Full text of "Tour in England, Ireland, and France : in the years 1826, 1827, 1828 and 1829; with remarks on the manners and customs of the inhabitants, and anecdotes of distinguished public characters. In a series of letters"

HUH

TOUR

V.-* > * 5 , ', <^ .

ENGLAND, IRELAND, AND FRANCE

THE YEARS 1826, 1827, 1828, AND 1829.

WITH REMARKS OJX

THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE INHABITANTS, AND ANECDOTES OF

Att*

CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD, CHESTNUT STREET.

1833.

to the

of the

OF TORONTO

Ontario

Legislative

Library

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE

TO THE

FIRST AND SECOND VOLS. OF THE LONDON EDITION

THE following work being the genuine expression of the thoughts and
Feelings excited by this country in the mind of a foreigner whose station,
education, and intelligence seem to promise no common degree of aptitude
for the difficult task of appreciating England, it has been thought worth
while to give it to the English public. The Translator is perfectly aware
that the author has been led, or has fallen, into some errors both of fact
and inference. These he has not thought it expedient to correct. Every
candid traveller will pronounce such errors inevitable ; for from what
class in any country is perfectly accurate and impartial information to be
obtained ? And in a country so divided by party and sectarian hostilities
and prejudices as England, how must this difficulty be increased ! The
book is therefore given unaltered ; except that some few omissions have
been made of facts and anecdotes, either familiar to us, though new to
Germans, or trivial in themselves.

Opinions have been retained throughout, without the least attempt at
change or colouring. That on some important subjects they are not those
of the mass of Englishmen, will, it is presumed, astonish no reflecting
man. They bear strong marks of that individuality which characterizes
modes of thinking in Germany, where men are no more accustomed to
claim the right of thinking for others, than to renounce that of thinking
for themselves. This characteristic of the German mind stands in strong
contrast to the sectarian division of opinion in England. The sentiments
of the author are therefore to be regarded simply as his own, and not as
a sample of those of any sect or class in Germany : still less are they
proposed for adoption or imitation here. The opinion he pronounces on
French and German philosophy is, for example by no means in accord-
ance with the popular sentiment of his country.

The Letters, as will be seen from the Preface, were published as the
work of a deceased person. They have excited great attention in Ger-

iv TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.

many ; and rumour has ascribed them to Prince Piickler Muskau, a sub-
ject of Prussia, who is known to have travelled in England and Ireland
about the period at which these Letters were written. He has even been
mentioned as the author in the Berlin newspapers. As, however, he has
not thought fit to accept the authorship, we have no right to fix it upon
him ; though the public voice of Germany has perhaps sufficiently esta-
blished his claim to it. At all events, the Letters contain allusions to his
rank, which fully justify us in ascribing them to a German Prince. They
likewise furnish internal evidence of his being a man not only accustomed
to the society of his equals, but conversant with the world under various
aspects, and with literature and art : of fertile imagination ; of unfettered
and intrepid understanding ; and accustomed to consider every subject in
a large, tolerant, and original manner.

The author of the ' Briefe eines VerstorbenenJ be he who he may, has
had the honour and happiness of drawing forth a critique from the pen of
Gothe. None but those incapable of estimating ttye unapproachable lite-
rary merits of that illustrious man, will be surprised that the Translator
should be desirous of giving the authority of so potential a voice to the
book which it has been his difficult task to render into English.

The following extracts from Gothe's article in the Berliner Jahrbuch
will do more to recommend the work than all that could be added here :

" The writer appears a perfect and experienced man of the world, endowed
with talents, and with a quick apprehension ; formed by a varied social existence,
by travel and extensive connections ; likewise a thorough, liberal-minded German,
versed in literature and art.

* * * ; " He is also a good companion even in not the best

company, and yet without ever losing his own dignity. *

" Descriptions of natural scenery form the chief part of the Letters ; but of these
materials he avails himself with admirable skill. England, Wales, and especially Ire-
land, are drawn in a masterly manner. We can hardly believe but that he wrote
the description with the object immediately before his eyes. As he carefully com-
mitted to paper the events of every day at its close, the impressions are most dis-
tinct and lively. His vivacity and quick sense of enjoyment enable him to depict
the most monotonous scenery with perfect individual variety. It is only from his
pictorial talent that the ruined abbeys and castles, the bare rocks and scarcely per-
vious moors of Ireland, become remarkable or endurable : poverty and careless
gaiety, opulence and absurdity, would repel us at every step. The hunting par-
ties, the drinking bouts, which succeed each other in an unbroken series, are tole-
rable because he can tolerate them. We feel, as with a beloved travelling compa-
nion, that we cannot bear to leave him, even where the surrounding circumstances
.are least inviting ; for he has the art of amusing and exhilarating himself and us.
Before it sets, the sun once more breaks through the parted clouds, and gives to
our astonished view an unexpected world of light and shadow, colour and contrast.

" His remarks on natural scenery, which he views with the eye of art artist, and
his successive and yet cursive description of his route, are truly admirable.

" After leading us as patient companions of his pilgrimage, he introduces us into

distinguished society. He visits the famous O'Connell in his remote and scarcely
accessible residence, and works out the picture which we had formed to ourselves
from previous descriptions of this wonderful man. He next attends popular meet-
ing's, and hears speeches from O'Connell, Shiel, and other remarkable persons. He
takes the interest of a man of humanity and sense in the great question which agi-
tates Ireland ; but has too clear an insight into all the complicated considerations it
involves to be carried away by exaggerated hopes. * *

" The great charm, however, which attaches us to his side, consists in the moral
manifestations of his nature which run through the book : his clear understanding
and simple natural manners render him highly interesting. We are agreeably af-
fected by the sight of a right-minded and kind-hearted man, who describes with
charming frankness the conflict between will and accomplishment.

" We represent him to ourselves as of dignified and prepossessing exterior. He
knows how instantly to place himself on an equality with high and low, and to be
welcome to all. That he excites the attention of women is natural enough, he at-
tracts and is attracted ; but his experience of the world enables him to terminate
any little affaires du cosur without violence or indecorum.

The journey was undertaken very recently, and brings us the latest intelligence
from the countries which he viewed with an acute, clear, and comprehensive eye.

He gradually affords us a clue to his own character. We see before us a finely
constituted being, endowed with great capacity ; born to great external advantages
and felicities ; but in whom a lively spirit of enterprise is not united to constancy
and perseverance ; whence he experiences frequent failure and disappointment
But this very defect gives him that peculiar genial aimlessness, which to the reader
is ,the charm of his travels. ***

" His descriptions are equally good in the various regions for which talents of
such different kinds are required. The wildest and the loveliest scenes of nature 5
buildings, and works of art ; incidents of every kind ; individual character and so-
cial groups, all are treated with "the same clear perception, the same easy unaffect-
ed grace. **.

" The peculiarities of English manners and habits are drawn vividly and dis-
tinctly, and without exaggeration. We acquire a lively idea of that wonderful com-
bination, that luxuriant growth, of that insular life which is based in boundless
wealth and civil freedom, in universal monotony and manifold diversity ; formal
and capricious, active and torpid, energetic and dull, comfortable and tedious, the
envy and the derision of the world.

"Like other unprejudiced travellers of modern times, our author is not very
much enchanted with the English form of existence : his cordial and sincere admi-
ration are often accompanied by unsparing censure. * *

" He is by no means inclined to favour the faults and weaknesses of the English ;
and in these cases he has the greatest and best among them those whose reputa-
tion is universal on his side." GOTHE.

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE

TO THE

THIRD AND FOURTH VOLS. OF THE LONDON EDITION.

SINCE it has been suggested that I ought not to suffer several glaring,
though (as I think) unimportant, errors to pass unnoticed, as if I were not
aware of them, I mention the most conspicuous. The Author says the
Royal Exchange was built by. Charles II. ; that the piece of water at
Blenheim covers eight hundred acres, whereas I am told it covers only
two hundred and fifty ; he calls the great Warwick Beauchamp, and not
Neville : alluding to Sir Walter Scott's ' Kenilworth,' he calls Varney,
Vernon ; and he lays the scene of Varney's murder of his wife at Kenil-
worth, instead of at Cumnor. There may be more such mistakes for
aught I know. Such are to be found in every account of a foreign coun-
try I have ever seen, with the exception of some two or three works of
faultless correctness and veracity, which nobody reads. Of these Carsten
Niebuhr's may be taken as a representative. Whoever has had the good
fortune to see a work on Germany, which was considerably accredited
here, commented with marginal notes by an intelligent and veracious Ger-
man, may have had a fair opportunity of comparing the sum of misstate-
ments between the two countries. Of our ' natural enemies' I say no-
thing, nor of our irritable child, whom so much has been done to irritate,
across the Atlantic. Of Italian travellers, Eustace is given up as nearly
a romance-writer ; Englishmen believe Forsyth to be extremely correct,
but instructed Italians point out errors grosser than any of those here no-
ticed. After all, errors of the kind are (except to tourists) comparatively
unimportant, when they relate to countries which are not explored with
a view to science, but merely for the purpose of giving the general aspect,
moral and physical, of the country. Whoever succeeds in doing that
with anything like fairness, may be regarded as having effected as much
as the extreme difficulty of obtaining accurate information, even on the
spot, will admit ; and, in a work like the present, which makes no pre-
tension to any higher character than that of chit-chat letters to an intimate
friend, will have accomplished all that it is fair to look for.

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. vii

It has also been suggested that I ought to have given the names of the
persons alluded to at length, instead of merely copying the initials given
in the original. To this I can only reply, that had I the inclination, I
am totally without the power. I know nothing of any of the persons or
incidents recorded ; nor have I any means, which are not equally at the
command of all my readers, of guessing to whom the Author alludes in
any case. Inquiries of the kind are as foreign to my tastes and pursuits
as the society in question is from my station in life. I have regarded
these incidents solely in the light of illustrations of national manners ;
and the applying them to individuals is a matter in which I should take
not the slightest interest. But since it is obvious that this is not the com-
mon taste, I have rather thought to obscure than to elucidate those parts
of the book which are objectionably personal. If I could have done this
still more, without entirely changing the character of the work, I should
have done it. But by any such material change I should have made my-
self, in some sort, responsible for its contents : which, as a mere trans-
lator, I can in no way be held to be. Whenever I find that the English
public are likely to receive, with any degree of favour, such a German
work as it would be my greatest pride and pleasure to render into my na-
tive tongue to the best of my ability, I shall be too happy to share with
the illustrious and humanizing poets and philosophers of Germany any
censure, as I should feel it the highest honour to partake in the minutest
portion of their glory.

Hitherto I have found no encouragement to hope that any such work
as I should care to identify myself with, would find readers.

The Reviews and other Journals (which, for the most part, have been,
divided between excessive praise, and censure equally excessive, of this
slight but clever work) have, of course, not been sparing in allusions to
the personal character of the Author. Of that, and of all that concerns
his residence here, I am utterly ignorant. When I projected the transla-
tion of the book, I believed it to be, what the title announces, The Let-
ters of a deceased Person. All that I now know of the Author's personal
history while in England, (if information from such sources may be called
knowledge,) is gained from the writings of his reviewers. Whether their
representations be true or false, I have not the slightest interest in dis-
cussing. Even if every several anecdote related by him were a lie, it
would remain to be considered, whether or not his remarks on En-
gland and English society tallied in the main with those of other instruct-
ed foreigners, and with those of the more impartial and enlightened por-
tion of Englishmen.

PREFACE OF THE EDITOR.

THE Letters which we now lay before the public have this peculiarity,
that, with very few and unimportant exceptions, they were actually
written at the moment as they appear in these pages.

It may, therefore, easily be imagined that they were written without
the most distant view to publicity. The writer, however, is now num-
bered with the departed. Many scruples are thus removed : and as his
Letters contain not only many interesting details, but more especially in-
ternal evidence of a real individuality ; as they are written with no less
uncoloured freedom than perfect impartiality, we thought that these
elements are not so abundant in our literature as to render such a work a
superfluity.

It was, I must confess, an infelicity which attended the deceased author
during life, that he set about everything in a manner different from that
pursued by other men ; from which cause few things succeeded with
him. Many of his acquaintances thought that he affected originality. In
that they did him injustice. No man was ever more sincere and genuine
in his singularities ; none, perhaps, had less the appearance of being so.
No man was more natural, in cases where everybody thought they saw
design.

This untoward fate still, in a certain degree, pursues the appearance of
his Letters. Various circumstances, which cannot be explained here,
compel us, contrary to all usage, to begin with the last two volumes,
which the public must accept as the first. Should these meet with ap-
probation, we hope soon to be able to publish that preceding sequel which
will be found no less independent than these. For the convenience of
the reader, we have annexed a short table of contents, as well as occa-
sional notes, ad modum Minellii ; for which we beg pardon and indul-
gence.

B , October 30, 1829.

CONTENTS.

LETTER I.

Departure. Madame de Sevigne. Dresden. Homoeopathic disposition. The art of
travelling comfortably. Reminiscences of youth. Weimar. Grand Duke's library.
The Court. The park. Dinner at Court. Duke Bernhard. Anecdote. Visit to
Gothe. A day in the Belvedere. Late Queen of Wurtemberg. Granby. English
abroad and at home. 1

LETTER II,

Gotha. Old friends. Eisenach. The wedding. Hasty flights. The banks of the
Ruhr. Wesel. Fatherlandish sandbanks. Beautiful gardens of Holland. Foreign
air of the country. Culture. Utrecht. The cathedral at Gouda. Houses built
aslant. Fantastic windmills. Rotterdam. The civil banker. Pasteboard roofs.
The golden gondola. JStna. The lovely girl. L'adieu de Voltaire. 9

LETTER III.

The passage. The planter. The English custom-house. The lost purse. Macad-
amized roads. Improvements of London. Specimens of bad taste. National
taste. The Regent's Park. Waterloo bridge. London Hotels. The bazaars.

Walks in the streets. Shops. Dinner at the Ambassador's. Johannisberg.

Chiswick. Decline of taste in the science of gardening. Favourable climate. The
menagerie. Life in the City. The universal genius. The exchange and Bank.
The gold cellar. Court of justice of the Lord Mayor. Garroway's Coffee-house.
Rothschild. Nero. Exeter 'Change. Wurtemberg diplomacy. Theatre in the
Strand. The ingenious man. Too much for money. Hampton Court. Danger-
ous fumigation. 14

LETTER IV.

Climate. British Museum. Its guards. Strange Mischmasch. Journey to Newmar-
ket. English scenery. Life there. The races. The betting-post. Visit in the
country. English hospitality. The Dandy. Englishmen on the continent. Na-
tional customs. Order of dinner. Hot-houses. Audley end. The Aviary. Short
Grove. Sale of Land in England. 23

LETTER V.

Advice to travellers. Clubs. Virtue and Umbrellas. Arrangement of Maps. En-
glish wine. How an Englishman sits. Comfortable customs. Rules of behaviour.
Treatment of Servants. The higher classes. Rules of play. Pious wishes for
Germany. Good-breeding of a Viscount. The actor Liston. Madame Vestris.
'Manger et digerer.' Sentimental effusion. Inconvenient Newspapers. Drury-
lane. Braham the everlasting Jew. Miss Paton. Vulgarity of the theatre. Coarse-
ness of an English audience. 34

LETTER VI.

Barrel organs. Punch. His biography. Ruined Houses. The King in Parliament.
Contrast. George the Fourth. The Opera. Figaro without Singers. English

melodies. Charles Kemble. Costume of old times. Prince E . A diplomatic

* bon mot.' Sir L M . Practical Philosophy. Falstaffas he is and as he

should be. The King in Hamlet. The intelligent actor from Newfoundland. Little
circle in the great world. How the day passes here. Learning languages. The
author of Anastasius. His antique furniture. Oberon. The chorus of rocks.

Presentation to the King. Incidents at the levee. Dinner with Mr. R . Real

piety. His fashionable friends. State carriage of the King of the Birmans. Ma-
thews at home. 44

X CONTENTS.

LETTER VII.

The auctioneer. The Napoleonist. French theatre. A rout. Lady Charlotte B .

Politics and conversation. English Aristocracy, The foggy sun of England. Ex-
traordinary testamentary dispositions. Modern knights of St. John. Sion House.
Richmond. Adelphi. Admirable drunkard. Alexander Von Humboldt. King of
Prussia. The Diorama. 58

LETTER VIH.

Journey of business. Gothic and Italian villa. Stanmore Priory. English country
inns. Breakfast. Cashiobury Park. Tasteful magnificence. Drawings by Denon.
Flower-Gardens. Ashridge. Modern Gothic. Woburn Abbey. 64

LETTER IX.

Warwick Castle. Feudal Grandeur. The baronial hall. Portraits. Joan of Arragon.
Machiavelli. Leamington. Guy's Cliff. His cave. Gaveston's cross. Tombs of
Warwick and Leicester. The ruins of Keuilworth. Elizabeth's balcony. The past.
Birmingham. Mr. Thomasson's manufactory. Aston Hall. Cromwell. Chester.
The town prison. The rogue's fete. 70

LETTER X.

Hawkestone Park. Uncommonly beautiful scenery. The red castle and New Zea-
Jander's hut. More manufactories. Dangerous employment. The room in which
Shakspeare was born. His grave. Various parks. The Judith of Cigoli. Blenheim.
Vandalism. Pictures. Oxford. Its Gothic aspect. The Sovereigns as Doctors.
The Museum. Tradescant and his bird Dodo. The blue dung-beetle in the charac-
ter of a knight. Elizabeth's riding gaiters, and her lover's locks of hair. The library.
Manuscripts. Stowe. Overloading. Louis the Eighteenth's lime trees. Valuables
behind a grating. Decoration for Don Juan. Portrait of Shakspeare. Ninon de
1'Enclos. Balustrade. Christmas pantomimes. 81

LETTER XI.

Conversational talents of the French. Death of the Duke of York. Adventure at his
house. English mourning. Excerpts from my journal. Lady Morgan's Salvator
Rosa. ' What is conscience?' Cosmorama. Skating on the Serpentine. The

blacking-manufacturer's ' sporting match.' Visit to C Hall. Life there.

Lord D 's recollections of M . Pictures. The most beautiful woman. The

Park. 97

LETTER XH.

Brighton. Sunset. Oriental baths. ' Gourmandise' and heroism. Count F .

Ride on the sea-shore. Almack's ball. English notions of precedence. The
romantic Scot. Sermon and priests. Duties of a clergy. The windmill. Party

at Count F 's. Highland Costume. Private balls. Wanderings of the garden

Odysseus. Innocent politics. 107

LETTER XIII.

Beggar's eloquence. Tea-kettle pantomime and jugglers. Dream Superstition. The
fancy ball. Miss F . Mrs. F . Remarks on society, 'Nobodies.' Plea-
sures of a ball. Pictures in the clouds. The French Physician. Amateur Con-
certs. Chinese feet. Italian Opera. Hyde Park. English horsemanship. 117

LETTER XIV.

Technicalities of English Society. ' Bonne chere.' Captain Parry and his ship. The
Guards' mess. Play. Le Moyen age.' Monkeys and Poneys < Le Grand
Seigneur dentiste.' Lady Hester Stanhope in Syria. Adam still alive. Tippoo

Saib's shawl. Homeward flight. Lord Mayor's dinner. Lord H 's and the

Banker's houses. Inaccessibleness of Englishmen. Persian Charge d'affaires.
Courtesy of the English princes. Ride in the suburbs. 123

LETTER XV.

Correspondence. Lord Mayor's feast. Speeches. Caricatures. Dangers of a fog.
English society. Middle classes. Critical position of the Aristocracy. Freedom
of the press. Newspaper extracts. Dinner at Mr. Canning's. Concert. Easy
manners. Liston, The Areopagus. Rev. R. Taylor. Almack's. Rapid travelling.

CONTENTS. XI

Prince Schw . House of Commons ; Messrs. Peel, Brougham, Canning. House

of Lords ; Duke of Wellington, Lords Goderich, Holland, Lansdowne, Grey. Value
of a ticket for Almack's. Lady Politicians. Indian Melodrame. Sir Thomas
Lawrence. Portuguese eyes. Prince Polignac. London season. Duchess of

Clarence. Countess L -'s ball. English horsewomen. Breakfast at the Duke of

Devonshire's. The new Venus. Crush of Carriages. Dinner at the Duke of
Clarence's. Fitzclarence family. English-French. Dinner at Mr. R 's. Mar-
chioness of L . Marquis of L . Bishops' aprons. Concerts of ancient music.

Ambulating advertisements. Mr. R . Aristocracy in Religion. Dream. 130

LETTER XVI.

Mr. Hope's collection of pictures and statues. Toilette-necessaries of a Dandy.
Ladies' conference. Style of invitations. Duke of Sussex. Major Kepple. Ascot

races. S Park. The charming fairy and her country-house. Windsor Castle.

Disaster. Greek boy. British cavalry. Absence of military pedantry. Balls.
Disenchantments. Horticultural breakfast. Colossal pines. Tyrolese singers.
Northumberland-house. Sir Gore Ousley. Persian anecdotes. Flower-table.
Children's balls. Art and nature. Greenwich. Execution. Contrasts. Party
at the Duchess of Kent's. Marie Louise. King of Rome. Heat. King's-bench
and Newgate prisons. The unconscious philosopher. Vauxhall. The battle of

Waterloo. Ball at Lady L 's. Phrenology. Mr. Deville's character of myself.

Mr. Nash's library. Dinner at the Portuguese Ambassador's. St. Giles's. Ex-
hibition of English pictures. Pounds and thalers. * Excerpts'. Gossip. Visions
of the past. The Tunnel. Astley's Theatre. Parody of the Freischutz. Bedlam.
The last of the Stuarts. Funerals. Omens. Barclay's brewery. West India
docks. Amusing charlatanerie. Westminster Abbey by night. Dinner at Sir

L M 's. Practical Bull. English Opera. New organ. Miss Linwood.

Solar Microscope. Panoramas. Death of Canning. 'Vivian Grey.' St. James's
Park. Respect for the public. Propensity to mischief in the people. Exclusive-
ness of the great. London in autumn. Newspaper facts. 146

LETTER XVII.

Descent in a diving-bell. Obliging fire. College of Surgeons. The false mermaid.
The sagacious ourang-outang. Extraordinary recovery. The living skeleton.
Fortune. The desperate lover. Salthill. Stoke Park. Dropmore. Windsor
Castle. Eton. St. Leonard's Hill. Windsor Park. Habits of George the Fourth.

The giraffe. Virginia Water. Lord and Lady H . Character of Lord Byron.

Windsor Terrace. St. George's Chapel. Day dreams. English promptitude.
Military men of England. Frogmore. Anecdote of Canning. Egham races.
Dwarf trees. Moonlight walk. Respect for the law. 177

LETTER XVIII.

What a park should be. Horses. Lady . Hatfield and Burleigh. Doncaster

Races. Pomp in the country. Duke of Devonshire's equipage. Madame de
Maintenon. Useless talents. York Minster. Library. Walk in the city. Skeleton
of a Roman lady. Clifford's Tower. The county jail. Thieves' wardrobe. As-
cent. Town-hall. Armorial bearings of citizens. Madame de Maintenon. Arch-
bishop's palace and kitchen-garden. Singular absence of mind. Castle How-
ard. Pictures. The three Mary's. Painted memoirs. English habits. Bad climate.
Equine sagacity. Scarborough. The rock-bridge. Light-house on Flambo-
rough-head. 188

LETTER XIX.

Whitby. What is remarkable in a Duke. The ruin. The Museum. Alum mines.
Lord Mulgrave's castle and park. Singular accident. Fountain's Abbey. Stud-
ley Park. The Catacombs at Ripon. Harrowgate. The End of the World. The
old General. Aristocratical influence. Harewood park. Kennel. Horses.
Wooden curtains. Lord Harewood. Leeds. Reform in Parliament. Cloth man-
ufactory. Templenewsome. Rotherham. Disappointment. Wentworth House.
Portraits. Sheffield. Knives and scissars. Nottingham. Wild beasts. Lord Mid-
dleton's seat. St. Albans Abbey. Duke of Gloucester's tomb. Return to London. 200

LETTER XX.

Excursion to Brighton. Arundel Castle. Petworth House. Portraits. Hotspur's
sword. Old 'Whalebone.' The fortunate duchess. Prognostica.' Continua-

Xll CONTENTS.

tionofDon Juan. The year 2200. 'Etourderie.' Rules of behaviour. English
politicians. Charles Kemble's Falstaff. License of English actors. Young as
Hotspur. German and English stage. Wonders of the age. ' Flirtation.' Sin-
gular ball. Macready's Macbeth. Thoughts on the tragedy of Macbeth. Der
Freischutz. ' Liaison' with a mouse. Street mystifiers. INights in London Visit
to Woolmers. Ball at Hatfield. Pansanger. Grand Signor. Persian valua-
bles. 212

LETTER XXI.

Billy, the Rat-destroyer. English amusements. The newest Roscius. Fancy. Free-
will. Original sin. Austrian philosophy. Colours of the days. Friday. Don
Miguel. American Anecdote. English ' tournure.' Unpleasant Christmas-box.
Portuguese etiquette. Ludicrous incident in the theatre. English flints. Parties in

honour of the infant. Baroness F . The charming aid-de-camp. Anecdote

told by Sir Walter Scott. B Society. Disadvantages of a sandy soil. India

House. Tippoo Saib's amusements. Shawls. Ride in the Steam-carriage. Ride
in a carriage drawn by kites. Fox hunt. Clerical fox-hunters. Thoughts on
death. Recommendation of Blotting-paper. The Atlas of life. Bellows. Advan-
tages of illness. Instruction. Convalesence. 226

LETTER XXII.

The Thelluson will. The Dandy in the back settlements of America. English justice.
A Chancery suit. Dramatic juggler. Fall of the Brunswick theatre. Party at Mr.
Peel's. ' Chapeau de Pailie.' Mr. Carr's collection of pictures. General Lejeune's
battle-pieces. The courtier. Mina, Arguelles, and Valdez. On the acting and
translating of Shakspeare, Kean, Young, and Kemble, in Othello. Character
oflago. 241

LETTER XXIII.

Aristocracy and liberalism united in one person. Fete at the Duchess of 's.

Wonderful tale of Mr. H . Toads. The menagerie in Regent's Park. Mar-
shal Beresford. Rural dinner in H Lodge. Zoological Garden. The patient

witling. Uncomfortable customs. Dinner at H Lodge. Sir Walter Scott;

his appearance and conversation. A charming girl. Tailors, butchers, and fish-
mongers. Crockford's. Spring-festival. Rural pleasures. Musical indigestion.
Strawberry-Hill, the seat of Horace Walpole. German customs in England.
Epsom races. Soiree at the King's. Historical portraits. Paintings in water-
colour. The little paradise. The branch from Birnam Wood, Bonneau the Se-
cond. The Empress Josephine's Fortune-telling book. Introduction to the
Duchess of Sachsen Meiningen The Pigeon Club. The aquatic theatre. The
Doomed. The new Ninon de 1'EncIos. Another dejeune champetre. The two
Marshals. 250

LETTER XXIV.

