyond aU hope of re
covery. It was impossible now, from want of instruments, to
remove the Umb, an operation which should have been performed
within the first few days. The few subjects we had in common
were soon exhausted. The visits of the magistrate, of his wife
and daughter, and of a pretty housekeeper, who occasionally
brought me some flowers, enabled me to spend a pleasant quarter
of an hour or so ; the rest of the long summer days passed most
drearily. I asked for some books, and received a cargo of trashy
novels, into the midst of which I plunged, seizing with avidity
upou the stray quotations from Goethe and SchiUer which

chap, ix.] THE ABSOLUTION. 103
they contained. Luckily I obtained an old edition of CorneUus
Nepos, and an equaUy well-thumbed copy of Caesar's Commen
taries,' which I studied with fresh interest derived from my
newly acquired knowledge of military affairs.
The wounded lad daily got weaker ; and although he firmly
believed in his ultimate recovery, he yielded to an old cor
poral's advice, and asked to see a priest. The priest came,
heard his confession, and gave him .absolution. Our beds
were so placed that both myself and the third officer, in
spite of our endeavours to the contrary, could not avoid hearing
the greater part of the young man's confession. The sacred-
ness of confession was thus to a certain degree violated. His
sins were trifling, and his frank confiding tone touched me
deeply ; but the whole ceremony — the manner in which it was
conducted and ended — produced on me no favourable impres
sion ; it was a mere form, and did not pretend to be more.
The priest then asked us if we needed his services, and seemed
almost relieved by our declining them. Perceiving from my
accent that I was from the north of Germany, he entered into
more intimate conversation with me. He had formerly been on
the banks of the Rhine, where he had had tolerable prospects, but
these had beenx destroyed by the advance of the French ; and
now that he held good preferment in Austria, there was every
chance of the same ruthless persecutors foUowing him even
here ; the French had already selected his parish wherein to
quarter their troops, his parsonage would not be spared, and
his kitchen and cellar were sure to suffer. I sympathised with
his sorrows, but added that no great harm would be done, pro
vided his housekeeper was of the canonical age. He added,
with evident self-satisfaction, that he had foreseen the evil days
which were coming, and had already sent the young woman to
her friends in a remote part of the country. In return for my
sympathy he provided me with books ; I obtained through him
Schmidt's History of the Germans, and some few volumes .of
Hormayr's Austrian Worthies, by which means my days passed
somewhat more happily.
We were also occasionally visited by a Franciscan monk, who
was brought by the priest, and whose kind disposition and
h 4

104 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. ix.
knowledge of mankind taught him to understand the necessities
and to minister to the wants of man. His scientific acquirements
were below contempt ; his account of the Reformation, and of
Luther, would have made a protestant stare: but his whole
conduct was a striking example of perfect resignation and con
tentment. I could learn little from him touching his convent ;
and only gathered from his conversation that he had suffered
inuch at first from his feUow monks, but that he now led a
tolerably quiet Ufe. Passing events had nearly ruined the con
vent ; and in addition to other hardships, the monks had now
to bear the privations of want.
An attempt to walk with crutches fuUy succeeded ; and it
was with infinite pleasure that I stepped first into the Uttle
garden under my window, next into the castle yard, and thence
into the open fields overlooking the wide plain and the woody
heights, lately the scene of bloodshed. In spite of my emo
tions, and a natural longing for peace, I could not help hoping
that war might again be declared : there was no solid foundation
for peace and quiet. The villagers were fuU of anxiety and
excitement : the French were daily expected, not indeed as
enemies, as the treaty had been signed ; but their approach was,
nevertheless, regarded with dread. The village magistrate
hastened the departure of a pretty cousin who had come from
Vienna, and invited me to his house : he Hkewise took in three
wounded French officers, of whose presence in the hospital I had
until now never heard, and about whom no one had previously
cared. I made acquaintance with them ; but refused to share
their meals, as I dined daily with the village priest. The food
was moderate ; the wine of the country tolerable ; and several
guests, among others a Franciscan monk, seemed well pleased
with their fare. This monk belonged to the same convent as
the Franciscan I have before mentioned ; but how different from
him ! He was pale, thin, and haggard ; the picture of envy.
The position of my host, which he constantly compared with
his own, was wormwood to him. He confessed to me that a
curacy was the height of his ambition ; but that the convent,
with all its privations, must for ever be his lot. It was some
consolation to him to. think that mine host might be ruined by
the advance of the French. We talked of various subjects,

chap, ix.] THE FRENCH IN ZISTERSDORF. 105
among others of the French, who were to arrive on the following
day : the Franciscan, who knew a few words of French, invited
himself to dinner next day, to act as an interpreter. While
we were yet talking, trumpets sounded, and we all rushed in
alarm to the window. Troops trotted round the corner ; and
before we could recover our surprise, the colonel and several
French officers entered the room. The colonel made the most
civU excuses for intruding himself upon us a day before his
time, stating that he had been turned out of his former quarters
that very day, and that he and his brother officers were easily
satisfied. As no one present but myself understood his oration,
I naturaUy undertook the part of interpreter. A second dinner
was put on the table in a marvellously small space of time : I
wondered whence it aU came so quickly ; but the priest had pru
dently laid in a store, and game, fish, and pastry made their
appearance : the Franciscan saw all this with increasing envy.
After dinner the company were shown the rooms which they
considered smaU ; and when the colonel heard that the magis
trate's house was larger, he thanked the priest much for his hos
pitality, assured him that it was against his principles to quarter
himself upon the clergy, for whose sacred profession he had the
greatest respect, and said that he would take up his abode with
the magistrate. The latter functionary was not a Uttle alarmed
when he saw these numerous guests enter his house. The
wounded French officers were told to stay ; and I — the Austrian
officer, who was to have been carefully kept out of the way,
necessarily became the daily guest of the foreign enemies !
The colonel was one of those men often to be met with in
the army, and his" character was easily seen through. He
had risen from the ranks by his good conduct, and was quite
aware that he owed to his courage and military experience
the position which he then held, and which he daily felt that
he wanted other qualifications to maintain. He therefore en
deavoured, by excessive poUteness, and great professions of
humanity, to give himself an air of superior breeding. On the
whole this answered very well, but he sometimes overacted
his part, and thus betrayed himself to close observers. He had,
at the same time, a keen perception of his own interests and
convenience. He abhorred the young men of good education

106 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap, ix,
and noble family, who now began to join the several regiments,
and upon whom the rank of officer was immediately conferred,
and he subjected them to constant petty annoyances, while, at the
same time, he made a great display of civility, by which he
thought he was imposing upon them, while he was simply
laughed at for his pains. " These men, with silver spoons in
their mouths," said he, " are the ruin of the army,- and the
Emperor acts most unwisely in promoting them ; their fine
education must be wiped out with the sabre, and their pride
somewhat let blood, before they are worth any thing as sol
diers." There were several such young gentlemen in his regi
ment, upon whom he, and old blades Uke him, kept a sharp eye.
My daily intercourse with these people soon inspired them
with such confidence as to induce them to lay aside aU restraint,
and I heard with secret joy that general discontent prevaUed
in the army together with a Uberal tone that alarmed the
Emperor. The complaint of the deterioration of the army was
universal, which these men attributed entirely to that love of
court display which had led Napoleon to forget the main con
sideration that he was their general and. emperor, and that to
recognise and reward merit was better than to dispense favours.
It was asserted as beyond question that one regiment of Bona
parte's, Moreau's, or Jourdan's repubUcan soldiers was as good
as three or four of the Emperor's present troops. I also heard
remarkable confessions of which no mention was made in Na
poleon's bulletins : here a superior force of French cuirassiers
had been beaten by Blankenstein's Austrian hussars, or the
infantry had not done their duty; there some particular general
had committed some egregious blunder — Napoleon himself was
not spared. They did not scruple to call him a rogue, but were
ready nevertheless to do his bidding at a moment's notice. Na
poleon in one of his bulletins, had called the war carried on
against him by the Emperor of Austria, a revolt. The Em
peror of Austria was one of the house of Lorraine : Lorraine
belonged to France ; therefore aU denial of the justice of this
position was instantly declared to be mere sophistry. A cap
tain of horse from Alsace and a surgeon from Worms, contested
the. point with me in German so obstinately, that at length
the colonel was forced to command them to be silent.

chap, ix.] EXCHANGE OF PRISONERS. 107
My wounds, favoured by the fine weather, graduaUy healed,
and I was shortly able to leave off first one, then both my
crutphes. I quitted the smaU sick room in the hospital and
hired one in the master's house, where I received every sort of
attention from his famUy. It was known that a treaty for peace
was on foot, but how it would end was far from certain.
Meanwhile the Austrian army had retired into Hungary, where
it had taken up a strong position : but what rendered the
chance of peace still more doubtful, was this — the prisoners
were not to be exchanged in masses, as is usuaUy the case
when peace is settled, but one for one. This circumstance
affected me individually. Iri consequence of the armistice,
the French had advanced as far as Zistersdorf: there was
plenty of time to have moved the wounded Austrians further
off; but in consideration of those who were severely wounded,
and confiding in the protection of the French commanding
officer, the hospital had remained where it was. The French,
however, now declared us all prisoners of war, totally disregard
ing our protest against such a measure. I was by no means
disposed to submit quietly to this injustice, and made arrange
ments with an honest burgher to transport me as he had al
ready done several others, across the March into Hungary.
I had frequently told the colonel that I considered myself per
fectly free, and he would not have thought worse of me had I
gone without leave. But, unluckily, he just then received
orders to send all those who were well enough to leave the
hospital to Vienna, for the purpose of being exchanged. One
of my wounds was stiU open, but this was no impediment, and,
amid the good wishes of the colonel and the tears of the
magistrate's wife and daughter, I took my place in the carriage
under the guard of a French soldier. My servant Lorenz was
with me, and early on the 14th of August we reached Vienna,
without further adventure.
After passing some weeks in Vienna I received notice that
I had been formaUy exchanged, and might rejoin my regiment,
which was then quartered in Hungary. I took leave of my,
friends, and started on my way to Pressburg, which I reached on
the evening of the 23d September, 1809.

108 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. x.

CHAPTER X.
Paris. — Prince Charles Sehwarzenberg. — Count Metternich. — Hostility to
Napoleon  Life in "Paris. — Preparations for Prince Schwarzenberg's
Ball. — The Emperor and Maria Louisa. — Arrival of a Courier. —
Fireworks. — The Ball. — Sudden Fire. — Napoleon quits the Ball 
The Queen of Naples. — The Queen of Westphalia and Princess von
der Leyen saved. — Return of the Envperor. — The Bivouack. — Dis
covery of Princess Pauline Schwarzenberg's Corpse  Gloomy Impres
sion produced by the Fire. 1810.
We traveUed with great rapidity across the rich plains between
Vienna and Strasburg, and thence to Paris. It was the middle
of June, and the dust and heat had nearly destroyed us in the
country, when we plunged into the close narrow streets of the
French capital. We found rooms prepared for us in the
Hotel de I'Empire, and were soon in the whirl of the gay and
busy Parisian world.
We found that what had been told us was true, that being an
Austrian was the best possible introduction. Putting aside
the Empress Maria Louisa, a name which inspired every
Frenchman with respect, the interests of Austria were sus
tained in a manner it would be difficult to paraUel. Prince
Charles von Schwarzenberg, the Austrian ambassador, a man
of great experience both in war and diplomacy, admirably re
presented the majesty of Austria. The inteUigerice and ready
kindness of his wife were only equaUed by his own ; his sons
and his whole household were actuated by the same spirit. It
was the only embassy at Paris which was treated with marked
distinction by the French government — there were none of
those impediments to a good understanding which were con
stantly arising in the relations between foreign sovereigns and
Napoleon's court. The several diplomatists and military
officers attached to the embassy, made the best use of these
favourable circumstances. The house was open to strangers,
but all Austrians at Paris were considered members of the

chap, x.] PRINCE SCHWARZENBERG'S BALL. 109
family, were received at all hours, and had place at tables always
reserved for them.
The number of Austrians then at Paris was considerable.
Prince Joseph von Sehwarzenberg, the ambassador's elder
brother, had taken a house for himself, his wife, and his nu
merous family ; so had Prince von Esterhazy. General Count
von Walmoden and Count von Neipperg, who had to conduct
some important business with the French government, Count
von Bentheim, and many other Austrians of high birth and
consideration, had been attracted thither by business or plea
sure. PoUtical affairs of the most important nature had in
duced Count Metternich, the minister of foreign affairs, to
come to Paris, and by Napoleon's invitation, he came with his
family, and a large suite. The personal appearance of Count
Metterniph was captivating — his manners were free from
formality, and there was a vivacity in his conversation which
showed that he was as capable of gaining his ends in the
drawing-room as in the cabinet. The hotel of Marshal Ney,
which looked upon the Seine, was prepared for him as Napo
leon's guest, and the Emperor's establishment of servants was
ordered to attend him. Every Austrian was welcomed to
Count Metternich's table, as weU as many foreigners.
We thus had two agreeable homes on each side of the Seine.
But the invitations to these two houses were not confined to
Austrians only; almost every German in Paris, whether they
were ministers from the states on the Rhine, members of sove
reign and mediatised houses, people who had claims to make
or favours to acknowledge, even the German artists and men of
letters— all clustered round the Austrian embassy to take part
in its social and other advantages ; so that never before or
since have German interests had so effective a raUying point.
As an Austrian officer, I had free access to this briUiant and
agreeable society, but other circumstances placed me on the
most intimate terms with several members of it; and I
found that, notwithstanding the apparently friendly relations
with the French, there was at bottom a thoroughly German
feeUng, a decided objection to our new aUies, and a strong par-
tiaHty for every thing German. So determined was the hos-

110 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. x.
tiUty to Napoleon, that men looked with more pleasure to past
discomfitures than to the present alliance, and rejoiced in the
prospect of future war. It was not difficult for poUticians
and courtiers, long accustomed to sudden changes, to outward
forms, thus to conceal their real feelings. ' Napoleon himself
set them an example ; his conduct showed that, although' he
placed great value upon the Austrian aUiance, in as much as
it flattered him, and raised his importance in the eyes of the
world, he by no means intended it to act as a restraint upon
his actions : mere forms of civility were kept up, but in reaUty
he was as hard and determined an enemy as ever. Our here
ditary disUke of Napoleon was shared by a large portion of the
French themselves — and that the most important and influential
— not only by the old royalists, who were about the court, but
even by men who owed every thing to the revolution or to Na
poleon. They looked to the support of a foreign court to back
them up in their opposition and Ul-will to the government, and
pretended that their zeal for Austria was assumed for Napo
leon's service, and from a desire to flatter him. Moreover, th'ey
were perfectly confident that, if they went too far, their secret
would be kept inviolate. Napoleon's power rested on such
frail foundations, that, out of the number of those about his
person whom he had promoted and enriched, there were only
three or four, such as Duroc, Rapp, and Savary, on whose
attachment he could rely.
But. other pleasures besides politics and general society
occupied my time. On the first evening of my arrival I found
my friend, Chamisso; afterwards Bekker, the celebrated phy
sician Koreff, Ludwig Uhland, and Sieveking. To these old
friends I soon added others, among whom I may mention Dr.
Gall, and Alexander von Humboldt. We generally passed the
day together, and managed to join profit with amusement. We
met every day regularly in the Musee Napoleon, from whence
we sallied forth on our expeditions, and passed a Ufe of great
inteUectual and social enjoyment, avoiding great assemblies as
much as we could. Our evenings were usuaUy spent at Fras-
cati's or in a garden in the Rue Richer, where Henriette Men
delsohn, Frederick Schlegel's sister-in-law, lived and assembled
round her a smaU French and German society.

chap, x.] PRINCE SCHWARZENBERG'S BALL. Ill
Here we heard the topics of the day discussed, the baUs
which we had seen, and others which we had missed, and one
which was to exceed all others in splendour, to be given by
the Austrian Ambassador. No one could help observing the
enormous preparations going on at the hotel and in the garden ;
and we could by degrees form some idea of the gigantic scale
on which every thing was to be done. We repeatedly visited
the rooms where the carpenters were still employed ; in a few
days all this rough work would be concealed under the most
expensive hangings. The 1st of July was, after several delays,
fixed upon as the day for the ball ; the Emperor and Maria
Louisa had accepted the invitation, so that there could be no
further change. The men redoubled their exertions, and worked
day and night. Those were lucky whose turn came to work
by night, for the mid-day heat was intolerable, and made the
stones and the wood almost too hot to touch. The greatest
art was required to preserve the trees and flowers to be used
at the ball, as every thing was parched up by the heat. We
must now describe the site.
The ambassador lived in the Hotel de Montesson, a large
house with a court on one side and a garden on the other, in the
Rue de Mont Blanc. But this space was not reckoned sufficient
for the extraordinary entertainment to be given, and the
neighbouring hotel was expressly hired for the occasion. The
necessary communications were made, and the rooms duly ar
ranged for their several purposes. An immense room had been
thrown out into the garden, adjoining the reception-rooms, the
whole built of planks by artists who had constructed similar
works for former entertainments. The roof and the sides were
covered outside with cerecloth, and Uned with tapestry : mirrors,
candelabras, and coloured lariips ornamented the walls. The
pillars which separated the centre from a species of gaUery
which ran round the room, were coated with the richest stuffs,
and festoons of artificial flowers, muslin, and gauze were hung
in all directions. Gold and silver chains connected by draperies
and flowers with the other ornaments of the saloon, supported
magnificent lustres. On an elevated stage covered with a gold
embroidered carpet^ at the further extremity of the room, two

112 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. x.
thrones had been erected, in front of which the floor had been
prepared for dancing. There were three entrances : one to
wards the back, near the thrones, leading to the interior of the
house, was intended for the household ; in the front towards
the garden on the left, was a long and broad gaUery, buUt of
the same materials, and ornamented in the same manner as
the saloon, which ran aU along the back of the hotel, and
served to connect the rooms and the garden, To the right,
opposite this gaUery, a stage had been erected for the mu
sicians, the only access to which was by a staircase outside.
A handsome doorway which led directly from the garden by a
flight of broad steps, wide enough to allow the passage in and
out of a huge mass of human beings, was the chief entrance
into the saloon.
The greatest care was taken that every thing should be mag
nificent, suitable, and convenient : nothing was neglected that
could distinguish this baU from aU others. As an inscription
was to be placed over the doorway, it was determined that it
should be in the German tongue. Should the French wonder
and take offence at it, they could not dare to complain too
loudly as it was the mother tongue of their Empress, and the
Austrian embassy surely had the right, at a baU given in her
honour, to use her native language. It was easy to find space
for two Unes, but not so easy to find the verses. Many pru*
dently . declined the invidious office ; but at length two most
commonplace lines were selected, and were cut, not indeed on
stone, but on strong pasteboard. The important thing was
the German characters, and these in a transparency shone
proudly from their high position : —
"Wit fonftet ©c6otu)e't Stctj jtrafett £elbenfraft oetbunbenj
£ett ! fieil ! Me gotbne 3eit ifi roteber unS gefunben."*
The important day at length arrived, every thing was com
pleted, and even those last and most busily employed were able
to devote themselves to the adornment of their own persons ;
and here the Austrians had the advantage, as the richness and
* Bright beams soft beauty's charm with might heroic blended;
All hail the golden time wherein our storms have ended.