A rout ' par excellence.' English squeeze. Visit to Cobham. Lord D 's birthday.

Mr. Child's speech. Rochester Castle. The most natural camel. The downfall.
The water party. Return to London. The Exhibition of Arts and Manufactures.
The nursery-garden. ' Appe^u' of English fashionable society. 262

LETTER XXV.

Departure from London. Cheltenham. English comfort. Mineral waters. Pro-
menades. Sources of the Thames. Lackington Hill. The village in the wood.
Ancient Roman villa. Tea-garden. Avenues. Master of the Ceremonies. Field
of Tewksbury. Worcester. Cathedral. King John. The Templar. Prince
Arthur's tomb. Enjoyments of travelling. Picture in the mist. Vale of Llangol-
len. Churchyard, and view from it. Mountain breakfast. Celebrated ladies.
Visit to them. Lofty mountains. Comparison with those of Silesia. The road.
The stone bishop. The indefatigable. Jest and Earnest. German titles. German
placemen. German nobles. Romances. Feudal opinions. English domestic ar-
chitecture. Penrhyn Castle. The slate quarry. Operations there. Reflections
of a pious soul of Sandomir, or Sandomich. Conversions. Missions. Extracts from
Berlin journals. 272

LETTER XXVI.

Bangor. Welsh driving. Lake of Llanberris. Fish-hunting dogs. Storm. Shelter
in the old castle. Hut, and its inhabitants. Ascent of Snow don. Mountain poney

CONTENTS. Xlll

and sheep. Veiled summit and my double. Libation. Rocky path. View. Region
of birds of prey. Return on the lake. Caernarvon Castle. Edward's birth. King's
stratagem. Origin of the English Motto. Contrast in the ruins. Eagle Tower.
Sea-bath. Billiard table. Weather and eating. The Hebe of Caernarvon. Extracts
from the " Lammszeitung." Intolerance of Berlin Saints. Church and King sole
guides of faith. Duties of rich and poor contrasted. Promenade round Bangor.
Bath at Bangor. Beauraaris. The castle. Craig y don. Menai Straits. Chain
bridge over the sea. 293

LETTER XXVII.

Plague of flies. Project for a Park. Plas Newydd. Cromlechs. Druid's cottage.
New kaleidescope. Journey into the interior of the mountains. Unworthy views of
Providence. Protestant Jesuits. Destinies of man. Cars. Lakeofldwal. Path
at the foot of the Trivaen. Welsh guide. Wearisome ascent. Rose-coloured light.
Valley of Rocks. The eagle. " The bad pass." Bog. Capel Cerig. Valley of
Gwynant. Elysium. Dinas Emris. Merlin's rock. Dangers. Pleasant inn at
Bedgellert. The blind harper and his blind dog, The Devil's bridge. Tan y
Bwlch. Beautiful Park. Gigantic dam. Tremadoc. Reminiscences of sand, dirt,
and father-land. Evening fancies. Crumbs of philosophy. Possessor of Penrhyn
Castle. Road over Penman Mawr. Conway Castle with fifty- two towers. "Con-
tentment " villa. The Queen's closet. Hooke and his forty-one sons. Gothic mania.
Truly respectable Englishman. Fashion-hunting. 303

LETTER XXVIII.

* Vie de Chateau.' Cathedral at St. Asaph. Tabernacle. True faith. Denbigh Castle-
Meeting of Harpers. Romantic Valley. Pretty Fanny. Her dairy and aviary.
Paradise of fowls. Ride through romantic country. Short stay at Craig y Don.
Newspaper article. Irish dinner. Happy condition of the middle classes. Opinions
on England. The Isle of Anglesea. Paris mines. Copper smelting. New inventions.
Holyhead. Light-house. Terrific rocks. Sea-birds. Hanging bridge. Stormy
passage to Ireland. First Impression of the country. Dublin. Exhibition of fruits
and flowers. Walk in the city. Sight-seeing. Palace of the Lord Lieutenant, and
modern Gothic chapel. University. My Cicerone. Organ of the Armada. Archi-
medes' burning glass. Portraits of Swift and Burke. Battle of Navarino. Phoenix

Park. Characteristics of the people. Lady B . The meaning of " character "

in England. The Liffy, W Park. Charming entrance. " The Three Rocks."

Beautiful view. Irish peasant women. Wooden Capuchin. The Dandy. Com-
fortable arrangements for the English aristocracy. Country visit. First interview

with Lady M . Unfortunate end of a ride. Further particulars concerning the

Muse of Ireland. 317

LETTER XXIX.

Ride on horseback into the county Wicklow. Bray. Student's equipment. English
piety. Kilruddery. Glen of the Downs. Summer-house. Vale of Durwan. The
giant. The Devil's Glen. Kttleborn. Rural repast in Rosanna. The tourists.
Avondale, an Eden by moonlight. Avocalnn. The meeting of the Waters. Castle
Howard. Beautiful portrait of Mary Stuart. Bally Arthur. The ha-ha. My horse
at blind-man's buff. Shelton Abbey. The negro porter. Loss of my pocket-book.
What is a gentleman? Valley of Glenmalure. Lead mines. Military road. The
sun behind black masses of clouds. The seven churches. Mysterious tower with-
out an entrance. The black lake of St. Kevin. The giant Fian M'Cumhal. The
enamoured Princess. Her tragical end, and the saint's excessive rigour. Irish toilet.
Walter Scott and Moore in the mouth of a peasant. Morass and will-o'-the-wisp.
A night upon straw. Hedge of Mist. First peep of sun over the lake and valley

ofLuggelaw. Romantic solitude. The statue of rock. P Park. Intolerance,

cant, and abuse of the Sunday. Sugar-loaf. Rich country. Repose by the brook.
Lord Byron. 331

LETTER XXX.

Donnybrook fair The lovers. Powerscourt. The Dargle and The Lover's Leap,
The waterfall. Galopade, with the guide behind me. Inn at Bray. Sketch of

English manners. Grand Duke of S W. . Advantages of a humble mode

of travelling. Activity of beggars. Kingston. Construction of the harbour. Ma-
chinery. The Spectre ship. Tasteless and appropriate monument in honour of
George the Fourth. Fine road to Dublin. Catholic association. English horse-
riders and admirable clowns. The dance of Polypi. 340

XIV CONTENTS.

LETTER XXXI.

The young- parson. Journey with him to the West. Connaught. Singular country.

Visit at Capt. B 's. Life of a true Irishman. They are not over fastidiuot

Divine service in Tuam. Service of the Church of England. Galway race.
Resemblance of the Irish people to savages, The town of Galway. Want of books
there. The race. Accident of a rider. Indifference of the public. The fair African.
Athenry, a bathing place, like a Polish village. King John's castle. The abbey.
Popular escort. Whisky. Castle Hackett. The fairy queen. She carries off a
lover. Splendid sunset. Definition of l Good temper.' Cong. Irish wit. The
Pigeon-hole. Subterranean river. Meg Merrilies. Illuminated cavern. Enchanted
trout. Lough Corrib, with its three hundred and sixty-five islands. The monastery.
Irish mode of burial. Hearty kindness of the old captain. 345

LETTER XXXII.

' Hors d'ceuvre.' German Character. Adventure with a gipsy. How we acquire a
soul. State of the Irish peasantry. Stupid rage of an Orangeman. Beautiful
park and disposition of water. Picture gallery at M B . St. Peter with a scarlet
wig, by Rubens. Winter landscape, by Ruisdael. Magnificent Asiatic Jew, by
Rembrandt. Irish hunters. Departure by the Postman's cart. The obliging Irish-
man. Desert country. Poverty and light-heartedness of the people. Sure reve-
lation. "The cross bones." The Punch-bowl. Lord Gort's park. Desire of my
horse to stay there. Irish posting. Its characteristics. 357

LETTER XXXIII.

Limerick. Antique character of that city. Catholics and Protestants. Deputation,
and offer of the Order of the Liberator. O'ConnelPs cousin. Cathedral. I am
taken for a son of Napoleon. I substitute my valet and make my retreat. Conver-
sation in the stage. The Shannon. Its magnificent size. New sort of industry of a
beggar in Lisdowel. Twelve rainbows in a day. Killarney. Voyage on the lake in
a storm. The dandy and the manufacturer. Some danger of drowning. Inisfal.
len island. O'Donaghue's white horse. His history and apparition. The old boat,
man and his adventure. Journal des Modes of the infernal regions. Mucruss Abbey.
The large yew-tree. Influence of the Catholic priests. O'Sullivan's waterfall. Young
Sontag. The wager. Ross Castle. Two Englishmen ' de trop ' Bad taste of quiz-
zing. The Knight of the Gap. The " madman's rock." Brandon Castle. A bugle-
man. The eagle's nest. Coleman's leap. The dinner. Fresh salmon boiled on
arbutus sticks. Voyage back. Melancholy thoughts. Christening with whisky. Julia
Island. Journey to Kenmare. Shillelah battle. Ride to Glengariff by night. Ex
traordinary road. The intelligent poney. Beautiful bay of Glengariff. Colonel

W 's park a model. Family of the possessor. Lord B 's hunting seat. Bad

weather. Rocks, storm and apparition of 367

LETTER XXXIV.

Kenmare. Irish messenger. Road to Derrinane. Bridge of the black water. Chaos.
Terrific coast. Perplexities. Aid from a smuggler. Mountain pass at night.
Derrinane Abbey. O'Connell the great Agitator; Father L'Estrange his confessor.
O'Connell as chieftain giving laws to his subjects. His intolerance in matters of
religion. Departure from Derrinane. Danish forts. Leave-taking. Irish modes of
conveyance. Amiable character of the lower Irish. Example of it. Sorrows of
Werther. Opinion of it. Faust. The Innkeeper's daughter at Kenmare. Hungry
Hill and its majestic waterfall. O'Rourke's eagle. The modern Ganymede. Seals
under my window. Their love for music. English family worship. Theological
discussion on the deluge, the day of judgment, and the Apocalypse. Extraordinary
beauties and advantages of this spot. 380

LETTER XXXV.

Wild honeycomb. Egyptian lotus. Visit to an eagle's nest; their romantic dwell-
ing, and wonderful instinct. The wild huntsman of the South of Ireland. The
caves of the Sugar Loaf. Track of the fairy queen's carriage wheels. Dangerous
hunting in these mountains. The fogs, bogs, and wild bulls. Manner of taming
one. 393

LETTER XXXVI.

Idolatry of Sunday in England. Wonderful conversion of a Protestant to Catholic-
ism. Riding in a car. The Whiteboys. Macroom. The naive mamma and the

CONTENTS. XV

spoiled child in the gingle. The strong king of the Danes. Cork. Voyage to
Cove: beautiful entrance from the sea. Folko's sea castle. Monkstown. Re-
markable appearance of two perfect rainbows at once. The amphitheatre of
the town of Cove. Disappointed expectation of fish. Illuminated night-scene.
The stars. Departure in the Mail. Mitchelstown and Castle. Materials for novels.

Lord K . Extraordinary weather for Ireland. The soldier of O'ConnelPs

Militia. The Galtees. Cahir. Another of King John's castles. Lord GlengalFs
beautiful park. The Prince's equipage at Cashel. Force of habit. Secret of all
educations. Club dinner. 395

LETTER XXXVII.

The rock of Cashel. One of the most curious ruins in Ireland. The Devil's Bite.
Old Saxon architecture. Bell of the Inquisition. The statue of St. Patrick, and

throne at Scone. Hore and Athassil abbeys. Lord L . Condition of the

Catholics in Tipperary; Church of Ireland. Laughable article in the newspaper
concerning myself. My speech. 404

LETTER XXXVIII.

The swan. Holy Cross and its monuments. Irish Catholic clergy. Dinner with
eighteen clergymen. Conversation at it. Comparison of the Wendish and the
Irish. List of the Catholic and Protestant parishes in Cashel. Curious details
and remarks upon them. Well-meant exorcism. Irish breakfast. Breakneck hunt.
The wandering bog. Feats of horses. Country gentleman's life. The Castle in
the air. Potheen enthusiasm. Irish gentry. Lord H . 408

LETTER XXXIX.

The brothers. Animal life. Devils. The pretty hostess. The piper. The robbers.
The lawyer cheated. The murder of Baker. The motionless cock. Fitzpatrick
and his bag-pipe. 415

LETTER XL.

KiHough Hill. The fairy garden. Romantic sentry-box. Return to Dublin. Ma-
dame de Sevigne. Lord Byron's tempest. Dinner with the Lord Lieutenant.
The Marquis of Anglesea. Catholic worship. Invisible music. St. Christopher.
Comparison of the Catholic and Protestant divine service. Allegory. Journal
of a London life. Difference between English and German modes of thinking.
Remarks on English Women. Malahide. Furniture seven hundred years old.
Duchess of Portsmouth. Charles the First at the court of Spain. Howth Castle.
Ducrow's living statues. 420

LETTER XLI.

Evening at Lady M 's. Her neices. Curious conversation. More theology.

The nightingales. All the corn of Europe. National scene. Domestic pictures.
The authoress's boudoir. The miniature Napoleon. The Catholic Association.
Shiel, Lawless, and others. Artificial resolution. Ride in the mountains. Senti-
mentality of a dandy. 427

LETTER XLII.

B H on modern piety. O'Connell in a long-tailed wig. The Don Quixote

and the Dandy of the Association. Acting charades at Lady M 's. ' Love me

love my dog.' Miss O'Neil. Her acting. 435

LETTER XLIII.

Dead-letter office. 3000 incognito. The doctor. New surgcial instrument. The
bank. Bank-note metal. Gymnastics. Parlour philosophy. Paradoxes. 441

LETTER XLIV.

Favour of Neptune. The dream. Voyage across the channel. The young heir.
Night in the mail. Shrewsbury. The tread-mill. Yellow criminals. Church.
Curious old^ houses. Street curiosity. The little scholar. Ross. The river Wye.
Goderich Castle. Varied prospects. Three counties at once. Childhood of
Henry the Fifth. Grotesque rocks. Unfortunate tourist. The Druid's Head.
Monmouth. Birth-place of Henry the Fifth. A poultry-yard. The bookseller
and his family. Theft. Kind, simple-hearted people. Tintern abbey. The ivy
avenue. The Wind Cliff. Sublime view. Chepstow Castle. Cromwell and
Henry the Eighth improvers of the picturesque. Discovery. Penitence. 451

XVI CONTENTS.

LETTER XLV.

Chepstow. Marten the Regicide. The girl's explanation. Taxes imposed by English
lords and gentleraen on travellers. The possessor of Piercefield. Crossing the
Bristol Channel. Men and horses pele mele. Recapitulation. Natural pictures.
The most beautiful building. Bristol. The feudal churches. Disinterested piety
of English clergymen. The mayor's equipage. Cook's Folly. Lord de Clifford's
park. Russian fleet. The model of a village. Clifton. The black and white
house. Sensibility of surgeons. Bath. The king of Bath. The Abbey church.
Singular decoration. King James the Second's heroic feat. The eccentric Beckford.
The tower. Strange cortege. The visit over the wall. Gothic architecture.
Christmas-eve market. Walks by day and night. The conflagration. 460

LETTER XLVI.

The widow. Love of the English for horrors. More agreeable travelling companion.
Examinations, and learned examiners. Stonehenge. Sinister meeting and acci-
dent. Salisbury Cathedral. Monuments. The spire. Frightful ascent. The
hawk on the cross, and the bishop's pigeons. His Lordship's functions. Pious
wish for my Country. Mirror of the past and future. Wilton castle. The Chate-
laine antiques. Pictures. Temple built by Holbein. Talent and taste of English
ladies. Entrance by stratagem. Langford park. Fine pictures. Egmont. Al-
ba. Orange. Emperor Rudolph's throne. Boxing-match, the betting coach-
man. Modern English aristocratic morality. March of intellect. Military school.
Fox-chace. National duty. The new year. London. Canterbury cathedral.
The Black Prince. Splendour of colouring. The archbishop. The damaged
boiler. Dover fortress. Short passage. The air of France. The jetty. English
children. Unequal contest between a French bonne and a resolute little English
girl. The chief and father of dandies. Anecdotes. 469

LETTER XL VII.

French diligence. The conducteur. An old soldier of Napoleon's garde. German
Plinzen. La ' mechanique.' Value of freedom. Paris. Revision of the old ac-
quaintance. Bad new one. Theatre de Madame Leontine Fay. Virtuous Uncle
Martin. ' La charte pour les cafes.' Rosini the tamer of wild beasts. Cheapness
of Paris. Burlesque exhibition of the death of Prince Poniatowski. Praiseworthy
* ensemble' of French acting. Gleanings in the Louvre. The sphinx out of place.
The Mephistophiles Waltz. Heaven and Hell. 479

LETTER XLVIH.

Ascetic walk. Anecdotes of the Buonaparte family. Spanish courtesy. Theatre
Franc,ais. Omnibus. Thoughts in a Dame Blanche. II Diavolo. Singers. J)gr&-
mens of Paris. La Morne. Polar bear. Desaix's monument. Disappointed hope.
The Amos. Departure. 490

LETTERS

ENGLAND, IRELAND, AND FRANCE,

LETTER I.

Dresden, Sept. Sth, 1826.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

THE love you showed me at our parting in B made me so happy

and so miserable, that I cannot yet recover from it. Your sad image is ever
before me ; 1 still read deep sorrow in your looks and in your tears, and
my own heart tells me too well what yours suffered; May God grant us a
meeting as joyful as our parting was sorrowful ! I can now only repeat
w.hat I have so often told you : that if I felt myself without you, my dearest
friend, in the world, I could enjoy none of its pleasures without an alloy of
sadness ; that if you love me, you will therefore above all things watch over
your health, and amuse yourself as much as you can by varied occupation.

As I resolved to combat the melancholy which gives so dark a colouring
to all objects, I sought a kind of aid from your Sevigne, whose connexion
with her daughter has, in fact many points of resemblance to that which
subsists between us, only with the exception, ' que j'ai plus de votre sang,'*
than Madame de Grignan had of her mother's. But your resemblance to
the charming Sevigne is like the hereditary likeness to the portrait of an
ancestor. The advantages which she possesses over you are those of her
time and education ; you have others over her ; and what in her appears
more finished and definite classic, in you assumes a romantic character ;
it becomes richer, and blends with the infinite, I opened the book at ran-
dom : it was pleasant enough that I lighted upon this passage

"N'aimons jamais, ou n'aimons g-ucres,
II est d'angereux d'aimer tant."

On which she remarks with great feeling, " Pour moi, j'aime encore mieux
le mal que le remede, et je trouve plus doux d'avoir de la peine a quitter
les gens que j'aime, que de les aimer mediocrement."

It is a real consolation to me to have already written a few lines to you :
since I have conversed with you, I feel as if I were nearer to you. I have
no adventures to relate as yet. I was so entirely engrossed by my own
thoughts and feelings, that I scarcely knew through what places my road lay.

Dresden appeared to me less cheerful than usual, and I was thankful
when I found myself quietly established in my room at the inn.

The storm which blew in my face during the whole day, has heated and
fatigued me ; and as I am, you know, otherwise unwell, I want rest.

Heaven send you also a tranquil night, and affectionate dreams of your
friend !

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

LETTERS ON ENGLAND

Sept. IQth. Morning.

' Vous avez sans doute cuit toutes sortes de bouillons amers, ainsi que
moi.' Nevertheless I rose in better health and spirits than yesterday, and
immediately set to work making all the little arrangements necessary at the
beginning of a long journey. In the evening I felt extremely depressed,
and as I dreaded an attack of my nervous hypochondriacal disorder, which
you christened my ' maladie imaginaire,' I sent for Hofrath (Court-counsel-
lor) W , the favourite physician of the strangers who pass through

Dresden, because, independently of his skill, he is an amusing and merry
companion. You know the use I make of physicians. Nobody can be
of a more homeopathic nature than I am ; for the mere conversing with a
medical man on my complaint and its remedies, generally half cures me ;
and if I take any of his prescriptions, it is only in thousandth parts. This

was the case to-day ; and after some hours, which W passed by my

bedside, and seasoned with many a piquant anecdote, I supped with better
appetite, and slept tolerably till morning. On opening my eyes, they
lighted on a letter from you, which the honest B had laid upon my
bed, well knowing that I could not begin the day so joyfully. Indeed,
after the pleasure of hearing from you, I have only one other that of writ-
ing to you.

Do but continue thus unrestrainedly to give utterance to all your feelings,
and fear not to wound mine. I well know that your letters must long re-
semble a sad and dreary landscape. I shall be tranquil, if I do but see an
occasional gleam of sunlight throw its rays across it.

Leipsig, Sept. llth.

In a very pretty room, with well waxed parquet, elegant furniture, and
silken curtains, all in their first * fraicheur,' the waiter is now laying the
table for my dinner, while I employ these few minutes in writing to you.

I left Dresden at ten o'clock this morning, in tolerably good spirits, that
is, painting fancy pictures for the future. But my lingering regrets at leav-
ing you, dear Julia, and the comparison of my insipid and joyless solitude
with the exquisite pleasure I should have had in taking this journey under
more happy circumstances, with you, fell heavily upon my heart.

Of the road hither, there is not much to be said ; it is not romantic,
not even the vineyards, which extend to Meissen, and which present to the
eye more sand than verdure. Yet the country, though too open, sometimes
excites agreeable feelings by its freshness and fertility : this is the case at
Oschatz, where the pretty bushy Culmberg looks down upon the plain,
like the rich-locked head of youth. The * chaussee' is good, and it ap-
pears that the post is improving even in Saxony, since the excellent Nagler
created a new post-era in Prussia. Nothing amuses me more than the ener-
getic zeal with which B drives on the willing as well as the phlegmatic:

he behaves to them as if he had already made the tour of the globe with me,
and had of course found things better everywhere than at home.

In the delicate state of my health, the comfortable English carriage is a
real blessing. I rather hug myself on understanding the art of travelling
better than my neighbours; particularly as far as the maximizing of com-
fort is concerned : in this I include the taking the greatest possible number
of things (often dear, accustomed memorials) with the least possible ' em-
barras' and loss of time, a problem which I have now perfectly solved.
In Dresden, before I packed up, you would have taken my room for a bro-
ker's shop. Now all my wares have vanished in the numerous receptacles
of the carriage : yet without giving it that heavy, overloaded look, at which
our postilions so readily take fright ; and which marks a man, to the dis-

IRELAND AND PRANCE.

criminating eye of innkeepers, as -one embarked on the grand tour. Every
article is at hand, and yet perfectly distinct, so that when I reach my
nightly quarters, my domestic relations are quickly re-established in a
strange place. On the road, the transparent crystal windows of the largest
dimensions obstructed by no luggage or coach-box, afford me as free a view
of the country as an open caleche,' while they leave me lord of the tem-
perature.

The men on their lofty seat behind overlook the luggage and the horses,
without the power of casting curious glances into the interior, or of liste,n-
ing to the conversation which may be passing there ; if, perchance, on our
arrival in the country of the Lilliputs or the Brobdignags, secrets of state
should come under discussion. I could deliver a course of lectures on this
subject, one by no means unimportant to travellers ; but I have been thus
diffuse here only for the sake of furnishing you with a complete picture of
myself as you are to think of me, wandering over the face of the earth,
while my nomadic dwelling and ths ever changing post-horses daily bear
me further from your sight;

The host of the Hotel de Saxe, unquestionably one of the best inns in
Germany, is an old acquaintance of mine, and established many strong
claims on my gratitude when I was a student at Leipsig. Many a joyous
and sometimes rather riotous repast was given at his house ; and I now in-
vited him to partake of my solitary one, that he might talk to me of the
past, and of the wild days of my youth. The present times are, alas! be-
come more serious everywhere. Formerly, pleasure was almost raised into
a business, men thought of nothing else studied nothing else ; and feet,
so ready to dance, were lightly set in motion. Now-a-days, people find
their pleasure only in business, and stronger excitements are required to
make us merry if that ever be the end proposed.

Weimar, Sept. 13th. Evening.

I will not weary you with any ' tirades' on the battle-fields of Leipsig
and Liitzen, nor with a description of the ' chetif monument to Gustavus
Adolphus, or of the meagre beauties of the environs of Schulpforte. In
Weissenfels, where I wanted to buy a book, I was surprised to learn that
not a bookseller was to be found in the residence of the great Mullner.
They were most likely afraid that he would saddle them with a law-suit, at
first hand.

I trod the plains of Jena and Auerstadt with just such feelings as a French-
man of the ' grande armee' might have had in the ^ears 1806 and 1812, when
he marched across the field of Rossbach ; for the last victory, like the
last laugh, is always the best. And as the seat of the Muses, the cheerful
Weimar, received me in its bosom after all these battle reminiscences, I
blessed the noble prince who has here erected a monument of peace ; and
has helped to light up a beacon in the domain of literature, which has so
long illumined Germany with its many-coloured flames.

Next day I presented myself to this my old commander, and to the rest
of the illustrious family, whom I found little altered. The Court had, how-
ever, received the -agreeable addition of two amiable princesses, who, had
they been born in the humblest sphere, would have been distinguished for
their external charms and their admirable education. A stranger is received
here with a politeness and attention now completely out of fashion in other
places. Scarcely was I announced, when a * laquais de cour,' waited upon
me to place himself and a court equipage at my disposal during the time of
my stay, and to give me a general invitation to the Grand Duke's table.

In the morning, the Grand Duke had the kindness to show me his pri-

LETTERS ON ENGLAND

vate library, which is elegantly arranged, and remarkably rich in splendid
English engravings. He laughed heartily when I told him that I had lately
read m a Paris journal that Schiller had been disinterred by his order, and
that the skeleton of the illustrious poet was to be placed in the Grand Ducal
library. The truth is, that his bust, with some others, decorates the room,
but that his skull, if I was rightly informed, is enclosed in the pedestal ;
certainly a somewhat singular token of respect.

I visited the park with renewed pleasure. The ground is not, indeed,
rich in picturesque beauty, but the laying out is so skilful, the several parts
are so well imagined and executed, that they leave on the mind a feeling of
satisfaction which such combinations, even under more favourable natural
circumstances, seldom produce in an equal degree.

Among the new improvements I found a small botanic garden, laid out in
a circular plot of ground, in the centre of which stands a majestic old tree.
The garden is arranged according to the Linnaean system, and exhibits a
single specimen of every tree, shrub, and plant which will stand abroad,
and is to be found in the park and gardens. It is impossible to conceive a
more agreeable spot for the living study of botany than the seat under this
tree,, which, like a venerable patriarch, looks down upon the surrounding
youthful generations of every form, foliage, blossom, and colour. Continu-
ing my walk. I saw a model farm of the Grand Duke's, where gigantic
Swiss cows give little milk, for transplantations of this sort seldom an-
swer. Further on, I found the pretty pheasantry, which is rich in gold and
silver pheasants and white roes. The great ladder on which from seventy
to eighty heavy turkeys are drilled by the gamekeeper to climb in company
is curious enough ; and the old lime-tree, completely loaded with such fruit,
has a strange exotic aspect.

As the Court dines at a very early hour, I had scarcely time to put myself
into costume, and arriving late found a large company already assembled.
Among them I remarked several Englishmen, who very wisely study Ger-
man here, instead of first learning, with great trouble, the ungraceful dialect
of Dresden : they are most hospitably received here. The conversation at
table was very animated. You know the joviality of the Grand Duke, who
in this respect completely resembles his friend, the never-to-be-forgotten
King of Bavaria. We recapitulated many a laughable story of the time when
I had the honour of being his adjutant; after which I was compelled to ride
my grand ' cheval de bataille' my expedition in the air-balloon.

Much more interesting were Duke Bernard's description of his travels in
North and South America,' which I understand we shall soon have an op-
portunity of reading in print, with remarks by Gothe. This prince, whom
the accident of birth has placed in a high station, occupies a still higher as
man : no one could be better fitted to give the free Americans a favourable
idea of a German prince than he, uniting, as he does, frank dignity of de-
portment with genuine liberality of thought, and unpretending kindness and
courtesy.

In the evening there was a grand assembly, which, in virtue of its nature
and quality, was not particularly rich in enjoyment. Every agreeable feel-
ing however revived within me, when I found myself seated at cards oppo-
site to the Grand Duchess. Who has not heard of this noble and truly ex-
cellent German woman, before whose serene and clear spirit Napoleon him-
self, in the plenitude, of his power, stood awed, and who is beloved by every
one who is permitted to enjoy her gentle and heart-cheering society? We
sat indeed at the card-table, but gave little heed to the laws of whist; while
time fled amid animated and delightful conversation.

In a court like this, visited by so many foreigners, there cannot fail to be

IRELAND, AND FRANCE.

' ' $ v

originals who afford matter for piquant anecdotes, even those least given to
scandal. Some very diverting stories were related to me when, on rising
from table, I mingled again in the crowd. Among other things, a visiting
card, 'in natura,' was showed to me which apparently owed its existence to
a well-known anecdote concerning an Englishman. This example suggest-
ed to the mad-cap Baron J the thought of re-acting the affair with one

of his table companions, a ci-devant captain, who was tolerably ignorant of
the world and its usages. With this view, he hinted to the poor man, who

had been leading a secluded life in D , that politeness required of him to

make a round of visits in the town ; to which the unsuspecting captain pa-
tiently replied, that he was not conversant in these matters, but would will-
ingly put himself under J 's guidance. " Well then," said he, "I will

provide the cards, which must be written in French, and in three days I will
call you in my carriage. You must put on your -uniform, and your cards
must express to what service you formerly belonged." All was done ac-
cording to agreement; but you may imagine what laughing faces greeted our
visitors, when you learn that the following ' carte de visite' was sent up be-
fore them in every house:

" Le Baron de J , pour presenter feu Monsieur le Capitaine de M ,

jadis au service de plusieurs membres de la Confederation du Rhin."

September, 1 4th.

This evening I paid my visit to Gothe. He received me in a dimly light-
ed room, whose 'clair obscure' was arranged with some ' coquetterie' ; and
truly, the aspect of the bear.tiful old man, with his Jove-like countenance,
was most stately. Age has changed, but scarcely enfeebled him : he is per-
haps somewhat less vivacious than formerly, but so much the more equable
and mild ; and his conversation is rather pervaded by a sublime serenity,
than by that dazzling fire which used occasionally to surprise him, even in
the midst of his highest ' grandezza.' I rejoiced heartily at the good health
in which I found him, and said with a smile, how happy it made me to find
our spiritual King in undiminished majesty and vigour. " Oh, you are too
gracious," said he, (with the yetuneffaced traces of his South German man-
ner, accompanied by the satirical smile of a North German,*) "to give me
such a title." " No," replied I, truly from my very heart, "not only king,
but despot, for you have subjugated all Europe." He bqwed courteously,
and questioned me concerning things which related to my former visit to

Weimar; then expressed himself very kindly with regard to M , and

my efforts to improve it, gently remarking, how meritorious he ever thought
it to awaken a sense of beauty, be it of what kind it may, since the Good
and the Noble unfolded themselves in manifold ways out of the Beautiful.
Lastly, he gave me some gleam of hope that he might comply with my
earnest request that he would visit us there. Imagine, dearest, with what
'empressment' I caught at this, though perhaps but a ' fat-on de parler.'

In the course of our conversation we came to Sir Walter Scott. Gothe
was not very enthusiastic about the Great Unknown. He said he doubted

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

6 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

not that he wrote his novels in the* same sort of partnership as existed be-
tween the old painters and their scholars ; that he furnished the plot, the
leading thoughts, and skeleton of the scenes, that he then let his pupils fill
them up, and retouched them at the last. It seemed almost to be his opin-
ion, that it was not worth the while of a man of Sir Walter Scott's emi-
nence to give himself up to such a number of minute and tedious details.
" Had I," added he, " been able to lend myself to the idea of mere gain, I
could 'formerly have sent such things anonymously into the world, with the
aid of Lenz and others nay, I could still as would astonish people not a
little, and make them puzzle their brains to find out the author ; but after all
they would be but manufactured wares." I afterwards observed, that it was
gratifying to Germans to see what victories our literature was achieving in
other countries ; " And," added I, " our Napoleon has no Waterloo to dread."

44 Certainly," replied he, disregarding my 'fade' compliment, "setting
aside all our original productions, we now stand on a very high step of cul-
ture, by the adoption and complete appropriation of those of foreign growth.
Other nations will soon learn German, from the conviction that they may
thus, to a certain extent, dispense with the learning of all other languages ;
for of which do we not possess all the most valuable works in admirable
translations ? The ancient classics, the master-works of modern Europe,
the literature of India and other eastern lands, have not the richness and
the many-sidednesst of the German tongue, the sincere, faithful German
industry, and deep-searching German genius, reproduced them all more per-
fectly than is the case in any other language ?"

"France," continued he, " owed much of her former preponderance in
literature to the circumstance of her being the first to give to the world toler-
able versions from the Greek and Latin : but how entirely has Germany since
surpassed her!"

On the field of politics, he did not appear to me to give into the favourite
constitutional theories very heartily. I defended my own opinions with
some warmth. He reverted to his darling idea, which he several times re-
peated ; that every man should trouble himself only thus far, in his own
peculiar sphere, be it great or small, to labour on faithfully, honestly, and
lovingly ; and that thus under no form of government would universal well
being and felicity long be wanting: that, for his own part he had followed
no other course ; and that I had also adopted it in M (as he kindly add-
ed), untroubled as to what [other interests might demand. I replied frankly,
but in all humility, that however true and noble this principle were, I must
yet think that a constitutional form of government was first necessary to call
it fully into life, since it afforded to every individual the conviction of great-
er security for his person and property, and consequently gave rise to the
most cheerful energy, and the. most steady trust-worthy patriotism, and that
a far more solid universal basis would thus be laid for the quiet activity of
each individual in his own circle : I concluded by adducing, perhaps un-
wisely, England in support of my argument. He immediately replied,
that the, choice of the example was not happy, for that in no country was
selfishness more omnipotent; that no people were perhaps essentially less
humane in their political or in their private relations ;J that salvation came

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

f I have striven to preserve the colouring 1 , as well as the substance of Gothe's con-
versation. To those who have any conception of his merits, it cannot but be interest-
ing to see, us nearly as possible, the very words which fell from lips so inspired and
so venerable TRANS.

* I cannot help almost suspecting that my departed friend has here put his own
opinions into the mouth of Gothe. EDIT.

IRELAND, AND PRANCE. 7

not from without, by means of forms of government, but from within, by the
wise moderation and humble activity of each man in his own circle ; that
this must ever be the main thing for human felicity, while it was the easiest
and the simplest to attain.

He afterwards spoke of Lord Byron with great affection, almost as a father
would of a son, which was extremely grateful to my enthusiastic feelings
for this great poet. He contradicted the silly assertion that Manfred was
only an echo of his Faust. He confessed, however, that it was interesting
to him to see that Byron had unconsciously employed the same mask of
Mephistophiles as he himself had used, although, indeed, Byron had pro-
duced a totally different effect with it. He extremely regretted that he had
never become personally acquainted with Lord Byron, and severely and
justly reproached the English nation for having judged their illustrious coun-
tryman so pettily, and understood him so ill. But, on this subject, Gothe
has spoken so satisfactorily and so beautifully in print, that I can add no-
thing to it. I mentioned the representation of Faust in a private theatre at
Berlin, with music by Prince Radzivil, and spoke with admiration of the
powerful effect of some part of the performance. " Well," said Gothe
gravely, " it is a strange undertaking; but all endeavours and experiments
are to be honoured."

I am angry with my vile memory that I cannot now recollect more of our
conversation, which was very animated. With sentiments of the highest
veneration and love, I took my leave of the great man, the third in the great
triumvirate with Homer and Shakspeare, whose name will beam with im-
mortal glory as long as the German tongue endures ; and had I had anything
of Mephistophiles in me, I should certainly have exclaimed on the step of
his door,

" Est 1st doch schon von einem grossen Herrn
Mit einem armen Teufel so human zu sprechen."*

I was invited to dine with the Grand Duke to-day at the Belvedere, and at
two o'clock set out on the pleasant road thither. Ever since I have been
here the weather has been wonderful : days of crystal, as your Sevigne
says, in which one feels neither heat nor cold, and which only spring and
autumn can give.

The Hereditary Grand Duke and his wife live at Belvedere quite like
private people, and receive their guests without etiquette, though with the
most perfect politeness. The Grand Princess (Grossfiirstin) appeared still
much depressed in consequence of the Emperor's death, but when the
conversation grew animated, she gave us a very affecting description of the
floods at St. Petersburg, of which she had been an eyewitness. I have al-
ways admired the excellent education and the various attainments which
distinguish the Russian princesses. The late Queen of Wurtemberg was
even learned. I had once to deliver a letter to her in Frankfurt, and remained
by her desire standing in the circle after. I had given it to her, till the other
persons of whom it was composed were dismissed. A professor of a Pes-
tallozian school was the first in turn, and appeared to know less about his
system than the Queen, then Grand Princess (Grossfiirstin) Katharine, who
several times corrected his diffuse and inaccurate answers with singular

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

8 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

aciiteness. A 'diplomate' followed, and he also, in his sphere, received the
most dextrous and well : turned replies. She next entered into a scientific

discussion with a celebrated economist from A ; and lastly, profound

and brilliant reflections, in a lively controversy with a well-known philoso-
pher, closed this remarkable audience.

After dinner, the Hereditary Grand Duke took us into his conservatories,
which, next to Schonbrunn, are the richest in Germany. You know, dear
Julia, that I lay little stress on mere rarity, and, in plants, as in other
things, delight only in the beautiful. Many treasures were therefore thrown
away upon me ; and I could not share in the raptures into which several
connoisseurs fell at the sight of a stalk, which was indeed only six inches
high, and had not above five leaves, and no flowers, but, on the other hand,
had cost sixty guineas, and is as yet the solitary specimen of its kind in
Germany. I was, however, greatly delighted by a Cactus grartdiflorus in
full flower, and many other splendid plants. I looked with great reverence
at a magnificent large Bread-fruit tree, and pleased myself with dyeing my
fingers crimson from the cochineal insects which inhabited a Cactus. The
varieties of plants exceed sixty thousand. The orangery is beautiful, and
contains a veteran with a trunk of an ell and a half in circumference, which
has safely weathered five hundred and fifty northern summers.

I spent the evening at Herr V. G 's, a clever man, and an old friend

of Madame Schoppenhauer, who is also a kind patroness of mine. Fran

V. G -e came in afterwards, and was a very agreeable addition to our

company. She is a lively, original, and clever woman, on whom the in-
cense strewed upon her with so much justice by her father-in-law, has not
been entirely without its influence. She evinced great pleasure at the arri-
val of a first copy of Granby, which she had just received from the author,
who had studied German in Weimar. The offering did not strike me as
anything very considerable ; and I told her I could only wish the author
might be more interesting than his work. Perhaps I said this from ' depit,'
for here, as all over the Continent, it is the fashion to flatter the English in-
ordinately, and God knows how ' mal a, propos.'

September 16th.

After taking my leave this morning of all the illustrious family, I devoted
the rest of the day to my friend Sp , who, together with his family, af-
fords a proof that a life at court and in the great world is perfectly compati-
ble with the simplest domestic habits and the most attaching kindness of
heart. A young Englishman, secretary to Mr. Canning, who spoke Ger-
man like a native, entertained' us with some humorous descriptions of En-
glish society, and was exceedingly bitter upon the discourtesy and want of
good-nature which characterize it. This gave him, at the same time, a
good opportunity of saying handsome things of the Germans, particularly
those present. // is only while they are abroad that Englishmen judge
thus: when they return, they quickly resume their accustomed coldness
and haughty indifference, treat a foreigner as an inferior being, and laugh at
the German ' bonhommie,' which they praised as long as they were the ob-
jects of it ; while they regard the truly laughable veneration which we che-
rish for the very name of Englishman, as the rightful tribute to their supe-
riority.

This is the last letter, dear Julia, which you will receive from hence.

Early in the morning, not at cock-crow, that is, but according to my
calendar, at about twelve o'clock, I intend to set out, and not to stop till
I reach London.

IRELAND AND FRANCE.

Take care of your health, I beseech you, for my sake, and tranquillize
your mind as much as you can by the aid of that wondrous self-controling
strength with which the Creator has endowed it. Love me nevertheless
for my strength is in your love.

Your faithful L .

LETTER II.

Wesel, Sept. 20A, 1826.
BELOVED FRIEND,

AFTER taking leave of Gothe and his family, and paying a last visit to a
distinguished and charming artist in her ' atelier,' I quitted the German
Athens, stored with pleasant recollections.

I staid only just so long in Gotha as was necessary to visit an old friend
and comrade, the minister and astronomer (heaven and earth in strange con-
junction) Baron Von L . I found him still suffering from the conse-
quences of his unfortunate duel in Paris, but bearing this calamity with the
calmness of a sage, which he has displayed in every circumstance of his life.

It was dark when I reached Eisenach, where I had a message to deliver
to another old comrade from the Grand Duke. I saw his house brilliantly
lighted up, heard the music of the dance, and was ushered into the midst
of a large company, who looked astonished at my travelling costume. It
was the wedding-day of my friend's daughter, and heartily did he welcome
me as soon as he recognized me. I apologized to the bride for my unbridal
garments, drank a glass of iced punch to her health, another to that of her
father, danced a Polonaise, and disappeared, ' a la Franchise.' Very short-
ly afterwards I made my night toilet, and laid myself comfortably to rest in
my carriage.

When I awoke, I found myself a stage from Cassel, at the very place
where, ten years ago, we made our strange * entree,' with the pole of our
carriage standing erect, and the postilion apparently mounted upon it. I
breakfasted here, and thought over many circumstances of that journey;
drove through the pretty, melancholy little capital without stopping ; then
through a noble beech wood, which gleamed in the sunshine with a gold-
green lustre ; made romantic observations on a curious hill covered with the
moss-grown ruins ; and hurrying on through this monotonous district, reach-
ed the ancient see of Osnabruck at dinner-time.

One always sleeps better in a carriage the second night than the first ; the
motion acts upon one like that of a cradle upon children. I felt well and
in good spirits next morning, and remarked that the whole face of the coun-
try began to assume a Dutch character. Antique houses, with numerous
gables and windows ; an unintelligible Platt Deutsch, which nowise yields
in harmony to the Dutch ; a more phlegmatic people ; better furnished
rooms, though still without Dutch cleanliness ; tea instead of coffee ; excel-
lent fresh butter and cream ; increased extortions of innkeepers ; all pre-
sented a new shade of this many-coloured world.

The country through which my road lay had a more agreeable and softer .
character, especially at Stehlen on the Ruhr, a place made for a man who
wishes to retire from the tumult of the world to cheerful seclusion. I could
not gaze my fill on the fresh succulent vegetation, the magnificent oak and
beech woods which crowned the hills on the right and left, sometimes grow-
ing down to the very road, sometimes going off into the distance ; every-
where skirting 'the most fruitful fields, shaded with red and brown where

10 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

they had been newly ploughed, clothed in deep or tender green where they
were covered by the young winter crops or the fresh clover. Every village
is surrounded by a belt of beautiful trees, and nothing can exceed the lux-
uriance of the meadows through which the Ruhr winds in fantastic mean-
derings. Towards evening, as I was comparing this smiling landscape with
our gloomy pine forests, a tongue of homelike land suddenly appeared as
if by enchantment, with its sand, shingle, and arid stunted birch-trees,
stretching across the road as far as the eye could reach. In ten minutes the
green meadows and proud beeches greeted us again. What revolution was
it that threw this tract of sand here ?

A few miles from Wesel, however, the whole country becomes 'toutde
bon' fatherlandish, and, as the ' chaussee' ends here, one wades once more
through Berlin loose sand. I arrived unfortunately a day too late to sail
from hence by the steamboat, otherwise I might have reached London from
Weimar in four days and a half. Now I must travel by land to Rotter-
dam, and there wait the departure of the first vessel.

Rotterdam, Sept. 25M.

My journey from Wesel to Arnheim was tedious enough. The horses
toiled slowly on, through a dull country, amid endless sands. There was
nothing interesting to be seen but the great brick-kilns by the roadside,
which I looked at attentively on account of their superiority to ours. The
more agreeable, and really magical in its effect, is the contrast of the exten-
sive garden which lies between Arnheim and Rotterdam. On a * chaussee'
constructed of clinkers, (very hard-baked tiles,) and covered with a surface
of fine sand a road which nothing can excel, and which never takes the
slightest trace of a rut the carriage rolled on with that soft unvarying mur-
mur of the wheels so inviting to the play of the fancy.

Although there is neither rock nor mountain in the endless park I tra-
versed, yet the lofty dams along which the road sometimes runs, the mul-
titude of country-seats, buildings and churches grouped into masses, and the
many colossal clumps of trees rising from meadows and plains, or on the
banks of clear lakes, gave to the landscape as much diversity of surface as
of picturesque objects of the most varied character; indeed its greatest pecu-
liarity consists in this rapid succession of objects which incessantly attract
the attention. Towns, villages, country-seats, surrounded by their rich en-
closures; villas of every style of architecture, with the prettiest flower-gar-
dens ; interminable grassy plains, with thousands of grazing cattle ; lakes
which have gradually grown merely from turf-digging to an extent of twenty
miles; countless islands, where the long reed, carefully cultivated for thatch,
serves as a dwelling-place for myriads of water-birds ; all join in a glad-
some dance, through which one is borne along as if by winged horses ; while
still new palaces and other towns appear in the horizon, and the towers of
their high Gothic churches melt into the clouds in the misty distance.

And even in the near-ground the continually changing and often grotesque
figures leave no room for monotony. Now it is a strange carriage, deco-
rated with carved work and gilding, without a pole, and driven by a coach-
man in a blue jacket, short black breeches, black stockings, and shoes with
enormous silver buckles, who sits perched on a narrow board ; or women
walking under the load of gold or silver ear-rings six inches long, and Chi-
nese hats like roofs upon their heads: then yew-trees cut into dragons and
all sorts of fabulous monsters ; or lime-trees with trunks painted white, or
many-coloured; chimneys decorated in an Oriental style, with numbers of
little towers or pinnacles ; houses built slanting for the nonce; gardens with
marble statues as large as life, in the dress of the old French Court, peeping

IRELAND AND FRANCE. II

through the bushes; or a number of brass bottles or cans, polished like mir-
rors, standing on the grass by the roadside, glittering like pure gold, yet
destined to the humble purpose of receiving the milk with which the lads
and lasses are busily filling them. In short, a multitude of strange, unwont-
ed and fantastic objects every moment present to the eye a fresh scene, and
stamp the whole with a perfectly foreign character. Imagine such pictures
set in the golden frame of the brightest sunshine, adorned with the richest
vegetation, from giant oaks, elms, ashes and beeches, to the rarest hot-house
plant, and you will have a tolerably perfect and by no means exaggerated
idea of this magnificent part of Holland, and of the high enjoyment of my
day's ride.

There was only a 'part of it which, as to vegetation and variety, formed
an exception ; but in another point of view was, if not so pleasant, equally
interesting. Between Arnheim and Utrecht yon come upon a tract, four
miles long,* of the sand of the Luneberg heath, as bad as the worst plains
of the Mark; nevertheless such is the power of intelligent cultivation
the finest plantations of oak, white and red beech, birch, poplar, &c., flour-
ish by the side of the stunted thorns and heather, which are the only natu-
ral productions of the soil. Where the ground has too little strength to grow
trees, it is planted with brushwood, which is lopped every five or six years.
The magnificent road is skirted the whole way on each side with rows of
well-kept flourishing trees ; and to my surprise I found that, spite of the
arid sand, oaks and beeches seemed to thrive better than birches and pop-
lars. A number of the exquisitely neat Dutch houses and villas were built
in the midst of the dreary heath : many were only begun, as well as the
laying-out of pleasure-grounds around them. I could not understand how
people could have pitched upon this inhospitable soil upon which to found
expensive establishments : but learned that the Government had been wise
enough to grant out the whole f this hitherto unprofitable tract of land to
the neighbouring proprietors and other opulent persons, free of all charges
for fifty years, with the sole condition that they must immediately either
plant or otherwise cultivate it. Their heirs or successors are to pay a very
moderate rent. I am persuaded, from what I here saw, that the greater part
of our hungry heaths might in a century be converted by a similar process,
and by continued cultivation, into thriving fields and woods, and the whole
district thus change its character.

Utrecht is prettily built, and, like all Dutch towns, a model of cleanliness.
The painted exterior of the houses and their various forms, the narrow
winding streets, and the old-fashioned ' ensembh ,' are much more pleasing
to my eye than the so-called handsome town?, the streets of which, like
mathematical figures, invariably intersect at r<ght angles, and the whole
weary line of each street is to be seen at a g'ance. The environs are
charming, the air very healthful, Utrecht being the highest town in Holland,
and, as I was assured, the society in winter and spring very lively and agree-
able, as all the wealthiest nobles of the country make it their residence.
The trade is inconsiderable, and the whole air of the town and its inhabit-
ants rather aristocratical than commercial.

From thence I proceeded to Gouda, the cathedral of which place is cele-
brated for its painted glass. Eighty thousand guldent was lately bidden in
vain by an Englishman for one of these windows. In execution it is equal
to a miniature picture, and the splendour of the colours is indescribable ;
the gems and pearls in the garments of the priests emulate real ones.
Another, half of which was lately shattered by lightning, was presented to

* German miles. TKANST,.

f A gulden is twenty-pence. TRANSL.

12 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

the church by Philip II. There is a portrait of him in it, dressed in a
mantle of genuine purple ; not the usual reddish colour, but a lustrous vio-
let, between the deepest blue and crimson, more beautiful than anything I
ever saw in glass. A third contains a portrait of the Duke of Alva. All
the windows are of extraordinary dimensions, and with few exceptions in
exquisite preservation. They are all of the fifteenth and sixteenth centu-
ries except one, which was not painted till the seventeenth, and which be-
trays the decline of the art, both by the inferiority of the colours and of the
conception and drawing.

He who has seen Gouda may spare himself the trouble of a journey to
the leaning tower of Pisa, for here the whole town seems to have been
built on the same principle. Though the Dutch, who have been on many
accounts not inappropriately called the Chinese of Europe, might very fair-
ly be believed capable of preferring so extraordinary a style of architecture,
yet it is probable that the really alarming aspect of the buildings here is to
be attributed chiefly to the unsteady boggy soil.*

Almost all th houses stand with their gable ends to the street, every one
of which is differently ornamented. In very narrow lanes they almost meet,
and form a triangle, under which one walks with some solicitude.

As it was Sunday I found the town extremely lively, though with a quiet
and decent gaiety. Moat of the people stood idle, gazing about. They
took off their hats very politely as I passed.

Before you reach Rotterdam you ride through a long series of country-
houses with flower-gardens, separated from the road on either side by a
narrow canal. The entrance to each of the houses is over a mighty draw-
bridge, which contrasts oddly enough with the insignificance of the water,
over which a good leap would carry you. Just as ' baroque' are the tower-
like windmills outside the town : they are gilded, and ornamented with the
wildest carvings, besides which, the walls of many of them are so finely
covered with thick rushes that at a distance they look like fur ; others re-
semble the skin of a crocodile ; some are like Chinese pagodas ; but, in
spite of all this extravagance, the whole group produces a very striking ef-
fect. Interspersed among them are seen the rising masts of the vessels in
the harbour, and the great glass roof under which the ships of war are built,
announcing a maritime and commercial city.

I soon entered a long street thronged with people, at the end of which a
high black clock tower, with flaming red figures and hands, served as
' point de vue ;' and it was a good quarter of an hour before I reached the
Hotel des Bains, on the quay, where I am now very well and comfortably
lodged. From my window I look down upon a broad expanse of water,
and the four steam-vessels, one of which is to convey me the day after to-
morrow to England. Boats row swiftly to and fro, and the busy crowd
hurry along the quay, the edge of which is adorned with lofty elms, proba-
bly cotemporaries of Erasmus. After a little walk under these trees, I ate
a good dinner, and then added to this ell-long letter, which alas, will cost
more than it is worth. My health is not entirely as I wish it, though daily
improving. Perhaps the sea will cure me.

September 2Qth.

The manner of living here approaches to that of England. They rise
late, dine at ' table d'hote,' at four o'clock, and drink tea in the evening.

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

IRELAND, AND FRANCE. 13

* Au reste,' there is little amusement or variety for strangers, in this great
city : there is not even a stationary theatre ; the company from the Hague
give occasional performances in a miserable house. Everybody seems oc-
cupied with trade, and finds his recreation after it only in domestic pleasures,
which are indeed the most appropriate and the best, but in which a travel-
ler can have no share. I went into the counting-house of a Jewish banker
to change some English money : notwithstanding the insignificance of the
sum, he behaved in the most respectful manner, and after carefully counting
out the money for me, accompanied me to the door himself. I was not a
little astonished to learn from my ' laquais de place' that this man's fortune
was estimated at two millions of guilders (gulden). It seems, therefore,
that wealth has not yet made bankers so haughty and insolent here as at
other places. I visited the arsenal, which, compared with English estab-
lishments of the like kind, appeared to me insignificant. Many of the large
buildings are covered with pasteboard, which is said to be very lasting, and
looks very well. Square sheets of pasteboard, of an ordinary thickness, are
dipped several times into a cauldron of boiling tar, till they are thoroughly
saturated with it: they are then hung up to dry in the sun. They are laid
on a very flat roof, like sheets of copper, one over another, and nailed to
planks underneath, which they thus preserve from the wet for many years.
The officers of the yard assured me that a roof of this kind would last much
longer than shingle, or than the best tarpauling. I was much interested by
a very detailed model of a ship of war, which could be entirely taken to
pieces. It was made for the naval school at Delft, and gives a perfect illus-
tration of the instruction they receive. The King's golden barge, or gon-
dola, though probably not quite equal in magnificence to that of Cleopatra,
was shown to me with great self-satisfaction by the Dutchmen. It is rot-
ting away on dry land, being very seldom used.