chap, x.] PRINCE SCHWARZENBERG'S BALL. 113
beauty of their uniforms far surpassed those of the French. The
servants, numerous as they were, had been increased by some
hundreds, and a portion of them wore the French state livery.
Early in the evening a division of the imperial guard occu
pied the post assigned to them as a guard of honour. WhUe
it was still broad day, the whole hotel, with its garden and out
houses, sparkled with thousands of lamps, and the carriages
which brought the guests drove through the masses of people
collected on both sides of the street. Parties of Austrians were
in readiness to receive the visitors as they arrived : the ladies
were presented with flowers, and led into the grand saloon.
The seats round the walls were soon filled, and the middle of
the room began to be crowded. Every moment the number of
persons remarkable for beauty, birth, and importance increased.
Kings and queens were among the company, and were expect
ing one greater than they. At length the sound of presenting
arms, the challenge of the guards, the clash of trumpets and
roll of drums, announced the approach of the Emperor and his
Empress. Their carriage dashed up to the door between the files
of soldiers. The families of Sehwarzenberg and Metternich
received their illustrious guest at the foot of the stairs. The
ambassador made a short speech, while the ladies presented
flowers to Napoleon, who handed them to his wife : then giving
Her his arm, he entered the house, accompanied by Prince
Sehwarzenberg, and followed by a crowd of people. I was near
the Emperor, and looked closely at him : for the first time I
was struck by his great beauty, and also by the power of
his iron countenance. His air was fixed, unbending, almost
cruel ; his look steadfast, and directed to the ground ; not a
trace of kindness in his manner ; and his mouth seemed ever
ready to pronounce some fearful order.
The Emperor walked through the rooms and the gallery until
he reached the saloon, where he remained a few minutes, cast
a rapid glance at every thing and every body, refused the
proffered refreshments, and spoke a few words to several per
sons near him. A flourish of trumpets accompanied his en
trance. Napoleon and the Empress accompanied Prince Sehwar
zenberg, at his invitation, into the garden, and the whole
VOL. I. i

114 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. x.
assembly followed them. Singers and musicians, distributed
at intervals behind trees and bushes, began to sing as they ap
proached. Other surprises were in store for them.
The party stopped before a well mown lawn, on which
seats had been placed for the Emperor and a few others, and
where an accurate representation of tbe chateau of Laxenburg
had been prepared. In order to recaU still more vividly to the
Empress's recoUection the scenes of her home, dancers in Aus
trian costumes suddenly appeared, and performed dances pe
culiar to the Austrian peasantry, together with a pantomime,
in which scenes of peace and war were enacted, all ending in
glory and happiness.
This was scarce over when the attention was excited by
another object. The cracking of whips and the sound of a
horse's hoofs announced the approach of a courier, who, covered
with dust, pressed into the midst of the brilliant assembly,
shouldered his way up to the Emperor, and delivered his des
patches. There was a murmur of some great victory in Spain,
but the Emperor, who was in the secret, immediately said with
a smile that the despatches came from Vienna, and handed
to the Empress a letter from her father, written for the express
purpose of being given at .this ball.
After this scene, which was not without interest, a sudden
display of fireworks attracted the attention. Art and inven
tion were taxed to the utmost, and no expense had been spared.
But in the midst of the explosions, one of the frames caught
fire, and caused a momentary alarm ; the flames, however, were
instantaneously put out. The zeal and ability of the firemen
were praised, and no one thought how soon their services would
again be required, and that they would not be crowned with
similar success.
The brilliant throng was again in motion, and, after several
turns in the garden, found itself in the saloon. All were struck
by the inscription over the doorway; it was spelt, read,
and translated. The Emperor, startled at first, ended by
laughing contemptuously, and many were the remarks made
upon the German text. The trumpets again sounded as the
Emperor and Maria Louisa entered the saloon, and took their
seats on the thrones prepared for them. The music now be-

chap, x.] PRINCE SCHWARZENBERG'S BALL. 115

gan for dancing. It was about midnight. The most brilliant
and difficult part of the evening had passed. The ball ap
peared to be kept up with great spirit, and promised to last
till morning. The Queen of Naples had opened the ball with
Prince Esterhazy, and Prince Eugene, the Viceroy of Italy,
with Princess Sehwarzenberg, the ambassador's sister-in-law.
After the quadrille, the Emperor and Maria Louisa had
walked in opposite directions round the room, addressing a
few words to several of the company whom they knew, and
to those who were presented to them for the first time. Maria
Louisa was the first to return to her seat ; the Emperor re
mained at the further end of the room, where Princess PauUne
Sehwarzenberg, the ambassador's sister-in-law, was in the act of
presenting her daughters to him, and Napoleon was addressing
a few words to those about him, when on a sudden, in the
gaUery under the piUars, and near the entrance into the great
gallery connecting the saloon with the hotel, a gust of wind
brought the flame of one of the numerous candles in contact
with a gauze curtain. The fire ran up the curtain, causing an
instantaneous blaze, which as suddenly ceased. A few sparks
remained, and so unimportant was the incident considered at
first, that Count Bentheim extinguished some of the flames
by a lucky throw of his hat, and Count Dumanoir, one
of the Emperor's chamberlains, clambering up one of the
pillars, puUed down what remained of the burning curtain.
Several sparks, however, had flown up and set fire to some
hangings which were out of reach : the flames spread rapidly
among the inflammable materials, and reached the roof. The
music ceased, the musicians, who were the first threatened,
quitted their stage in alarm ; the door communicating with the
outward air, let in a blast of wind which fed the flames. The
dancers dispersed, — all were, in confusion, and sought to dis
cover what had already happened, and how it was all to end.
Napoleon had seen the whole incident, and was, therefore,
far from suspecting any treachery ; he went up to the Em
press and watched the progress of the flames with a quiet
countenance. His devoted adherents, who at first suspected
treason, hurried round him, and drew their swords. Th&

116 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. x.
Austrian ambassador, who preserved his calmness and dignity,
kept close to the Emperor, and when he saw that the flames
were rapidly spreading in all directions, urged him to quit the
room. Napoleon, without answering, gave his arm to the
Empress, and foUowed the ambassador to the gate leading into
the garden, warning the company, as he walked along, to act
with order and discretion. Every body behaved well until the
Emperor was safe ; and then all order ceased, and the struggUng
mass rushed, panic stricken, towards the door.
When Prince Sehwarzenberg learnt that Napoleon intended
to go home, he prudently sent an adjutant to desire the Em
peror's carriage to draw up at a small side door in a back street
adjoining the garden. The greatest confusion prevailed in
front of the hotel, whereas the Emperor might go away un-
perceived by the backway, and frustrate any attempt upon
his Ufe, were any such intended. But when Napoleon per
ceived the direction in which they were leading him, he
stopped, asked whither they were going, and not approving of
this plan, said shortly and decisively, " No, I will go by the
proper entrance." He turned short round and ordered the
carriage, which had already reached the back street, to return
to its original place. By this means, much time was lost, which
Prince Sehwarzenberg passed in great uneasiness, although
with an outwardly calm countenance, while Napoleon waited
with great patience. He thought that any attempt upon his
life would be more difficult in the front than in some small
back street. The statement in the " Moniteur," that Napoleon
entered his carriage by the garden gate, Uke many other
accounts of that event, is quite erroneous.
All these circumstances were told to me by immediate eye-wit
nesses. I will now relate what I myself personally saw and felt.
The heat was so intolerable in the saloon, that I had gone
into the long gaUery for fresh air, when the noise of music and
dancing suddenly ceased, and I heard screams and loud con
fused sounds: I turned round, intending to return to the
saloon, and saw flames spreading in aU directions. There was
no time for thought or action, — a mass of human beings, pres
sing upon me, carried me with them in their flight. Several
powerful-looking generals were exclaiming with terror, " My

chap, x.] PRINCE SCHWARZENBERG'S BALL. 117
God, — the Emperor ! — the Emperor is in danger : " others were
calling out for water ; I was so entangled with them, that it
was only in the third room that I could extricate myself from
the throng, and retrace my steps towards the scene of horror.
Most of the people had abeady escaped out of the gaUery
into the garden, the entrance to which was no longer crowded.
But the doors of the saloon, which was now one sheet of fire,
were still encumbered with people struggling to escape from
the flames and stifling smoke. Heavy lustres fell with a crash ;
the lath and plaster partitions, the boarding and beams, were
burning and tumbling in all directions : the whole room was
one mass of fire and destruction. The wood and the inflam
mable materials with which the saloon had been ornamented,
caused it to burn with prodigious fierceness, the buckets of
water that were poured upon it merely hissed and went off in
steam ; every thing seemed to add fuel to the flames. AU this
took place in a shorter time than I have taken to describe it.
In a few moments the roof of the gallery was in flames, the
draperies, lamps, and lustres were falling close behind me,
and scarce time was left to escape into the garden.
The most frightful scenes were here taking place. The
new buildings were ene mass of flame. The terror was uni
versal : anguish and anxiety had taken the place of aU thoughts
of pleasure. Men, in search of those nearest and dearest to them,
were rushing through the crowd ; all had personal objects in
view, and recklessly pushed aside every impediment to their
search. Husbands sought their wives, mothers their daughters :
they had last seen them standing up to dance, or had dragged
them some distance, and then been forced to leave their hold.
No one knew the other's fate ; here were people overcome with
grief, — there they were rushing wildly into each other's arms in
excess of joy, — some were fainting, others wounded and bleed
ing. The wooden stairs had given way under the weight of
those escaping from the fire ; many had fallen down and were
trampled under foot, injured by the faUing timber, or se
riously burnt. The Queen of Naples had been saved by the
Grand Duke of Wurzburg, the Queen of Westphalia by her
husband and Count Metternich. The Russian ambassador
I 3

118 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. x.
had been dragged fainting from the crowd by Doctor Koreff
and others ; and his burning clothes extinguished with the first
water they could find. Many women were dangerously burnt.
In the midst of this turmoil were seen servants and workmen
of all sorts ; aU distinction of ranks was at an end — stars and
orders were forgotten — royal birth overlooked. The firemen,
summoned from their supper, rudely elbowed the aristocratic
crowd; the opera dancers, in their paint and tinsel, pressed
forward among noble dames, to gratify their curiosity, — no one
.remarked this assumption of equality.
Prince Joseph Sehwarzenberg had pressed his daughter to his
bosom; he found her in the garden, saved, but much hurt.
He then, in a state bordering on desperation, sought after his
missing wife. His daughter had been by her side, tiU a falUng
beam separated them, and she then lost sight of her mother. We
pannot do better than quote from Major von Prokesch's "Memoirs
of the Sehwarzenberg Family" the foUowing circumstances.
" Prince Joseph was standing near the Empress when the fire
broke out. At the first cry of danger he returned to the room
where the dancers were, and pointed out to Prince Eugene and
to his wife a side door by which they might escape. The room
was already untenable from flames and smoke. He ran up
and down in vain — he could not find his wife. He reached
the stairs leading into the garden without accident. He asked
every one whom he met, whether he had seen his wife : some
said, they had, others, that she was certainly in the garden.
' There she is,' said one. He rushed to the spot, and found
some one strikingly Hke her. Despair took possession of him.
The torture of suspense was beyond bearing ; he was almost
certain of her fate, — a terrible death by fire. He returned to the
-saloon. The stairs had given way ; the crowd were tumbling
pne over the other. His child was brought to him terribly
burnt. His brother's wife was carried past him, the ornaments
trodden from her head. He sees suddenly Ughted up by the
fitful flames a figure half burnt ; it was Princess von der Leyen.
A Swede who had saved her assured the bystanders that he
had seen a woman wandering about in the midst of the flames,
a frightful and ghastly sight. Prince Joseph approached the
doorway, and attempted to climb over the burning rafters. At

chap, x.] PRINCE SCHWARZENBERG'S BALL. 119

this moment the whole flooring of the room gave way with a
duU hollow sound ; volumes of smoke and flame burst forth —
aU was lost."
So ends this account. From the commencement of the fire
to this particular moment, barely a quarter of an hour had
elapsed, and I was aU the time present at the spot. The
various services to be rendered to those who were seeking their
friends, or who were injured — the rapidity with which the
whole scene passed — scarce allowed time to note each par
ticular event. But a tolerably correct account could be got
from one's own individual observation, compared and corrected
by that of other witnesses. The statement of the " Moniteur,"
that Princess Sehwarzenberg was seen in the garden, talking
with the King of WestphaUa, Prince Borghese, and Count
Regnauld, is certainly not true. It was easy to confound her
with others ; moreover, the report may have been spread from
a kind motive. But when Monsieur de Bausset states, in his
"Memoires," " On vit s'elancer une femme jeune, belle, d'une faille
elegante, .... poussant des cris douloureux, des oris de mere;"
and when he proceeds further to describe the " desolante appa
rition,'' he allows his poetical imagination to get the better of
him. No one saw or spoke to the unfortunate Princess out in
the garden ; no one saw her return into the saloon. To return
was simply impossible. At first the rush of people flying from
destruction, afterwards the scorching heat,' would have pre
vented such a proceeding. Such was the intensity of the fire,
that no one could approach within ten feet of the entrance
without danger of being stifled ; it was scarce possible even to
look at the burning mass. At first the Princess's fate was not
suspected ; it was taken for granted that she was safe some
where, either in the garden or in a neighbouring house. She
was sought and inquired after in aU directions by her unhappy
husband. Meanwhile the saloon and the gaUeries were burnt to the
ground, and the fire threatened destruction to the hotel itself.
The archives were saved with considerable difficulty. AU the
Austrians present were busy with buckets of water, or helped
to remove papers. Hats and swords were thrown aside, as weU
I 4

120 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. x.
as our uniforms, which were completely spoilt by the smoke
and water, and were moreover oppressively hot.
Nearly all the company had retired ; the Austrians, some few
intimate friends, and several French officials, still remained ex
amining this scene of woe. Instead of the well-dressed guests,
a strong detachment of Imperial guards took possession of every
avenue leading to the hotel, and fiUed the court and garden.
This evidence of military power struck the imagination. The
following incident made a stronger impression.
The Emperor went with Maria Louisa as far as the Champs
Elysees, where her carriages and suite were waiting to conduct
her to St. Cloud ; he then returned with an adjutant. His un
expected appearance in his grey great coat produced immediate
silence. He ordered all strangers to leave the place, the streets
to be guarded, and took prompt measures against the further
spread of the fire. The stream of water from one of the engines
nearly knocked him down, but he took no notice of it. The
most vigilant search was still continued after the missing Prin
cess. At the same time a strict inquiry was made into the
conduct and appliances of the officials. The head of the police,
Count Dubois, had a hard duty — he was expected to know
every thing, to be prepared for every thing, and to give an ac
count of every thing. Napoleon's rough severity sharpened the
wily officer's zeal : he attempted to exculpate himself, rushed to
aU sides with his orders, entreaties, and questions, returned
again to the Emperor, and received with extreme humility new
reproaches and harsher words. But the chief of the firemen
was the worst used of all. Count Hulin, who wished to show
his zeal, and to find some object upon which Napoleon's wrath
could vent itself, struck the wretched man several times with
his fist, and even went so far as to kick him. It ended by the
man's imprisonment, and subsequent ignominious dismissal
from office. He may have been guilty of some neglect, — the
appliances were not ready, or of much service at first, — but it
was generally said that even when Napoleon quitted the saloon
— and before this the firemen had not even been summoned, —
no human power could have saved the burning buildings.
Meanwhile, the endeavours to find some traces of the missing
Princess continued unabated. The courtiers and others attached

chvp. x.] PRINCE SCHWARZENBERG'S BALL. 121
to Napoleon went here and there, messengers were despatched
in every direction — not a trace of her could be discovered.
The house of every friend and connexion, every corner of the
garden was searched ; the burning ruins were examined — aU
in vain. The miserable husband wandered about, the picture
of despair ; his bodily strength was exhausted, but the torture
of his mind urged him to fresh exertions. The attempts to quiet
him were fruitless — even the Emperor's presence, and the
words he addressed to him, were totally unheeded.
Napoleon, tired out by the fruitless search, and having no
further cause to stay, now that the fire was nearly extinguished,
returned to St. Cloud. The grenadiers, however, prepared to
bivouack on the ground ; and seldom does it happen that soldiers
fare so sumptuously — the meats and wines prepared for the
company were distributed among them.
We likewise, worn out by work and excitement, thought of
refreshment, and sat down at the nearest table. Then it was
that we compared notes, and filled up from the experience of
others the blanks in our own observations. Every one had
much to ask and more to tell, — much that was dreadful was
known, but more still remained doubtful.
A storm which had been gathering over head, now burst
with violence. The Ughtning flashed, the thunder roUed, the
houses trembled, the rain poured down in torrents, and effec
tually put out the smouldering fire.
After a while the storm passed away, and morning began to
break. A certain restlessness drove us out to view the scene of
what appeared to have been a horrid dream. We were but few,
and separated into several parties. I walked over the spot,
which was now a heap of sooty embers, — beams reduced to a
cinder, heaps of stone, bits of furniture and crockery, and pools of
dirty water, were all that remained of the brUliant ball-room.
We found bits of chandeUers, broken swords, bracelets, and
other ornaments melted by the heat. Not far from where I was,
Count Hulin and Dr. Gall were turning over the rubbish. Sud
denly Count Hulin stopped short, looked aghast at something
before him, and I heard him say with a low voice, " Doctor GaU,
come here : — this is a human body ! " I stiU remember with
horror the thrilUng tone in which these words were said ; every

122 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. (chap. x.
nerve was affected, and my breast heaved with anguish. GaU
and I went to the spot in silence, and endeavoured to convince
ourselves of the fact. It was only by degrees that we made out
the truth. A corpse, blackened and shrivelled up with fire, lay
half covered with cinders — the features could not be dis
tinguished ; indeed, it required some effort of the imagination to
discover that it was a human figure at aU : one breast had acci
dentally lain in a pool of water, and its dazzUng whiteness con
trasted in a strange and horrible manner with the rest of the
blackened corpse. Although accustomed to sights of horror, I
involuntarily started back from this. GaU looked more closely
into the sort of hole, and thought that he recognised Princess
Sehwarzenberg. A few rings and a necklace, found on the
corpse, were sent to the ambassador, who was in another part of
the garden. There could no longer be any doubt ; for the
necklace bore the names of her children ; she had eight, and
a ninth, stiU unborn, shared her fate. When the horrible
certainty flashed upon us, our courage left us ; we bowed our
heads in sorrow, and found reUef in tears. Two vivid flashes
of lightning, and a long roUing peal of distant thunder, shook
the atmosphere — they were the last.
It was now our duty to communicate the fact to Prince
Joseph Sehwarzenberg, and to give directions for the funeral.
The position in which the body was found induced us to hope
that the unfortunate princess had not been burnt aUve. Seeing
no chance of escape by the principal entrance, owing to the
dense crowd, it is possible that she may have attempted to
reach the inner rooms of the hotel by some side door, — have
fallen in her flight, and been stifled by the smoke before the
flames came near her. When the flooring gave way, she fell
with it into the water in which she was found.
We quitted this scene of woe and destruction ; but any at
tempts to sleep were vain : the most frightful dreams caused us
to start up and meet the frightful truth. The streets, which
had been crowded during the night, were now fiUed with people
following their daily pursuits.
AU Paris was in a state of violent excitement. The glare of
the fire had spread the news far and wide. Some suspected
that the Emperor's life had been attempted, or that some con-

chap, x.] PRINCE SCHWARZENBERG'S BALL. 123
spiracy had broken out — the uncertainty made them more
anxious. It was very generally supposed that the fire was
intentional, and that Napoleon's domestic and foreign foes had
intended, by a bold stroke, to get rid at once of their odious ruler,
of his whole famUy, and devoted adherents. So strong was this
impression, that it was difficult to eradicate it, and the ac
counts and witnesses to the contrary were heard with sus
picion. It was only at the end of three days that the account
in the " Moniteur" appeared, and this even did not quite satisfy
men's doubts. But, in the end, these groundless suspicions
gave way before the concurrent testimony of so many wit
nesses and the evidence which Napoleon's subsequent conduct
bore to their truth ; and the accidental nature of the fire was
aeknowledged in Franee as elsewhere.
Now foUowed a suppession of melanoholy days, during whioh
nothing but the terrible event and its possible consequences
were discussed. Princess Pauline Sehwarzenberg was buried
with the usual ceremonies. Then followed the funerals of
Princess von der Leyen, Made. Touzard, and of several other
women of high rank who died in the course of the next few days,
after suffering excruciating agonies. Altogether about twenty
persons died, and above sixty were more or less injured. The
young Princess PauUne Sehwarzenberg, who narrowly escaped
the fate of her mother, lay dangerously ill for many weeks ; and
the Ufe of Prince Kurakin, the Russian ambassador, was for
some time despaired of. The loss in jewels was reckoned at
some miUions of francs. The Austrian ambassador, whose own
losses were the greatest, took upon himself to replace what was
damaged or burnt.
The impression made by the event was deep and pregnant
with mischief. Gloomy aUusions were made to the misfortunes
attending the marriage of the Dauphin, afterwards Louis XVI.,
and Marie Antoinette, and to their fearful end. This last
tragedy at Prince Schwarzenberg's betokened that some fa
tality attended any union with Austria. Napoleon's subsequent
career gave a colour of truth to these superstitious forebodings.