The country round Rotterdam is famous for its pretty girls and excellent
fruit, which (the latter I mean) forms a considerable article of export to
England. Nowhere are such enormous grapes to be found. I saw some
exposed to sale in the market, which had the appearance and the size of
plums. Sauntering idly about, I saw an advertisement of a panorama of
jEtna, entered, in the train of a party of ladies, and alas ! lost my heart.
The loveliest girl I ever saw, smiled upon me from the foot of the volcano,
with eyes which must have borrowed their glow from its eternal fires, while
her lips smiled archly with a bloom equal to that of the oleander at her
side. The prettiest foot, and most exquisite symmetry of person, all
were combined to form an ideal, if not of heavenly, at least of the most se-
ductive earthly beauty. Was this a Dutch woman? Oh no, a true Sicilian;
but alas, alas ! only painted. The glances she cast at me from her viny
bower as I went out, were therefore those of triumphant mockery ; for since
Pygmalion's days are over, there is no hope for me.

To-morrow, instead of the glowing sun and subterranean heat of Sicily,
the cold wet sea will be around me ; but I shall not say, with Voltaire, on
quitting pleasant Holland,

'Adieu Canards, Canaux, Canailles.'

I shall not write again till I reach London. I will tell you whether I de-
termine to make a long stay there, which I shall decide on the spot. * En
attendant,' I send you a lithographic print of the steamboat in which I
sail. A t marks, after the fashion in which the knights of old signed their
names, the place where I stand, and with a little help from your imagina-
tion you will see how I wave my handkerchief, and send you a thousand
affectionate greetings from afar.

Your faithful L -.

14 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

LETTER III.

London, Oct. 5th, 1826.

I HAVE had a most disastrous passage. A squall, constant sea-sickness,
forty hours instead of twenty, and, to crown the whole, striking on a sand-
bank in the Thames, where we had to lie six hours, till the tide set us afloat
again ; such were the disagreeable incidents of our voyage.

It is ten years since I quitted England ; and I know not whether I saw
all things before with beautifying eyes, or whether my imagination had un-
consciously brightened the colouring of the distant picture ; but the views
on the banks of the Thames appeared to me neither so fresh nor so pictur-
esque as formerly, though superb groups of trees and cheerful pretty villas
were frequently in sight. But here, as in North Germany, the lopping of
the trees often spoils the landscape ; only that the quantity of them in the
numerous hedges which enclose the fields, and the preservation of at least
the topmost branches, render the effect less melancholy here than in the
otherwise so beautiful Silesia.

Among the passengers was an Englishman who had just returned from

Herrnhut, and had also visited the baths of M . It diverted me highly,

unknown to him as I was, to hear his opinions of the plantations there.
How much tastes differ, and how little, therefore, anybody needs to despair,
you may conclude from this, that he expressed the highest admiration for
that gloomy district, solely on account of the immensity of the ' evergreen
woods,' as he called the endless monotonous pine-forests, which appear to
us so insufferable, but which are a rarity in England, where fir-trees are
carefully planted in parks, and commonly thrive but ill.

An American was extremely incensed at being sea-sick during this trum-
pery passage, after having crossed the Atlantic to Rotterdam without being
at all so ; and a planter from Demarara, who was in a continual shiver, com-
plained even more of the " impolitic" abolition of the slave-trade than of the
cold. He thought that this measure would speedily bring about the total
ruin of the colonies ; for, said he, a slave or a native never works unless he
is forced ; and he does not need to work, because the magnificent country
and climate afford him food and shelter sufficient. Europeans cannot work
in the heat, so that nothing remains but the alternative, colonies with
slaves, or no colonies ; that people knew this well enough, but had very
different ends in view from those which they put forward with such a pa-
rade of philanthropy. He maintained that the slaves were, even for their
owners' interest, far better treated than the Irish peasants, far better than
he had often seen servants treated in Europe : an exception might be found
here and there; but this was not worth considering in a view of the whole
subject.

1 tried to turn the conversation from a subject so distressing to every
friend of humanity, and got him to describe to me the mode of life in Guiana,
and the majesty of its primeval woods. His descriptions filled me with a
sort of longing after these wonders of nature, in a country where all is
nobler, and man alone is baser, than with us.

The ridiculous element of the voyage was an English lady, who with
unusual volubility seized every occasion of entering into conversation in
French. Though no longer in the bloom of youth, she carefully concealed
this defect even on ship-board, by the most studied toilet. At a late hour in
the morning, when we all crawled on deck more or less wretched, we found
her already seated there in an elegant * negligee.'

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 15

In the middle of the second night we anchored just below London Bridge,
the most unfortunate circumstance that can happen to a man. In conse-
quence of the severity of the Custom-house, he is not permitted to take his
things on shore before they are inspected ; and the office is not opened till
ten in the morning. As I did not choose to leave my German servants alone
with my carriage and effects, I was compelled to pass the night, almost
dressed as I was, in a miserable sailors' tavern close to the river. In the
morning, however, when I was present at the examination, I found that the
golden key, which rarely fails, had not lost its efficacy here, and saved me
from long and tedious delays. Even a few dozen French gloves, which lay
in all innocence open upon my linen, seemed to be rendered invisible ; no-
body took any notice of them.

I hastened as quickly as possible out of the dirty city, swarming like an
ant-hill, but had half a stage to travel with post-horses before I reached the
' West end of the town,' where I put up at my old quarters, the Clarendon
Hotel. My former host, a Swiss, had exchanged England for a yet unknown
country. His son, however, occupied his place, and received me with all
that respectful attention which distinguishes English innkeepers, and indeed
all here who live by the money of others. He very soon rendered me a
real service ; for I had hardly rested an hour before I discovered that, in the
confusion of the night, I had left a purse with eighty sovereigns in a drawer
in my bed-room. Monsieur Jaquier, *qui connoissait le terrain.' shrugged
his shoulders, but instantly sent off a confidential person to the spot, to re-
cover the lost purse if possible. The disorder which reigned in the misera-
ble inn, stood me in good stead. Our messenger found the room uncleared ;
and to the, perhaps disagreeable, surprise of the people, the purse where I
left it.

London is now so utterly dead as to elegance and fashion, that one hardly
meets an equipage ; and nothing remains of the 'beau monde' but a few am-
bassadors. The huge city is, at the same time, full of fog and dirt, and the
macadamized streets are like well-worn roads ; the old pavement has been
torn up, and replaced by small pieces of granite, the interstices between
which are rilled with gravel ; this renders the riding more easy, and dimi-
nishes the noise ; but, on the other hand, changes the town into a sort of
quagmire. Were it not for the admirable ' trottoirs,' people must go on
stilts, as they do in the Landes near Bourdeaux. Englishwomen of the
lower classes do indeed wear an iron machine of the kind on their large feet.

London is, however, extremely improved in the direction of Regent
Street, Portland Place, and the Regent's Park. Now, for the first time, it
has the air of a seat of Government (Residenz), and not of an immeasurable
metropolis of 'shopkeepers,' to use Napoleon's expression. Although poor
Mr. Nash (an architect who has great influence over the King, and is the
chief originator of these improvements) has fared so ill at the hands of con-
noisseurs, and it cannot be denied that his buildings are a jumble of every
sort of style, the result of which is rather ' baroque' than original, yet the
country is, in my opinion, much indebted to him for conceiving and exe-
cuting such gigantic designs for the improvement of the metropolis. The
greater part too is still ' in petto,' but will doubtless soon be called into ex-
istence by English opulence and the universal rage for building. It's true,
one must not look too nicely into the details. The church, for instance,
which serves as ' point de vue' to Regent Street, ends in a ridiculous spire,
while every part seems at variance with every other. It is a strange archi-
tectural monster. There is an admirable caricature, in which Mr. Nash,
a very small shrivelled man, is represented booted and spurred, riding spitted
on the point of the spire. Below is the inscription "National (sounded
nashionaf) taste."

16 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

Many such monstrosities might be mentioned. Among others, on a bal-
cony which adorns the largest mansion in the Regent's Park, there are four
figures squeezed flat against the wall, whose purpose or import is extremely
mysterious. They are clad in a sort of dressing-gown, whence we gather
that they are at least designed for human figures. Perhaps they are em-
blems of an hospital ; for these apparent palaces, like that at Potsdam, have
unity and grandeur in their facade alone. They are often, in fact, only a
conglomeration of small houses dedicated to the purposes of trade, manu-
facture, or what not.

Faultless, on the other hand, is the landscape-gardening part of the park,
which also originates with Mr. Nash, especially in the disposition of the
water. Art has here completely solved the difficult problem of concealing
her operations under an appearance of unrestrained nature. You imagine
you see a broad river flowing on through luxuriant banks, and going off in
the distance in several arms ; while in fact you are looking upon a small
piece of standing, though clear, water, created by art and labour. So beau-
tiful a landscape as this, with hills in the distance, and surrounded by an
enclosure of magnificent houses a league in circuit, is certainly a design
worthy of one of the capitals of the world ; and when the young trees are
grown into majestic giants, will scarcely find a rival. In the execution of
Mr. Nash's plan many old streets have been pulled down, and during the
last ten years more tiian sixty thousand new houses built in this part of the
town. It is, in my opinion, a peculiar beauty of the new streets, that,
though broad, they do not run in straight lines, but make occasional curves
which break their uniformity.

If ever London has quays, and St. Paul's Church is laid open, according
to the ingenious project of Colonel Trench, she will excel all other cities
in magnificence, as much as she now does in magnitude.

Among the new bridges, Waterloo Bridge holds the first rank. The pro-
prietors are said to have lost 300, OOO/. by the undertaking. Twelve hun-
dred feet in length, and enclosed between solid balustrades of granite, it af-
fords an agreeable and almost solitary walk, and commands the finest river
view, in so far as the fog will permit it to be seen, in which palaces,
bridges, churches, and vessels, are proudly blended.

The contrivance for checking the toll-receivers was new to me. The
iron turnstile through which you pass, and which is in the usual form of a
cross, is so contrived that it describes each time only a quarter of the circle,
just as much as is necessary to let one person through ; and at the moment
when it stops, a mark falls in an enclosed case under the bridge. There is
a similar contrivance for carriages ; and the proprietors have only to count
the marks in an evening, to know accurately how many foot and horse-pas-
sengers cross the bridge daily. The former pay a penny, the latter three-
pence, by which it was expected that three hundred pounds a day would be
taken, instead of which the receipts seldom exceed fifty.

October 7th.

What would delight you here is the extreme cleanliness of the houses,
the great convenience of the furniture, and the good manners and civility of
all serving people. It is true that one pays for all that appertains to luxury
(for the strictly necessary is not much dearer than with us), six times as
high ; but then one has six times as much comfort. In the inns everything
is far better and more abundant than on the Continent. The bed, for in-
stance, which consists of several mattrasses laid one upon another, is large
enough to contain two or three persons ; and when the curtains which hang
from the square tester supported on substantial mahogany columns, are drawn

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 17

around you, you find yourself as it were in a little cabinet, a room, which
would be a very comfortable dwelling for a Frenchman. On your washing-
table you find not one miserable water-bottle, with a single earthen or sil-
ver jug and basin, and a long strip of a towel, such as are given you in all
hotels and many private houses in France and Germany ; but positive tubs
of handsome porcelain, in which you may plunge half your body ; half-a-
dozen wide towels ; a multitude of fine glass bottles and glasses, great and
small ; a large standing looking-glass, foot-baths, &c., not to mention other
anonymous conveniences of the toilet, all of equal elegance.

Everything presents itself before you in so attractive a guise, that as soon
as you wake you are allured by all the charms of the bath. If you want
anything, the sound of your bell brings either a neatly dressed maid-servant,
with a respectful curtesy, or a smart well-dressed waiter, who receives your
orders in the garb and with the air of an adroit valet; instead of an un-
combed lad, in a short jacket and green apron, who asks you, with a mix-
ture of stupidity and insolence, *' Was schaffen's Ihr Gnoden ?" (What is
it, your Honour?), or " Haben Sie hier jeklingelt?" (Was it you, here, that
rung?), and then runs out again without understanding properly what is
wanted. Good carpets cover the floors of all the chambers ; and in the
brightly polished steel grate burns a cheerful fire, instead of the dirty logs,
or the smoky and ill-smelling stoves to be found in so many of our inns.

If you go out, you never find a dirty staircase, nor one in which the light-
ing serves only to make darkness visible. Throughout the house, day and
night, reign the greatest order and decency ; and in some hotels every spa-
cious set of apartments has its own staircase, so that no one cornes in con-
tact with others. At table, the guest is furnished with a corresponding pro-
fusion of white table linen, and brilliantly polished table utensils ; with a
well-filled * plat de menage,' and an elegance of setting out which leaves no-
thing to wish for. The servants are always there when you want them,
and yet are not intrusive : the master of the house generally makes his ap-
pearance with the first dish, and inquires whether everything is as you de-
sire ; in short, the best inns afford everything that is to be found in the
house of a travelled gentleman, and the attendance is perhaps more perfect
and respectful. It is true the reckoning is of a piece with the rest, and you
must pay the waiters nearly as much as you would a servant of your own.
In the first hotels, a waiter is not satisfied with less than two pounds a-week
for his own private fees. Such gifts or vales are more the order of the day
in England than in any other country, and are asked with the greatest
shamelessness even in the churches.

I visited the bazaars to-day. These establishments have come very much
into fashion within the last few years, and afford great facilities to buyers.
The so-called horse bazaar is built on a very large scale, and daily draws to-
gether a very motley assemblage. It includes several extensive buildings,
where hundreds of carriages and harness of every kind, new and old (the lat-
ter made to look like new), are exposed to sale, at all prices, in a very long
gallery. In other rooms are porcelain wares, articles of dress, glass mirrors,
* quincaillerie,' toys, and even collections of foreign birds and butterflies, all
for sale. At length you reach a coffee-room in the centre of the establish-
ment, with a glazed gallery running round an open space. Here, while
comfortably seated at breakfast (in rather mixed company it is true), you see
a number of horses led out from the extensive stables where they are well
taken care of, and to which any one who has a horse to sell may send it for
a certain fee. They are then put up to auction. When a horse is warrant-
ed sound by the auctioneer, you may buy it with tolerable safety, since the

18 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

proprietor of the establishment is responsible for the warranty. The best are
certainly not to be found here, but the cheapest are; and to many this is a
great recommendation: perhaps a still greater is the being able to get all one
wants in the same place. There are already, as 1 said, several of these ba-
zaars, and they are worth a visit. The convenient walking on the excellent
4 trottoirs,' the gay and ever-changing groups, and the numerous splendid
shops, make the streets of London, especially in the evening, a very agree-
able walk to a foreigner.

Besides the brilliant gas-lights, there are large globes of glass in the drug-
gists' shops, filled with liquid of a deep red, blue, or green colour, the splen-
did light of which is visible for miles, and often serves as a beacon, though
sometimes as an 4 ignis fatuus,' if you are unlucky enough to mistake one
for another.

Of all the shops, the most attractive are those in which the beautiful En-
glish crystal is sold. Real diamonds can scarcely glitter more dazzlingly than
the far-gleaming collections of some manufacturers. I observed too some articles
of rose or other coloured glass, but I was surprised to see how little the forms
were changed. The crown lustres, for instance, are just the same as ever ;
and yet I should think that they might be made in the form of suns with
diverging rays, or of bouquets of flowers, instead of this eternal crown ; or
that small lustres of gay colours, set like 'bijous' of various gems, and fixed
against the walls of rooms of appropriate, perhaps oriental, decorations, would
produce a new arid striking effect.

Other very interesting shops contain all the newest implements of agri-
culture and the mechanic arts, from huge drilling machines and an apparatus
for uprooting old trees, to small delicate garden shears, all set out in exten-
sive premises, all arranged with a certain elegance, which is universal, even
among the dealers in meat, fish and vegetables. The shops of ironmongers
and dealers in lamps well deserve a visit ; affording, as they do, a display of
the new and the useful, which it would not be easy to find on the whole
Continent, either to the same extent or in the same exact perfection. The
traveller, however, who 'confines himself to the 'salons' and the like, and
who wants to see only genteel sights, had better stay at home.

I closed the day with a walk to Chelsea, the hospital for invalid soldiers,
where one rejoices to see the old warriors well taken care of, inhabiting a
palace, and enjoying gardens with the most beautiful smooth-mowed ' bowl-
ing-green' and lofty avenues of horse-chestnut trees, of which a little sove-
reign might be proud.

I dined at the ambassador's at eight o'clock. The dinner was re-
markable not only for the amiability of the host, but for genuine Metternich-
Johannisberg ; for which nectar, even the most inveterate liberal must allow

justice to be done to the great minister. At table I found friend B , the

youth of forty, who charged me with abundance of compliments to you. He
is the same as ever, and entertained me with a long conversation about his
toilet; he declared that he had grown dreadfully thin in England from ennui.

I must here give you notice that I can say nothing about London society
till a longer residence and 4 the season' have enabled me to speak with
more confidence on the subject. So long as London remains desert as Pal-
myra, as to the fashionable world, I shall confine myself to a description of
places.

October Wth.

A few days ago I took advantage of rather brighter weather to visit Chis-
wick, a villa of the Duke of Devonshire's, which is esteemed the most ele-

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 19

gant specimen of garden decoration, of its kind, in England. I had seen it
some years ago at a fete given by the Duke but only superficially. I could
not, even now, see the pictures, as the house was inhabited by a visitor.

I found the garden much altered, but not I think for the better; for there
is now a mixture of the regular and the irregular which has a very unpleasant
effect. The ugly fashion now prevalent in England, of planting the 'plea-
sure-ground' with single trees or shrubs placed at a considerable distance
almost in rows, has been introduced in several parts of these grounds. This
gives the grass-plats the air of nursery-grounds. The shrubs are trimmed
round, so as not to touch each other, the earth carefully cleared about them
every day, and the edges of the turf cut into stiff lines, so that you see more
of black earth than of green foliage, and the free beauty of nature is quite
checked. Mr. Nash, however, adheres to a very different principle, and the
new gardens of Buckingham Palace are models to all planters.

The most favourable circumstance to English gardeners is the mildness of
the climate. Common and Portuguese laurels, azaleas, and rhododendrons
are not injured by the frost, and afford the most beautiful luxuriant thickets,
summer and winter, and, in their respective seasons, the richest blossoms
and berries.

Magnolias are seldom covered, and even camellias stand abroad in pecu-
liarly sheltered spots, with only the protection of a matting. The turf pre-
serves its beautiful freshness all winter ; indeed at that season it is usually
thicker and more beautiful than in summer, when I remember, in dry weather,
to have seen it worse than ever I saw it in the Mark. The present is just
the season in which the whole vegetation is in its utmost magnificence.

A pretty effect is produced at Chiswick by a single lofty tree, the stem of
which has been cleared up to the very top, and from beneath which you
command a view of the whole garden and a part of the park ; a good hint

to landscape gardeners, which I advise you to profit by at M . The

cedars here (which unfortunately will not thrive with us) are celebrated, and
grow to the size of old fir-trees. Colossal yew hedges also show how long
this estate has been an object of extraordinary care. The new conservato-
ries do more credit to the taste of the present possessor than the pleasure-
ground. It is strange enough that orange-trees nowhere reach any great size
in England. They are very 'mesquin' here. On the other hand, the
flower-gardens are magnificent. The beds are so thinly planted that each
separate plant has room to spread, excepting in those beds which are en-
tirely filled with one sort of flower. In them, the chief aim is the perfection
of the whole, and they are consequently by far the most beautiful. In the
pinery I saw, for the first time, the great Providence pines, specimens of
which have been produced of twelve pounds weight.

There is a menagerie attached to the garden, in which a tame elephant
performs all sorts of feats, and very quietly suffers anybody to ride him
about a large grass-plat. His neighbour is a lama, of a much less gentle
nature ; his weapon is a most offensive saliva, which he spits out to a dis-
tance of some yards at any one who irritates him ; he takes such good aim,
and fires so suddenly at his antagonist, that it is extremely difficult to avoid
his charge.

Chiswick has unfortunately only stagnant slimy water, which is sometimes
so low that the elephant, if he were thirsty, might drink it up at a draught.

Passing through a continued series of pretty villas and country-houses of
every kind, amid the whirl of horsemen, stage-coaches, travelling-carriages,
and coal-wagons drawn by gigantic horses, with occasional pretty glimpses
of the Thames, I reached Hyde-Park Corner, after an hour's quick driving,
and buried myself anew in the labyrinth of the huge town.

20 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

The next day I visited the City, accompanied by my laquais de place,' a
Swiss, who had travelled in Egypt, Syria, Siberia, and America ; had pub-
lished a Russian Post-book ; brought the first intelligence of the taking of
Hamburg, together with an actual specimen of a live Cossack, to London ;
bought Napoleon's coronation robes at Paris, and exhibited them here ; and
speaks almost all the European languages. I think all this is not dear at
half-a-guinea a day. He may be useful, too, as a physician, for he has col-
lected so many secrets and recipes in his travels, that he has a domestic
remedy for every disorder, and moreover, as he maintains, is in possession
of a thousand different receipts for making punch. Under the conduct of
this universal genius, I entered the Royal Exchange for the first time.

In other cities the Exchange has merely a mercantile air here it has a
completely historical one. The imposing statues of English sovereigns
around, the most remarkable among whom are Henry the Eighth and Eliza-
beth, combined with the antique and stately architecture, excite a poetical
feeling, to which the thought of the boundless commerce of which London
is the centre gives a still deeper significancy. The men, however, who
animate the picture soon draw one back into the region of common-place,
for selfishness and avarice gleam but too clearly from every eye. In this
point of view, the place I am describing, and indeed the ivhole city, have a
repulsive sinister aspect, which almost reminds one of the restless and com-
fortless throng of the spirits of the damned.

The great court of the Exchange is surrounded by covered arcades, on
which inscriptions point out to the merchants of every nation their several
places of assembling. In the centre stands a statue of Charles the Second,
who built this edifice. Its port and bearing precisely express the man whom
history describes ; not handsome, but somewhat graceful, and with an in-
veterate levity of features, composed, as if in mockery, to seriousness: a
levity which nothing could correct, because it sprang from mediocrity, and
which made this king as agreeable and careless a ' roue' as he was a worth-
less ruler. In niches above stand the busts of other English sovereigns. I
have already mentioned Henry the Eighth and Elizabeth. They would be
striking, independently of all associations ; -Henry, fat and contented, and
with an expression of wanton cruelty : Elizabeth, with an air of masculine
greatness, and yet of feminine spite. The busts are doubtless copied from
the best originals by Holbein. On this story is the celebrated Lloyd's Coffee
House, the dirtiest place of the kind in London, which exhibits few traces
of the millions daily exchanged in it.

Close by is the vast and beautiful building, the Bank of England, con-
taining a number of rooms of various dimensions, generally lighted from
above, and destined to the various offices. Hundreds of clerks are here at
work, and mechanically conduct the gigantic business, at which the ' nil ad-
mirari' becomes a difficult matter to a poor German ; especially when he is
admitted into the Bullion Office where the ingots are kept, and gazes astounded
on the heaps of gold and silver which appear to him to realize the wonders
of the Arabian Nights.

From hence I proceeded to the Town-House (Guildhall), where the Lord
Mayor was just in the act of administering the law. The present Lord
Mayor is a bookseller, but cut a very good figure in his blue gown and gold
chain, and assumed a truly monarchical dignity. I do not think that he ac-
quitted himself at all worse than a regular officer of justice ; ever since
Sancho Panza's time, it is admitted that a sound understanding often dis-
cerns the right more truly than learned subtlety.

The scene of action was a moderate-sized room, half-filled with the low-

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 21

est populace. The matter in hand was the most frequent and ordinary
theme in England a theft ; and as the culprit, who appeared equally indif-
ferent and * ennuye', after a little hesitation, confessed the offence, the drama
soon came to a close.

Further still did we wander on in the tumultuous * City,' where you may
be lost like a flitting atom, if you do not pass on to the right or left accord-
ing to rule ; where you seem to be in continual danger of being spitted on
the shaft of a cabriolet driving too near the narrow ' trottoir,' or crushed un-
der the weight of an overloaded and tottering stage-coach edifice. At length
we reached an extremely dark and mean-looking coffee-house, called Garro-
way's, where estates and houses of enormous value are daily put up to sale.
We took our seat with great gravity, as if we had been desirous of making
some important purchase, and admired the uncommon suavity of manner
and incredible address with which the auctioneer excited the desire to pur-
chase among his audience. He was very well dressed in black, with a wig,
and stood with all the dignity of a professor in his chair. He pronounced
a charming oration on every estate, and failed not to season it with various
jokes and witticisms, at the same time eulogizing every object in so irresisti-
ble a manner that one would have sworn that all the property went for an
old song.

How could I leave the city without visiting the true * Lion,' (the English
expression for anything extraordinary) the sovereign in a word, Roths-
child ?

I found him, too, .in a poor obscure-looking place, (his residence is in
another part of the town,) and making my way with some difficulty through
the little court-yard, blocked up by a wagon laden with bars of silver, I was
introduced into the presence of this Grand Ally of the Holy Alliance. I
found the Russian consul in the act of paying his court. He is an acute,
clever man, perfect in the part he has to play, and uniting the due respect
with a becoming air of dignity. This was the more difficult, because the
very original aristocrat of the city did not stand much on ceremony. On
my presenting my letter of credit, he said ironically, that we were lucky
people who could afford to travel about so, and take our pleasure ; while he,
poor man, had such a heavy burthen to bear. He then broke out into bit-
ter complaints that every poor devil who came to England had something
or other to ask of him. " Yesterday," said he, '* here was a Russian beg-
ging of me" (an episode which threw a bitter-sweet expression over the con-
sul's face) ; " and," added he, " the Germans here don't give me a moment's
peace." Now it was my turn to put a good face upon the matter. After
this, the conversation took a political turn, and we both of course agreed that
Europe could not subsist without him ; he modestly declined our compli-
ment, and said, smiling, " Oh no, you are only jesting I am but a servant,
who people are pleased with because he manages their affairs well, and to
whom, they let some crumbs fall as an acknowledgment."