124 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xr.

CHAPTER XI.
Berthier. — The Battle of Marengo. — Denon  Cardinal Maury. — The
Salle des Ambassadeurs  Reception at Court  Napoleon's Manner. —
Sudden Outbreak of Temper. — The Emperor's Departure. — General
Relief. 1810.
We had now been at Paris some time, and as yet there had
been no diplomatic reception. One was at last announced, and
we were to be presented to Napoleon. Meanwhile Prince
Sehwarzenberg had introduced us to several men of high rank
about the court, among others to Berthier, Prince of Neufchatel
and Wagram, as he was then called. At Berthier's we found a
good many people ; the men dispersed about the room talking,
the women sitting in great state, apparently not much amused.
Count von Neipperg and I were the only strangers, and we
were seized upon with eagerness. Berthier's manner was most
friendly ; it was gentle and engaging, with that pecuUar repose
which so often is found in men of great power. He pleased me
exceedingly, and I by no means agreed with those who thought
that he was not gifted with intelUgence of a high order. Energy,
confidence, and experience were engraven on his earnest face, and
his language was clear and forcible. General Neipperg turned
the conversation upon the battle of Marengo, and some incidents
were discussed with vehemence. Berthier had written a special
account of the battle, in which there were great blunders of
omission as weU as of commission, which had evidently been
inserted to please the Emperor. It was generally said that
much praise had been given to General Desaix, which properly
belonged to others who were still living, but whom it would
have been inconvenient to Napoleon to have rewarded. Berthier
had a hard contest to maintain with the well-informed Neipperg,
but he managed very well, and constantly brought fresh state
ments' and arguments to bear upon the subject, and as at Ma
rengo, in spite of the advantages of the Austrians, the victory

chap, xi.] NAPOLEON'S COURT. 125
remained with the French, Berthier clearly had the best of
the argument notwithstanding Neipperg's superior knowledge.
When he was reminded how doubtful the contest was after
Desaix had already fallen, and how Napoleon himself had
despaired, Berthier replied, that the general was perfectly right,
even if the battle were quite lost, adding : — " Cest toujour -s apres
les succes que je crains le plus dans la guerre, et rien de si dan-
gereux que le commencement d'une victoire." Several women
now joined us, and the conversation was interrupted.
It was much to Berthier's honour, that in spite of his princely
rank and great wealth, he retained his old manners with his
former companions, and was moderate in his habits. Although
devoted to Napoleon, he was by no means cringing, like Davoust
and many others. Bernadotte, on the other hand, was said to
laugh with his habitual light-heartedness at the manners of the
court, and not to conceal his amusement at Napoleon's as
sumption of pomp and ceremony. He stuck fast to his repub-
Hcanism, and lived on the most intimate terms with his old
companions in arms.
Berthier asked us how we had amused ourselves in Paris, and
whether we had seen all the exhibitions of the works of art.
Hereupon an old French general, whose name I forget, began to
discuss the Musee Napoleon, and wondered how it was that so
few of the works of art had reached Paris ; adding, that as he
had seen three times the number packed up, a great many must
have disappeared on the road. The following example will
show how carelessly these things were managed. Napoleon had
ordered a monument, commemorating the victory of the Prussians
at Rossbach, to be taken from the spot where it stood, and sent
to France. The monument itself was worthless as a work of
art — a mere column of sandstone — but as a memorial of miU-
tary glory, it was of the highest value. This column disap
peared, and was nowhere to be heard of. Napoleon stormed,
inquiries were made on aU sides, Chamisso was privately asked
what it was like, and the French had even some notion of sub
stituting a false one. At length, the real column was unex
pectedly discovered at Brest — no one knew exactly how it got
there ; and it now stands in its original place, a double monument
of Prussian valour.

126 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap, xi
At Berthier's house I again saw Denon, who, in spite of all
his friendliness of manner, made an unpleasant impression upon
me ; in his habit habille, with a dress sword and laced ruffles, he
looked like a dressed-up ape. An adjutant of Napoleon's, whom
I had known at Vienna, who now had some civil office about
the Emperor's court, and whom in his military uniform I had
always thought a very good-looking feUow, seemed to be mas
querading, with his red embroidered court dress. But to make
the company stiU more gaudy, a couple of ecclesiastics came
into the room with their red stockings, and appeared to rejoice
mightUy in the few spare minutes of society which were now
allowed them. Meanwhile Berthier had gone into the ante
chamber, and had left the company for a moment. As the ec
clesiastics were going away, one of them — who happened to be
Cardinal Maury — whispered into my ear, with a pecuUar ex
pression, — "Nous avons beaucoup de joie de vous voir ici!" I
looked at him in amazement ; why should he say privately and
with secret joy what he might perfectly have said openly as a
common-place compUment ? But he evidently referred to the
circumstance that Austria had lately made strong representa
tions in favour of the Pope.
The first reception after the fire at Prince Schwarzenberg's
took place on Sunday the 22d of July ; it was expected to be
a very brUliant one. I had often seen Napoleon at Berlin, Vi
enna, and Schonbrunn, but never near enough for his counte
nance to remain strongly impressed on my memory. The terrible
events at Prince Schwarzenberg's ball had obliterated his fea
tures from my recoUection. I therefore consider that this day
of reception was the first time that I reaUy saw him thoroughly
and closely. The opportunities I afterwards had of seeing him
frequently at the Tuileries, and more especially at the dramatic
representations at St. Cloud, where Talma, Fleury, and Made
moiselle Raucourt acted before the court, only confirmed my
previous impressions.
We drove to the TuUeries, and made our way, through a great
crowd of guards and people, to a room caUed the Salle des Am-
bassadeurs. The manner in which so many distinguished men
were penned up in this small space, was unpleasant but laugh
able, and was not lost upon the Parisians. Officers in gorgeous

chap, xi.] NAPOLEON'S COURT. 127

uniforms were working their way with great difficulty amid
Hvery servants bearing refreshments. Conversation was loud
and animated ; every one was trying to find their acquaintances
and more room. There was no appearance of dignity or cere
mony worthy of the occasion ; every one looked uncomfortable
and bored. The only people whose appearance did not belie their
station were the members of the Austrian embassy. Prince
Sehwarzenberg especially had a noble appearance ; his manners
were easy without languor, and earnest without pomposity ; his
whole conduct made a striking contrast to the ridiculous activity
and glib insignificance of so many others, especially of those
courtiers who, having foUowed the popular current, had now
been left behind in the race, which was the fate of many
present. If these people, with their crosses and smart clothes,
and in the circle in which their nature and education intended
them to move, made so wretched a figure, what was to be
expected of them in the councils of princes, in high offices
of trust in the camp ? These thoughts struck me the more,
because I now found the French court, which had been de
scribed as the seat of all that was dignified and imposing, to
be the picture of disorder and ridicule.
At length the time approached, and every one rushed towards
the doors ; ushers, pages, and guards fiUed the passages and the
antechamber. Even here the soldiers seemed to be the only
people who knew their business, and these had learnt it, not
from courtiers, but from their corporals.
A half circle was formed in the audience chamber, and we
waited till the cry of VEmpereur announced Napoleon's ap
proach. He was dressed in a plain blue uniform, with his
small cocked hat under his arm, and slowly advanced towards us
from the end of the room. He had the air of one exercising a
strong restraint upon himself, in order to conceal his contempt
for those from whom he had some object to obtain. He wished
to make a favourable impression, but nature had denied him
ease of manner, and it was scarce worth the trouble to assume
it. Hence there was an incessant contest going on within
him. He first addressed the Austrian ambassador, who was
at one end of the half circle, and the conversation turned
on the unfortunate ball. Napoleon intended to express sym-

128 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xi.
 —  :  a 
pathy, but failed in conveying his meaning. His manner
was less friendly towards the Russian ambassador, Prince-
Kurakin ; and lower down the circle he must have heard or
seen something to annoy him, for he lost his temper, and nearly
annihilated the minister of some second-rate power, whose
name I cannot at this moment recall, by his furious manner.
Those who were near enough to witness this scene afterwards
asserted that no cause whatever had been given for this sudden
outbreak of temper, and that Napoleon had selected this un
lucky wight upon whom to vent his wrath, in order to keep
the others in wholesome dread.
As he proceeded further down the circle he tried to be more
gentle, but his ill-humour was constantly showing itself. He
spoke in a short hasty tone, and even when he intended to be
kind, he always looked as if he were angry. I scarce ever heard
so rough or so unpleasant a voice as Napoleon's.
His eyes were gloomily fixed upon the ground, and occa
sionaUy glanced rapidly from one person to another. When
he smUed, the smile played only about the mouth and cheeks,
the eyes remaining immovably fixed. If by an effort he suc
ceeded in forcing the smile into the upper part of his face, his
countenance grew still more repulsive. There was something
awful in this union of smiles and sternness. I cannot understand
what those people mean who say that they found his countenance
captivating from its pleasant and kindly expression. His features,
undeniably classical and beautiful, were hard and fixed as marble,
and incapable of expressing confidence, or any generous emotion.
What he said, at least whenever I heard him, was insig
nificant in substance and expression, without force, wit, or
clearness, — sometimes it was common-place and ridiculous.
Faber, in his Notices sur VInterieur de la France, has written
at some length on the questions which Napoleon was in the
habit of asking on particular occasions, and which received an
undue share of praise for knowledge and acuteness. I had not
then seen the book, but I afterwards found my own views con
firmed. Napoleon's speeches were frequently like those of a
schoolboy, who, not quite sure of knowing his lesson, is con
stantly muttering to himself the part he is afraid of forget
ting. This is accurately true of a visit he made to the

chap, xi.] NAPOLEON'S COURT. K9
royal Hbrary : all the way up the stairs he kept asking for the
passage in Josephus in which our Saviour is mentioned, ap
parently with the view of showing his learning. It looked
almost as if he had got his lesson by heart. He once asked
some man from the north of Germany whence he came ; and on
his answering from some country near Holland, Napoleon ex
claimed, with a satisfied air, " Ah! je sais bien; c'est du nord,
c'est de la. Hollande!" He was not so fortunate with Lacepede,
at the collection of natural history, where, to the consternation
of Maria Louisa and of the naturaUst, he mistook the came-
leopard for a bird. Napoleon's attempts to, shine in society
were often ridiculous, and his failure in this department was as
remarkable as his success in others. His chief pleasure eonsisted
in wounding people's feeUngs ; and, when he attempted to say
agreeable things, the result was at best utter insignificance.
I remember hearing him, at St. Cloud, repeat the same
phrase twenty times over to a whole row of ladies, — " 11 fait
chaud." It is perfectly true that several strong nervous expressions are
attributed to him, and his orders were mostly terse and vigorous ;
but even these indicate power rather than any other quality,
and their importance is derived from the high station of their
author. Several happy expressions given to him by the
hangers-on at court, properly belong to others, who sedulously
repudiated their own property. When he spoke continuously
on any question, he was apt, by mixing up too many subjects,
to be wanting in method, precision, and clearness. He never,
it is true, lost sight of the objects he had in view ; but he at
tained them not by his speeches, but by his unrivalled talents
as a commander, and by the power of his iron wiU. His real
greatness consisted in these qualities, and he has no need of
others to make him one of the most extraordinary men that ever
appeared. The gift of eloquence, common to Alexander, Caesar,
and Frederick, was foreign to Napoleon's nature and inteUect.
It was for this reason that Napoleon was so sensitive and
angry when any biting and clever satire was pubUshed against
him. A witty song drove him half mad. About this time a
baUad on his second marriage was handed about* ; although in
Vide page 161.
VOL. I. K

130 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xi.
the language of the common people, it evidently was written by
a man of education. Napoleon saw his majesty and splendour
defiled by a vulgar ballad, and panted for revenge; • The
poUce, however, were at fault ; they could neither discover the
author nor the distributors of the satire. It had been sent to
me by the post, ; I had read it to several friends, and knew it by
heart. Exaetly as the Emperor came near where I stood, the
verses and the tune came unbidden to my memory,- and the
more I tried to forget them, the faster did the natural agitation
of the moment force them to my lips, — when, fortunately, the
reception was at an end, and Napoleon left the room. He
(Hd not speak to me, but fixed a searching glance on me as he
went by.
After the Emperor's departure we all breathed freely again,
as if a heavyweight had been taken off. The conversation
became loud and general as before, and the loudest of all were
the hangers-on of the French court, who made amends for their
previous silent dread by loud hilarity. The stairs down which
we went resounded with witty observations, and bursts of
laughter, having for their subject the reception at court.
, Napoleon was great, where he was reaUyhimself, at the head
of an army. But when he attempted to act a part out of his
own pecuUar Hne, he faUed signally, and deceived none but
the weak and the ignorant. The impression left by his memory
on the present generation is fkr stronger than that which he
made on his own. It sounds strange, but it is nevertheless
true, that neither the lower nor the upper classes, in Paris —
not even his own immediate adherents — had any real reverence
for him, or considered him a man of the highest order.

xn.] THE MUSEE NAPOLEON. 181

CHAPTER XH.
Paris  Musee Napoleon. — Musee des Monumens Francais. — The Lux
emburg Palace. — The Hall of the Senate. — Prix decennaux.  Musee
d' A rt il lerie. — The Imperial Library. — Versailles, St. Cloud, and Mal-
maison  Talma. — The. Empress Josephine. — Jean Jacques Rousseau.
— Life in Paris. — Parisian Advertisements. — State of Parties. — French
itinerant Mountebank. — Pulpit and Bar Eloquence.— - The Comedian
Brunet. — Epigrams on Napoleon's Marriage. _ Breakfast at Count Met
ternich 's. — Scene in the Cafe de Valois.— Madame de Genlis.— Boule
vards des Italiens. 1810,
One of the first people I visited in Paris was Chamisso, whose
Surprise and joy were great, as he had no. idea i>f my coming,
and had no other friend to fall back upon. , . With him I made
frequent expeditions: he knew Paris, and loved it weU ; and it
was a matter of pride with him to be the .first to show me aU
its remarkable sights. We glanced at the principal buUdings-
and monuments ; we walked over the Boulevards* Quais,
pubUc places, the Palais Royal, and the TuUeries Gardens,
before we satisfied our impatience by seeing the treasures of
antique art and the pictures. By these we were quite fas-
einated, and did not quit the Louvre so soon as we had in
tended. We felt that this was a sight of the greatest interest,.
not only for Paris, but for the whole world ; Paris had nothing
to do with it beyond appidentally happening to be , the city
in which these things were to be seen. We felt constantly more
and more strongly attracted to this collection of treasures, and
scarce a day passed on which we did not meet there. As-
those times have now become historical, and great changes
have since occurred, I cannot do better than give my im
pressions as they were written down at the time.
The greater portion of this rich coUeetion, whieh was .here
united under the name of the Musee Napoleon, had been obtained
K 2

132 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xn.
by plunder from Italy, Germany, HoUand, and some few
pictures from Spain. Our first impression was, that we stood
before some great monument of Victory, or were witnessing a
triumph of ancient Rome, for every thing here was arranged
more with a view to glory than to art. Many were the proofs
of how little these inestimable works were valued for them
selves. The rain was allowed free entrance, and had injured
several pictures ; but many more were spoilt by whitewash and
dust, as the pictures were neither removed nor covered up
while bricklayers and carpenters were at work close by them.
Many of the pictures were cracked by the action of the sharp
air which penetrated through the thin walls and iU-fitting
windows, and in several' places the surface had been injured.
A still larger number were ruined by the process of cleaning ;
among others, the celebrated Madonna deUa Sedia, from which
the colours had nearly disappeared, and which those who had
previously seen, could scarcely recognise. Above a thousand
pictures, and these some of the greatest and best, stood by
dozens covered with dust, and leaning one against the other in
a roorii where some workmen were employed sawing, planing,
and hammering, while whitewash and stones were lying about
in all directions, and thousands of men were daily passing to
and fro. It was perfectly right, no doubt, that every one should
have free access to this gallery ; but I own that it caused me
a bitter pang when I saw whole swarms of fishwives, soldiers,
porters, and peasants in their sabots, with their hats on their
heads, and their tobacco-pipes in their mouths, coarsely jesting,
shouldering and pushing each other among these works of
genius. As if to spare this collection no indignity, Denon
had undertaken a series of engravings, which showed total
ignorance and misconception on his part, accompanied with
a great parade of learning. For a display of booty aU this
was well enough ; but a sanctuary of art required care, and far
different management.
Of the nine rooms opening one into the other, which formed
the long gaUery of the Louvre, one was filled with French,
four with German and Dutch, and four, besides a large ante
chamber, with Italian pictures. Most of the French pictures
belonged originally to France, still some few were obtained by

chap, xn.] THE MUSl^E NAPOLEON. 133

plunder: for example, the four glorious Claude Lorraines-
from Cassel ; these, however, were not in the Louvre, but at
Malmaison. The pictures of the Dutch school came chiefly
from the Hague ; the German, from Niirnberg, Augsburg, .
Vienna, Cassel, Berlin, Potsdam, Dantzick, and other towns ;
and the Italian pictures were plundered from various cities -in
Italy, where for ages they had been the pride and object of
reverence of the whole nation. Some of these pictures were
the highly-prized treasure of the community, or of the munici-
paUty, by whose order the artist had especially painted them for
some particular niche, in -yhich they had remained ever since.
With what sad feelings did I now stand before these pictures,
when I compared the noble simplicity and quiet grandeur of
the German school, and the genius, power, and glowing colouring
of the Italians, with the coarse minds of these people, who
merely felt their vanity gratified, and a vulgar astonishment
excited by this spectacle! Truly these elect children of a
godlike art would not have done amiss, had they suffered their
life-like colours to melt away into the paleness of death, and
thus rescued themselves from profanation.
This feeling of profanation struck me with still greater
strength at sight of the ancient statues on the ground-floor of
the Musee. Perhaps among all the objects which one had
rather not see in Paris, there were none the effect of which
was so spoilt, I may almost say annihilated, as these highest
productions of ancient art. The narrow, dark, dirty rooms,
the hateful ceilings, covered with gaudy allegorical or mytho
logical paintings, the bad light, the ill-placed statues, —
all this produced the very worst effect, which was further in
creased by the masses of vulgar people who crowded in on the
pubUc days, and crawled about like worms in the presence
of these deities. Statues never affected me less than in Paris.
I have stiU a vivid recollection of the powerful manner
in which the first sight of such things moved me two years
before in Dresden, how smaU the pictures were in comparison
with the sculpture, and how exquisite I thought the marble
itself. I felt no such effect here ! I stood without pleasure,
nay, almost suffering, dull and unmoved before this concourse
of divinities ; before the Apollo of Belvidere, the Venus of
K s

134 ' WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xn.
Medici, the Laocoon, and other celebrated statues ; the mere
mention of, whose names in worthless books of travels, the
sight of which in wretched engravings, had formerly awakened
in me the strongest, emotions : moreover, I was punished by
the, conviction that ifi did not feel duly excited, the fault was
not in the statues of the gods, but in me. I appeared to myself
as- one. of the: barbarians who had so angered me. I walked
about the rooms daily with Chamisso, with Bekker, with
Sieveking, and with Bartholdy, without being able to find
the right feeling for the statues, and I perceived that
these several men did not bringjto this wonderful coUec,-
tion of ancient art any more feeling than I did ; I was not
to be deceived by Chamisso's exaggerated expressions, nor-
by Bartholdy's more quiet artist-like sentences. Bekker alone-
seemed by education and feeling niore just in his appreci
ation- of this antique world, and far more devoted to it than
we were. The ApoUo, above aU the others, overcame the in^
fliience under which we suffered, and his god-like beauty and
anger shone out in their full glory. The famous Venus of
Medici had less effect upon me ; in this place she: seemed no
goddess, but a shameless courtezan. The glorious Diana, the
noble Juno, the gigantic Muse,—- to all these we paid due
worship. But next to the ApoUo, the two colossal river
gods, the* Tiber and the Nile, attracted me most; and I could
never take my eyes off these works, so full of wondrous beauty,
-and of deep and powerful expression.
We were told that the beauty of the ApoUo had taken such
-complete possession of a young girl's senses, that she sank
down at his. feet, and knelt in rapture before the statue as
long as she was permitted to remain. She could scarcely be
torn from it,; but wished to stay day and night, until they were
obliged to remove her by force: She had a conviction that in
time she could, by her .'love and earnest prayer, move the god
to hear hier, and to istep living from the marble. Chamisso
deafly loved this story, and- told ihe that he should have put it
intaijrerse, had not Helmina von Chezy already done so.
The paintings, great and magical in their way, likewise
affected us more; they addressed therhselves more plainly to our
senses than the dreamy and half-mutilated divinities of a world

chap. xn.J THE MUSEE NAPOLEON. 135

far removed from ours. In the gallery we were soon at our
ease, and perfectly at home. As a rendezvous for other ex
cursions, I daUy visited the gaUery, and was always certain to
find my friends in the rooms devoted to RaffaeUe : we then and
there arranged our further schemes for the day. The painter
linger was copying the Madonna deUa Sedia, and we gladly
stood near his easel, listening to his conversation : technical and
historical notices are always, acceptable >in the presence of
pictures; but I must eonfess that my attention was by no
means devoted explusively to the history of art, or to the ac
quirement of a knowledge of pictures. My stay in Paris was.to
be short and uncertain: my. pursuits, and even my inclinations,
lay in another direction. I, wished simply to enjoy the best
specimens of art, as an amateur ; to see only what was agreeable
to my eye, and what- most excited and pleased my fency* I
would not suffer the critipisms of the learned either to influence
my taste, or tq disturb my enjoyment. ,. I discovered that by
keeping, to this maxim I did perfectly weU, and had the pleasure
of. finding that my taste was frequently confirmed by high au
thorities, and that I had the »good fortune to., be generally
attracted to those pictures, which were most worthy of constant
admiration. Thus in the course of the first day I had selected out
of the mass of pictures a certain number of favourites, which
formed a little gallery of my own, and to which I remained con
stant to the end. Of RafjjheUe's pictures, of which never before
was such a collection seen, not one was excluded ; Leonardo da
Vinci contributed largely; then came Julio Romano, Titian,
Pierugino, Guido Reni, Fra Bastiano, Fra Bartolomeo, Dome-
nichino, Giorgione, Cristoforo Allori, and Garofalo ; Correggio
and MuriUo attracted me less ; and least of aU the two Caraccis.
Among the German and Dutch school my favourites -were
Holbein, Albert Dtirer, Van Dyck, Rembrandt, Ruysdael, the
so called Van Eyck of Dantzick ; and among the French I liked
Claude Lorraine, Poussin, and Lesueur. The sight of Rubens'S
pictures pained me : I was fuUy sensible to his merits ; but, if
I dared not blame, stiU less could I admire him.
But in this selection, to which Chamisso, Bekker, and Uhland
the poet gave in their adhesion, there were some pictures whieh
attracted me, as much for personal reasons as for their artistic
K 4

136 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. xn.
merit. Two portraits had struck me from the very first : the
one was the Mona Lisa of Leonardo da Vinci, a painter whose
especial faculty it is to represent modesty of expression ; and the
second was Joan of Arragon by RaffaeUe, the greatest painter of
pure beauty. The latter picture had a pecuUar charm for me,
as it was extraordinarily like the young Countess von Bentheim :
the longer I looked at it, the more convinced I was that it was
her portrait also. The living may weU be proud of having
been painted by RaffaeUe. A Madonna by Leonardo da Vinci,
Herodias's daughter, by Solari, and a small picture of St. John,
by Luini, especiaUy attracted my notice : I was much affected,
but in a different manner, by Titian's master-piece, the murder
of Peter martyr, from Milan. Allori's Judith, in which cha
racter the artist had painted his mistress Mazzafirra, while her
mother is represented as the maid, and he himself figured as
Holofernes, struck me much from the tragic expression of the
countenances ; the idea, too, was poetical, although the picture
itself is not so.
Not only have the Germans and ItaUans, the Dutch and the
Spaniards, great cause to turn away with sorrow when they see
the most precious monuments of their country collected in Paris,
but a melancholy feeUng must occasionaUy come across even the
Frenchman, and Paris must appear to him in the Ught of a
monster that swallows every thing. It is true that the accu
mulation of treasures of art is so enormous, that the superfluity
flows off into the provinces, and museums are erected in the de
partmental towns; but the treasures originaUy taken away never
return to the place whence they came. This struck us very
strongly on entering the Musee des Monumens Frangais.
During the course of centuries, France had become exceedingly
rich in monuments and works of art, erected partly from a
spirit of religion and love, partly from vanity; churches, castles,
abbeys, market-places, and private dwellings served as store
houses of ancient works of art, which were scarce known be
yond their own immediate neighbourhood. How rich the
provinces were, as well as the metropoUs, was only discovered
when these ancient treasures were directed to be destroyed by the
savage order of the National Convention. Nothing in any way
connected with royalty, religion, or the aristocracy, was suf- •

chap, xn.] THE MUSEE DES MONUMENS FRANOAIS. 137
fered to exist ; aU the past was to be obliterated. Great was
the company of the destroyers, inexhaustible their zeal, and
they succeeded but too well. But neither time nor zeal pre
vailed ; much was passed over, many monuments were only in
jured, and several withstood the attacks made upon them.
Even during the storm, but stiU more afterwards, when its
virulence abated, a few able men devoted to their country
and to art, busied themselves in secret to save such monu
ments as they could, to get hold of those which were only
half destroyed, and to put together many which had been
broken in pieces. One of these men was Alexandre Lenoir,
who was most active in establishing the Musee des Monumens
Frangais. When the power fell into mUder hands, people ven
tured to suggest that what had been thus saved should -be
opened to the pubUc, and made one of the remarkable sights of
the ihetropolis ; the old convent des Petits Augustins was de
voted to this purpose. Here wonderful things were to be
seen, — monuments of kings and queens, figures in stone,
paintings on glass, columns and mosaics, aU of which gave a
very high idea of the state of art in France in former centuries.
The order of time was accurately observed ; and to increase the
effect, the various rooms in which the monuments stood were
so arranged, that ornaments, windows, ceiUngs, and pavements
were all, as nearly as possible, of the same century. What we
saw gave us the highest opinion of French sculpture of former
days, and the names of Jean Goujon and Germain Pilon must
always be mentioned among those of the great masters of aU
times. The works of these men had a peculiar and independent
character of their own, wholly unHke Grecian art. This sculp
ture, which was chiefly intended for churches, had an archi
tectural character ; it essentiaUy belonged to buUdings. In
these plain and noble stones you may read religious senti
ment, energy and courage, earnestness and the awe of death.
Voluptuous beauty never was the aim of the artist; his
object was to excite deep emotions, and to appeal to the
imagination through the reason. The effect of the whole is not
injured, but rather heightened, by the minute ornaments and
careful handling of individual parts. The three monuments
from the church of St. Denys, that of Louis XH. and Anne of

138 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap, xn;
Brittany, the chapel of Francis I., and the tomb of the Valois,
are certainly the most remarkable of their kind.
I must return, however^ to the impression produced upon me
by the whole, which indeed was strange enough. I thought that
I saw the remains ofa people that had long passed away, whose
language was strange, to whose faith and feehngs we were abso
lutely indifferent, and with whose race, glory, and greatness we
had nothing in common. Thus we have Egyptian obeUsks and
monuments, mummies of Egyptian kings, as ornaments in our
northern cities^ and no one feels any. emotion at seeing them.
But a Frenchman who has a heart, and a jecoUection devoted
to the history of his country, — what should he feel when he be-*
holds the reUcs of its past history ? The people see the monu
ments of their kings,, of their statesmen, of their heroes, thrown
out of their history, torn from their natural resting-places, with
which their names are associated, and pUed up within the nar*
row compass of a museum, ticketed and registered as things that
once have been ! ,
There is a great treasure of art in what was the Luxemburg
palace, whiph is now converted, into the palace of the senate,
and where that august body is wont to assemble. Mary of
Medici bought the palace from the Duke of Luxemburg, and
the same name, was stiU given, to the beautiful building which
the French architect, Debrosse erected, after the pattern of
the Pitti palaee at Florence. Rubens was engaged by Mary
of Medici to ornament the new palace with pictures, anrj he
paintpd thp phief events of her life in four-and-twenty com
partments, These, pictures were dispersed during the Revo
lution ; some got into the National Museum, and others were
for a long time missing : at length, the whole series has been
again collected. The praise bestowed, upon these pictures has
been excessive, and they have been called Rubens's epic poem.
I will, not deny Rubens the .merit of wonderful power of inven
tion, and of bending the most refractory materials to his pur
pose, nor his free full manner of handling the pencil,, and
those who wish to study him must do so in these pictures;
but, nevertheless, they do not please me : I left .them without
any feeling, of excitement, and they had upon me the effect of a
modern Latin ode : my former opinion of this extraordinary

chap, xii.] THE LUXEMBURG PALACE. 13!>
man was not changed. I was far more pleased by Lesueur's
produotions in another room ; he has painted four-and-twenty
pictures representing the life of Saint Bruno, and the estabUsh-
ment of the order of the Carthusians. The poor Carthusians
were talked out of their property, during the first years of
Louis XVI.'s reign ; and the pictures were placed in the
Louvre. Since that time they have made several peregri
nations, and are consequently much injured. After the coarse
strength and reality of life in Rubens, it was a comfort to faU
back upon the pious gentle Lesueur, so weU fitted to smooth
away the feeUng of disquiet which Rubens had raised. A third
room eontained Vernet's marine pieces, — fifteen views of
French seaports. This painter proeeeded to his work with
prodigious' energy, and with considerable suceess : his night
seenes, his moonshines, his sea pieces, have a vehement and
exciting power about them which, differing as they do from
nature, stiU work powerfuUy on coarse minds. This was quite
sufficient to insure him a great reputation ; and the French of
the eighteenth century knew as well how to puff and boast
as those of the present day. Chamfort relates, that while
Louis XV. was sitting for his portrait to the painter Latour, the
latter wished to amuse the monarch* and ventured to make
several very bold remarks ; amorig others he mentioned the
decay of the French navy.: "Truly your, Majesty. has no ma
rine!" whereupon the King gravely replied: "No marine!
what are you saying'? and Vernet? do you caU that nothing ?"
and the King intended no joke.
There are Hkewise one RaffaeUe and several pictures by
Titian; Champagne, RuysdaeL Rembrandt, and Ostade in the
Luxemburg, and it is said that the gaUery wUl be stiU further
increased. After these, two of David's pictures singularly dis
pleased us — Brutus was a downright monster, and the Horatii
looked Hke a copy of sotriething on the French stage. What
was good in David, the grandeur and firmness of his drawing,
and the bold grouping of bis figures did not satisfy us: his
method of laying on the colours seemed essentiaUy bad. It
made Chamisso's heart bleed to be forced to condemn the leader
and the glory of the modern French school, but there was no
help for it.

140' WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap, xn.
We likewise visited the hall in which the senate sat, frer
quently under the presidence of the Emperor himself. A,
handsome flight of steps ornamented with statues of great
generals and orators — Kleber, Hoche, Desaix, Mirabeau, Ver-.
gniaud, and others — led to a series of splendid rooms, of which
this haU was the last. Notwithstanding the size of the rooms,
every thing looked smaU and narrow ; the Austrian colours
which ornamented the waUs of the room, made a strong im
pression on us, and recalled the bitter hostility of . the two
powers who were now aUies, and pretended to be friends. The
senate had just been sitting : the handsome arm-chairs of the
senators stood in a semi-circle opposite to the Emperor's throne;
we sat in some of them and found them stiU warm : the usher
thought us rather bold, and would not permit us to sit down on
the Emperor's throne^ He took us, he said, for Austrians of
rank, otherwise he would never have admitted us. The sen-
tine! on duty below, at first denied us entrance, and told us
somewhat roughly, that this was no .day for the admission of
strangers. We instantly gave way, and asked civiUy for his
advice how we were to act in order to obtain admission. The
man then aUowed us to enter, showed, us where to find the
usher, and gave us a few hints as to what we should say to him:
all this without any prospect of gain, as it was strictly forbidden
to give any thing to the sentinels. This sudden change of
manner is usual with the common people, out of which class
the soldiers are drawn, but we little expected it from a French
sentinel in Napoleon's time.
The ¦ Prix decennaux established by the Eihperor for the
most distinguished and best productions of literature and art
during the last ten years, gave us another opportunity of seeing
and comparing ¦ pictures. The French were exceedingly ex
cited by this distribution of prizes. The great and aU-pervad-
ing interest which was shown by all classes about this exhibi
tion, told well for the general cultivation of the people.. The
decision of those' who distributed the prizes was severely
and loudly criticised ; but people were satisfied when they
found that the Emperor was highly displeased with many of
the decisions of the arbitrators : the populace always rejoices
when those in power receive a check. We did not trouble

chap, xn.] THE MUSliE D'ARTILLERIE. 141
our heads with the prizes given for Hterary merit — what
should we care for people Uke Lemercier, Arnault, Jouy, and
the rest? But we could not pass over the paintings. It was
impossible to see David's works without confessing that he was
a master in his own style. Gerard's and Guerin's pictures
were much admired, and we recognised the bold strength in
Gros's works, and the warmth of composition in those of Gi-
raudet. But after devoting some time to these pictures, we
always returned to the rooms where RaffaeUe and others were
to- be seen, which soon made us forget, that there was a mo
dern school trying to make its way in the world.
The director of the Musee d 'Artillerie, Monsieur Regnier
himself, conducted us over this rich collection of ancient
weapons and armour, of models, and all sorts of beautiful curio
sities. Regnier was much esteemed as a man of scientific at
tainments, thoroughly well versed in the history of the treasures
committed to his charge : it was said that the Emperor thought
very highly of him. He was a man of some invention, and had
taken out a paterit for a sort of lock which made some noise at
the time : every body praised his invention, and bought his
locks. These consisted of broad steel rings — four, five, or eight
deep — upon each of which the alphabet was engraved ; these
turned round on a cyUnder of steel, and only separated where
the letters, forming a particular word, were in a straight Une
with another. The word was selected from among a thousand,
and the choice was the secret of the purchaser. Any one not
knowing the word, might turn the rings round for years with
out succeeding in finding the right one. The workmanship was
exceUent, and Regnier was prouder of this than he was of the
invention itself. The latter point might be contested. I had a
vague recollection of having seen something of the sort before,
but when I ventured to say so, my supicions were treated with
scorn and indignation, and I was not able then to prove my
assertions ; but many years afterwards when a book, which as
a boy I had often diligently read, feU into my hands, Regnier's
lock was suddenly displayed ! The book was caUed Silvestri a
Petrasancta Symb'ola Heroica, printed at Amsterdam in 1682 :
there was an explanation at page 254, attached to a picture :
these were the words: — " Honorius de Bellis, serulw innexce

142 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. xn.
orbibus volubilibus acliteratis circumscripsit hoc lemma : — Sorte
aut labore." However, neither luck or labour would have done
much towards discovering the secret of opening Regnier's locks
from the variety of their combinations ; and their security
seemed so great that the couriers' despatchrboxes were generaUy
fastened with them.
The imperial Ubraryin-the Rue Richelieu, one of the noisiest
streets in all Paris, is not favourable for study. Moreover, the
close neighbourhood of the operarhouse is most dangerous to
this valuable coUection. It is said that no theatre comes to a
natural end, but that they are aU destined some day or other to
destruction by fire. For this reason the Emperor intends to
remove the Hbrary to some better situation. The Louvre is to
be connected with the Tuileries on the side facing. the town,
with a gaUery, similar to :that. towards tbe river.. This new
wing is intended to contain most of the collections which are
now partly in the Louvre, partly in other places ; the Louvre
will then be devoted exclusively to the service of the Emperor,-
and of the royal family, and to the reception of distinguished
foreigners. In this case, however, the space enclosed between
the Louvre and the Tuileries would be too large to remain
empty : another reason for not leaving it vacant is, that un
luckily the two buildings dp not stand exactly opposite to each
other ; and the triumphal arch in the Place du Carrousel, fornis an
unsightly angle. In order to conoeal this defect, and at, the
same time to divide this great vacant space, Napoleon means to
erect an enormous corner building in which nothing but iron
and stone are to be used, wherein the books may for the future
be; kept perfectly fire-proof; even the book shelves are to bQ
made of iron, and the building is to surpass any thing that was
ever before erected of the sort. I heard the details of this plan
from the mouth of Count Metternich, to whom the Emperor
had related it during a conversation with him in the forenoon.
The execution of this gigantic scheme is still far distant, whole
streets must first be- swept away, and the Louvre itself finished.
But with Napoleon aU that he wiUs is considered as completed,
and his impatienoe goes so much faster than time, that he has
already prepared 'for the Louvre upon which they are still at
work, an inscription to the effect that it was completed by him ;

chap, xu.] THE ROYAL LIBRARY. 143
,an untruth which, the French imagine will always remain one,
as. the Louvre never can be finished. Even Napoleon shrank
hack with alarm from i renovating Perrault's beautiful facade
which runs aU round the building. And at this very time the
Hbrary is still in its old place.
This was naturaUy no time for study as far as I was con
cerned; nevertheless I found great objects of interest in the
imperial Hbrary. The manuscripts, of which there were above
80,000, particularly attracted my attention. The librarians
were most attentive, and not only procured me what I wished
to see, but even assisted the subordinate officers in their search.
Here I was shown the plunder which had been brought from
Rome, Venice, Wolferibiittel, and Vienna ; from the latter, place
especiaUy a number of .Oriental manuscripts had been taken,
the duplicates of which, where they existed, Von Hammer had
succeeded in' obtaining for Vienna. For this purpose he. had
expressly made the journey to Paris at his own cost. I then
cared Httle for the letters of Henri IV., Francis I., or Louis XIV. ;
historical research was far from my thoughts : Fenelon's weU cor
rected manuscripts of Telemaque, the Livre des Tournees of
Count Rene of Provence, Greek and i Roman manuscripts only
excited, a passing interest. On the other hand, a eoUeotion of
Minnesinger's especially attracted me, I read a good deal of it,
and commenced making extracts, and had some .thoughts of
editing the works of the poet Siisskind, called "The Jew of
Trunberg," when I heard that a youtig -scholar was already
busily engaged on the same work, and that my labours were
useless. My attention meanwhile had been caUed to a treasure
which touched us Germans more nearly, and I devoted many
hours to this new study; This was thirteen volumes of manu
script extracts and remarks by Winckelmann, whieh had been
brought from Rome. These writings were invaluable towards
acquiring a knowledge of the man, of his studies, and of his
method of proeeeding, even when the manuscript consisted
merely of extracts from some worthless EngUsh spelling-book,
which this great man had been forced to copy, at a great loss
of his valuable time, for want of the few shiUings wherewith to
buy the book. AU was written in that beautiful clear band
which had done him such service, for it was of great impor-