All this was said in a language quite peculiar to himself, half English,
half German the English part with a broad German accent, but with the
imposing confidence of a man who feels such trifles to be beneath his atten-
tion. This truly original language struck me as very characteristic of a man
who is unquestionably a person of genius, and of a certain sort of greatness
of character.

I had begun my day, very appropriately for England, with the Royal
Exchange, the resort of merchants, and ended it with Exeter 'Change,
where I saw the representatives of the colonies, the wild beasts. Here I
found another lion, and this time a genuine one, called Nero, who besides

22 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

his lameness, has the rarer merit in our northern latitude, of having present-
ed England with six generations of young lions. He is of enormous size
and dignified aspect, but now rests upon his laurels and sleeps royally nearly
all day long. If he wakes in an ill humour, however, he makes the old
wooden house and all the herd of subject beasts tremble. These consist of
elephants, tigers, leopards, hyaenas, zebras, monkeys, ostriches, condors,
parrots, &c. It is curious that they are not upon the ground floor, but up
one or two pair of stairs, so that one can ride on a tame elephant which
stands always ready saddled, and enjoy a fine extensive prospect. The va-
riety is great, and the price moderate. The ambassador of the late King of
Wurtemburg had, as I well remember, more occupation here than in St.
James' and Downing Street ; and, indeed, I know that he was for a con-
siderable time in fear of losing his post on account of a strange enormous
dead tortoise.

On the way home to my hotel we passed a house which furnished my
cicerone with an occasion of telling the following interesting story. If it is
' brode,' I beg of you to blame him and not me.*

October 13th.

Fatigued by my tour the day before yesterday, I passed the following
morning in my own room. In the evening I visited the English Opera.
The house is neither large nor elegant, but the actors very good. There
was no opera, however, but hideous melo-drames ; first, Frankenstein,
where a human being is made by magic, a manufacture which answers
very ill; and then the Vampire, after the well-known tale falsely attributed
to Lord Byron. The principal part in both was acted by Mr. Cooke, who
is distinguished for a very handsome person, skilful acting, and a remarka-
bly dignified, noble deportment. The acting was, indeed, admirable through-
out, but the pieces so stupid and monstrous that it was impossible to sit out
the performance. The heat, the exhalations, and the audience were not the
most agreeable. Besides all this, the performance lasted from seven to half-
past twelve, too long for the best.

The next day I drove to Hampton Court to visit the palace, the stud, and

my old friend Lady . Of all three I found the first the least altered,

and the celebrated vine laden as usual with grapes. It had considerably
above a thousand bunches, and completely covered a hot-house of seventy-
five feet long by twenty-five wide. In a corner stood, like the dim pro-
genitor of a haughty race, its brown stem, as lost and obscure as if it did
not belong to the magnificent canopy of leaves and fruit which owe their
existence to it alone.

Most of the rooms in the palace have still the same furniture as in the
time of William the Third. The torn chairs and curtains are carefully pre-
served. The walls are hung with many interesting and admirable pictures ;
above all, the celebrated Cartoons of Raphael, which, however, are soon
to be transferred to the King's new palace. I must only mention two fine

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

After this comes an account of the mad attempt of Mr. Montague, the ci-devant
sweep, together with a Mr. Barnett, to descend the falls of Schaffhausen in a boat,
where both were of course lost. All this, being 1 both familiar to us, and inaccurately
told, has been omitted. The cicerone, who professed to have been a servant of this
Mr. Montague, had probably heard the incident related of Mr. Sedley Burdett and
Lord Frederick Montague. It only proves how necessary was the author's disclaimer
of responsibility. TUANSL.

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 23

portraits, that of Wolsey, the haughty founder of this palace, and that of
Henry the Eighth, his treacherous master. Both are admirable and highly
characteristic. You remember that fat lawyer whom we had such dif-
ficulty in getting rid of; with an animal expression of countenance, sensual,
bloodthirsty as far as the present times render it possible to be so, clever,
subtle, full of talent and of craft, with boundless haughtiness, and yet a re-
sistless tendency to the vulgar, and, lastly, utterly and frankly devoid of all
conscience; give the picture of Henry a green frock-coat and pearl but-
tons, and you have a most faithful portrait of him.

Nature continually repeats herself in different 4 nuances,' they vary ac-
cording to the state of mankind and of the world.

In the night I was very nearly suffocated. The Jocrisse I imported, who
had probably been too hospitably entertained by some English acquaintance,
thought proper to take the coals out of the fireplace while I was asleep, and
left them standing in my room in a lackered coal-scuttle. A frightful smoke
and infernal smell fortunately awoke me just as I was dreaming that I was
a courtier of Henry the Eighth, and was paying my court to a French
beauty at the Champ du Drap d'Or ; otherwise I should have gone to meet
the fair one of my dream in heaven.

Almost like that heaven, as distant and as lovely, appears to me the place
where you are dwelling, my truest friend : and thus I send you the kiss of
peace across the sea, and close my first English letter, wishing you health
and every blessing.

Your devoted L ,

LETTER IV.

London, Oct. 15/7*, 1826.

IT seems to me that I shall never get accustomed to this climate, for ever
since my landing I have felt perpetually unwell. However, so long as I am
not confined to my chamber, I do not suffer it to depress me much ; I ride
a great deal in the lovely cultivated environs of London, and do not abstain
from my walks about the town.

The turn of the British Museum came lately, where a strange " Misch-
raasc/i" of works of art, natural curiosities, books, and models, are pre-
served in a miserable building.

At the top of the staircase, as you enter, stand tw6 enormous giraffes, in
the character of stuffed guards, or emblems of English taste ! There is,
doubtless, much that is interesting in the various apartments. I confess,
however, to my shame, that I must be in a peculiarly favourable state of
mind not to have an attack of indigestion after such a surfeit of sights.
Among the antediluvian remains I saw an enormous and remarkably perfect
pair of stag's antlers, at least six times as large as the largest of those which

friend C keeps in the stag-gallery of his castle. In a huge shed are

deposited the noble Elgin Marbles, as they are here called.

A bust of Hippocrates struck me as being so perfect a representation of
the physician by profession, that here in England one can hardly look at it
without putting one's hand in one's pocket.* I looked at the celebrated
Portland Vase with all the enthusiasm it is calculated to excite. I send you

* English physicians expect a guinea at every visit. EDITOH.

24 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

two little works on the Vase and the Elgin Marbles, with very tolerable
outline engravings. But I must now quit you to give orders about pack-
ing ; for to-morrow I mean to start for Newmarket races.

Newmarket, Oct. 19th.

The beauty of the country, and the extraordinary neatness and elegance
of every place through which my road lay to-day, struck me anew in the
most agreeable manner. These fertile and well-cultivated fields : these
thousands of comfortable and pretty farm-houses and cottages scattered over
every part of the country ; this incessant stream of elegant carriages, well-
mounted horsemen, and well-dressed foot-passengers, are peculiar to Eng-
land. The beautiful picture has but one fault, it is all too cultivated, too
perfect ; thence always and everywhere the same, and consequently, in the
long run, wearisome : indeed I can even conceive that it must become dis-
tasteful in time, like a savoury dish of dainties to the stomach of a sated
man. This may explain the great taste of the English for travelling on the
Continent. It is just so in life, the thing men can the least bear is undis-
turbed good fortune, and it may be doubted whether father Adam would not
have died of ennui in paradise.

To-day, however, a due proportion of shadows was provided for me. In
consequence of the great resort to the races, I found at every stage only
miserable overdriven horses, sometimes none at all, so that, according to the
English standard, I travelled wretchedly, and did not reach Newmarket till
late at night.

There was no room in any of the inns ; and I thought myself happy at
last to get one small room in a private house, for which I paid five guineas
a week. Fortunately I met an old acquaintance in the same house, the
son of a little Hungarian Magnate, who seems formed to please himself and
others by his unpretending good-nature and joyous temper. I revere such
natures, precisely because they have all that I want.

Next morning I rode about with him to reconnoitre the ground a little.
One day here is precisely like another. At half-past nine in the morning
you see some hundreds of race-horses, carefully clothed, taking their morn-
ing promenade on a rising ground. The bare, wide-spread heath is covered
with them as with a herd of cattle ; some are walking at a foot pace, others
galloping, some slower, some quicker, but none at full speed. An inspector
on a little poney generally accompanies the horses which belong to the same
gentleman, or which are under the care of the same training-groom. The
horses are all ridden without a saddle by little half-dressed lads, one of whom
is every now and then thrown for the amusement of the spectators. After
this exhibition, certainly a most interesting one to every amateur of horses,
people breakfast, and in half an hour go to the sale, which takes place al-
most every day in the open street, under the auspices of the far-famed Mr.
Tattersall. They then ride or drive to the races.

These begin pretty punctually at twelve o'clock. An interminable grassy
plain covered with a thick short turf is the ground, where various distances,
from a full German mile as maximum, to an eighth or tenth, as minimum,
are marked for the course in a perfectly straight line. Near the end, this
course is enclosed between ropes, on the outside of which rows of carriages
three and four deep are drawn up, generally without horses, and covered
within and without, from top to bottom, with spectators. At the goal itself
is a wooden house on wheels, very like those the shepherds have in many
parts of Germany, so that it can be moved about in case the course is
lengthened or shortened: in this sits the judge. Just opposite to him is a

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 25

post fixed in the ground, by means of which he determines which horse's
nose first appears exactly on a line with it ; for an inch often decides the
race : and it is a very skilful piece of policy and jockeyship of the riders
here, to betray the real speed of their horses as little as possible, and to dis-
play only as much of it as is necessary to win the race. If they see they
have no 'chance, they immediately give up ; so that those who contend for
victory to the last, are always very nearly together at the goal. The gro-
tesque spectacle of a rider a mile in the rear, belabouring his horse with
whip and spur, like a steam-engine, is exhibited only in France and Ger-
many. If two horses reach the post exactly at the same moment, (which
frequently happens,) they must run again. The judge is upon oath, and
there is no appeal from his decision. The English jockeys (who are not,
as foreigners think, little boys, but often dwarfish men of sixty,) form a
perfectly distinct class, and are the best practical riders I know of. You
remember that I kept race-horses myself, and had a Newmarket jockey for
a time in my service, who won a considerable bet for me at Vienna. It
amused me greatly to see this fellow ' training' himself. After dosing him-
self severely, he would go out in the greatest heat, dressed in three or four
great-coats, ride a certain distance at a hard trot, till the sweat streamed off
him in torrents, and he almost sank from exhaustion ; ' mais tel etoit son
plaisir,' and the more completely good-for-nothing he felt, the better he was
pleased.*

But there are bounds to this : for the man, by excessive training, may
reduce himself below the weight which the hors'e is bound to carry, and
thus subject himself to the inconvenient necessity of carrying lead in the
girths. At a certain distance from the goal, about a hundred paces to the
side, stands another white post called the betting-post. Here the bettors as-
semble, after they have seen the horses saddled in the stables at the begin-
ning of the course, thoroughly examined into all the circumstances of the
impending race, or perhaps given a wink to some devoted jockey. The
scene which ensues would to many appear the most strange that ever was
exhibited. In noise, uproar, and clamour, it resembles a Jews' synagogue,
with a greater display of passion. The persons of the drama are the first
peers of England, livery-servants, the lowest * sharpers' and l blacklegs ;'
in short, all who have money to bet here claim equal rights ; nor is there
any marked difference in their external appearance. Most of them have
pocket-books in their hands, each calls aloud his bet, and when it is taken,
each party immediately notes it in his book. Dukes, lords, grooms, and
rogues, shout, scream, and halloo together, and bet together, with a volu-
bility and in a technical language out of which a foreigner is puzzled to
make anything ; till suddenly the cry is heard, " The horses have started !"
In a minute the crowd disperses ; but the bettors soon meet again at the
ropes which enclose the course. You see a multitude of telescopes, opera-
glasses and eye-glasses, levelled from the carriages and by the horsemen, in
the direction whence the jockeys are coming. With the speed of the wind

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

26 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

they are seen approaching ; and for a few moments a deep and anxious si-
lence pervades the motley crowd; while a manager on horseback keeps the
course clear, and applies his whip without ceremony to the shoulders of any
intruder. The calm endures but a moment ; then once more arises the
wildest uproar; shouts and lamentations, curses and cheers re-echo on
every side, from Lords and Ladies, far and wide. " Ten to four upon the
Admiral!" "A hundred to one upon Madame Vestris!" "Small Beer
against the field !" &c. are heard from the almost frantic bettors : and
scarcely do you hear a " Done!" uttered here and there, when the noble
animals are before you past you in the twinkling of an eye ; the next
moment at the goal, and luck, or skill, or knavery have decided the victory.
The great losers look blank for a moment; the winners triumph aloud;
many make ' bonne mine a mauvais jeu,' and dart to the spot, where the
horses are unsaddled and the jockeys weighed, to see if some irregularity
may not yet give them a. chance. In a quarter of an hour the same scene
begins anew with other horses, and is repeated six or seven times. " Voila
les courses de Newmarket!"

The first day I was gifted with such a prophetic vision, that twice, by
the mere exercise of my proper observation and judgment, I betted upon
the winner at the saddling, and gained a considerable sum. But I had the
usual fate of play, what I won that day I lost the next, and as much more
to boot. Whoever is a permanent winner here, is sure of his game before-
hand; and it is well known that the principles of many of the English no-
bility are remarkably wide and expansive on this head.

Among the company present, I found several old acquaintances, who gave
me permission to see their running horses in the stable, which is regarded
as a signal favour. They also offered to*introduce me into the Club here ;
an honour, however, which I declined. It is purely a gambling Club,
which a man should beware of in England, more than in any other country.
It may be regarded as a part of the national costume, and highly charac-
teristic of the general tradesman-like spirit, that beforehand all advantages
are fair ; but that after a bet is once taken, though often amidst the greatest
hurry and confusion, it is scarcely ever disputed. On the other hand, a man
who has lost more than he can pay, before reckoning-day becomes invisible,
that is, commits an act of bankruptcy, and betakes himself to the Continent,
either for ever, or till he can pay.

On the first day of my visit to Newmarket, my Hungarian friend intro-
duced me to the family of a rich merchant of this neighbourhood, who with
his visitors, among whom were some very pretty girls, came daily to the races,
and returned home after them. They invited us to dine with them the next
day, and stay the day after, which we accepted with much pleasure.

About five o'clock we set out on horseback. A newly planted, very broad
double avenue of beeches marked the beginning of our host's property, and
led us through about half a mile of road to the entrance of his park, a sort
of triumphal arch between two lodges, to which the park paling joined.
This was however concealed in the plantation for some distance on either
side the lodges, so that they appeared to stand in the midst of wood, and
thus produced a very good effect. For some time our way led us through
a thick plantation, till we reached the lawn, studded with groups of trees,
which invariably forms the chief feature of an English park. Here we
caught sight of the house, behind which lay the high trees and ' shrubberies.'
Some cows lay on the grass just before the door of the house, so that we
were obliged almost to ride over them a strange anomaly, which even
Repton animadverts upon. It is the custom here to have the park, that is

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 27

the ornamented pasture land, extend on one side, if not on both, to the very
house ; but surely it would be in better taste to have the garden and plea-
sure-ground around the house. It seems to me, that however agreeable the
distant view of cattle may be, their immediate vicinity, with all its accom-
paniments, is not very pleasant.

We found a pretty numerous company, consisting of the master and mis-
tress of the house, both of middle age, their eldest married daughter with
her husband, two younger daughters, a neighbouring Baronet with his

pretty wife, and her very pleasing but very melancholy sister, Miss , a

much courted lady who frequently moves in higher circles, three gentlemen
not remarkable for anything, the/ son of the house, and lastly, a London beau
of the second class, a study of an aspiring City dandy.

The Baronet had served in Germany, and had, as he told us, obtained the
cross of Maria Theresa. He did not wear it, because he thought the thing
very well for a young man, but, not at all suitable to the quiet country gen-
tleman's life he now led. He was a simple, kind-hearted man, who ap-
peared to have been invited to meet us as best acquainted with the Continent.
We however preferred taking lessons in English manners of his wife and
her sister.

According to this system of manners, as it appeared, a visit from two
' Noblemen,' (even foreign ones, though these are full fifty per cent, under
natives,) was an honour to a house of the * volee' of our host's. We were
therefore amazingly * fetes ;' even the dandy was as far as the rules of his
' metier' permitted civil and obliging to us. It is an almost universal
weakness of the unnoble in England, to parade an acquaintance with the
noble : the noble do the same with regard to the ' fashionable' or * exclu-
sive ;' a peculiar caste, an emperium in imperio, which exercises a still more
despotical power in society, and is not influenced by rank, still less by
riches, but finds the possibility of its maintenance only in this national foible.

It is therefore a great delight to the English of the middle classes to travel
on the Continent, where they easily make acquaintance with people of rank,
of whom they can talk as of intimate friends when they come home. A
merchant's wife once gave rne a specimen of this : " Do you know the

Queen of ?" said she. I replied that " I had had the honour of being

presented to her." " She is a great friend of mine," added she, exactly
as if she; had been talking of her husband's partner's wife. She immediately
exhibited, among the numerous trinkets which hung about her, a portrait of
the Queen, which, as she said, Her Majesty had given her.

It was very likely true, for her daughter produced a letter from Princess

, a married daughter of the Queen, containing the most confidential

communications concerning her marriage and domestic affairs, which has
probably been made to serve for some time as ' cheval de parade' to gratify
the vanity of the possessor. Is it not most extraordinary that our German
great people, many of whom are by no means wanting in pride and ' morgue*
towards their own countrymen, should treat every little English Squire or
Miss, however utterly deficient in intellectual pretensions, almost as an equal,
without in the least inquiring whether this person occupies a station at home
which warrants such a reception ?

Nothing lets us down more in the eyes of the English themselves than
this obsequious worship of foreigners ; the meanness of which consists in
this, that its true foundation generally lies in the profound respect which high
and low have for English money.

It requires a considerable fortune here to keep up a country-house ; for
custom demands many luxuries, and, according to the aspiring and imitative

28 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

manners of the country, as much (in the main things) at the shopkeeper's
house, as at the Duke's ; a handsomely fitted-up house, with elegant furniture,
plate, servants in new and handsome liveries, a profusion of dishes and for*
eign wines, rare and expensive dessert, and in all things an appearance of
superfluity, ' plenty' as the English call it. As long as there are visitors
in the house, this way of life goes on; but many a family atones for it by
meagre fare when alone : for which reason nobody here ventures to pay a
visit in the country without being invited, and these invitations usually fix
the day and hour. The acquaintances are generally numerous ; and as both
room and the time allotted to the reception of guests are small, one must give
place to another. True hospitality this can hardly be called ; it is rather the
display of one's own possessions, for the purpose of dazzling as many as
possible. After a family has thus kept open house for a month or two, they
go for the remainder of the time they have to spend in the country, to make
visits at the houses of others ; but the one hospitable month costs as much
as a wealthy landed proprietor spends in a whole year with us.

As you never were in England, I must say a few words on the routine of
an English dinner, which, as I have said, is, * a peu de chose pres', every-
where alike.

You like the details of daily life, and have often told me that you feel the
want of them in most books of travels, and yet that nothing gives you a
more lively conception of a foreign country. You must therefore forgive me
if I go into trifles.

The gentlemen lead the ladies into the dining-room, not as in France, by
the hand, but by the arm ; and here, as there, are emancipated from the ne-
cessity of those antiquated bows, which even in some of the best society in
Germany, are exchanged every time one hands out a lady. On the other
hand, there is a most anxious regard to rank, in the midst of all which the
strangest blunders are made as to that of foreigners. I execrated mine to-
day, as it brought me to the head of the table ; while my friend very cleverly
slipped himself in between the pretty sisters. When you enter, you find the
whole of the first course on the table, as in France.

After the soup is removed, and the covers are taken off, every man helps
the dish before him, and offers some of it to his neighbour;* if he wishes for
anything else, he must ask across the table, or send a servant for it; a very
troublesome custom, in place of which, some of the most elegant travelled
gentlemen have adopted the more convenient German fashion of sending the
servants round with the dishes.

It is not usual to take wine without drinking to another person. When
you raise your glass, you look fixedly at the one with whom you are drink-
ing, bow you head, and then drink with great gravity. Certainly many of
the customs of the South Sea Islanders, which strike us the most, are less
ludicrous. It is esteemed a civility to challenge anybody in this way to drink ;
and a messenger is often sent from one end of the table to the other to an-
nounce to B that A wishes to take wine with him; whereupon

each, sometimes with considerable trouble, catches the other's eye, and goes
through the ceremony of the prescribed nod with great formality, looking at
the moment very like a Chinese mandarin. If the company is small, and a
man has drunk with everybody, but happens to wish for more wine, he must
wait for the dessert, if he does not find in himself courage enough to brave
custom.

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

IRELAND AND TRANCE. 29

At the conclusion of the second course comes a sort of intermediate des-
sert of cheese, butter, salad, raw celery, and the like ; after which ale, some-
times thirty or forty years old, and so strong that when thrown on the fire it
blazes like spirit, is handed about. The tablecloth is then removed : under
it, at the best tables, is a finer, upon which the dessert is set. At inferior
ones, it is placed on the bare polished table. It consists of all sorts of hot-
house fruits, which are here of the finest quality, Indian and native preserves,
stomachic ginger, confitures, and the like. Clean glasses are set before every
guest, and, with the dessert plates and knives and forks, small fringed nap-
kins are laid. Three decanters are usually placed before the master of the
house, generally containing claret, port, and sherry, or madeira. The host
pushes these in stands, or in a little silver wagon on wheels, to his neighbour
on the left. Every man pours out his own wine, and if a lady sits next him,
also helps her; and so on till the circuit is made, when the same process
begins again. Glass jugs filled with water happily enable foreigners to tem-
per the brandy which forms so large a component part of English wines.
After the dessert is set on, all the servants leave the room: if more is want-
ed the bell is rung, and the butler (Haushofmeister) alone brings it in. The
ladies sit a quarter of an hour longer, during which time sweet wines are
sometimes served, and then rise from table. The men rise at the same time,
one opens the door for them, and as soon as they are gone, draw closer to-
gether ; the host takes the place of the hostess, and the conversation turns
upon subjects of local and everyday interest, in which the stranger is pretty
nearly forgotten, and must content himself with listening to what he can take
very little part in. Every man is, however, at liberty to follow the ladies as
soon as he likes, a liberty of which Count B and I very quickly avail-
ed ourselves. We had the singular satisfaction of learning that this was in
accordance with the latest mode, as much drinking is now * unfashionable.'
Accordingly the dandy had already preceded us. We 'found him with the
ladies, who received us in a ' salon,' grouped around a large table on which
were tea and coffee.* When the whole company was re-assembled, all fell
off into groups, according to their pleasure. Some entertained themselves
with music ; here and there a couple whispered in the recess of a window ;
several talked politics; the dandy alone remained solitary: sunk into a
large easy chair, he had laid his elegantly shod right foot over his left knee,
and in that attitude became apparently so absorbed in Madame de Stael's
' Allemagne' that he took not the slightest notice of any one present.

' A tout prendre,' I must do this pretty young fellow the justice to say that
he was not at all a bad copy of higher originals. Perhaps I was bribed into
this favourable opinion by his talking much at dinner about the great Goethe,
and praising his Post ;' both of whom (Gothe and Fosi) Lord Byron has
brought into fashion in England. Fost seemed to please him, particularly
on account of what he conceived to be its atheistical tendency, for he had,
as he informed us, spent half his life in Paris, and avowed himself an ' es-
prit fort.'

The following day, after all breakfasting together, we rode with the ladies

* When leaving the presence of the King-, ladies are compelled to go out backwards
(as one of them assured me.) It is against the laws of etiquette, the observance of
which is, particularly, so extremely rigorous in England, to turn their backs upon Ma-
jesty. This has been reduced to a regular military evolution, sometimes very embar-
rassing to a new recruit. ^The ladies take close order with their backs to the door, to-
wards which they retreat in a diagonal line. As soon as the fugel- woman reaches it,

she faces to the right about, passes through, and the others follow her. Lady C

commands.

30 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

in the park, which contained nothing remarkable except a canal of stagnant

and slimy water, which had cost five thousand pounds in the digging ; an

expense better spared. The fruit-gardens and hot-houses were admirable :
the latter, a hobby of the proprietor, were heated by steam on a very inge-
nious plan of his own, and the heat increased or diminished at pleasure by
simply turning a cock. Three-and-twenty different sorts of pines, above
which, pendent from the glass roof, hung gigantic purple grapes, -fill these
spacious, elegant houses ; and in the fruit-garden we admired pears on the
wall seven inches in length, sixteen in circumference, and of an excellent
flavour.

Several of the gentlemen went hunting ; but we preferred the society at

home. The gay amusing B was become the favourite of the ladies,

and was evidently greatly regretted by them when the post-chaise arrived at
one o'clock in the morning to take us back to Newmarket. I must confess
that we took rather a laughing review of some things that struck us as ridicu-
lous, though I was really ashamed that we were such genuine B- V* as

to make ourselves merry at the expense of our host and his company, instead
of feeling hearty gratitude for our hospitable reception.

But novv-a-days the world is spoiled ; and besides, hospitality which
springs from ostentation cannot expect the same hearty requital as that which
is the offspring of the heart. Probably we guests fared no better in the
house we had just quitted.

At the races the next morning we saw the young ladies again, betted
gloves with them till we lost, and delighted them with some Paris ones.
We declined a second invitation, as we were engaged to a gentleman's din-
ner, and Count B was going to a fox-hunt at Melton. I shall leave

Newmarket too, and continue my letter in London.

Epping-place, Oct. 2Qth.

I have travelled as far as I wished, and must pass the night here, as the
inspection of two parks has fully occupied my day.

My trouble has been richly rewarded. The first, Audley-End, belonging
to Lord Braybrooke, claims a place among the finest in the country. The
road lies through the middle of it, with a deep ha-ha on each side, which
secures the park and yet leaves a full view into it. You see, at first, an ex-
tensive green landscape, in the centre of which is a broad, river-like, and
beautifully formed piece of water, which unfortunately, however, has too
little motion to prevent its being covered with duckweed. Near to the op-
posite shore stands the splendid Gothic castle, which was originally built
by the Duke of Suffolk, and was then three times as large as it is now. The
multitude of its towers, projecting angles, and lofty many-formed windows,
still give it a very imposing and picturesque appearance.

Although Lady Braybrooke was at home, I obtained the uncommon per-
mission to view it. I entered a wide and very simple hall, ornamented only
with some gigantic stag's horns of great antiquity, and furnished with a few
massive benches and chairs, on which the arms of the family were painted;
some very old paintings ; a Gothic lamp ; a large table, consisting of two
pieces of serpentine, of which only the upper side was polished, the rest
quite rough ; and a dozen leather fire-buckets, also painted with the family
arms. The ceiling was of wood, with deeply-carved compartments and old
faded paintings. One saw at the first glance that it was no house of yester-

* Probably Berliners. This accords with what has been said in the note p. 5, as to
the North German acute and satirical character, as contrasted with Southern bonhom-
mie. TUANSL.