144 WAR OF LIBERATION" IN GERMANY. [chap. xn.
tance to him at Rome, as he says in his letters, that Cardinal
Passionei expressed such high praise of his Greek writing,
which, indeed, is exquisite. The first sketches of his his
tory of ancient, art are here preserved, with numerous al
terations and transpositions ; for example, the description of
the ApoUo Belvidere is written in several different ways.
Besides this, there are half-finished letters, short extracts, re
marks and observations written in a strong nervous language ;
in short, a mine of wealth containing traits of the highest im
portance for a just appreciation of character. After the second
peace of Paris, these volumes of Winckelmann's were deposited in
the royal library of BerUn, where they are more at home, and
infinitely better placed than either at Paris or at Rome.
The library. likewise contains other valuable coUections, such
: as coins, cameos, and gems, engravings, Egyptian, Roman, and
Middle Age antiquities. I looked at all these only in a hurried
manner, as I had neither time nor incUnation for oloser in-
speetion. What chiefly attracted my attention were the Apo
theosis of Augustus, the largest gem which is extant, a sar
donyx which was brought to France by Count Baldwyn of
Flanders, the gem with the arrow-headed characters from Per-
sepolis, the table of Isis, the so-caUed shield of Hannibal, the
arms of Francis I., and the sword of Henri IV. ' A mutUated
bronze seat, caUed Dagobert's chair, struck me from its in
scription :— " Ce fauteuil a ete transports & Boulogne pour la
distribution des croix de la legion (Fhonneur, le \GAout, 1804."
This trifling with antiquity and trying to mix up his own
name with it, which Napoleon was so fond of doing, was
ridiculous even to Frenchmen. The aping of Charlemagne
whieh was so constant and so obvious, had. some plausibility ;
but Napoleon and Dagobert — what on earth had they to do
with each other ? The scheme, too, failed in producing its
effect ; the soldiers laughed at the old chair, the authenticity
of which is doubtful. The people knew nothing of Dagobert
but what they had learnt from the popular baUad of-"Ze
bon roi Dagobert," and Napoleon got nothing but ridicule from
this farce.
We found this association of Napoleon with Charlemagne
again forced upon our attention in the chureh of Notre Dame.

chap, xn.] VERSAILLES. 145

The crown, the globe, the sceptre, and the hand of justice, be
longing to Charlemagne, are placed in the treasure of the
church, close beside the crowns of Napoleon and Josephine"
That of Napoleon is a mere wreath of laurel worked in gold,
extremely beautiful from its simpUcity. Napoleon was conti
nually alternating between the parts of Roman Imperator and
King of France, and it must be confessed that he was more suc
cessful in the former character than in the latter. His eagles
were a weU-chosen emblem, which were not only instantly
adopted by the army, but also found favour in the eyes of
the people ; whereas his attempt to revive the court dresses
of the time of Louis XrV. appeared ridiculous to one-half of
the nation, and odious to the other. His Ns, crowned and
adorned with laurel, and the bees which he placed in pro
fusion every where, especially in all public places where the
symbols and mottoes of Hberty had stood titt now, were a coarse
method of keeping himself continually before the attention of
the pubUc, but weU calculated for the multitude. On several of
the waUs, however, we still saw caps of liberty, which had been
forgotten, and mottoes which had not yet been effaced, — such as
Uberte, Egalite, or Ripublique une et indivisible ; for even the
republic had taken care to place itself before the eyes of the
people in this symboUcal manner.
As I have mentioried the church of Notre Dame, I wiU here
state that the impression produced by it is not comparable to
that of Strasburg cathedral : nor did I find myself repaid for'
the trouble of ascending the tower. The view of Paris from
the top of Montmartre is much finer than that from Ndtre
Dame, the Pantheon, or the column in the Place Vend6me.
I made many excursions in the neighbourhood of Paris in the
company of Austrians and sometimes of Frenchmen. We vi
sited Versailles, Trianon, Marly, St. Germain, St. Cloud, Sevres,
Malmaison, St. Denys, and Montmorency— the scenes of former
greatness and splendour, which the Emperor longed to turn into
monuments of his own power and greatness. But it was only at
St. Cloud arid Malmaison that he had succeeded in placingthe
interest of the present on a level with that of thepast. - The
old royal palaces and gardens could never be made to speak of
VOL. I. L

146 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xn.
anything save their own times. The fuU stream of life that for
centuries had flowed troubled and stormy through these places,
was far too powerful in interest and importance to fade before
what was now passing. The first scenes of the Revolution
were vividly recalled by the sight of the spots on which they
were enacted, and a walk through the palace and gardens of
VersaiUes is in itself a course of history. When the imperial
servant who showed us through the rooms told us where we
were, the mere names spoke more powerfully to the imagination
than the most eloquent discourse could have done. The Salle
de theatre at Versailles remained in exactly the same state in
which it had been left after the fatal fetes to the garde du corps
Of the 1st and 3d October, except that years of neglect and
occasional piUage had robbed it of its splendour. The Em
peror had a project of restoring Versailles, and some repairs
were already begun there, but the estimates of the sum which
would be required for its complete restoration were so enormous,
that no one doubted that the Emperor would abandon the idea.
One inducement to go to St. Cloud was the theatre, to which
Napoleon gave invitations. I am not aware of any dramatic
enjoyment comparable to this : we sat in comfortable, handsome
boxes close to the stage, and, owing to the smallness of the theatre,
we saw Talma, Mademoiselle Raucourt, Fleury, MademoiseUe
Mars, Baptiste, and many others to the best advantage. Oppo
site to the stage, sat the Emperor, surrounded by aU the rank and
wealth of his court. Between the acts refreshments were handed
round, and we entered into conversation. It was impossible
elsewhere to have so good an opportunity of observing the Em
peror so closely and so completely at one's ease, or to see Talma
to such perfection as on these evenings.
A whole book might be written about Talma: he is a great
genius, far in advance of his age and nation. As the poet to the
king, so is the artist to the hero, and the names of Napoleon and
Talma are by no means unfit to be associated. The French
stage has a character pecuUar to itself; it is a structure which it
has taken two centuries to raise from materials drawn from the
inmost nature of the people whose pride and joy it is. Every
thing that relates to it must be taken for granted : its first prin
ciples must be conceded; none can criticise it but those who

chap, xn.] THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 147
have first given in their adhesion. I confess that I found it hard
to acquiesce in this ; but when I had done so, my humility was
richly rewarded.
It was impossible to be at Malmaison without thinking of the
Empress Josephine, whose brightest days were spent there,
Even the beautiful picture gallery, consisting exclusively of
master-pieces, while it rivets the attention, constantly reminds
one of the absent owner of these treasures. She had left Paris
before I got there, and I never saw her ; but I wiU here insert a
slight sketch of her by another hand. The following is an ex
tract from the journal of an Austrian, who came to Paris a few
months earlier than myself, and had left it before my arrival.
"I do not wonder that the poor Empress Josephine is so
passionately fond of Malmaison. She arrived there in the
middle of May in all her glory, and rejoicing to return home.
When she was forced to go to Navarre she was in despair, and
the people, at Nanterre say, that they saw her cover her face
with her pocket-handkerchief, sobbing violently as she passed
through their town. Her departure had been ordered hastily,
and without regard to her feelings. She was forced to travel
without guards, without her usual attendants, accompanied only
by gens d'armes. Her return to Malmaison was arranged with
more decency, and she appeared content. The kings, the queens,
and the Grand Duke of Wiirzburg frequently visited her, and
the road between Paris and Malmaison was covered with car
riages coming and going, gentlemen on horseback, couriers, &c.
Every day she has twenty or thirty people to dinner : for in
stance, all the Talleyrands, Madame Juste de NoaiUes, and
many others : at the same time she is said not to receive, and
no strangers are presented to her : Count Metternich also visits
her. She has not yet had an interview with the Emperor ; but
as soon as she has seen him she is going to Aix in Savoy.
Bets are made as to whether she and the Empress Maria Louisa
will meet before Josephine leaves Paris. I believe that the
viceroy Eugene and his wife live at Malmaison, and also Princes3
Stephanie ; at any rate she was staying there lately. The late
empress is a good woman ; every one pities her, and none say
any harm of her. She never did an unkind thing to any one ;
but is very thoughtless, unable to occupy herself, except a Uttle
L 2

148 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xn.
with botany, fond of being surrounded all day by company,
charmed with the externals and splendour of a throne, passion
ately fond of ostentation, dress, and diamonds, without much
talent, but gifted with great -tact, wonderful grace, and the
power of saying agreeable arid flattering things to every one.
She now finds her time hang heavy on hand, and this makes
her unhappy. Madame d'Audenarde openly professes the greatest
attachment to her, and cannot say enough in praise of her un
common goodness, and of the admirable manner in which she
endures her present lot. The ladies, who forind her far more
accessible and communicative than their present mistress, would
gladly have her, back again, especiaUy those who, Uke Madame
de Montmorency and Madame de Mortemar, expected that, in
•consideration of their names, an archduchess would treat them
very differently frofn what Maria Louisa actually does. These
women are furious, arid they do not conoeal it.
" Even now that' the Empress Josephine lives in so retired a
manner, the cabriolet of her hair-dresser, Leroi, may be seen
upon the road every morning, and sometimes even twice a day.
This Leroi especially must be filled with indignation against
her successor : hitherto he had been the oracle of the Empress;
the court, and the town, and had made a considerable fortune
by his trade in mUliriery, and he must have thought himself
tolerably secure against any reverse of fortune. Only a few
days after the marriage he brought home some dresses to the
new Empress. She found fault with them, as being cut too low
in front. 'Ah ! Madame;' said Leroi, ' so beautiful a bosom should
not be hidden.' She rings : — ' Turn out this impudent fellow
directly, and let him never appear before me again.' Leroi
was thunderstruck, and stood open-mouthed with astonish
ment : he had always been accustomed to flatter her predecessor
a- Uttle,, and his : compliments had never been so iU received.
His disgrace has made a gi'eat noise here.
" We went boldly up to Malmaison, and asked if we might
.see Madame d'Audenarde. A whole host of pages, of gentlemen-
ushers, of foottnen in gold lace, and of Basques, — for the Em
press had some very handsomely dressed Basques attached to her
household, — measured us from head to foot with astonishment
forsome time before they led us to the entresol where, she lived.,

chap, xii.] THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 149

Madame d'Audenarde received us with open arms : she is some
what altered, and grown older, but stiU looks very weU. She
asked if we would like to see the gallery ; and we told her, of
all things. She immediately went to ask the Empress if she
intended to visit the gaUery that day. ' Yes ; there are work
men about it, and several pictures have to be hung. Why do
you ask ? ' — 'In this case I will not venture to mention my
reason for asking.' — ' What is it, then ? ' — ' Princess 
and Count  have come to see me, and I should have liked
much to have shown them the pictures.' — ' Well, take them
to the gaUery, and I will join you there.' Madame d'Audenarde
came back to fetoh us, and we went thither with her. In a
short time we stood face to face with the Empress, who re
ceived us most graciously, kindly led us about herself, and
pointed out the best pictures, saying, 'My gallery needs your
indulgence, as we are at work upon it,' and other things of the
same kind. It is not possible to be more gracious and amiable
than she appeared to us. At the end of a quarter of an hour-
she left us, quite fascinated by her. I thought her infinitely
handsomer than I had expected, and her figure most beautiful i
she was plainly, but well dressed.
" The gallery is well proportioned, beantifuUy but simply
painted, and fitted up with great taste, and admirably lighted
from above. The pictures are not numerous, but they are all
master-pieces. As we were leaving the house, the Empress's
carriages drove to the door : they were extremely light and
elegant, entirely open, with a huge parasol in the middle of
eaeh, with beautiful horses, and handsome, well-dressed pos
tillions. On our way home we met the Queen of Naples, with hei-
faithful eavalier servente, the Grand Duke of Wiirzburg, who is-
said to be romantically in love with her. She is by no means
cruel to him ; but I believe that a certain great foreign minister
enjoys a yet larger share of her favours. The worthy grand
duke is very generaUy loved and respected. He is the only
German prince who is still treated with some consideration.
" On the 15th June the Empress Josephine started on her
journey to Aix, in Savoy. The Eriiperor only saw her. once,
and staid two hours walking with her in the garden at Mal
maison. He is as much attached to her as ever. She wished
j. 3

150 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xn.
to' travel under the name of the Duchess of Navarre; but the
Emperor forbade it, saying it would look as if she was no
longer allowed the title of Empress : she had much better
travel under the name of Madame d'Arberg, which she did."
Thus far my Austrian friend. In truth, Josephine was uni
versally beloved, and she has left behind her in Parisian society,
and even at court, many friends who speak openly in her favour.
Nevertheless, Napoleon's immediate adherents, especially those
who had not given up the principles of the Revolution, maintained
that no one had done him more mischief than this woman.
She had brought him into contact with the old aristocracy, and
reconciled them to him ; and his junction with that party, and
with the old dynasties of Europe, had separated him from the
nation, and that he would find. I heard such assertions made
frequently by well-informed Frenchmen in 1810.

In the Tuileries, and on the Boulevards, the leaves were
already fading in the middle of the summer, the Champs Elysees
and the Bois de Boulogne had long ceased to be wood and field,
and nothing was left for us to do but to go to the gardens of
St. Cloud or to Montmorency. The latter place offered a
peculiar attraction : there the memory of Jean Jacques Rous
seau is associated with every thing one sees.
It is difficult to speak of Rousseau, as few are now-a-dayS
acquainted with his writings, and his name is associated with
the most arbitrary and unfounded representations. Who can
judge him without an accurate knowledge of the sea of troubles
in which his lot was cast, of every wave and current by which
he was tossed through life, and a power of estimating their
effects ? or who shall dare to judge him save those who, — pos
sessing a thorough knowledge of the conditions of his Ufe, and
of the times in which he lived, — can forget them all, and rise
with him to the bright regions of free inspiration ? For Rous
seau, though inextricably mixed up with the outward life of his
times, and often degraded by its influence, yet lived an inward
Ufe in immediate connection with nature, and felt a whole crea
tion within himself. And now little minds incapable of ima
gining the existence of such an union with nature laugh at
Rousseau's eccentricities, accuse him of vanity, and find in it the

chap, xn.] JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU. 151
key to his whole character and writings, and especially to his
confessions ! Truly vanity is the last fault with which Rousseau
can be reproached ; nevertheless it is that which is usuaUy made,
for it is specious and commonplace; but this accusation has
its treacherous side, and is apt to rebound on those who
thoughtlessly employ it. Fichte has shown us how Rousseau
should be judged ; but the path he has opened has long remained
untrodden both by Frenchmen and Germans : the time, how
ever, will come when Rousseau's power wiU again be felt, and
when his sentiments will again find response. Meanwhile he
is the touchstone by which I try many of the most distinguished
and best among men, — their judgment of Rousseau gives me
the measure of their minds. The most frequent and pardonable
errors are those of sheer ignorance ; but where a tolerably in
timate acquaintance with his works has led only to false con
clusions and to narrow views, then I know that there are regions
from which these men are for ever excluded, however high they
may stand in other respects.
For an agreeable easy way of life with every sort of pleasure
and charm, there is no better place than Paris. This all-power
ful capital draws within its circle whatever is most distinguished
and most admirable in all ways from all sides ; every thing that
the art and cultivation, not only of its own clever and active
population, but also that of foreigners, far and near, can pro
duce, in any branch of art or science, belongs to it imme
diately, and ministers to its pleasures and enjoyments. The
commerce of Paris consists mainly in artioles of luxury and
superfluity. Taste in dress, furniture and houses, pomp and
splendour of every sort, adornment of the person, cultivation of
the mind, the pleasures of the table, conversation and novelties,
dramatic art, music, dancing, every sort of talent and accom-
pHshment, are all at work with zeal and success to render
life in Paris perfect. Nowhere do cooks, mistresses, servants,
and toadies understand their trade, better: in short, every
thing, even talent and learning, do their utmost to promote
good and luxurious Uving. All their measures to satisfy in
the cheapest, pleasantest, and most expeditious manner the
thousand wants and necessities of mankind, are taken with
the most consummate skiU : to the merest trifle, to the most in-
L 4

152 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap, xrx,
significant action a certain importance is .given : add to this
a poUsh of manner, which prevents what would otherwise be
commonplace from even appearing to be so. You see that
this generation, ,whichi lives onlyjbr the .present hour, has the
experience of centuries. . Nothing but a long succession of ge
nerations always busied with the same objects, moving in the
same direction, alike vain, active, industrious, madly extra
vagant,- and, ingeniously selfish, nothing but the constant con-
currenee of the greatest vices and the highest talents could
compose a structure whieh now appears a whple, one and un-
idivided, every part of which , seems composed of the same
^materials, and .animated byi the selfsame spirit. Splendour
-and ostentation may be greater elsewhere, sensual pleasures
may show themselves more openly, and in greater abundance ;
-but nowhere 4oes the enjoyment of life, extend in the same
:manner to all classes ; nowhere are the most trifling events of
daily Ufe so carefully studied ; nowhere is society so firmly held
together by such slight bonds. Life is. embelUshed and heigh
tened by wit and address ; but it is also subdued, and the oil of
¦poUteness floats smoothly upon the troubled waves. At the same
time, I must own that the whole of Parisian life seemed to me
rather. calculated to guard against weariness and satiety by the
constant change of a thousand pleasures, and amusements, than
to afford solid happiness, or any nobler gratifipations, , Nowhere
.dpes the duration of life appear to me a matter of so much in
difference as in Paris; for ten years pass there as easily, as one,
while one comprises the .occupations and amusements ,of ten.
And ypt Paris is the focus whence for centuries, the most
important historical movements have radiated. It is the scene
of almost' daily and violent convulsions, the theatre of the
strongest passions and the strangest, destinies. This uniform
•mass, all, tending, towards the same point, unanimous in sen-?
timent and action, is the proper tool for those men gifted with
powerful; genius and commanding talents, who rise from the
-midst of it. ,This mass is traversed in all directions by electric
currents, which in the common course of things diffuse only a
genial and healthy warmth ; but when once set in motion, even
its smaUest veins contribute towards the creation of the most
tr^mendpus. storms and explosions.