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 31

day one had entered. A high door of heavy carved oak led from hence into
the baron's hall, a large room whose enormous windows reached from the
ceiling to the floor, and afforded a free view of the landscape. Several family
pictures, as large as life, partly painted by Vandyck, hung on the opposite
wall ; and between them rose the huge marble chimney-piece, with the
richly-coloured arms of the Suffolks executed upon it in stucco. The third
side of the room, that on which we entered, was entirely covered with
very fine and highly relieved carvings, figures half the size of life, like those
one sees in the choirs of Gothic churches. Opposite were large folding
doors which opened into the eating-hall, and on each side an open stair-
case leading to the first story. The dining-room contains a portrait of Suf-
folk, and one of Queen Elizabeth. Her red hair, 'fade' complexion and
false look, and her over-done finery, gave no advantageous idea of the vain
and gallant 'Maiden Queen.'

On the first floor is a long narrow gallery full of pretty knick-knacks and
antique curiosities. In the centre is a large chart of the winds, connected
with the weather-cock on the tower, and destined to show the sportsman
every morning which way the wind sets.* This serves as drawing-room,
for most English country-houses and mansions are judiciously made to con-
tain only one principal entertaining room ; which is much more convenient
for the reception of a large company.

The chapel is modern, but richly and tastefully ornamented ; and here,
if the chaplain is absent, the lord of the house, according to ancient usage,
reads divine service at ten o'clock every morning, at which all the family
and servants must attend.

The park is of considerable extent, but intersected by a troublesome num-
ber of fences, which serve to allot to the sheep, cows, horses and deer, their
several territories. Of the latter, there are from four to five hundred head,
which generally graze pretty near together like a herd of tame cattle, and
do not answer at all to our idea of game.t The flesh too has a totally dif-
ferent flavour from that of the animals which roam free in our woods, just
as they say the flesh of wild oxen differs from that of tame.

The preserves for partridges and hares are also fenced in to protect the
low copse from the cattle, in consequence of whose presence, the greater
part of an English park consists, as I have already remarked, only of groups
of high trees whose branches the cattle cannot reach.

These extensive views, grand and striking as they are at first, become
tiresome in time from their uniformity. Nor can I see that the numerous
enclosures are advantages to the landscape. Almost every young tree has
a fence round it to protect it from the cattle.

Two temples and an obelisk, to which there is no other way than across
the turf, have a very heterogeneous appearance in the midst of these pasture-
grounds. The distant Gothic tower of Walden church, rearing its head pic-
turesquely over the summits of the oaks, was in much better keeping.

On the other hand I greatly admired the flower-garden and pheasantry.
The first describes a large oval, surrounded with a thick natural evergreen
wall of yew, laurel, rhododendron, cedar, cypress, box, holly, <fcc. ; a
brook, adorned with a grotto and water-fall, flows through the velvet turf,
on which the rare and splendid plants and flower-beds of every form and
colour group themselves most beautifully.

* A very useful piece of furniture to introduce at Court. EDITOR.

f Idee d'es Wildes: The double sense of the word wild in German, which when
used substantively, exactly corresponds to our game (fera; naturae,) though adjectively
it is the same as the English adjective, makes it impossible to render this. TRANS.

32 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

The pheasantry, which is nearly two miles from this spot, is a thick
shady grove of various sorts of trees, of considerable extent, and surround-
ed by a high wall. We could only get to it over the wet grass, as the
gravel-walk commenced from the entrance-gate. This is from economy, for
roads are excessively expensive both to make and to keep up in England.
There is generally but one carriage-road to the house, and even the foot-
paths cease with the iron fences of the pleasure-grounds. The English la-
dies are not so afraid of setting their feet on wet grass as ours are.

After many windings, the path brought me, under a most lovely leafy
canopy, unexpectedly before the ivy-covered door of a little building, adjoin-
ing to which, still more buried in the wood, was the gamekeeper's house.
This door opened from within, and most enchanting was the view that it
disclosed to us. We had entered a little open saloon, the isolated pillars of
which were entirely covered with thick monthly roses ; between them was
seen a large aviary filled with parrots on the right, and on the left an equal-
ly extensive habitation for canaries, goldfinches, and other small birds ; be-
fore us lay an open grass-plat dotted with evergreens, and behind this a back-
ground of high woods, through which small peeps at a distant village and a
solitary church-tower had been cut with singular taste and skill.

On this grass-plat, the keeper now called together perfect clouds of gold,
silver, and pied pheasants, fowls, of exotic breeds, tame rooks, curious pi-
geons, and other birds that were accustomed to be fed here, and thronged
together in the most gay and motley crowd. Their various manners and
gestures, rendered more lively by their passionate eagerness, afforded an
amusing spectacle. The behaviour of a gold pheasant who, like a beau of
the old school, seemed trying to make his court to all the assembled hens
with the most ludicrous struts and airs, was so excessively comic that my

old B burst into an immoderate fit of laughter ; whereat the English

servants, who are accustomed to observe an exterior of slavish reverence in
the presence of their masters, looked at him with a consternation at his bold-
ness, which amused me as much as the ' Pantalonnade' among the fowls.

There are above five hundred gold and silver pheasants. They have all
one wing cut as soon as they are hatched, which for ever prevents their
flying. They inhabit these woods winter and summer, without wanting
even the shelter of a shed, so mild is this climate.

Not to weary you, I omit the description of the second park, Short Grove,
which had nothing remarkable to boast, and appeared much neglected. The
house, park, hot-houses, &c., the former completely furnished, were to let
for the moderate rent of four hundred a-year, a very common custom here
when the possessors are travelling.

We should not like to imitate it ; while on the other hand, a part of our
town-houses are almost always let, the proprietors inhabiting only the
* bel etage.' This again appears very strange to .the English, and certainly
is extremely inconvenient, for the presence of several families in one house
is not favourable either to order or cleanliness.

The house-door at Short Grove was covered on the outside with looking-
glass , a very pretty idea : as you enter the house you have a beautiful pic-
ture of the country.

The great wealth of the landholders of England must always strike peo-
ple from the Continent, where the landed proprietors are the poorest class,
and the least protected by laws and institutions. Here everything conspires
for their advantage. It is very difficult for the fundholder to acquire the free
and full possession of land. Almost the whole soil is the property of the
aristocracy, who generally let it only on lease ; so that when a great man

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 33

calls a village his, this does not mean, as with us, merely that he has the
lordship ( Ob erherrs chaff t) over it, but that every house is his absolute pro-
perty ; and only granted to the actual inhabitants for a certain time. You
may conceive what enormous and ever increasing revenues this must bring
them, in a country where trade and population are continually on the in-
crease ; and may admire with me the concert and address with which this
aristocracy has 'contrived for centuries to turn all the institutions of the
country to its own advantage.

The free sale of a portion of land is attended by many difficult conditions,
and at so high a price that it is out of the reach of small capitalists, who
find it more advantageous to hire it on lease. Leases here are, however, of
a very different nature from ours. The piece of land is let to the tenant for
ninety-nine years on payment of a certain yearly rent, which varies from a
few shillings to five and ten pounds yearly per foot of the frontage, if it be
for building on ; in large portions, it is so much per acre. The tenant now
does with it what he likes, builds where he pleases, lays out gardens, plea-
sure-grounds, and so on : but after the lapse of the ninety-nine years, the
whole reverts just as it stands, sound and tight, to the family of the original
lord of the soil : nay more ; the tenant must keep the house in perfect re-
pair, and paint it every seven years. During his allotted term he may sell
or let it to others, but of course only up to that period when it reverts to the
original proprietor. Almost all the country-houses, villas, &c., that one
sees, thus belong to great land-owners ; and although the tenants at the ex-
piration of their term generally re-establish this sort of precarious property
in them, yet they must double or treble their rent, according to the increased
value of land, or the improvements they themselves have made upon it.
Even the greater part of London belongs, on such -terms, to certain noble-
men, of whom Lord Grosvenor, for instance, is said to derive above
100, OOO/. a year from his ground-rents. Scarcely a single inhabitant of
London, therefore, except a few members of the high aristocracy, is the real
owner of his house. Even Rothschild's is not his own : and when a man
buys one, as it is called, people ask him for how long. The price varies
according as the house is taken at first hand, commonly then for a rent ; or
at second or third, and then more usually for a sum of money. The
greater part of the profits of industry thus inevitably falls into the hands of
the aristocracy, and necessarily increases the enormous influence which they
already exercise over the government of the country.*

London, October 21 st.

This afternoon I got home safe and well through the incessant rain, re-
freshed myself with a good dinner at the Club, and in the evening, let me
tell you, won just six times my travelling expenses. I am well and in good
spirits, and find that I want nothing but you.

Let me finish my letter at so favourable a conjuncture. It is already
swelled to a packet.

Ever your faithfully devoted L .

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

LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

LETTER V.*

London, Nov. 2Qth, 1826.
BELOVED FRIEND,

I ADVISE travellers never to take servants out of their fatherland into
strange countries, especially if they imagine they shall save by it, now-a-
days always a prime object. This piece of economy belongs to the class
of those, one of which costs more than four pieces of extravagance ; besides
which, one hangs a load round one's neck which is burthensome in various
ways.

These wise reflections are excited in me by my old valet, who seems in-
clined to fall into the English spleen because he finds so many daily diffi-
culties here; above all, in getting soup for his dinner, the thought of which
beloved aliment of his home calls tears into his eyes. He reminds me of
the Prussian soldiers, who, amid streams of Champagne, beat the French
peasants for not setting Stettin beer before them.

True it is that the English of the middle classes, accustomed to substan-
tial flesh diet, are not acquainted with the Northern broths and soups : what
goes under that name in England is an expensive extract of all sorts of pep-
pers and spices from both Indies, like that brewed in a witches' cauldron.
The face of my faithful liegeman, at the first spoonful of this compound he
put into his mouth, would have been worthy to figure in Peregrine Pickle's
antique repast, and turned my anger into loud laughter. Yet I see before-
hand that his devotion to me will be wrecked on this rock ; for our Germans
are, and ever will be, curious beings ; holding longer than any others to the
accustomed, be it faith r love or soup.

In the absence of society, the various Clubs, (to which, contrary to for-
mer custom, a stranger can now gain admittance,) are a very agreeable re-
source. Our ambassador introduced me into two of them, the United
Service Club, into which no foreigners are admitted except ambassadors and
military men, the latter of the rank of staff-officers : and the Traveller's
Club, into which every foreigner of education, who has good introductions,
is admitted ; though every three months he is made to undergo the some-
what humiliating ceremony of requesting a fresh permission, to which he is
held with almost uncivil severity.

In Germany, people have as little notion of the elegance and comfort of
Clubs, as of the rigorous execution of their laws which prevail here.

All that luxury and convenience, without magnificence, demand, is here
to be found in as great perfection as in the best private houses. The stairs
and rooms are covered with fresh and handsome carpets, and rugs (sheep-
skins with the wool nicely prepared and dyed of bright colours) are laid
before the doors to prevent drafts; marble chimney-pieces, handsome look-
ing-glasses (always of one piece, a necessary part of solid English luxury),
a profusion of furniture, &c. render every apartment extremely comfortable.
Even scales, by which to ascertain one's weight daily a strange taste of
the English are not wanting. The numerous servants are never seen but
in shoes, and in the neatest livery or plain clothes ; and a porter is always
at his post to take charge of great-coats and umbrellas. This latter article
in England deserves attention, since umbrellas, which are unfortunately so

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

" "

> '^p-

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 35

V^ IV i * * :>

indispensable, are stolen in the most shameless manner, be it where it may,
if you do not take particular care of them. This fact is so notorious that I
must translate for your amusement a passage from a newspaper, relating to
some Society for the encouragement of virtue, which was to award a prize
for the most honourable action. " The choice," continues the author,
" was become extremely difficult ; and it was nearly determined to give the
prize to an individual who had paid his tailor's bill punctually for several
years ; when another was pointed out, who had twice sent home an um-
brella left at his house. At this unheard-of act," adds the journalist, " the
company first fell into mute wonder that so much virtue was still found in
Israel j but at length loud and enthusiastic applause left the choice no longer
doubtful."

In the elegant and well-furnished library there is also a person always
at hand to fetch you the books you want. You find all the journals yi a
well-arranged reading-room ; and in a small room for maps and charts,* a
choice of the newest and best in their kind. This is so arranged that all
the maps, rolled up, hang one over another on the wall, thus occupying but
a small space ; and each is easily drawn down for use by a little loop in
the centre. A pull at a loop at the side rolls up the map again by a very
simple piece of mechanism. The name of each country is inscribed in such
large letters on the mahogany staff on which the map is rolled, that it may
be read with ease across the room. By this contrivance a great number of
maps may be hung in a very small closet, and when wanted, may be found
and inspected in a moment, without the slightest trouble, or derangement of
the others.

The table, I mean the eating, with most men the first thing, and with
me not the last, is generally prepared by French cook, as well and as
cheaply as it is possible to have it in London. As the Club provides the
wines, and sells them again to each member, they are very drinkable and
reasonable. But ' gourmands' must ever miss the finest wines, even at the
best tables in London. This arises from the strange habit of the English
(and these people, too, stick faster to their habits than, an oyster to its shell,)
of getting their wines from London wine-merchants, instead of importing
them from the places where they grow, as we do. Now these wine-mer-
chants adulterate their wine to such a degree, that one who was lately pro-
secuted for having some thousand bottles of port and claret in his cellars
which had not paid duty, proved that all this wine was manufactured by
himself in London, and thus escaped the penalty. You may imagine, there-
fore, what sort of brewage you often get under the high-sounding names of
Champagne, Lafitte, &c. The dealers scarcely ever buy the very best
which is to be had in the native lands of the several wines, for the obvious
reason that they could make little or no profit of it ; at best they only use
it to enable them to get off other wine of inferior quality.

Excuse this wine-digression, which to you, who drink only water, cannot
be very interesting ; but you know I write for us both, and to me the sub-
ject is I confess not unimportant. " Gern fuhre ich Wein im Munde."

But let us back to our Clubs.

The peculiarity of English manners may be much better observed here,
at the first ' abord,' than in the great world, which is everywhere more or
less alike ; whereas the same individuals, of whom it is in part composed,

* I must remark, that ever since Prussia was promised a Charter, (Charte,} my de-
parted friend, to be more accurate, made an orthographical distinction, spelling charts,
Carte, and playing cards, Karte. He hopes this caution will not be thrown away.
EDITOR.

36 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

show themselves here with much less restraint. In the first place, the
stranger must admire the refinement of convenience with which English-
men sit : it must be confessed that a man who is ignorant of the ingenious
English chairs, of every form, and adapted to every degree of fatigue, in-
disposition, or constitutional peculiarity, really loses a large share of earthly
enjoyment. It is a positive pleasure even to see an Englishman sit, or ra-
ther lie, in one of these couch-like chairs by the fire-side. A contrivance
like a reading-desk attached to the arm, and furnished with a candlestick,
is so placed before him, that with the slightest touch he can bring it nearer
or further, push it to the right or the left, at pleasure. A curious machine,
several of which stand around the large fire-place, receives one or both of
his feet; and the hat on his head completes the enchanting picture of su-
perlative comfort.

This latter circumstance is the most difficult of imitation to a man brought
up in the old school. Though he can never refrain from a provincial sort
of shudder when he enters the brilliantly lighted saloon of the Club-house,
where dukes, ambassadors and lords, elegantly dressed, are sitting at the
card-tables, yet if he wishes to be ' fashionable' he must keep on his hat,
advance to a party at whist, nod to one or two of his acquaintances : then
carelessly taking up a newspaper, sink down on a sofa, and, not till after
some time, 'nonchalament' throw down his hat (which perhaps has all the
while been a horrid annoyance to him); or, if he stays but a few minutes,
not take it off at all.

The practice of half lying instead of sitting ; sometimes of lying at full
length on the carpet at the feet of ladies ; of crossing one leg over the other
in such a manner as to hold the foot in the hand ; of putting the hands in
the arm-holes of the waistcoat, -and so on, are all things which have ob-
tained in the best company and the most exclusive circles : it is therefore
very possible that the keeping on the hat may arrive at the same honour.
In this case it will doubtless find its way into Paris society, which, after
being formerly aped by all Europe, now disdains not to ape the English,
sometimes grotesquely enough, and, as is usual in such cases, often out-
does its original.

On the other hand, the English take it very ill of foreigners, if they re-
prove a waiter who makes them wait, or brings one thing instead of another,
or if they give their commands in a loud or lordly tone of voice ; though the
English themselves often do this in their own country, and much more in
ours, and though the dining-room of the Club is in fact only a more elegant
sort of ' restauration,' where every man must pay his reckoning after he has
dined. It is regarded not only as improper, but as unpleasant and offensive,
if any one reads during dinner. It is not the fashion in England ; and, as I
have this bad habit in a supreme degree, I have sometimes remarked satiri-
cal signs of displeasure on the countenances of a few Islanders of the old
school, who shook their heads as they passed me. One must be on one's
guard, generally, to do things as little as possible unlike the English, and
yet not to try to imitate them servilely in everything, for no race of men can
be more intolerant. Most of them see with reluctance the introduction of
any foreigner into their more private societies, and all regard it as a distin-
guished favour and obligation conferred on us.

But of all offences against English manners which a man can commit, the
three following are the greatest : to put his knife to his mouth instead of his
fork ; to take up sugar or asparagus with his fingers ; or, above all, to spit any-
where in a room. These are certainly laudable prohibitions, and well-bred
people of all countries avoid such practices, though even ou these points

IRELAND AND PRANCE. 37

manners alter greatly ; for Marshal Richelieu detected an adventurer who
passed himself off for a man of rank, by the single circumstance of his taking
up olives with his fork and not with 'his fingers. The ridiculous thing is
the amazing importance which is here attached to them. The last-named
crime is so pedantically proscribed in England, that you might seek through
all London in vain to find such a piece of furniture as a spitting-box. A
Dutchman, who was very uncomfortable for the want of one, declared with
great indignation, that an Englishman's only spitting-box was his stomach.
These things are, I repeat, more than trivial, but the most important rules of
behaviour in foreign countries almost always regard trivialities. Had I, for
example, to give a few universal rules to a young traveller, I should seriously
counsel him thus : In Naples, treat the people brutally ; in Rome, be na-
tural ; in Austria, don't talk politics ; in France, give yourself no airs ; in
Germany, a great many ; and in England, don't spit. With these rules, the
young man would get on very well. What one must justly admire is the
well-adapted arrangement of every thing belonging to the economy of life
and of all public establishments in England, as well as the systematical
rigour with which what has once been determined on is unalterably followed
up. In Germany, all good institutions soon fall asleep, and new brooms
alone sweep clean ; here it is quite otherwise. On the other hand, every
thing is not required of the same person, but exactly so much, aiid no more,
as falls within his department. The treatment of servants is as excellent as
their performance of their duties. Each has his prescribed field of activity ;
in which, however, the strictest and most punctual execution of orders is
required of him, and in any case of neglect the master knows whom he has
to call to account. At the same time, the servants enjoy a reasonable free-
dom, and have certain portions of time allotted to them,'which their master
carefully respects. The whole treatment of the serving classes is much
more decorous, and combined with more ' egards,' than with us ; but then
they are so entirely excluded from all familiarity, and such profound respect
is exacted from them, that they appear to be considered rather as machines
than as beings of the same order. This, and their high wages, are no doubt
the causes that the servants really possess more external dignity than any
other class in England, relatively to their station.

In many cases it would be a very pardonable blunder in a foreigner to
take the valet for the lord, especially if he happened to imagine that courtesy
and a good address were the distinguishing marks of a man of quality.
This test would be by no means applicable in England, where these advan-
tages are not to be found among the majority of persons of the higher classes ;
though there are some brilliant exceptions, and their absence is often re-
deemed by admirable and solid qualities.

In the men, indeed, their arrogance, often amounting to rudeness, and
their high opinion of themselves, do not sit so ill ; but in the women, it is
as disgusting and repulsive, as, in some other of their countrywomen, the
vain effort to ape continental grace and vivacity.

I once before praised the admirable spirit of adaptation and arrangement
which pervades all establishments here. As a sample, I will give you the
organization of the card-room in the Traveller's Club-house. This is not
properly a gaming club, but, as its name denotes, one expressly for travellers.
Such only can become actual members of it as have travelled a certain pre-
scribed number of miles on the Continent, or have made yet more distant
expeditions. In spite of this, one does not perceive that they are become less
English, which, however, I do not quarrel with. At the Travellers' Club,
then, short whist and ecarte are played very high, but no hazard.

LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

In our Casinos, * Ressources,' and so on, a man who wishes to play must
first laboriously seek out a party; and if the tables are full, may have to wait
hours till one is vacant. Here it is a law that every one who comes may
take his seat at any table at which arubber has just ended, when he who has
played two consecutive rubbers must give up his place. It is pleasant, too,
to a man who has lost, and fancies that the luck goes with the place, to quit
it and seek better fortune in another.

In the centre of the room stands a bureau' at which is posted a clerk, who
rings whenever a waiter is wanted ; brings the bill ;* and, if any contested
point occur, fetches the classical authorities on whist; for never is the slight-
est offence against the rules of the game suffered to pass without the inflic-
tion of the annexed punishment. This is rather annoying to a man who
plays only for amusement ; but yet it is a wise plan, and forms good players.
The same clerk distributes the markers to the players to obviate the great
annoyance of meeting with a bad payer, the Club is the universal payer.
Actual money does not make its appearance, but every man who sits down
to play receives a little basket of markers of various forms, the value of which
is inscribed upon them, and which the clerk enters in his book; as often as
he loses, he asks for more. Each player reckons with the clerk, and either
proves his loss, or, if he has won, delivers up the markers. In either case
he receives a card containing a statement of the result, and the duplicate of
the reckoning in the account-book.

As soon as any one is indebted more than a hundred pounds, he must pay
it in the following morning to the clerk ; and every man who has any de-
mands can claim his money at any time.

None but a nation so entirely commercial as the English can be expected
to attain to this perfection of methodizing and arrangement. In no other
country are what are here emphatically called ' habits of business' carried so
extensively into social and domestic life ; the value of time, of^order, of des-
patch, of inflexible routine, nowhere so well understood. This is the great
key to the most striking national characteristics. The quantity of material
objects produced and accomplished the work done in England, exceeds
all that man ever effected. The causes and the qualities which have pro-
duced these results have as certainly given birth to the dulness, the contract-
ed views, the routine habits of thought as well as of action, the inveterate
prejudices, the unbounded desire for, and deference to, wealth, which charac-
terize the mass of Englishmen.

It were much to be wished that in our German cities we imitated the or-
ganization of English Clubs, which would be very practicable as to the es-
sentials, though our poverty would compel us to dispense with many of their
luxuries. In this case we ought to repay the English like for like, and not
prostrate ourselves in puerile slavish admiration of their money and their
name ; but while we treated them with all civility, and even with more cour-
tesy than they show to us, yet let them see that Germans are masters of their
own house, particularly as many of them only come among us either to
economize, or to form connexions with people of rank, from which their
own station at home excluded them, or to have the satisfaction of showing
us that in all arrangements for physical comfort we are still barbarians com-
pared with them.t

* Rechnung. Account, reckoning, bill. The reader, if he happen to know the fact,
may apply the right word. TUANSL.

f The author's feelings towards Englishmen are evidently so bitter, that his testi-
mony must be received with great allowance. On the other hand, it will be confessed
by all who are not blinded by intense self-complacency and insular conceit, that it is

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 39

It is indeed inconceivable, and a proof that it is only necessary to treat us
contemptuously in order to obtain our reverence, that, as I have remarked,
the mere name of Englishman is, with us, equivalent to the highest title.
tyTany a person, who would scarcely get admission into very inferior circles
in England, where the whole of society, down to the very lowest classes, is
so stitfly aristocratical, in the various states of Germany is received at Court
and fete by the first nobility; every act of coarseness and ill-breeding is set
down as a trait of charming English originality, till perhaps, by some acci-
dent, a really respectable Englishman comes to the place, and people learn
with astonishment that they have been doing all this honour to an ensign
' on half pay,' or a rich tailor or shoemaker. An individual of this rank is,
however, generally, at least civil, but the impertinence of some of the higher
classes surpasses all belief.

I know that in one of the largest towns of Germany, a prince of the royal
house, distinguished for his frank, chivalrous courtesy, and his amiable cha-
racter, invited an English Viscount, who was but just arrived, and had not
yet been presented to him, to a hunting-party ; to which His Lordship r-
plied, that he could not accept the invitation, as the prince was perfectly
unknown to him.

It is true, that no foreigner will ever have it in his power so to requite a
similar civility in England, where a grandee considers an invitation to dinner
(they are very liberal of invitations to routs and soirees, for the sake of fill-
ing their rooms) as the most signal honour he can confer upon even a dis-
tinguished foreigner, an honour only to be obtained by long acquaintance,
or by very powerful letters of introduction. But if by any miracle such a
ready attention were to be paid in England, it would be impossible to find a
single man of any pretensions to breeding, on the whole Continent, who
would make such a return as this boorish lord did.*

November 2lst.

I called yesterday morning on L to execute your commission, but

did not find him at home. Instead of him, I found to my great joy a letter
from you, which I was so impatient to read, that I set myself down in his
room, and read it attentively two or three times. Your affection, which
strives to spare me everything disagreeable, and dwells only upon those
subjects which can give me pleasure, I acknowledge most gratefully. But
you must not spare me more than you are convinced you can do without
detriment to our common interests. You estimate my letters far more high-
ly than they deserve ; but you may imagine that, in my eyes, it is a very
amiable fault in you to overvalue me thus. Love paints the smallest merit
in magic colours. I will, however, do myself the justice to believe that
you, who have had such ample opportunities of knowing me, may find in
me qualities which shrink from the rude touch of the world. This con-
soled me, but your expression " that all you wrote appeared to you so in-
coherent, that you thought the grief of parting had weakened your intel-
lects," gave me great pain. Do I then want phrases ? How much more
delightful is that natural, confidential talk, which flows on without con-

extvemely rare to find a foreigner of any country, who has encountered English people
either abroad or at home, without having 1 his most honest allowable self-love wounded
in a hundred ways. THANSL.

* Let me here remark, that those who judge of England only by their visit to it in
1814, form extremely erroneous notions. That was a moment of enthusiasm, a bound-
less joy of the whole nation at its deliverance from its most dreaded enemy, which ren-
dered it peculiarly kind and amiable towards those who had contributed to its destruc-
tion.

40 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

straint and without effort, and therefore expresses itself admirably. I am
particularly delighted at your sentiments concerning what I tell you; they
are ever exactly such as I expect and share.