chap, xn,] PARISIAN ADVERTISEMENTS. 153

Besides the innumerable objects which in this place afford
constant occupation to the senses and the attention, each day
demands and receives something new, something to be looked at^
wondered at, and talked about,— the product, theme, and subject
of the jpassing day. It is the more easy to excite prodigious
interest in these novelties as in so numerous and excitable a
population, the mere number of lookers-on gives a certain im
portance to the most trivial matters, and that which in the be
ginning is nothing, soon becomes of consequence. La foule s'y
est portee, is the phrase of the " Moniteur," and it means a good
deal. If the importation of novelties could be stopped,' and the
Parisian be condemned to live without them, it would be almost
as bad as cutting off the supply of provisions, for tife old stock
would not last long. Common emotions do not suffice to
impart the necessary degree of animation to life in Paris, where
weariness and satiety constantly lurk behind the thin veil of
pleasure. The necessity of making a sensation is visible in aU di
rections. Whoever has any thing to sell, any service to offer,
or any thing to advertise, must take some extraordinary means
in-order merely to be remarked. The signs, placards, and in
scriptions which swarm in the most frequented streets, are
truly laughable in this respeet. Enormous placards, gigantic
letters of aU shapes and sizes, printed sloping forwards, back
wards, or sideways, , pictures with some sort of claim to good
painting; others again monstrous caripatures, sometimes signs
even more numerous than the wares which they indicate for
sale^all this is necessary merely to keep the tradesmen's heads
at aU above water. The multitude of painted signs is, in many,
cases, as good as a comedy. In the Rue Richelieu I was
walking with a friend lately arrived from Vienna, who was
much struck with' this extravagant expenditure of puffing: he
stood stiU before a shop, looked at its external ornaments, and
said gravely, seizing me by the arm : — " When a man has black-;
puddings for sale, who should think that he would hang out
§ix blaek-puddings — twelve black -puddings — twenty black-
puddings ?" — he now stopped, and stretching out his hand, which
until now had been resting on his chest, he exclaimed with a
sort of explosion, — '¦ " a hundred black- puddings ! " and he reaUy

154 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xn.
had not exaggerated ; the enormous quantity was ridiculous ;
and this was not only the case with the black-puddings which
had struck my Viennese friend as so remarkable, but with other
things as well. The tradesmen, however, are perfectly wilHng
to be laughed at, provided the absurdities which they invent
with great ingenuity answer the purpose of attracting cus
tomers. Near the Tuileries was a tobacconist's shop, where not
only the sign itself but the whole front of the house was covered
with magniloquent Latin sentences, exhorting customers to
enter. But the most amusing of all was the inscription over a
hair-dresser's shop in the Palais Royal, on which the owner had
dedicated to himself the following inscription, repeated on
tablets of the most various shapes and sizes : — •
TELLIEH
INVENTA EN LAN DIX,
LES PERUQUES ELASTIQUES
IMITANT LA CHAIR.
What an event ! and en Van dix ! what a monumental style.
A schoolmaster attracts attention by a verse out of Virgil : —
" Disce puer, virtutem ex me, verumque laborem."
We were excessively amused, too, by a sign which was some
what personal to us Germans. Since Napoleon's marriage,
the Germans had risen in the estimation of the French, and
were accordingly treated with greater respect; the French
now rather courted them. A bad restaurant imagined that lie
had discovered the true bait for Germans, and over his dirty
narrow shop, somewhere between the Tuileries and the Louvre,
Stood this inscription : —
."Mer Be Finben fid) tie "Seutfdjert
cor. bo§ gub ©aurgrautj). *
This man accordingly had the pleasure of occasionally seeing,
besides his regular customers, Germans of the higher classes
look into his shop and leave a few francs there.
The busy Parisians were perfectly right in devoting all their
energies to the attainment even of a momentary reputation;
* Hither tbe Germans resort for the good sauerkraut.

chap, xn.] STATE OF PARTIES IN PARIS. 155
for the man who could produce any novelty, or make himself
talked about, was certain of success : his fortune was made
before the host of novelty seekers had tried the new in
vention and seen its defects : remonstrances could no longer
injure him. There was even some honour in this ; it was no
small thing to have excited the attention of his fellow-citizens,
and even to have duped them.
Look which way you would, you were perpetually reminded
of the history of the day. There is a Cafe de Jena, there is
one a TArchiduc, and au due d'Infantado : the streets are
named after battles ; bridges, fountains, triumphal arches cele
brate, the victories of the conqueror whose name and arms are
to be seen every where. The minor theatres daily produce
new pieces, of which the materials are drawn from the events
of the day. But, in reality, the Parisian takes but little
interest in any great events which do not take place imme
diately under his very eyes. They are only valuable to him so
far as they concern his own narrow circle, and provide him with
holiday amusements. The indifference with which accounts
of the Emperor's new victories are received is scarcely cre
dible ; the pubUc value them as newspaper intelligence, but for
nothing else. They are already tired of French glory ; " nous
en avons assez" is heard among people of all classes. The
Emperor is constantly spoken of, but chiefly with reference
to the trifling events of the day — baUs, parades, court cere
monies, the favour or disgrace of such a one, and similar cir
cumstances of small importance. The sight of a new uniform
in the streets of Paris is a matter of far greater interest to a
Parisian than a victory in Spain, or a battle in Calabria. This
is far otherwise in the provinces, where Napoleon is judged
more according to his actions. Most people agree that a con
stant succession of victories is necessary for the permanent
security of his dominion, and it is by this alone that his op*
ponents in France are kept in check. His enemies may be
divided into two classes, RepubUcans and RoyaUsts, each of
which appear important, and may at any moment become
dangerous. He is furious against both parties, and endeavours
to detach individual members from each, and that not without
success, for he has some most violent Jacobins in the service of

155 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xn.
the state, and some of the; noblest of the emigrants are about
bis court. But he is only sure of their service as long, as he
is. successful. Besides, there is always a large mass of both these
factions whioh is not to be won , over, and which for this very
reason has become doubly important and dangerous. . Many. peo
ple think that it, is a great error in Napoleon to fear, the Fau
bourg St. Germain and the old noblesse more than the party
which still clings to the Revolution ; they say he will live to
repent this error. It; strikes me as remarkable how little the
Emperor is feared; most people here have lived through far
more terrible times, and have seen these terrors fade away, so
that to them no tyranny seems lasting ; they look upon aU power
as provisional, and recognise the government of the- day, only
so long as it makes itself felt ; beyond that no government
in France can now reckon. It is certain that there stiU is
much that is revolutionary among the people ; the maxims of
freedom and equality are by no means given up, the Jacobins
are always silently at work, zealous adherents of the republic
are to be found every where, even among the greatest names
in the kingdom. It is true that these opinions are not sup
ported by bayonets and cannon ; but public opinion is the origin
of aU power, and the instruments wherewith to carry it into effect
are. sure to be found in time. In Germany, where the French
yoke pressed so heavily, people can have no idea how Uttle the
French feel Napoleon's sway. I have heard men express theirJ
opinions very freely, not indeed in market-places, although
even there much is allowed 'under cover of wit. The French
people is not only witty, but wise from experience, and has
always been remarkable for prudence and acuteness; the dust
thrown in their eyes deceives merely the dregs of the people,
and very often not these: moreover, those who try to appear
grand are remembered, of old ; their former life is weU known,
and people laugh at their new titles and dignities.
¦ I remember with particular pleasure an itinerant mounte
bank whom I saw arrange a little table on the Boulevards ; after
some wretched jokes had attracted a sufficient audience, the
fellow began his oration. His voice was metalUc and penetrat
ing, his words were clearly heard, his tone and manner were
bold and assured. He spoke with pride and importance of his

chap, xn.] AN ITINERANT MOUNTEBANK. 157
calling — to remove stains — which he divided into three classes,
and he then proceeded in detail; and with learned phrases to
treat of his method for each variety of spots. He assured his
audience with some pride that it was not every day that he came
to the Boulevards, he had enough to do at home, but motives of
philanthropy would induce him in future to sacrifice two days
in the week to the public, as many an unfortunate wight would
otherwise miss seeing him. "Jepourrais aussi bien qu'un autre,"
such was his peroration, "prendre le nompompeux de professeur
de physique amusante, mats un homme comme moi dedaigne un
titre vain et barbare, qui ne se trouve pas meme dans les die.
tionnaires." His balls cost two sous each, and he sold a great
number : his oration had awakened confidence, and found favour
among the people. A soldier or two of the imperial guard
happened to come by ; he immediately mentioned, as it were
incidentally, that a whole regiment had made use of his balls
with eminent success, and had attracted the Emperor's praise
by the cleanliness of their appearance : on mention of the Em
peror's- name he respectfully took off his hat ; " Car Messieurs,".
said he, " quand on nomme sa Majeste I'Fmpereur, il faut
toujours oter son chapeau." No one, however, did so ; on the
contrary, there was a general murmur, the soldiers went their
way laughing, and'the man's audience, which had hitherto been
favourable to him, quitted him in displeasure.
Napoleon's only means of governing the French nation con
sisted in his army, in which all the discordant parties and dif
ferent classes were fused together. It was remarked that it was
only in the army that royaUsts and repubUcans were converted
into true adherents of the Emperor ; this was by no means the
case with those about the court, or in the service of the state.
Napoleon was well aware of this, and endeavoured to keep up
the military spirit in the nation. He prescribed to the mem
bers of the Legion of Honour, " de preferer toujours la noble
¦poussiere des camps au vain lure de la grande ville : " fine and
ptoud words, to which, however, his own example frequently
gave the lie ; the pomp of his court, and his f&es always had
something vulgar ; all his lavish expense failed in reproducing
the easy luxurious state of society of former days. Nothing
flattered him so much as to have the old noblesse about bis

158 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xn.
court ; the old titles sounded agreeably to his ear. The old
word " court," on the other hand, corrupted a good number
of the old families, and they could not resist the temptation :
they endeavoured to conceal their confusion by being the first
to ridicule it themselves. When Count de Segur had become
master of the ceremonies, his brother frequently .signed "Segur
sans ceremonie ;" nevertheless, he too accepted an office con
nected with the management of the theatres. One day, when
he was at the rehearsal of an opera, where EUeviou the singer
treated him with great insolence, Segur said to him, " Mais, mon
cher EUeviou, vous oubliez tout-a-fait que depuis la revolution
je suis devenu votre egal ! " Many were the witty sayings and
answers like these, which were called forth by the strange posi
tion of parties in France at that time.

Political eloquence was completely crushed at this time in
France. For want of the living I turned to the dead, and
obtained the five volumes of " Travaux de Mirabeau a VAs-
semblee Nationale." The sort of academical eloquence which
now prevailed in the National Institute, fashioned upon clas
sical models, with all its hyper-refinements and gentle bold
nesses, with its gliding over what was disagreeable, and other
arts of literary tight-rope dancing, was an abomination to me,
and many an earnest Frenchman who had known from former
experience what power eloquence has, looked upon it with
contempt. In times of oppression the small portion of free
dom which is left must twist and endeavour to seek out all
sorts of adventitious aid in subtlety of expression, poetical
forms, wit and humour. But when this sort of clever
ness gets the upper hand, when it becomes the only mode in
which a man dares to utter his thoughts, then it is evident that
it is not well with public life. The French were now in this
predicament, and certain it is that they learnt much under this
great oppression. The rich stream of eloquence which poured
forth after the return of the Bourbons, although it did not yet
venture beyond certain narrow limits, owed its origin to the
school of laborious ingenuity, to which aU speaking had been
confined. There seemed likewise to be but little left of pulpit elo-

chap, xn] PULPIT AND BAR ELOQUENCE. 159
quence, of which the French have had such glorious examples.
I heard a funeral sermon preached at Saint Roch, over one of
the victims of the Sehwarzenberg ball. The congregation was
numerous and distinguished, the preacher was obviously one of
the best in Paris : he strained his voice and his intellect to the
utmost, without producing much impression : it was an empty
pompous affair, deficient in commanding thought, and it failed
in exciting religious sentiment. The young clergy, who, in the
pursuit of their calling, are following rhetorical studies, should
not go to their churches where they would learn nothing of the
sort, but to the Thdatre Francais, where Talma's action and
method of speaking would teach them what might be of service
to them in their profession.
On the other hand, the eloquence, of the bar was stiU in fuU
force. An important case, in which all Paris took the greatest
interest, gave me an opportunity of hearing some of the most
distinguished members of the bar. The validity of a will was
disputed, and besides a rich Dantzic merchant of the name of
Sonniges, who was settled at Paris, there were two notaries
who were placed with him at the bar. They were all three
accused of having forged a will in favour of the first-named
party, to the prejudice of a young nephew of the testator.
The nephew had great connexions, so had the old merchant ;
the state of the case gave rise to considerable suspicion, and the
publicity of an open trial caused prodigious excitement. The
president, Hemart, who conducted the inquiry, was the same who
had presided at General Moreau's trial, and who was supposed
to have brought about his condemnation by unfair means. For
this reason he was execrated ; he knew this well, and appeared
determined on this occasion to proceed more honestly. But his-
face had a bad expression, which reminded me of the men of
blood in the times of the French Revolution. Still less was I
pleased with the imperial procureur, who conducted the prose
cution with zealous heat and great bitterness. The pubUc were
divided into two parties, who disputed violently for and against
the accused. The Emperor had declared himself in favour of
the young nephew, and some people sided with Napoleon, but
a still greater number were in favour of the accused. It was
evident that the wiU had been negUgently drawn up, but

160 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. ]*chap. xn.
without any fraudulent intention, and it was not worse than
many other cases which frequently come before a court of law
without entaUing any bad consequences upon the parties con
cerned. The procureur strained every nerve to prove the
fraudulent intention, while the two famous advocates, Chauveau-
Lagarde and BetUvt, pleaded the1 eause of the accused. Their
statements produced a great effect, and showed masterly talent;
but they did not obtain a verdict in favour of their client, nor
did the opposing counsel procure a severe sentence against him.'
The court steered a middle course, and the notaries only were
severely punished. Napoleon publicly reproached the president
for his want of vigour, saying, that the honour of the French
bar was stained, and that it was he who had covered it with
shame. How hard soever the anger of the Einperor was to
bear, the old president showed by his conduct that pubUc
opinion had still greater terrors for him, and he now hoped to
stand better with his fellow countrymen.

The impression made on men's minds by the tragical accident*
which closed1 the festivities at Napoleon's marriage, did not
prevent the French people from recommencing a fire of epigrams
and witticisms on the subject, which we heard with secret satis
faction. The more strictly these things were forbidden, the
greater was the pleasure of repeating them to others. Those
puns especiaUy ate we.ll known with which the famous eomedian
Brunet delighted 'the Parisians on this oecasion. " L'Empereur-
n'aime que Jdsephifie et la chasse !" is one of his boldest;
another was, " Jamais Arckiduchesse d'Autriche, n'a fait un
mariage civil," when the civil contract took place at St. Cloud,
according to law. Brunet's exclamation, " Le char Vattend,"
which he uttered, pointing to the arch of triumph upon the
top of which stood the bronze horses from Venice harnessed
to the empty triuinphal chariot, must occur to every one that
looked at it. Nearly every evening Brunet took some oppor
tunity of amusing the audience at the Theatre des Varietes
with some such sayings. Wheri, at last, it became too serious
to be any longer borne; the prefect of the police, Count
* A number of people were killed by fireworks.

chap, xn.] SONG QN NAPOLEON. 161
Dubois, sent for Brunet, and ordered him, threatening punish
ment in case of disobedience, to cease punning. Brunet re
plied, with a plaintive voice, " Mais que voulez-vous que je
fasse? c'est mon metier de faire des calembourgs, j'y gagne ma
vie; voulez-vous done que je scie du bois?" Repeated impri
sonments could not break this invincible habit, and Brunet's
supply of puns was inexhaustible.
But the wittiest and most remarkable squib on Napoleon's
marriage with Maria Louisa was a Poissarde song, to which
I have already alluded; it was distributed in all directions,
and learned by heart by thousands. Notwithstanding Na
poleon's anger and all the efforts of the police, the author
could never be discovered. Some hundred persons, who were
guilty of copying or singing it, were imprisoned; but all at
tempts to trace the song to its source proved fruitless. It
came to me, anonymously, by the post. It gives an idea of the
state of mind of the people,' who eagerly received and repeated
these verses.

"AH! L' BIAU MARIAGE!
" AIR : ' REC01S DANS TON GALETAS.'

" C'est done ben vrai qu' not' Emp'reur
Epous' un' princess' d'Autriche ;
Faut ben qu'un si grand seigneur
S'unisse avec queuq' zun d' riche,
Et pis c't' homme a sa raison
Pour prend' un' femm' d' bonn' maison (.bis).

" J'aurions ben gagS six francs
Qu'on n' li donn'rait pas c'te fille ;
Car il etait d' pis longtemps
Si mal avec la famille,
Qu' leur fit deux fois prend' par peur
Jacq' Delog' pour procureur.
VOL. I. M

162 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. xn.
in.
" J' voyons des mariag' comm' ^a
D' temps en temps a la Courtille ;
Tout d'abord on ross' 1' papa,
Pis on couch* avec la fille,
Et 1' beauper' n' os' pas dir' non,
D' peur d'avoir z'encor l'ognon !

" Pour all' il s'est fait Taut' jour
Peind' en bel habit d' dimanche,
Et des diamants tout autour,
Pres d* sa figur* comm' 9a tranche I
La p'tit luronn' ! j'en somm' sur,
Aim* mieux 1' present que 1' futur.
v.
" Ah ! comm' all* va s'amuser
C'te princess* qui nous arrive !
Nous allons boir' et danser,
N' s'enrouer a crier : Vive !
AH* s'ra 1'idol* d' la nation
J' Tons lu dans P proclamation. VI.
" Stapendant sur mon honneur
J' plaignons c'te pauv' Josephine,
All* fait cont* fortun' bon cceur,
J' savons ben qu' 5a la taquine,
L' metier li semblait si bon !
V la qu'on lui fait vend* son fond.
VII.
" Mais ent' nous, tout son malheur
Vient d' n'et' pas en etat d' grace :
J' somm* si content d* not' Emp'reur,
Que j' vouions voir des chiens d' race ;
II d' vait pour et' sur d* son fait,
Prend' un fill' qu'en eut d'ja fait.
VIII.
" D' ces deux rein' chactm' rendra
Tour-a-tour visit' a 1'autre,
A la jeun' l'ancienn* dira :
' J'ai fait mon temps, fait* le votre,
Si vous n' travail lez pas mieux
A Malm'son y a plaj' pour deux.*

chap, xn,] COUNT METTERNICH'S BREAKFASTS. 163

" J' tach'rons d' nous placer 'n grand jour
Pour ben voir les rejou'ssances ;
D' pis qu' l'Emp'reur chang' tout' sa cour,
J' n'y ons pas tant d' connaissances,
Mais j'esp'rons ben par bonheur,
Raccrocher queuqu' dam' d'honneur."

Count Metternich gave most amusing breakfasts ; the re
gular guests were numerous enough, and strangers were
brought nearly every day. Count Metternich was fond of the
excitement of conversation, and by no means avoided serious
or even political discussions. At these breakfasts I met many
of the most remarkable men of the day ; among others, Dr.
GaU, who had been forbidden to expound his theory in Vienna.
I did not like him or his vulgar views of science and nature :
he and I were always opposed : once, however, he appealed to
me in a manner which amused me prodigiously. I found him
one morning at Count Metternich's, engaged in a vehement
discussion on the subject of religion with Count Sternberg,
who had just come from Prague, and whose opinions were
diametrically opposed to Gall's. The contest was carried on
with great violence and harshness on both sides, when suddenly
the disputants unanimously pronounced religion to be ne
cessary, — " For," said , Sternberg, turning to a bystander,
" what would the world come to if the common people were
not in some degree kept within bounds by religion ? " " And,"
said Gall, addressing himself at the same instant to me, " what
would become of us, if our princes and rulers were not some
what held in check by religion ? " Neither of the disputants
heard what the other said, or knew by what various roads they
had arrived at the same conclusion. But I was now furnished
with a superfluity of arguments to convince me that, after all,
religion was necessary.
Prince Schwarzenberg's dinners — and he generally dined at
six or even seven — were grander than these breakfasts of
Count Metternich's, but the company was less select. At
Prince Schwarzenberg's, the society chiefly consisted of the
great people about the French court, of the members of the
si 2

164 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. [chap. xii.
diplomatic body, of the aristocracy of all countries, with a
sprinkling even of their rulers, — in a word, of all the great
world of Paris. It sometimes happened that only Austrians or
other Germans were present, and then the most confidential
tone prevailed at table ; only German was taUced, and the most
easy merriment reigned in the whole society, which might
almost be called a family circle. The prince himself, thoroughly
imbued with kindness, the princess, endowed with a good
understanding and practical good sense, full of zeal and interest
for all that was going on, of an excellent wit, and causing good
humour in others ; then her charming children, and the de
voted adherents and friends of the family, — all this formed a
delightful picture of German domestic life : all pomp and
circumstance paled before a noble simplicity of manner which
would equally have adorned a palace or a hut. When Count
Metternich happened to be present, the conversation grew
more lively : it was impossible not to take part in all sorts of
witty games ; and even those who did not generally like mysti
fications, were carried away by the general fun and good-hu
mour. An odd fish of a Frenchman acted scenes which Brunet
himself might have envied, and which would have gained him
most lively applause.
Notwithstanding all these attractions, I gradually avoided
these dinners ; they began too late, and lasted too long. I rather
sought the company of my own friends, with whom, after walking
about Paris in all directions, Iadjourned to the Rocher de Cancale
in the Palais Royal, or to the restaurant Very in the Tuileries,
or sometimes, by way of a change, to Grignon's or Beauvillier's :
by this proceeding we gained a good piece of the afternoon, and
had the evenings to ourselves. So long as Chamisso was in
Paris, I passed the chief part of my time with him : he had the
great merit of being amused by the French, and of being able to
laugh at their peculiarities, as if he himself were not one of
them. This produced many most amusing scenes, which occurred
without any seeking on our part. We were once walking in
ihe gardens of the Palais Royal, when a young dramatic poet,
an acquaintance of Chamisso's, joined us, and a sudden whim
seized us to eat strawberries. Before we could well think
where we were to get any, we saw some fine ones in the window
of the Cafe de Valois. We immediately entered and ordered

chap, xii.] SCENE IN THE CAFE DE VALOIS. 165

strawberries, sugar, and wine. The garcon brought us three
plates, thinking that the strawberries would merely serve as
dessert to an excellent breakfast, and waited for further orders ;
but when be saw that we ordered nothing else, he went to
fetch the strawberries. The little dessert-plateful was soon
emptied, and we asked for more: the fresh supply, likewise,
quickly disappeared, chiefly by the instrumentality of Chamisso,
and every moment we called out " Gargon, des f raises!" At
length all the plates were emptied, and we were still calling
" Gargon, des f raises." Panic-stricken, he rushed to his
master, and complained with grief and indignation. " Mon
Dieu! Us demandent encore des f raises !" The master,
like a general who receives unmoved the announcement of
some fatal disaster, replied with solemn dignity, " Eh bien !
on leur en apportera," and some were brought from elsewhere.
We laughed meanwhile like children, and, to do the garcon a
pleasure, I again quietly asked for another portion, in the
hope that he would be driven to desperation, and call down ini-
precrations upon us. However, instead of this, he looked pene
tratingly at us, with that expression of mute astonishment which
endeavours to comprehend an incomprehensible mystery — and
then said in a tone it would be- hopeless to try to imitate,
" J'y consens !" None but a Parisian could in such a moment
have found the exact words and the tone, so full of indignation,
of persiflage, and yet so respectful, "J'y consens!" Cha
misso compared it with the famous " Qu'il mourut," and
was incessantly repeating it. The poet confessed that the
words had great dramatic force, and that the garcon was a
hidden genius, and we ended by admiring and richly compen
sating him for his annoyances. But " des fraises" and " J'y
consens'' were phrases which we frequently repeated among our
selves. Chamisso was a dangerous companion in this respect ;
although he never played practical jokes himself, his uncommon
relish of them induced others to do so to please him.
A trifling event gave us another example of the readiness
and humour with, which any Frenchman you may happen to
meet in the street enters into every joke. An acquaintance had
forced upon me a quantity of poems, accompanying them with a
number of lies : the poems were written separately on large

166 "WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY. chap. xii.
handsome sheets of paper, which I was carrying rolled up in
my hand when I met a friend coming from the Museum. We
unrolled the papers, and proceeded to read the first poem,
which was wretched. I scornfully let the papers faU one by
one to the ground as fast as I read them, till I reached the
last. A well-bred young man who happened to be just behind
us picked up some of the poems and handed them to me,
saying, that we had lost some papers which he had been
fortunate enough to find. I said to him : " Quoi, Monsieur,
vous voulez nous forcer de reprendre ces mechants vers ? Mon
Dieu! il n'y a done pas moyen de se defaire de cela!" I
had scarce done speaking when I saw by the young man's face
that he had perfectly understood the whole affair ; he put on
a humble mien, and said with an air of demure politeness, " Oh !
je vous fais mille excuses, Monsieur ! veuillez etre persuade,
que je n'ai pas eu de mauvaise intention." I now again threw
away the papers, which fell into a puddle ; but some fellow saw
the white sheets of paper and picked them up again. " On
vous les presenter a encore une fois !" said the poUte French
man, and we all three ran away as if a mad dog were at our heels.
The peculiar wit of the Parisians, and the. talent which
even the lower classes have of turning every phrase in a
pointed agreeable manner, has the effect of inducing them to
believe themselves the first people on earth, the wisest and
most accomplished : they are wonderfully well satisfied with
themselves. No praise is too coarse for their vanity, and they
speak with the most open-hearted conviction of their own
transcendent merits. A gargon coiffeur in the Hotel de VEm-
pire entered the service of the Russian ambassador, Prince
Kurakin, and once, while he was shaving me, he showed me a
beautiful razor which he had bought for the prince : " Cest
deplorable" said he, "comme la toilette du prince est mal
fournie." He talked exactly as if he were extricating the prince
from the deepest distress, and ended by saying : " Mais que
voulez-vous ? Cest un Russe, ga n'a point de gout : ga n'a
rien!" It was impossible to take a walk through the streets,
or to enter into an accidental conversation with a shop-
boy, or an apple-woman, without finding materials for some
amusing anecdote.

chap, xii.] MADAME DE GENLIS. 167
At the same time I found the Parisians a melancholy people
in spite of all their love of fun : the town appeared to me to be
here and there merry, but, in reality, without joy. I was as
sured that there existed a race of honourable and exceUent
citizens, who lived in a retired manner, remote from the frivo
lities and vices of the great capital, and that in this class I
should find real ease and happiness — the true French cha
racter, the " levissima Gallorum ingenia,'' of which Julius Caesar
speaks, tempered with good morals and kindness of heart. But
this class Hved by itself, and strangers seldom came in contact
with these good bourgeois. What we did meet with was by no
means engaging. We were told that Paris was rapidly de
clining, and that we ought not to judge of it by what we saw.
The population had sunk from 900,000, which was the number
before the Revolution, down to 575,000 inhabitants ; trade and
commerce were falling off, and spite of the apparent luxury
and expensive habits, want and privation were very generaUy
felt. We were likewise assured that what made the charm of
the French — their real politeness — had disappeared, leaving
only the outward forms. Moreover, the nation seemed likely to
lose its national character ; Napoleon's eternal wars did much
in this way ; but the chief cause was to be traced up to the Re
volution and to the reign of terror. All the charm of society
which had formed the highest attraction and fame of Paris, was
irretrievably destroyed.
Chamisso confirmed the latter assertion, and said that he
knew no old-fashioned French house to which he could intro
duce us. The old style of society was beginning to revive in the
Faubourg Saint-Germain ; but they were very exclusive, and
the soeiety was very limited. The great people of the Empire
made the most of their advantages ; but it was aU outward
show ; the real and the solid were wanting. I had not the
smallest wish to throw myself into this dreary waste of splen
dour; the few visits of ceremony which I could not avoid
making, showed me clearly enough what was to be gained from
this sort of society, — namely, tedium and disgust.
At the same time any one who was fortunate might stiU
find some remnant of old Paris in the new. Madame de GenUs,
among others, was in the habit of receiving at her house a

168 WAR OF LIBERATION IN GERMANY, [chap. xii.
select society of distinguished people in spite of the smallness
of her means. Several artists and men of letters also opened
their houses, and the conversation was said to be most enter
taining. But these were the exceptions, and their influence
over the rest of Paris was very small. The complaint of
weariness and want of good society was very general in Paris.
Fortunately there was always the resource of the play :
this, however, was no great temptation to me, and I seldom
willingly exchanged the free air of heaven for the heavy lamp-
oil atmosphere of a theatre, where one was forced to sit im
prisoned a whole evening. The representations at Saint
Cloud, where tragedies and the higher sort of dramas were
acted, as I have before mentioned, were pleasant enough, and I
made a point of going frequently to the opera. Nor did I
neglect to see the popular opera of Cinderella at the Theatre
Feydeau, where Elleviou was undoubtedly the best performer.
But what attracted us most of all was Brunet, at the Theatre
des Variet^s : the Vaudeville, and other smaller theatres,
afforded us no particular amusement. We stopped with much
greater pleasure before the little peripatetic theatres on the
Boulevards, to see Polichinelle and Bobeche, or went to Tivoli
to witness the amusing little impromptu farces which were
performed in the open air, and where we had an opportunity
of seeing the true national character.
The diversions at Tivoli appeared to me to be in Httle a
true picture of Paris life. From the moment of entering the
gardens to that of quitting them, there was a constant suc
cession of entertainments ; every corner, every spare moment,
had its peculiar amusement ; from the most splendid fire
works, and the most clanging military band, down to the smallest
optical delusions and most insignificant strumming of guitars,
nothing was left untried as a means of passing away the time.
These multiplied and diversified amusements, these attempts at
and straining after pleasure, showed pretty clearly a general
want of it. And, in truth, in the Tivoli gardens I never saw a
happy face ; all had a look of satiety and disappointment ; a
painful necessity of escaping the pressure of the present moment
seemed to pervade them all.

cuap. xn.] THE BOULEVARD DES ITALIEn\. 1*69
In spite of the agreeable and exciting life I was leading, of
the various objects I had to see and to admire, and oAthe happi
ness of my own personal existence, still I must confess that my
stay in Paris gave me no satisfaction. The perpetual dissipa
tion, the constant reception of new impressions without actual
study or active cultivation of the mind, the easy mode of pass
ing the hours without any special object in view, without any
leading idea, — all this tired me to the last degree, and isny
general lassitude was increased by the occasional bright spots
in this sort of existence. The crowd of people only made nX
more melancholy. Frequently, just at sunset, going from the
Boulevard des Italiens beyond the Porte Saint Martin, where
the Boulevard widens, I stopped to see the crowd shouldering
one another, each one intent on his own individual object,
and that generally one of interest, ambition, deceit, or seduc
tion : a deep feeling of commiseration would then steal over
me for this mass of individuals : they seemed to be wasting
their Hves in straining after something which they could
never obtain. In the midst of this crowd, upon which shone
the setting sun, the impression of melancholy which Paris made
upon me was always the strongest.
Meanwhile my desire to return to Germany, to a German
soil, and a German people, never left me. But another cause
of uneasiness had preyed upon me during my whole stay at
Paris, and my anxiety now became intolerable. For a long
time I had heard nothing of Rahel, and my letters had re
mained unanswered. At last I heard that she had been ill.
Paris now became odious to me, and I longed with impatience
to quit it ; but various delays intervened. At last the day of
departure arrived, and I thought myself justified in saying,
with Rousseau — "Adieu, done, Paris, ville celebre, ville de
bruit, de fumee et de boue ; ou les femmes ne croient plus a.
l'honneur, ni les hommes a la vertu. Adieu, Paris : nous cher-
chons I'amour, le bonheur, V innocence ; nous ne serons jamais
assez loin de toi."

end or PART I.

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MR. MURRAY'S LIST OF BOOKS.

'HISTORY AND ANTIQUITIES.

GIBBON'S ROMAN EMPIRE.
Edited, with Notes, hy Rev. H. H. Milman. Second Edition. 6 vole. 8vo, 63s.
RANKE'S POPES OF ROME:
Translated from the last edition of the German, by Sarah Austin.
Third Edition. 2 vols. 8vo, 24 j.
m.
GROTE'S HISTORY OF GREECE.
1. Legendary Greece. 2. Grecian History to the Reign of Peisistratus
at Athens. 2 vols. 8vo, 32* ,
EUROPE DURING THE MIDDLE AGES.
By Henry Haixam. Eighth Edition. 2 vols. 8vo, 24j.
HISTORY OF ENGLAND,
From the Accession of Henry VTI. to the Death of George the Second.
By Henry Hallam. Fifth Edition. 2 vols. 8vo,24f.
vr.
HISTORY OF ENGLAND,
From the Peace of Utrecht (1713), to the Peace of Paris (1763),
By Lord Mahon. Second Edition. 4 vols. 8vo, 52s,
VII.
LAPPENBERG'S ANGLO-SAXON HISTORY.
Translated from the German. By Benjamin Thorpe, 'F.S.A.
2 vols. 8ro, 21 s.
viii.
ELPHINSTONE'S HISTORY OF INDIA.
THE HINDOO AND MAHOMEDAN PERIODS.
Second Edition. Map. 2 vols. 8vo, 30*.
WILKINSON'S ANCIENT EGYPTIANS ;
THEIR PRIVATE LIFE, MANNERS, AND CUSTOMS.
Third and cheaper Edition. With 600 Illustrations. 5 vols. 8vo, £4 is.

THE MARLBOROUGH DESPATCHES.
Edited by Sib George Murray. 5 vols. 8vo, with an Index, 20s. each.
SPAIN UNDER CHARLES THE SECOND.
Extracts from the Stanhope Correspondence, from 1090 to 1699. By Lord Mahon.
Second Edition. Post 8vo, 6j. 6d.

MR. MURRAY'S LIST OF BOOKS.

BIOGRAPHY.
LORD SIDMOUTH'S LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE.
By the Dean of Norwich, Portrait. 3 vols. 8vo, 42*.
THE LORD CHANCELLORS OF ENGLAND.
FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES. By Lord Campbell.
First Series. To Revolution, 1688. Second Edition. 3 vols. 8vo, 42s.
Second Series. From Revolution, 1688, down to 1806. 2 vols. 8vo, 30s.
LIFE OF LORD CHANCELLOR ELDON.
By Horace Twiss. Third Edition. Portrait. 2 vols, post 8vo, 21s.
LIFE OF SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY.
Edited by his Sons. Third Edition. Portrait. 2 vols, fcap 8vo, ISf.
LIFE OF GENERAL LORD HILL.
By Rev. Edwin Sidney. Second Edition. Portrait. 8vo, 12s.
MEMOIR OF LORD SYDENHAM.
By G. Poolett Scrope, M.P. Second Edition. Post 8vo, 9s. 6d.
NAVAL WORTHIES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH'S REIGN.
By John Barrow. 8vo, Hs.
NAVAL LIFE OF SIR PHILIP DURHAM.
By his Nephew. 8vo, 6s. 6d.
BOSWELL'S LIFE OF JOHNSON.
By Right Hon. J.W. Croker. A New Edition revised, with great additions. Royal 8vo.
LIFE AND LETTERS OF LORD BYRON.
By Thomas Moore. New Edition. Portraits. 8vo, 13s.
LIFE OF CRABBE, THE POET;
With his Letters and Journals. By his Son. Plates. Fcap 8vo, Is. Sd.
•LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS.
! By J. G. Lockhart. Fifth and Cheaper Edition. Portrait. Fcap 8vo, 3s.
LIFE OF SIR DAVID WILKIE;
With his Letters, Journals, and Critical Remarks on Works of Art
By Allan Cunningham. Portrait. 3 vols. 3 vo, 42s.
LIVES OF GALILEO, TYCHO BRAHE, AND KEPLER.
By Sib David Brewster, LL.D. Second Edition. Fcap 8vo, 4s. 6d.

MR. MURRAY'S LIST OP BOOKS.

THEpLQGY.
THE ILLUMINATED COMMON PRAYER BOOK,
With 1000 Ornamental Initials, Borders, Vignettes, Titles, &e.
8vo. Cloth, morocco, or vellum.
THE BOOK OF THE CHURCH.
By Robert Southey, LL.D. Fifth Edition. With an Index. 8vo, 12s.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE LITURGY AND RITUAL.
Selected from Eminent Divines of the Seventeenth Century.
By Rev. James Broaden, M.A. 3 vols, post 8vo, 27s.
BROGDEN'S CATHOLIC SAFEGUARDS
Against the Errors,' Corruptions, and Novelties of the Church of Rome.
Selected from Eminent Divines of the 17th Century.
2 vols. 8vo, 14s. each.
ON THE UNITY OF THE CHURCH.
By Henry Edward Manning, Archdeacon of Chichester. 2nd Edit. 8vo, 10s. 6d.
PRAYERS FOR FAMILY USE FROM THE LITURGY.
By Right Hon, W. E. Gladstone. 12mo, 2s. 6d.
HISTORY OF CHRISTIANITY.
From the Birth of Christ to the Extinction of Paganism in the Roman Empire.
By Rev. H. H. Milman. 3 vols. 8vo, 36s.
THE POPULAR EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY.
By William Sewell, B.D., of Exeter College, Oxford. Fcap 8vo, 7s. 6<t.
SERMONS.
By Charles John Vaughan, D.D., Bead Master of Harrow School.
¦"' "¦' ' ' 8vo, 12s. 6d.
SUGGESTIONS TO THE THEOLOGICAL STUDENT
UNDER PRESENT DIFFICULTIES.
By.A.C. Tait„D,P.L., .Head Master of Rugby School. .Post 8vp, 6s. 6d.
PARISH SERMONS;
On the Lessons, the Gospel, or Jhe.Epistle, for every Sunday and Principal Festival.
By Bishop Heber. Fifth Edition. 2 vols, posts™, 16s.
THE NESTORIAN CHRISTIANS, OR LOST TRIBES.
By Asahbl Grant, M.D. Third Edition. Map. Fcap 8vo, 6s.

MR. MURRAY'S LIST OF BOOKS.

POETRY.'
LORD BYRON'S LIFE AND WORKS.
Collected and arranged, with Notes and Illustrations. 17 vols. fcap. 8vo, £3 3s.
LORD BYRON'S POETICAL WORKS.
With Portrait and Plates. 10 vols. 18mo. 2s. 6<2. each.
LORD BYRON'S POETICAL WORKS.
With Portrait and Vignette. One volume, royal 8vo, 15s.
LORD BYRON'S TALES.
2 vols. 24mo, 5s.
LORD BYRON'S DRAMAS.
2 vols. 24mo, 5s.
LORD BYRON'S CHILDE HAROLD.
24mo, 2s. 6d.
REV. GEORGE CRABBE'S LIFE AND POEMS.
With Portrait and Vignette. One volume, royal 8vo, 15s.
CRABBE'S POETICAL WORKS.
With a Life. By his Son. Plates. 8 vols, fcap 8vo, 30.?.
LOCKHART'S ANCIENT SPANISH BALLADS.
With Illuminated Titles, Coloured Borders, Vignettes, Sec. 4to. 21. 2s.
CAMPBELL'S SPECIMENS OF THE POETS;
Revised hy Peter Cunningham. Portrait and Vignette. Royal 8vo, 15s.
BISHOP HEBER'S POETICAL WORKS.
Portrait. Fcap 8vo, 7*. 6d.
POEMS.
By Lord Patrick Robertson. Crown 8vo, Is. Gd.
REV. H. H. MILMAN'S POETICAL WORKS.
3 vols, fcap 8vo, 18s.
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM'S POEMS AND SONGS.
24mo.
REJECTED ADDRESSES.
Twenty-first Edition. Fcap 8vo, 6s. 6d.
DIBDIN'S POPULAR SEA SONGS.
With Illustrations by Georoe Cruikshank. Fcap 8 vo, Bs.