Accompany your friend to the capital : it will amuse you, and at the;
same time you will find many opportunities of promoting our interests.
* Les absens ont tort ;' never forget that. I must disapprove B 's levi-
ty. He has no solicitude about his reputation, though he be in fact an an-
gel of virtue and benevolence ; he who cares not what is said of him,
perhaps even laughs at it, will soon find that the malignity of men has left
him in the same condition as to reputation as Peter Schlemil was with re-
gard to his shadow. At first he thought it nothing to forego a thing so un-
substantial : but in the end he could scarcely endure existence without it.
Only in the deepest solitude, far from all the world, striding restlessly with
his seven-league boots from the north pole to the south, and living for sci-
ence alone, did he find some tranquillity and peace. At the conclusion of
your letter I see but too clearly that melancholy gains the upper hand,
and I could say something on that subject too, ' mais ii faut du courage.'
In every life there are periods of trial, moments when the bitterest drops in
the cup must be drained. If the sun do but illumine the evening, we will
not murmur at the noontide heat.

But enough of these serious subjects : let me now turn your attention
from them, by leading you to the Haymarket Theatre, which I lately visit-
ed, when the celebrated Listen enchanted the public for the hundred-and-
second time in Paul Pry, a sort of foolish lout. The actor, who is said to
have made a fortune of six thousand a-year, is one of those whom I should
call natural comic actors, of the same class as were Unzelmann and Wurm
in Berlin, and Bosenberg and Doring in Dresden ; men who, without any
profound study of their art, excite laughter by a certain drollery of manner
peculiar to themselves, an inexhaustible humour, * qui coule de source ;'
though frequently in private life they are hypochondriacal, as it is said to be
the case with Liston.

The notorious Madame Vestris, who formerly made ' furore,' was also
there. She is somewhat ' passee,' but still very fascinating on the stage.
She is an excellent singer, and still better actor, and a greater favourite of
the English public even than Liston. Her great celebrity, however, rests
on the beauty of her legs, which are become a standing article in the thea-
trical criticisms of the newspapers, and are often displayed by her in man's
attire. The grace and the exhaustless spirit and wit of her acting are also
truly enchanting, though she sometimes disgusts one by her want of mo-
desty, and coquettes too much with the audience. It may truly be said in
every sense of the words, that Madame VestrWlbelongs to all Europe. Her
father was an Italian ; her mother a German and a good pianoforte player ;
her husband, of the illustrious dancing family of France, and herself an
Englishwoman: any chasms in her connexion with other European nations
are more than filled up by hundreds of the most 'marquant' lovers. She
also speaks several languages with the utmost fluency. In the character of
the German * broom girl' she sings

" Ach, clu lieber Augustin,"

with a perfect pronunciation, and with a very piquant' air of assurance.

To-day I dined with our ambassador. This prevented my visiting the
theatre, which I have too much neglected. I have resolved to attend it with
more constancy, in order that I may gradually give you a tolerably perfect
report of it, though in detached descriptions.

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 41

We were quite * en petit comite,' and the company unusually animated
and merry. We had a certain great ' gourmand' among us, who took a great

deal of joking, * sans en perdre un coup de dent.' At last Prince E

told him that whenever he went to purgatory his punishment would un-
doubtedly be to see the blessed eat, while he was kept fasting. * * * *

Lord was there too. He treats me in the most friendly manner to my

face, but, I am told, loses no opportunity of injuring me in society. * *

A man of warmer heart would have spoken to me face to face of this
supposed wrong. l Diplomates,' however, have too much fishes' blood in
their organization. * * * * * * *

Happily, I can laugh at all such ' menees :' for a man who seeks nothing
and fears little, who interests himself in the great world only in so far as it
affords him opportunities for making 'experimental observations on himself
and others ; who is, as to necessaries at least, independent, and has a few
but faithful friends, such a man it is difficult seriously to injure. Expe-
rience too has cooled me ; my blood no longer flows with such uncontrol-
lable impetuosity ; while my lightheartedness has not deserted me, still less
the capacity of loving intensely. I therefore enjoy life better than in the
bloom of youth, and would not exchange my present feelings for that early
tumultuous vehemence. Nay, in such a frame of mind, I feel not the least
dread of old age, and am persuaded that when that period of life arrives, it
will turn to us many a bright and beautiful side whose existence we suspect
not, and which those only never find who want to remain youthful for ever.

I lately met with some pretty English verses which I translated, after my
fashion, with a thought of you, my best friend, who too often regret depart-
ing youth. These are the delightful lines :

1st gleich bie trube Wange bleich,
Das Auge nicht mehr hell,
Und nahet schon das ernste Reich,
Wo Jugend fliehet schnell!
Doch lachelt Dir die Wange noch,
Das Auge kennt die Thrane noch,
Das Herz schlagt noch so warm und frei
Als in des Lebens grQnstera Mai.
So denk* denn nicht, dass nur die Jugend
Und Schonheit Segen leiht
Zeit lehrt die Seele schonre Tugend,
In Jahren treuer Zartlichkeit.
Und selbst wenn einst die Nacht von oben
Verdunkelnd Deine Brust umfangt,
Wird noch durch Liebeshand gehoben
Dein Haupt zur ew'gen Ruh' gesenkt.
O, so auch blinkt der Abendstern,
1st gleich dahin der Sonne Licht,
Noch sanft und warm aus hoher Fern',
Und Tages-Glanz entbehrst Du nicht.*

Yes, my beloved Julia, thus has time taught us, in years of tenderness,
that nothing can have so genuine a value as that. We have now before us
an evening star, whose mild light is far more delightful than that mid-day
sun which often rather scorches than warms,

I drove home with L , and we had a long conversation by the snug

fireside on the affairs of our country. * * * *

L is very kind to me, and I am doubly attached to him ; first, for his

* English-German readers will probably find the original of these lines without diffi-
culty, TBAHSI.

42 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

own amiable and honourable character ; secondly, for the sake of his excel-
lent father, to whom we owe more real gratitude than to , though he had

no other motive than his own impartial love of justice.

November 23d.

A strange custom in England is the continual intrusion of the newspapers
into the affairs of private life. A man of any distinction not only sees the
most absurd details concerning him dragged before the public, such as
where he dined, what evening party he attended, and so forth, (which
many foreigners read with the greatest self-complacency,) but if anything
really worth telling happens to him, it is immediately made public without
shame or scruple. Personal hostility has thus ' beau jeu,' as well as the
desire of making profitable friends. Many use the newspapers for the pub-
lication of articles to their own advantage, which they send themselves. The
foreign embassies cultivate this branch with great assiduity. It is easy to
see what formidable weapons the press thus furnishes. Fortunately, how-
ever, the poison brings its antidote with it. This consists in the indiffer-
ence with which the public receives such communications. An article in a
newspaper after which a Continental would not show himself for three
months, here excites at most a 'momentary laugh, and the next day is for-
gotten.

About a month ago the papers, made themselves extremely merry about
the duel of a noble lord here ; who, according to their representation of the
matter, had not cut a very heroic figure. They made the most offensive
remarks, and drew the most mortifying inferences as to the calibre of his
valour ; and all this had not the smallest perceptible effect in disabling him
from presenting himself in society with as much ease and unconcern as
ever. They have tried to give me too a ' coup fourre.'
But I have served under an old soldier, and learned from him always to
have the first and loudest laugh at myself, and not to spare an inoffensive
jest at myself and others. This is the only safe way of meeting ridicule in
the world : if you appear sensitive or embarrassed, then indeed the poison
works ; otherwise it evaporates like cold water on a red-hot stone. This
the English understand to perfection.

This evening I spent, true to my determination, in Drury Lane, where,
to my infinite astonishment, old Braham appeared, still as first singer, with
the same applause with which I saw him, even then an old man, 'perform
the same part for his own benefit the day before my departure from England,
twelve years ago. I found little difference in his singing, except that he
shouted rather more violently, and made rather more * roulades' in order to
conceal the decline of his voice. He is a Jew, and I am firmly convinced
the everlasting one,* for he does not seem to grow old at all. l Au reste,'
he is the genuine representative of the English style of singing, and, in po-
pular songs especially, the enthusiastically adored idol of the public. One
cannot deny to him great power of voice and rapidity of execution, and he
is said to have a thorough knowledge of music : but a more abominable
style it is impossible to conceive.

The Prima Donna was Miss Paton, a very agreeable, but not a first-rate
singer. She is well-made, and not ugly, and is a great favourite with the
public. What would appear extraordinary among us, she is married to
Lord W L , whose name she bears in her own family and in pri-

* The traditional personage whom we call the Wandering Jew, the Germans call
der ewige Jude, the eternal or everlasting Jew TRANSL.

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 43

vate.* On the stage, however, she is Miss Paton again, and paid as such,
which is not unacceptable to her lord.

The most striking thing to a foreigner in English theatres is the unheard-
of coarseness and brutality of the audiences. The consequence of this is
that the higher and more civilized classes go only to the Italian opera, and
very rarely visit their national theatre. Whether this be unfavourable or
otherwise to the stage, I leave others to determine.

English freedom here degenerates into the rudest license, and it is not
uncommon in the midst of the most affecting part of a tragedy, or the most
charming 'cadenza' of a singer, to hear some coarse expression shouted
from the galleries in stentor voice. This is followed, according to the taste
of the bystanders, either by loud laughter and approbation, or by the casti-
gation and expulsion of the offender.

Whichever turn the thing takes, you can hear no more of what is passing
on the stage, where actors and singers, according to ancient usage, do not
suffer themselves to be interrupted by such occurrences, but declaim or
warble away, ' comme si rien n'etait.' And such things happen not once,
but sometimes twenty times, in the course of a performance, and amuse
many of the audience more than that does. It is also no rarity for some one
to throw the fragments of his l goute,' which do not always consist of orange-
peels alone, without the smallest ceremony on the heads of the people in
the pit, or to shail them with singular dexterity into the boxes ; while others
hang their coats and waistcoats over the railing of the gallery, and sit in
shirt-sleeves ; in short, all that could be devised for the better excitement of
a phlegmatic Harmonie Society of the workmen in Berlin, under the re-
nowned Wisotsky, is to be found in the national theatre of Britain.

Another cause for the absence of respectable families is the resort of hun-
dreds of those unhappy women with whom London swarms. They are to
be seen of every degree, from the lady who spends a splendid income, and
has her own box, to the wretched beings who wander houseless in the
streets. Between the acts they fill the large and handsome ' foyers,' and
exhibit their boundless effrontery in the most revolting manner.

It is most strange that in no country on earth is this afflicting and humi-
liating spectacle so openly exhibited as in the religious and decorous Eng-
land. The evil goes to such an extent, that in the theatres it is often diffi-
cult to keep off these repulsive beings, especially when they are drunk,
which is not seldom the case. They beg in the most shameless manner,
and a pretty, elegantly dressed girl does not disdain to take a shilling or a
sixpence, which she instantly spends in a glass of rum, like the meanest
beggar. And these are the scenes, I repeat, which are exhibited in the na-
tional theatre of England, where the highest dramatic talent of the country
should be developed; where immortal artists like Garrick, Mrs. Siddons,
Miss O'Neil, have enraptured the public by their genius, and where such
actors as Kean, Kemble, and Young, still adorn the stage.

Is not this to say nothing of the immorality in the highest degree low
and undignified ? It is wholly inconsistent with any real love of art, or con-
ception of its office and dignity. The turbulent scenes I have described
above scarcely ever arise out of anything connected with the performance,
but have almost always some source quite foreign to it, and no way relating
to the stage.

Farewell! Ever your L .

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

44 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

LETTER VI.

London, Nov. 25th, 1826.
BELOVED,

It is sometimes a perfect want with me to spend a day entirely alone in
my own room. I pass it in a sort of dreamy brooding 1 . I go over the past
and the future, all that I have felt and suffered, till, by the mixture of so
many colours, one misty grey tint overspreads the whole ; and the disso-
nances of life melt away at length, in a soft objectless melancholy.

The barrel-organs which resound day and night in every street, and are
at other times insufferable, are favourable to such a state of mind. They too
mingle a hundred different airs, till all music loses itself in an indistinct
dreamy ringing in the ears.

A much more entertaining thing is another sort of street performance,
a genuine national comedy. It afforded me great amusement from my win-
dow, and is well worth a somewhat particular description.

The hero of this drama is Punch, the English Punch, perfectly differ-
ent from the Italian Pulcinella. I send you a faithful portrait of him in* the
act of beating his wife to death ; for he is the most godless droll that ever I
met with ; and as completely without conscience as the wood out of which
he is made; a little, too, the type of the nation he represents.

Punch has, like his namesake, something of rum, lemon and sugar in
him ; he is strong, sour and sweet, and withal pretty indifferent to the con-
fusion he causes. He is, moreover, the most absolute egotist the earth con-
tains, l et ne doute jamais de rien.' He conquers everything by his invin-
cible merriment and humour, laughs at the laws, at men, and at the devil
himself; and shows in part what the Englishman is, in part what he wishes
to be, in one composite picture ; on the native side, selfishness, persever-
ance and high spirit, and, wherever it is called for, reckless determination;
on the foreign, unconquerable levity, and ever ready wit. But allow me to
paint Punch to you by his own proper words, and to take my further ac-
count of him from his biography.

As a descendant of Pulcinella of Acerra, he is, in the first place, unques-
tionably a nobleman of ancient stock. Harlequin, Clown, the German Cas-
perle and others are his near of kin ; but he, for his great audacity, stands
best at head of the family. Pious, alas ! he is not : being a true English-
man, he doubtless goes to church on Sundays; though, may be, would beat
any parson to death who bored him with attempts to convert him. It is not
to be denied that Punch is a wild fellow, no very moral personage, and
not made of wood for notHin-g. No man can be better fitted for a boxer,
other men's hits he feels not, and his own are irresistible, With that, he is
a true Turk in his small respect for human life ; endures no contradiction,
and fears not the devil himself. On the other hand, we can but admire his
great qualities in many respects. His admirable insensibility, and his alrea-
dy-commended invariable good humour; his high heroic egotism; his unal-
terable self-complacency ; his exhaustless wit, and the consummate cunning
with which he gets himself out of every scrape, and triumphs victoriously
over every antagonist, throws a bright lustre over all the little freedoms
which he is apt to take with human life. In him has not inaptly been ob-
served a compound of Richard the Third and Falstaff. Even in his outward
man he unites the crooked legs and hump-back of Richard, with the portly
rotundity of Falstaff; to which are added the long nose and the fiery black
eyes of Italy.

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 45

His dwelling is a box, with suitable internal decorations, set on four
poles, a theatre which can be erected in a few seconds in any place ; a dra-
pery failing over the poles, or legs, conceals Punch's soul, which animates
the puppets and lends them the needful words. The drama in which he
daily appears in the streets, varies, therefore, with the talents of the person
who acts as interpreter between Punch and the public. The course of the in-
cidents is however always essentially the same, and pretty nearly as follows :

As the curtain rises, Punch is heard behind the scenes trolling the French
ballad ' Malbrooke s'en va- t- en guerre,' and presently appears dancing, and
in high good humour, and in droll verses tells the spectators what manner
of humour he is of. He calls himself a gay merry fellow, who loves to give
a joke, but is not very ready to take one ; and if he is ever gentle, it is only
towards the fair sex. With his money he is frank and free ; and his grand
object is to laugh his whole life long, and to grow as fat as he can. He de-
clares himself a great admirer and seducer of the girls, and, as long as he
can get it, a friend of good cheer ; when he cannot, however, he can live on
cheese-parings, and if he die why then there's no more to be said, than
that's all over, and there's an end of Punch and the play. (This latter
avowal unquestionably smells a little of atheism.)

After this monologue he calls behind the scene for Judy, his young wife,
who will not come, but at last sends her dog instead. Punch strokes and
caresses him, but the spiteful cur seizes him by the nose, and holds hirn
fast, till after a laughable fight, and various rough jokes of the not too dis-
creet Punch, he at last beats off the dog and gives him a sound drubbing.

His neighbour Scaramouch, hearing the noise, here enters with a large
stick, and calls Punch to account why he beat Judy's favourite dog, " that
never bit anybody." " And I never beat a dog," replied Punch; " but,"
continues he, " what have you there in your hand, my dear Scaramouch ?"
" Oh, nothing but a fiddle ; will you hear the tone of it? Do but come and
hear what a fine instrument it is." " Thank ye, thank ye, my good Scara-
mouch," replies Punch modestly, " I can distinguish the tone of it very well
here." Scaramouch, however, is not to be so put off, and while he dances
about to the sound of his own singing, and flourishes his stick, he gives
Punch, as if by accident, a great knock on the head. Punch affects not to
heed it, but begins to dance too, and watching his opportunity suddenly
snatches the stick out of Scaramouch's hand, and in a trice gives him such
a blow with it that poor Scaramouch's head rolls down at his feet, for
where Punch lays about him the grass does not grow. "Ha! ha!" cries
he, laughing, " did you hear the fiddle, my good Scaramouch ? What a fine
tone it has ! As long as you live, my lad, you'll never hear a finer. But
where is my Judy ? My sweet Judy, why don't you come."

Mem-while Punch has hidden the body of Scaramouch behind the curtain,
and Judy, the ' feminine' pendant of her husband, with the same monstrous
nose, enters. A comically tender scene ensues, after which Punch asks
for his child ; Judy goes to fetch it, and Punch breaks forth into an ecstatic
monologue on his happiness as a husband and father. The little monster
arrives, and now the parents can hardly contain themselves for joy, and lav-
ish upon it the tenderest names and caresses. Judy, however, called away
by her household duties, soon departs, and leaves the infant in its father's
arms, who somewhat awkwardly tries to play the nurse and to dandle the
child, which begins to cry piteously, and to behave very naughtily. Punch
at first tries to soothe it, but soon grows impatient, beats it, and, as it screams
all the more violently, he flies into a rage, and throws it out of the window,
with curses, plump into the street, where it falls among the spectators and

46 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

breaks its neck. Punch leans over the edge of the stage and looks after it,
makes a few grimaces, shakes his head, and begins to laugh, and then dances
about, singing merrily.

Meantime Judy returns, and asks with alarm for her darling. The
child is gone to sleep," replies Punch carelessly ; however, after a long in-
vestigation he is forced to confess that while he was playing with him, he
let him fall out of the window. Judy is out of herself, tears her hair, and
overwhelms her cruel tyrant with the most dreadful reproaches. In vain
does he try to soothe her; she will not hear him, and runs away uttering
vehement threats. Punch holds his belly for laughter, dances about, and for
very wantonness, beats time with his own head upon the walls. But Judy
now comes behind him with a broomstick and belabours him with all her
might.

At first he gives her good words, promises never to throw another child
out of the window ; begs her, however, not to take the joke so seriously ;
but finding that nothing will avail, he loses his patience at last, and con-
cludes the affair as with Scaramouch ; he beats poor Judy to death.
" Now," says he drily, " our quarrel is over, dear Judy, and if you are sa-
tisfied, so am I. Come, stand up again, Judy. Oh, don't sham, this is
only one of your tricks. What, you won't get up? Well, then, off with
you !" So saying, he flings her after her child into the street.

He does not even trouble himself to look after her, but bursting into one
of his usual fits of loud laughter, cries out, " 'Tis a fine piece of luck to
lose a wife !"

In the second act we find Punch at a rendezvous with his mistress Polly,
to whom lie pays his court, not in the most refined manner, and assures her
that she alone can drive away all his cares, and that if he had as many wives
as Solomon, he could kill them all for her sake. A courtier and friend of
Polly's then pays him a visit; this time he does not kill his man, but only
thrashes him well : he is then * ennuye,' and declares that the weather be-
ing fine he will take a ride. A wild horse is brought, upon which he ca-
pers about for some time in a ludicrous fashion ; but at last, from the dread-
ful plunging of the untameable animal, is thrown. He calls out for help,
and happily his friend the doctor happens to be passing, and comes imme-
diately. Punch lies like dead, and groans piteously. The doctor tries to
tranquillize him, and feels his pulse : Punch, to be short, makes so uncivil
a return for the doctor's attentions, that the latter exclaims, " Here, Master
Punch, I bring you a wholesome medicine, the only one fit for you," and
begins to thump him soundly with his gold-headed cane.

" Oh dear !" cries Punch, " many thanks to you ; I want none of your
physic, it gives me the headache." " Ah, that's only because you have
taken it in too small doses," says the doctor ; take a little more, and it
will cure you."

Punch at last feigns himself conquered, falls down exhausted, and begs
for mercy ; but when the credulous doctor bends down over him, Punch
darts upon him like lightning, wrests the stick out of his hand and lays
about him as usual.

" Now," cries he, " you must take a little of your charming physic,
only a little, respected friend ; there there !"

" Oh Lord, you will kill me !" cries the doctor.

" Not worth talking of only what's usual doctors always die when
they take their own physic. Come, only one last pill :" and so saying,
the ruthless Punch runs him through the body with the point of his stick.
The doctor dies. Punch, laughing, exclaims, " Now, my good friend,
cure yourself if you can." [Exit, singing and dancing.

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 47

After other adventures, which have almost all the same tragical end, jus-
tice is at length awake, and the constable is sent to arrest Punch. He finds
him, as usual, in the highest glee, and just busied, as he says, in making
music with the help of a dustman's bell (a very ' naif confession of the
musical capacity of the nation.)

The dialogue is brief and important.* It ends with the constable show-
ing Punch the warrant for his arrest : " And," says Punch, " I have a war-
rant for you, which I will soon execute." Hereupon he seizes the bell,
which he has held concealed behind him, and gives the constable such a blow
on the occiput, that, like his predecessors, he falls lifeless ; whereupon Punch
springs off with a 'capriole,' and is heard singing behind the scenes.

The magistrate, -who comes after the death of the constable, has no bet-
ter fate. At length the hangman, in proper person, lies in wait for Punch,
who in his joyous recklessness runs upon him without seeing him. For
the first time he seems somewhat embarrassed by this rencontre, is very
slightly cast down, and does his best to flatter Mr. Ketch ; calls him his old
friend, and inquires very particularly after the health of Mistress Ketch.
The hangman, however, soon makes him understand that all friendship
must now have an end ; and sets before him what a bad man he is to have
killed so many men, and his wife and child.

" As to them," says he, " they were my own property, and 'tis hard if
a man may not do what he likes with his own." "And why did you kill
the poor doctor, who came to help you ?" " Only in self-defence, good
Mr. Ketch ; he wanted me to take his medicine."

But all excuses and evasions are useless. Three or four men spring for-
ward and bind Punch, whom Ketch leads to prison.

In the next scene we behold him at the back of the stage, trying to look
out from behind an iron grating, and rubbing his long nose against the bars.
He is very wroth and miserable, yet, according to his use and wont, sings
a song to drive away time. Mr. Ketch enters, and with the assistance of
his helpers erects a gallows before the prison-door. Punch becomes sor-
rowful, but, instead of feeling repentance, has only a fit of greater fondness
and longing for his Polly. He however mans himself again, and makes
various * bon mots' on the handsome gallows, which he compares to a tree
planted, as it seems, for the adornment of his prospect. " How beautiful
it will be when it bears fruit !" cries he.

Some men now bring the coffin, and place it at the foot of the gallows.
"What have you there?" says Punch. "Ah ha! that is no doubt the
basket to put the fruit in."

Meanwhile Ketch returns, and greeting Punch, and opening the door po-
litely, tells him that all is ready, he may come when he likes. You may
think that Punch is not very eager to accept the invitation. After a good
deal of discussion Ketch calls out, "It's of no use, Master Punch, you must
come out and be hanged."

" You won't be so cruel."

" Why were you so cruel as to kill your wife and child ?"

" Is that any reason for your being cruel too ?" (argument against capital
punishment.)

Ketch appeals to no better principle than that of the strongest, and drags
out Punch by his hair, begging for mercy and promising amendment.

"Now, my good Punch," says Ketch, coolly, "do but have the goodness

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

48 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

to put your head into this noose, and all will soon be over." Punch affects
awkwardness, and can't get his head right into the noose.

'* Good God ! how awkward you are!" exclaims Ketch ; " you must put
your head in so" showing him. " Ay so, and then draw it tight," cries
Punch, drawing up the unwary hangman in a moment, and hanging him on
the gallows ; after which he hides himself behind the wall. Two men come
to take away the body, lay it in the coffin, believing it to be that of the
criminal, and carry it out, while Punch laughs in his sleeve, and dances away
as usual.

But the shrewdest battle is yet to come, for the devil himself * in propria
persona,' now comes to fetch him. Vainly does Punch lay before him the
most acute observations ; that he is a very stupid devil to wish to carry off
the best friend he has on earth, and the like. The devil will not hear reason,
and stretches out his long claws horribly at him. He appears just about to
fly away with him, as erst with Faust, but Punch is not so easily to be dealt
with; manfully he grasps his murderous staff, and defends himself even
against the devil. A fearful fight ensues, and who would have thought it
possible ? Punch, so often in uttermost danger, at length remains universal
conqueror, spits the black fiend on his stick, holds him up aloft, and whirl-
ing about with him with shouts of triumph, sings, while he laughs more
heartily than ever.

I leave it to you to make all the philosophical reflections ; of which Punch's
career is fitted to excite not a few. Above all interesting would be the in-
quiry, how far the daily repetition of this favourite popular drama for so
many years has influenced the morality of the lower classes.

To conclude, for the sake of tragic justice, I sketch on the margin of my
sheet a second portrait of Punch, as he appears sitting in prison, when the
gallows is just brought before him.

In my next letter you will have all the details you desire concerning B ,

which pious personage I have to-day forgotten for the more interesting sinner
Punch. Adieu for to day !

December 1st.

You remember what I told you of the mode of letting land in this country.
As the builders of houses have only ninety-nine years to reckon on, they
build as slightly as possible ; the consequence of which is that one is not
very sure of one's life in some of the London houses. A house, by no means
old, fell last night in St. James's street, close by me, just like a house of
cards, carrying the half of another with it. Several persons were severely
hurt, but the greater number had time to escape, as there were threatening
warnings. Such is the rapidity with which they build here, that in a month
the whole will doubtless be standing again, though perhaps not much safer
than before.

A few days ago I attended the interesting ceremony of the opening of
Parliament by the King in person ; a ceremony which has not taken place
for several years.

In the centre of the House of Lords were assembled the Peers, their scar-
let mantles negligently thrown over their ordinary morning dress. Near the
wall opposite to the entrance stood the King's throne ; on Benches on the left
sat a number of ladies in full dress ; on the right the diplomatic corps and
foreigners. In front of the throne was a bar, and behind it the members of
the Lower House, in the common dress of our day. The house without,
and the staircase, were filled with servants and heralds in the costume of the
fourteenth century.

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 49

At two o'clock discharges of cannon announced the arrival of the King in
state. A number of magnificent carriages and horses composed the proces-
sion, a sketch of which I have taken in my book of reminiscences,* and
have placed it in contrast with a drawing of one of Cesar's triumphs. At
the sight of these pictures one involuntarily asks oneself, whether mankind
have reaily made any progress. Scarcely, as it seems, in as far as art is
concerned ; especially when we look at the two prominent personages,
those who occupy the highest seats at the respective ceremonies, the King's
body-coachman, and Caesar.