MR. MURRAY'S LIST OP BOOKS.

POPULAR VOYAGES AND TRAVELS.

A JOURNAL OF THE DISASTERS IN AFFGHANISTAN.
By Lady Sale. Eighth Thousand. With Plan. Post 8vo, 12s.
THE SIKHS AND AFFGHANS
IMMEDIATELY BEFORE AND AFTER THE DEATH OF
RUNJEET SINGH.
By Shahamat Ali, Persian Secretary to Sir Claude Wade. ' Post 8vo, 12s. ,
in.
JAPAN IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
Desoribed from the Accounts of Recent Dutch Travellers. Post8vo, 9s. M.
A JOURNEY THROUGH ARABIA PETREA,
Mount Sinai, to the Excavated City of Petra, the Edom op the Prophecies.
By M. Leon de Labordb. Second Edition. Plates. 8vo, 18s.
A SHORT VISIT TO THE IONIAN ISLANDS.
By Edward Giffard. With Views. Post 8vo, 12s.
THE SHORES OF THE MEDITERRANEAN.
WITH SKETCHES OF TRAVEL. 1843—45.
By Francis Schroeder. With Plates. 2 vols, post 8vo, 16s.
vii.
A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY AND RESEARCH,
IN THE SOUTHERN AND ANTARCTIC SEAS.
By Sir James Clark Ross, Knt., R.N. Plates and Maps- 2 vols, 8vo.
VIII.
ETCHINGS OF A WHALING CRUISE.
With a Sojourn on the Island of Zanzibar. By J. Ross Browne.
With numerous Plates. 8 vo, 18s.
ADVENTURE IN NEW ZEALAND.
With some Account of the Beginning of the British Colonization of the Island.
By E. J. Wakefield. 2 vols. 8vo, 28;.
TRAVELS. IN NEW ZEALAND.
With Contributions to the Geography, Botany, and Natural History of the Islands.
By Ernest Diefpbnbach, M.D. With Plates. 2 vols. 8vo, 24».
THE RUINED CITIES OF YUCATAN.
By J. L. Stephens. With 120 Engravings. 2 vols. 8vo, 42s.

10 MR. MURRAY'S LIST OP BOOKS.

XII.
ARCTIC VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY AND RESEARCH.
By Sir John Barrow, Bart. Portrait and Map. 8vo, ISs.
xiii.
FOREST SCENES AND INCIDENTS IN CANADA.
By Sir George Head. Second Edition. Post 8vo, 10s.
xiv.
A BACKWOODSMAN'S ACCOUNT OF UPPER CANADA.
For the Usb op Emigrants. Third Edition. Fcap 8vo, Is. 6d.
xv.
TRAVELS OF A GEOLOGIST IN NORTH AMERICA.
By Charles Lyell, F.G.S. With Illustrations. 2 vols, post 8vo, 21;.
xvi.
LETTERS FROM CANADA AND THE UNITED STATES.
By John Robert Godley. 2 vols, post 8vo, 16s.
xvii.
EXCURSION THROUGH THE SLAVE STATES ;
By G . W.'Featherstonhaugh. 2 vols. 8vo, 26s.
XVIII.
TEXAS AND THE GULF OF MEXICO.
By Mrs. Houston. 2 vols, post 8vo, 21*. *
xix.
EXCURSIONS IN NEWFOUNDLAND.
By J. B. Jukes. With a Map. 2 vols, post 8vo, 21s.
GATHERINGsTfROM SPAIN.
By Richard Ford. Post 8vo. 5s.
xxi.
DOMESTIC MANNERS OF THE RUSSIANS.
By Rev. R. L. Venables. Post 8vo, 9s. 6<2.
xxii.
LETTERS FROM THE BYE-WAYS OF ITALY.
( By Mrs. Stistbd. Plates. 8vo, 18*.
xxur.
TOUR IN AUSTRIAN LOMBARDY, TYROL AND BAVARIA.
By John Barrow. Woodcuts. Post 8vo, 10s. 6<t.
xxrv.
BUBBLES FROM THE BRUNNEN OF NASSAU.
By Sir Francis B. Head, Bart. Sixth Edition. 16mo, 6s.
ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, AND IRELAND,
The Channel Islands and the Isle op Man*
By Sir George Head. Third Edition. 2 vols, post 8vo, 12*,

MR. MURRAY'S LIST OF BOOKS. 11

GENERAL LITERATURE.

THE SANATIVE INFLUENCE OF CLIMATE.
With an Account of the best Places of Resort for Invalids.
By Sir James Clark, Bart.,M.D. Fourth Edition, Revised. Post 8vo, 10s. Sd.
LITERARY HISTORY OF EUROPE.
By Henrv Hallam. Second Edition. 3 vols. 8vo, 36s.
in.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE MORAL FEELINGS.
Bv John Abercromeie, M.D. Seventh Edition. Fcap8vo, 4*.
iv.
ON THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS.
Bv John Abercrombie, M.D. Eleventh Edition. Fcap 8vo, 6s. 6<7.
PROGRESSION BY ANTAGONISM :
A Theory, involving the Present Position, Duties, and Destiny of Great Britain.
By Lord Lindsay. 8vo, 6s.
REMARKABLE CRIMES AND TRIALS.
Translated from the German of Fueurbaoh. By Lady Duff Gordon. 8vo, 12s.
vii.
FAVOURITE HAUNTS AND RURAL STUDIES ;
Including Visits to Spots of Interest in the Vicinity of Windsor and Eton.
By Edward Jesse. Woodcuts. Post 8vo, 12s.
Viii.
THE EMIGRANT.
By Sir Francis B. Head, Bart. Fifth Edition. Post 8vo. 12s.
rx.
THE FAMILY ARABIAN NIGHTS.
Translated, with Explanatory Notes, by E. W. Lane.
Second Edition. With 600 Woodcuts. 3 vols, post 8vo.

HAWKSTONE :
A Tale qf and.for England, in 184—. Third Edition. 2 vols, foap 8vo, 12s.
PORTER'S PROGRESS OF THE NATION
IN ITS SOCIAL AND ECONOMICAL .RELATIONS.
' Second Edition. 8vo.
XII.
RICARDO'S POLITICAL ,WORKS.
With a Biographical Sketch of the Author. By J. R. M'Culloch. 8vo,16s,

12 MR. MURRAY'S LIST OP BOOKS.

ILLUSTRATED WORKS AND ART.

THE ILLUMINATED COMMON PRAYER BOOK,
With Initials, Borders, Vignettes, Titles, &c, gold and colours. Royal 8vo.
" The most splendid illuminated book ever published." — Times.
LOCKHART'S ANCIENT SPANISH BALLADS.
With Coloured Borders, Woodcuts, Vignettes, Title-pages, &c. 4to, 42*.
" So beautiful a volume was never offered to the world." — Edinburgh Review:
in.
LORD BYRON'S CHILDE HAROLD.
With a Portrait and 60 Vignette Engravings. 8vo, 21;.
UA splendid work — worth illustrating, and worthily illustrated,"— Athen^um.
iv.
PUSS IN BOOTS.
With 12 Illustrations. . By Otto Speckter. Square 16mo.
" Complete pictures, and tell the story with dramatic /orce."— Spectator.
THE CHARMED ROE;
With 12 Illustrations. By Otto Speckter. Square 16mo.
" Otto Speckter the best German animal painter."— Examtner.
THE FAIRY RING.
Tales and Stories for Christmas. With Illustrations by Richard Doyle.
Fcap 8vo, 7s. Sd.
VII.
HISTORY OF PAINTING— THE ITALIAN, GERMAN,
FLEMISH, AND DUTCH SCHOOLS.
Translated from the German of Kdgler. With Notes. 2 voIb. post 8vo, 24s.
VIII.
THE ANATOMY AND PHILOSOPHY OF EXPRESSION,
As connected with the Fine Arts. By Sir Chakles Bell.
Fourth Edition. With Plates. Impl. 8vo, 21s.

SCIENCE AND NATURAL HISTORY.

THE CONNEXION OF THE PHYSICAL SCIENCES.
By Mary Somerville. Seventh Edition. Fcap 8vo, 10s. 6d.
FARADAY'S CHEMICAL MANIPULATION;
Being Instructions to Students in Chemistry. Third Edition. 8vo, 18s.

MR. MURRAY'S LIST OF BOOKS. 13

hi.
THE MUCK MANUAL;
A Practical Treatise on the Nature and Value or Manures.
By F. Falkner. A New Edition, with a Glossary of Terms. Fcap 8vo, 5s.
IV.
ELEMENTS OF GEOLOGY.
By Charles Lyell,F.G.S. Second Edition. With 400 Woodcuts, &c 2vols.l2mo,18s.
PRINCIPLES OF GEOLOGY.
By Charles Lvell.F.G.S. Seventh Edition, revised. With 450 Woodcuts.
One vol. 8vo, 18s.
THOUGHTS ON ANIMALCULES ;
Or, a Glimpse at the Invisirle World, Revealed rv the Microscope.
By Gideon A. Mantell, LL.D., F.R.S. Plates. Crown 8vo, 10». Sd.
VII.
GLEANINGS IN NATURAL HISTORY.
By Edward Jesse. Fifth Edition. With Woodcuts. Fcap 8vo, 6s. 6d.
VIII.
JOURNAL OF A NATURALIST.
Fourth Edition, with Woodcuts. Post 8vo, 9s. Sd.
THE NATURAL SYSTEM OF PLANTS.
With thoir Classification. By Mrs. Loudon. With 150 Woodcuts. Fcap 8vo, Its.

SPORTING.

THE CHASE— THE TURF— AND THE ROAD.
By Nimkod. Second Edition, with Plates by Alken and Gilbert. Post 8vo, 9s. 6d.
THE FIELD SPORTS OF FRANCE ;
By Rodk. O'Connor, Barrister at Law. Fcap 8vo, Is. Sd.
m.
DAYS OF DEER-STALKING;
Bv William Scrope,F.L.S. Third Edition. Plates and Woodcuts. Crown 8vo, 20s.
DAYS AND NIGHTS 'oF SALMON FISHING.
By William Scrope, F.L.S. With numerous Plates. Royal 8vo, 21. 2s.
MAXIMS AND HINTS ON ANGLING AND CHESS.
By Richard Pknn, F.R.S. Second Edition. With 24 Plates. Fcap8vo, Us.
VI.
THE MOOR AND THE LOCH ;
By John Colquhoun. Second Edition. Plates. 8vo, 9s. Sd.

14 MR. MURRAY'S LIST OP BOOKS.

DOMESTIC AND RURAL ECONOMY.

MRS. RUNDELL'S DOMESTIC COOKERY.
Founded upon Principles of Economy and practical Knowledge.
' ?Qth Edition, improved by the addition of 900 New Receipts. Fcap 8vo, 6s.
"The most practically useful book we have ever seen." — British Critic.
'* The standard work of reference in evert family."— Worcestershire Guardian,
"Leaves no room to any rival,"— Bath Journal.
ii.
NEW FAMILY RECEIPT-BOOK;
A Collection of a Thousand valuable Receipts in Domestic Economy.
New Edition. Fcap 8vo, 5s. 6d.
"¦ A larger quantity of truly valuable matter than any book of the same kind ever
contained."— British Critic. hi.
GARDENING FOR LADIES;
[ With Practical Instructions and Directions for every Month,
By Mrs. Loudon. Sixth Edition. Woodcuts. Fcap 8vo, 6s.
•"¦ This charming little book ought to find its way into every cottage in the country."
—Atlas. "Thoroughly practical, and distinguished by great good sense." — Gloucester
Chronicle. iv.
FARMING FOR LADIES;
A GUIDE FOR THE POULTRY-YARD, DAIRY, AND PIGGERY.
By the Author of " British Husbandry." Woodcuts. Fcap 8vo, as.
" Abounding with most valuable hints in every branch of domestic economy." —
Reading Mercury.
" This substantial guide is appropriately preceded by two illustrations of Her
Majesty's Poultry-yard." — Newcastle Journal,

HAND-BOOK OF NEEDLEWORK;
A Guide to every kind of Decorative Needlework, Crochet, Knitting, and Netting.
By Miss Lambert. Fifth Edition. 150 Woodcuts. Fcap 8vo, 6*. 6d.
" The most complete treatise on the art of needlework ever compiled." — Atlas.
(( An eminently practical work ; clear in its explanations and precise in its direc
tions . " — Polytechnic Review. VI.
MY CROCHET SAMPLER.
By Miss Lambert. First and Second Series. Woodcuts. J6mo, 2*. 6d.
VII.
MY KNITTING-BOOK.
By Miss Lambert. First and Second Series, lfimo, Is. Sd. each.

MR. MURRAY'S LIST OF BOOKS. 15

WORKS OF AMUSEMENT & INSTRUCTION,
ADAPTED FOE YOUNG PERSONS.

MRS. MARKHAM'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
Twelfth Edition, with Woodcuts. 12mo, Is. Sd.
MRS. MARKHAM'S HISTORY OF FRANCE.
Seventh Edition, with Woodcuts. 12mo, Is. Sd.
ui.
MRS. MARKHAM'S HISTORY OF GERMANY.
With Woodcuts. 12mo, 7s. Sd.
IV.
MRS. MARKHAM'S SERMONS FOR CHILDREN.
Second Edition. Fcap 8vo, 3s.
BERTHA 'S' JOURNAL
DURING A VISIT TO HEB UNCLE IN ENGLAND.
Fifth Edition. 12mo, Is. Sd.
PHILOSOPHY IN SPORT MADE SCIENCE IN EARNEST.
Sixth Edition. With 100 Woodcuts. Fcap 8vo, 8s.
VII.
STORIES FOR CHILDREN;
Selected from the History of England.
Fourteenth Edition. Illustrated with 24 Woodcuts. Square 16mo, 5s.
VIII.
PROGRESSIVE GEOGRAPHY FOR CHILDREN.
By the Author of " Stories for Children."
Fourth Edition. 18mo, Is. Sd.
IX.
LITTLE ARTHUR'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
Seventh Edition. With Woodcuts. 18mo, 3s.
THE YEAR BOOK OF NATURAL HISTORY.
By Mrs. Loudon. With 40 Woodcuts. 18mo, 4s.
XI.
ELEMENTS OF GEOMETRY AND ALGEBRA.
By Rev. George Fisher, of the Koyal Naval Schools, Greenwich,
18mo, 3s. each. {Published by Order of the Admiralty.)

16 MR. MURRAY'S LIST OF SCHOOL BOOKS.

CLASSICAL & SCHOOL BOOKS.

SMITH'S SCHOOL DICTIONARY OF ANTIQUITIES.
Abridged from the Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities.
With 200 Woodcuts. Square 12mo, 10s. Sd.
BUTTMAN'S LEXILOGUS ;
Or, the Meaning and Etymology of Various Words and Passages in Greet Writers.
Translated, with Notes, by Fishlake. Third Edition. 8vo, lis.
ur.
BUTTMAN'S IRREGULAR GREEK VERBS ;
With all the Tenses that are extant — their Formation, Meaning, and Usage.
Translated, with Notes, by Fj shi.ak e. Second Edition. 8vo, Is. Sd.
CARMICHAEL'S GREEK VERBS :
Their Formations, Irregularities, and Defects. Second Edition. 12mo, 8s. 6d,

COLERIDGE'S GREEK CLASSIC POETS.
Third Edition. Fcap 8vo, is. Sd.
THE ANCIENT GREEKS.
Translated from the German of Henry Hase. Fcap 8vo, 5s. Ud.
VII.
MATTHIiE'S SHORTER GREEK GRAMMAR.
Abridged by the Bishop of London. Seventh Edition. Revised by Edwards. 12mo, 3s.
VIII.
GREECE GRAMMATICJE RUDIMENTA MINORA.
A New Edition. 12mo, 2s.
GRiEOffi GRAMMATICS RUDIMENTA: PARS POSTERIOR,
SIVE SYNTAXIS.
A New Edition. 12mo, 2s.
KING EDWARD THE SIXTH'S LATIN GRAMMAR.
A New Edition revised. 12mo, 3s. Sd.
ENGLISH NOTES FOR LATIN ELEGIACS.
By tho Rev. W. Oxenham, M. A. , Second Master of Harrow School. 12mo, 4s.
BRADBURY ANB EVANS, .RLNTERS. WHITBTRIARS.

a birthday, baptismal, or marriage gift.

NOW EEADT, ONE TOLUME ROYAL 8vO. CLOTH, MOEOCCO, OB VELLUM,
THE
ILLUMINATED PKAYER-BOOK,
WITH
ORNAMENTAL BORDERS, INITIALS, TITLES, &c, IN
GOLD AND COLOURS.

Of the various Works which are capable of Pictorial Decoration
and Illustration, none seem more appropriately adapted for that
object than the
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER.

THE EMBELLISHMENTS OF THE PRESENT EDITION CONSIST OF
I.— 300 ORNAMENTAL BORDERS, SCROLLS, HEAD-PIECES, and
VIGNETTES, and 700 INITIALS.
II.— EIGHT ILLUMINATED TITLES.
III.— ILLUSTRATIONS of the CEREMONIES of the CHURCH.
IV.— FORTY HISTORICAL ENGRAVINGS, from the early masters.

The Times.
" The brilliancy of effect, and the permanency of the colours in the illumina
tions of this volume, have surpassed anything that antiquity has produced. It
is the most elaborate copy of the liturgy of a Protestant Church ever executed :
is a noble devotional volume and fitting Christian manual."
Morning Post.
" Not surpassed by the life-engrossing, laborious productions of those good
old transcribers in cloistered cells of the past."
ATHENiEUM.
" There is not a page which has not something worthy of commendation, and
the variety of the ornaments and initials excites astonishment"
Spectator.
" The number, variety, and beauty of the devices that enrich the pages fer
nrpass anything that has been done in decorative printing."
Cambridge Chronicle.
" It is impossible to speak too highly of tite exceeding beauty of this work.
t is a typographical triumph."
JOHN MURRAY, Albemarle Street.

lURRAY'S MONTHLY LIBRARY.

ALREADY PUBLISHED, FORMING TWENTY VOLUMES.

BORROWS BIBLE IN SPA1M.
BISHOP HEBER'S INDIAN JOURNALS.
IR8Y AND MANGLES' TRAVELS.
DRINKWATER'S 51ECE OF GIBRALTAR.
HAY'S MOROCCO AND THE MOORS.
LETTERS FROM THE BALTIC.
THE AMBER WITCH.
SOUTHEY'S CROMWELL AND BUNYAN.
MRS. MEREDITH'S AUSTRALIA.
BARROW'S LIFE OF DRAKE.
FATHER RIPA'S CHINESE MEMOIRS.
LEWIS'S WEST INDIES.
MALCOLM'S SKETCHES OF PERSIA.
FRENCH IN ALGIERS.

BRACEBRIDGE HALL.
DARWIN'S NATURALIST'S VOYAGE.
FALL OF THE JESUrTS.
LORD MAHON'S UFE OF CONDE. '
BORROWS GYPSIES IN SPAIN.
MELVILLE'S TYPEE AND TOBY.
LIVONIAN TALES.
MEMOIRS OF A MISSIONARY. ;'
SALES BRIGADE IN AFGHANISTAN.
LETTERS FROM MADRAS." ; "'.-
WILD SPORTS IN THE HIGHLANDS,
HEAD'S PAMPAS JOURNEYS.
FORD'S GATHERINGS FROM SPAIN,
THE SIEGES OF VIENNA./ . ;

Uniform with the " Colonial Lihrary,"
LOCKHAET'S LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS.
New Edition. Fcap., 3s. sewed.

YRLE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

O39002015525422B