At about half-past three the King made his appearance, he alone being in
full dress, and truly covered from top to toe with the ancient kingly decora-
tions ; with the crown on his head and the sceptre in his hand. He looked
pale and bloated, and was obliged to sit on the throne for a considerable time
before he could get breath enough to read his speech. During this time he
turned friendly glances and considerable bows towards some favoured ladies.
On his right stood Lord Liverpool, with the sword of state and the speech
in his hand ; and the Duke of Wellington on his left. All three looked so
miserable, so ashy-gray and worn out, that never did human greatness ap-
pear to me so little worth ; indeed the tragic side of all the comedies we
play here below, fell almost heavily on my heart ; and yet it excited in me
a strong feeling of the comic, to see how the most powerful monarch of the
earth was obliged to present himself, as chief actor in a pantomime, before
an audience whom he deems so infinitely beneath him. In fact, the whole
pageant, including the King's costume, reminded me strikingly of one of
those historical plays which are here got up so well ; nothing was wanting
but the ' flourish of trumpets' which accompanies the entrance and exit of
one of Shakspeare's kings, to make the illusion complete.

In spite of his feebleness, George the Fourth read the * banale' speech
with great dignity and a fine voice ; but with that royal ' nonchalance' which
does not much concern itself what His Majesty promises, or whether or not
he is sometimes unable to decipher a word. It was very evident that the
monarch was heartily glad when the * corvee' was over, so that the conclu-
sion went off somewhat more rapidly than the beginning.

Since my last letter I have been twice to the theatre, which the late hours
of dining render it impossible to do when one has any engagement.

I saw Mozart's Figaro announced at Drury-lane, and delighted myself
with the idea of hearing once more the sweet tones of my fatherland:
what then was my astonishment at the unheard-of treatment which the mas-
ter-work of the immortal composer has received at English hands ! You will
hardly believe me when I tell you that neither the Count, the Countess, nor
Figaro sang; these parts were given to mere actors, and their principal
songs, with some little alteration in the words, were sung by the other
singers ; to add to this, the gardener roared out some interpolated popular
English songs, which suited Mozart's music just as a pitch-plaster would
suit the face of the Venus de' Medici. The whole opera was moreover
* arranged' by a certain Mr. Bishop (a circumstance which I had seen no-

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

50 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

ticed in the bill, but did not understand till now), that is, adapted to Eng-
lish ears by means of the most tasteless and shocking alterations.

The English national music, the coarse heavy melodies of which can
never be mistaken for an instant, has, to me at least, something singularly
offensive ; an expression of brutal feeling both in pain and pleasure, which
smacks of * roast-beef, plum-pudding, and porter.' You may imagine, there-
fore, what an agreeable effect these incorporations with the lovely and re-
fined conceptions of Mozart must produce.

* Je n'y pouvais tenir' poor Mozart appeared to me like a martyr on the
cross, and I suffered no less by sympathy.

This abominable practice is the more inexcusable, since here is really no
want of meritorious singers, male and female ; and, with better arrange-
ment, very good performances might be given. It is true, even if the stage
were in good order, a second Orpheus would still be required to tame Eng-
lish audiences.

Far better was the performance in Covent Garden, where Charles Kem-
ble, one of the best English actors, gave an admirable representation of the
part of Charles the Second. Kemble is a man of the best education, and
has always lived in good society ; he is therefore qualified to represent a
king royally ; with the ' aisance,' that is proper to all exalted persons. He
very skilfully gave an amiable colouring to the levity of Charles the Second ;
without ever, even in moments of the greatest * abandon,' losing the type
of that inborn conscious dignity, so difficult to imitate. The costume, too,
was as if cut out of the frame of an old picture, down to the veriest trifle ;
and this was observed by all the other actors, for which Kemble, who is
also manager, deserves great praise.

I must, however, confess that in the next piece, in which Frederick the
Great plays the principal part, there was not the same intimate knowledge
and perfect imitation of foreign costume ; both the king and his suite seemed
to have borrowed their wardrobe from that of a pantomime. Zieten pre-
sented himself in a high grenadier's cap, and Seydlitz appeared in locks a
1st Murat,' and with as many orders as that royal actor used to wear ; a pro-
fusion of which were by no means the fashion in Frederick's day, nor were
they then worn as mere appendages of the toilet.

December 2nd.

I often dine at Prince E 's, who exhibits a perfect model to * diplo-

mates' how dignified ' representation' may be combined with agreeable fa-
cile manners ; and how a man may please every body if he understands the
art of placing himself ' a sa portee,' yet without suffering his own dignity
to be forgotten for an instant : ' un vrai Seigneur,' such as are every day
becoming rarer. Never too did a foreigner succeed so perfectly in Eng-
land ; and yet, most assuredly, without the slightest concession to English
arrogance. This implies infinite tact; the lighter, more vivacious character
of a South German; and the most astute intellect concealed beneath the
most unpretending ' bonhommie ;' the whole backed and set off by a great
name and a splendid fortune.

The other members of the diplomatic corps, with few exceptions, are left
by him quite in the back-ground, and most of the plenipotentiaries here dis-
appear completely in the crowd. Among the ambassadors there is, how-
ever, one of the female sex who plays a great part

But more of this another time. I entered upon the subject of Diplomates,
only for the sake of repeating to you a very pretty 4 bon mot' of one of
them whom you know. I heard it to-day at dinner. Count H was

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 51

ambassador at a German court renowned for its economy ( pour ne pas dire
mesquinerie,') and on some solemn occasion received a snuff-box with the
portrait of the sovereign ; which, however, was set round with very small,
paltry diamonds. Shortly afterwards, one of his colleagues asked him to
show him his present. ' Vous ne trouverez pas le portrait ressemblant,"
said the Count, giving him the snuff-box, " mais les diamants."

I occasionally see, with great satisfaction, the venerable Elliot, who, to-
gether with the dry but very interesting Lord St. Helens, whom Segur so
often mentions in his Memoirs, belongs to the ' Doyens' of English diplo-
macy, and still dwells with extraordinary pleasure on the recollection of his
residence at Dresden. He has several very charming daughters, and finds
it difficult to live in a style befitting his rank, for his long services have not
been rewarded with English liberality.*

Another very interesting person is Sir L M , who was formerly

in high favour with the king, then Prince of Wales, and deserves mention,
first, because he is a most agreeable Amphitryon and entertains his friends
admirably, and secondly, because he is one of the most original of men, and
one of the few truly practical philosophers I have ever met with. The pre-
judices of the many seem for him to have no existence ; and nobody could
be more difficult to impose on by mere authority, whether on matters of
heaven or earth. Although sixty years old, and a martyr to the most un-
heard-of tortures with which gout and stone can rack an unhappy mortal,
no one ever heard a complaint from him ; nor is his cheerful, nay merry hu-
mour ever saddened by it for a moment. It must be confessed that there
are dispositions and temperaments which are worth a hundred thousand a
year.

When I was first introduced to him, a short time since, he had just un-
dergone the terrible operation for the stone. The surgeon refused to under-
take it, on the ground that the weakness of the patient rendered it too ha-
zardous, but was at length almost compelled by him to perform it. At that
time he kept his bed, and looked like a corpse, and at going in I involunta-
rily made ' une mine de doleance,' upon which he instantly interrupted me,
and told me to lay aside all grimaces. " What cannot be cured," said he,
" must be endured; and better gaily, that sadly:" for himself, he said, he
had certainly abundant cause to laugh at his physicians, who had given him
his passport with the utmost certainty at least ten times, but had almost all
gone to the d 1 before him. " Besides," said he, " I have enjoyed life as
few have, and must now learn the dark side." In spite of all his pleasures,
and all his pains, the gay-hearted man is still in such good preservation,
that, since he is about again, with his artist-like peruque, he does not look
much above forty, and exhibits a spirited and * rayonnante' physiognomy,
whose features must once have been handsome,

December 3rd.

Kemble gave me a high treat this evening as Falstaff. It is certain that
even the greatest dramatic poets stand in need of the actor's aid to bring out
their work. I never so fully understood the character of the mad knight ;
never was it so manifest to me what his outward deportment must have been,

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

52 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

as since I saw him new-born in the person of Charles Kemble. His dress
and mask were striking indeed, but by no means such a caricature as on
our stages. Still less had he the air of a man of low rank and breeding, visi-
bly a mere ' farceur,' as Devrient, for instance, represented him in Berlin.
Falstaff, although a man of vulgar soul, is still by habit and inclination a
practised courtier; and the coarseness which he often assumes in the prince's
company is at least as much intentional acting, employed by him to amuse
the Prince (for princes often love vulgarity from its very contrast with the
gloomy elevation of their own station,) as to gratify his own humour. Mr.
Kemble caught the finest shades of the character ; for, although he never
lost sight of the natural, invincible humour, the witty presence of mind, and
the diverting drollery which made Falstaff such an agreeable companion,
nay, which rendered him almost a necessary of life to those who had once
associated with him, he is quite another man when he appears at Court in
the presence of the king and other dignified persons ; or when he plays antics
with the Prince and his companions ; or, lastly, when he is alone with the
latter. In the first case, you see a facetious man, somewhat like the Mare-
chal de Bassompierre, ludicrously fat, but a man of dignified and gentleman-
like air; always a joker, it is true, but in a good 'ton,' never forgetting the
respect due to the place and the presence in which he is. In the second
stage, he allows himself to go much further; takes all sorts of coarse free-
doms ; but ever with observable care to exalt the Prince, and to assume only
the privilege of a Court fool, who, apparently, may say all that comes into
his head. In the last stage, we see Falstaff in complete ' neglige,' after he
has thrown off* all regard to appearances. Here he wallows delightfully in
the mire, like a swine in a ditch ; and yet even here he still remains origi-
nal, and excites more laughter than disgust. This is the supreme art, the
last triumph of the poet : he alone can give, even to the most horrid monsters
of sin and shame, something like a divine impress ; something which awakens
our interest and attracts us, even to our own astonishment. This is the high
dramatic truth, the creative power of genius, speaking of which Walter Scott
so prettily says, " I can only compare Shakspeare with that man in the Ara-
bian Nights, who has the power of passing into any body at pleasure, and
imitating its feelings and actions."

I must here remark, that there is but one character in this immortal poet's
works which always appeared to me ill-drawn and unnatural, nor does any
excite less interest in general. This is the king in Hamlet. To mention
only one trait, it appears to me quite psycologically false, when the author
makes the king kneel down, and then exclaim, " I cannot pray." The king
is never represented as an irreligious man, a subtle sceptic, but merely as a
coarse sensual sinner ; now we daily see that a man of this cast cannot only
pray regularly and zealously, but even pray that his crimes may prosper :
like that woman who was found alone in a robber's cave, after the capture
of the gang, on her knees, praying earnestly to heaven that the expedition
in which she believed them then engaged might be successful, and that they
might return laden with booty.

Nay even public pre-appointed prayers have often no better aim. What
examples of this kind does not history afford ! No, the sinful king can
pray, the person in this tragedy who cannot, is Hamlet. For it is only
the unbelieving; the man who wants to fathom everything; the spiritual
chemist who sees one apparently firm substance after another melt away ;
this man till he is enabled by the divine influence to construct one,* in-

* How may this be effected ? Only when a man brings himself to acknowledge that
religion is entire]}' and solely an affair of the heart and feelings ; to which the head

IRELAND AND PRANCE. 53

ward and indestructible, (and this point Hamlet has manifestly not reached)
this man alone, I say, cannot pray, for the Object fails him. He cannot
deny it to himself, when he prays, he is only acting a part with himself.
This is a melancholy process to pass through, and is imputed to unhappy
mortals as a crime by those who first place the poor child on the bed of
Procrustes, and by that means often render it impossible for the cramped
and shortened limbs ever to extend themselves again to their natural length.

But back to the play. It concluded with a melo-drama, in which a large
Newfoundland dog really acted admirably ; he defended a banner for a long
time, pursued the enemy, and afterwards came on the stage wounded, lame,
and bleeding, and died in the most masterly manner, with a last wag of the
tail that was really full of genius. You would have sworn that the good
beast knew at least as well as any of his human companions what he was
about.

I left the theatre in such good humour that I won eight rubbers at whist
after it at the Club, for luck at play goes with good spirits and confidence.
But good night.

December 4th.

In consequence of the opening of Parliament, society begins to be more
lively, though London ' en gros' is still empty.

The most elegant ladies of the first circles now give small parties, access
to which is far more difficult to most Englishmen than to foreigners of rank ;
for the despotism of fashion, as I have already told you, rules in this land
of freedom with iron sceptre, and extends through all classes in a manner
we on the Continent .have no conception of.

But without indulging too early in general observations, I will describe to
you my own way of life in London.

I rise late ; read, like a half-nationalized foreigner, three or four newspa-
pers at breakfast; look in my 'visiting-book' what visits I have to pay, and
either drive to pay them in my cabriolet or ride. In the course of these
excursions, I sometimes catch the enjoyment of the picturesque ; the strug-
gle of the blood-red sun with the winter fogs often produces wild and singu-
lar effects of light. After my visits are paid, I ride for several hours about
the beautiful environs of London, return when it grows dark, work a little,
dress for dinner, which is at seven or eight, and spend the evening either in
the theatre or at some small party. The ludicrous ' routs,' at which one
hardly finds standing-room on the staircase, where one pushes and is
pushed, and is kept for hours in a hot-house temperature, have not yet
commenced. In England however, except in a few diplomatic houses, you
can go nowhere in an evening except on special invitation. In these small
parties there is not much 'gene,' but general conversation has no place:
each gentleman usually singles out a lady who peculiarly interests him, and

can be profitable only by standing 1 as watchman of the sanctuary, and guarding 1 it with
the sword of reason from its two hereditary foes, superstition and intolerance. If he
cannot be satisfied with this, if he will insist upon understanding what our nature for-
bids us to understand, he must fall into one of two difficulties ; either he must take
refuge in a so-called positive religion, or in a system of speculative philosophy. Both
are unsatisfactory, as soon as he seeks to find more in them than an interesting sport
of the fancy or of the intellect. While the profound innate sentiment of God, of Love,
and of the Good, in every healthy state of the mind, stands with a steady irrefragable
security, as clear to the lowest capacity, as to the highest, not merely as a belief, but
as the true essence of his being, his proper individual self. And this, without either
reason or understanding being brought into immediate activity ; though both, when
reflection is called in, must entirely confirm the sentiment. EDITOR.

54 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

does not quit her for the whole evening. Many fair ones are thus frequently
left sitting alone, without an opportunity of speaking a word ; they however
do not betray any dissatisfaction, even by a look or gesture, for they are of
a very passive nature. Every body of course speaks French, as with us,
' tant bien que mal,' but this continued ' gene' annoys the ladies so much
after a time, that a man has no little advantage who can speak English
tolerably.

You see this life is pretty much a far niente,' though not a very sweet
one to my taste, for I love society only in intimate circles, and attach myself
with difficulty, indeed now scarcely at all, to new acquaintances. The
ennui, which seizes me in such an indifferent state of mind, is too clearly
written on my undiplomatic face not to extend to others as contagiously as
yawning. Here and there I find an exception : to-day for instance I made
the acquaintance of Mr. Morier, the clever and very agreeable author of
Hadji Baba ; and of Mr. Hope, the imputed author of Anastasius, a work
of far higher genius. This book is worthy of Byron : many maintain that
Mr. Hope, who is rather remarkable for his reserve than for anything po-
etical in his appearance, cannot possibly have written it. This doubt de-
rives considerable force from a work which Mr. Hope formerly published
on furniture, the style and contents of which certainly contrast strangely
with the glowing impassioned Anastasius, overflowing with thought and
feeling. An acquaintance of mine said to me, " One thing or the other :
either Anastasius is not by him, or the work on furniture." But matter so
different brings with it as different a style ; and as I observed Mr. Hope,
perhaps with involuntary prepossession, he appeared to me no ordinary
man. He is very rich, and his house full of treasures of art, and of luxu-
ries which I shall describe hereafter. His furniture theory, which is fa-
shioned on the antique, I cannot praise in practice : the chairs are ungo-
vernable ; other trophy-like structures look ridiculous, and the sofas have
such sharp salient points in all directions, that an incautious sitter might
hurt himself seriously.

On my return home at night I found your letter, which, like everything
from you, gave me more pleasure than aught else can. Say not, however,
that the pain of parting occasions you such deep depression, let it not be
deeper than a joyful meeting can at once remove ; and that is probably not
very distant.

That you point to another life, as soon as things do not go precisely ac-
cording to our wishes in this, seems to me, dearest, to show a want of
Christian patience and confidence. No, I confess it, spite of transient fits
of melancholy, I still feel the attraction of earth ; and this ' span of life,'
as you call it, has strong hold on my heart. If indeed you, my affectionate
tutelary goddess, were also Fortuna, I should fare better than any mortal
living: * et toutes les etoiles paliraient devant la mienne ;' but since you
love me, you are my Fortuna, and 1 desire no better.

Do not suffer your own melancholy, or mine, to deceive you. As for
me, you know that a nothing raises the barometer of my spirits, and a
nothing often depresses it. This is certainly too delicate a nervous organi-
zation, and little fitted for every-day, home-baked (hausbacknen) happiness,
which requires strong nerves.

December 5th.

Oberon, Weber's song of the swan, has occupied my evening. The ex-
ecution of both the instrumental and vocal parts left much to desire ; but
on the whole, the opera was extremely well performed, for London. The

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 55

best part was the decorations, especially at the conjuration of the spirits.
They appear, not, as usual, in the standing costume, scarlet jackets and
breeches, with snaky locks and flames on their heads, but in the form of
huge rocky caves, which occupy the whole stage ; every mass of rock then
suddenly changes into some fantastic and frightful form or face, gleaming
with many-coloured flames and lurid light, out of which here and there a
whole figure leans grinning forward, while the fearful thrilling music re-
echoes on every side from the moving chorus of rocks.

The opera itself I regard as one of Weber's feebler productions. There
are beautiful parts, especially the introduction, which is truly elf-like. I am
less delighted with the overture, though so highly extolled by connoisseurs.

I ought to have begun by telling you that I was presented to the King to-
day, at a great levee. I give you as a proof of the extraordinary voluntary
seclusion of the present sovereign, that our Secretary of Legation was pre-
sented with me for the first time, though he has been here in that capacity
for two years. His Majesty has a very good memory. He immediately
recollected my former visit to England, though he mistook the date of it by
several years. I took occasion to make my compliments to him on the ex-
traordinary embellishment of London since that time, which indeed is to be
ascribed in great measure to him. After a gracious reply, I passed on, and
placed myself in a convenient station for seeing the whole spectacle. It
was odd enough.

The king, on account of the feeble state of his health, remained seated ;
the company marched past him in a line ; each made his bow, was ad-
dressed or not, and then either placed himself in the row on the other side
of the room, or quitted it. All those who had received any appointment
kneeled down before the king and kissed his hand, at which the American
Minister, near whom I had accidentally placed myself, made a rather satiri-
cal face. The clergymen and lawyers in their black gowns and white pow-
dered wigs, short and long, had a most whimsical masquerading appearance.
One of them was the object of an almost universal ill-suppressed laugh.
This personage had kneeled to be * knighted,' as the English call it, and in
this posture, with the long fleece on his head, looked exactly like a sheep
at the slaughter-block. His Majesty signed to the great Field Marshal to
give him his sword. For the first time, perhaps, the great warrior could
not draw the sword from the scabbard ; he pulled and pulled, all in vain.
The king waiting with outstretched arm ; the duke vainly pulling with all
his might ; the unhappy martyr prostrate in silent resignation, as if expect-
ing his end, and the whole brilliant court standing around in anxious expec-
tation : it was a group worthy of Gilray's pencil. At length the state
weapon started like a flash of lightning from its sheath. His Majesty grasp-
ed it impatienlty, indeed his arm was probably weary and benumbed
with being so long extended, so that the sword, instead of alighting on a
new knight, fell on an old wig, which fer a moment enveloped king and
subject in a cloud of powder.

December 6th.

Mr. R had long ago invited me to visit him at his country-house,

and I took advantage of a disengaged day to drive out with my friend L

to dine there. The royal banker has bought no ducal residence, but lives
in a pretty villa. We found some Directors of the East India Company,
and several members of his own family and faith, whom I liked very much.
I extremely respect this family for having the courage to remain Jews. Only

56 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

an idiot can esteem a Jew the less for his religion, but renegades have al-
ways a presumption against their sincerity, which it is difficult to get over.

There are three cases in which I should unconditionally allow Jews to
change their religion. First, if they really believe that only Christians can
be saved; secondly, if their daughters wish to marry Christians, who will
have them on no other terms ; thirdly, if a Jew were elected king of a
Christian people, a thing by no means impossible, since men far below
the rank of Jewish barons, and notorious for the absence of all religion,
have frequently ascended the throne in these latter days.*

Mr. R was in high good-humour, amusing, and talkative. It was

diverting to hear him explain to us the pictures around his dining-room, (all
portraits of the sovereigns of Europe, presented' through their ministers.)
and talk of the originals as his very good friends, and, in a certain sense,

his equals. " Yes," said he, " the once pressed me for a loan, and

in the same week in which I received his autograph letter, his father wrote
to me also with his own hand from Rome to beg me for Heaven's sake not
to have any concern in it, for that I could not have to do with a more dis-
honest man than his son. ' C'etait sans doute tres Catholique ;' probably,

however, the letter was written by the old , who hated her own son to

such a degree, that she used to say of him, everybody knows how un-
justly, " He has the heart of a t with the face of an a ."

The others' turn came next. * * * *

He concluded, however, by modestly calling himself the dutiful and gene-
rously paid agent and servant of these high potentates, all of whom he
honoured equally, let the state of politics be what it might ; for, said he,
laughing, " I never like to quarrel with my bread and butter."

It shows great prudence in Mr. R to have accepted neither title nor

order, and thus to have preserved a far more respectable independence. He
doubtless owes much to the good advice of his extremely amiable and ju-
dicious wife, who excels him in tact and knowledge of the world, though
not perhaps in aculeness and talents for business.

On our way there we had been tempted to alight to see the state-carriage
of another monarch of Asiatic origin, the King of the Birmans. It was
taken in the late war. It is crowded with precious stones, valued at six
thousand pounds, and has a splendid effect by candlelight: its canopy-like
pyramidal form seemed to me in better taste than that of our carriages.
The attendants sitting on it were odd enough, two little boys and two pea-
cocks, carved in wood and beautifully painted and varnished. At the time
it was taken, it was drawn by two white elephants ; and fifteen thousand
precious stones, great and small, all unpolished, still adorn the gilded wood
of which it is made. A number of curious and costly Birman arms were
placed, as trophies,' round the spacious apartment, which gave a doubly
rich and interesting effect to the whole exhibition. As people always give
a great deal for money here, there was a Poecilorama in an adjoining room,
consisting also of Birman and Indian views, over which the light is inge-
niously thrown so as to produce very lively and varied effects.

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

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 57

I don't know why such things are not used as decorations for rooms.
At a fete, for instance, a room thus fitted up would surely be a much greater
novelty than the hackneyed ornaments of gay draperies, orange trees, and
flowers.

December 8th.

On my way home from a dinner at M. de Polignac's, a very agreeable
but highly orthodox representative of ' 1'ancien regime,' I was in time to
find the celebrated Mathews " At Home" at his theatre. The curtain was
dropped, and Mr. Mathews sitting in front of it at a table covered with a
cloth.

He began by discursively relating to the public that he was just returned
from a journey to Paris, where he had met with many original individuals
and droll adventures. Imperceptibly he passed from the narrative style to
a perfectly dramatic performance, in which, with almost inconceivable talent
and memory, he placed before the eyes of his audience all that he had wit-
nessed ; while he so totally altered his face, speech, and whole exterior,
with the rapidity of lightning, that one must have seen it to believe it pos-
sible. His outward helps consist only of a cap, a cloak, a false nose, a
wig, &c., which he draws from under the table cover, and with these slen-
der means produces an entire and instant transformation. The applause
was tumultuous and the laughter incessant. The principal persons (who
were introduced in various situations,) were an old Englishman, who found
fault with everything abroad and praised everything at home ; a provincial
lady who never walked in the street without a French dictionary in her
hand, worried the passers-by with incessant questions, and seized every op-
portunity of assisting other English people with her superior knowledge,
in doing which, as may be imagined, she stumbled upon the most perverted,
burlesque, and often equivocal expressions ; a dandy from the city, who
affected ' le grand air ;' and his opposite, a fat farmer from Yorkshire, who
played pretty much the part of farmer Feldkummel. The most amusing
thing to me was an English lecture on craniology by Spurzheim. The
likeness to that person, so well known in England, to his whole manner
and his German accent, was so perfect, that the theatre shook with inces-
sant laughter.

I was less pleased with some other imitations ; particularly that of Tal-
ma, who is far above the reach of any mere mimic, be his talents what
they may. Besides, his death is too recent, and sorrow for his irreparable
loss too great in the mind of every lover of art, to render such a parody
agreeable.

The performance concluded with a little farce, for which the curtain was
drawn up, and in which Mathews again played alone. He filled seven or
eight different parts, exclusive of those of a dog and a child, which were
indeed personated by puppets, but which he barked and prattled, in as mas-
terly a manner as he spoke the others. At first he is a French tutor, who
is going to travel with a little lord ten years old, whom he shuts into a gui-
tar-case that he may save the fare of the diligence, and at the same time
charge it to the papa. At every stage he takes him out, to give him air
and make him say his lesson. He carries on the conversation with infinite
drollery, and surprising skill as a ventriloquist. The boy's resistance to
being shut up in his box again, the way in which his murmurs and com-
plaints die away, like the waltz in the Freischiitz, till at length the lid is
clapped* to, and the last tones come from the shut case like a faint echo, -
are inconceivably comic.

58 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

After many adventures which beset the diligence and its passengers, an
old maid (again Mathevvs) makes her appearance. She has a favourite lap-
dog, which is not suffered to travel inside, but which she is trying to smug-
gle in, and fixes her eye on the guitar-case as a fit hiding-place for her dar-
ling. In her hurry to accomplish her purpose she does not observe that the
place is already occupied. But hardly has she laid the case out of her hand,
when the dog begins to growl and bark, the boy to howl, and she to scream
for help; which trio made the gallery almost frantic with delight.

The whole affair is, as you perceive, not exactly aesthetic, and rather fitted
to an English stomach than to any other. It is, indeed, almost painful to
see such skill devoted to such absurd buffooneries ; the talent, however, is
still most remarkable ; and even the physical powers wonderful, which can
support these efforts of acting and continual speaking, with all these fatiguing
disguises, without a single slip or stumble, for hours together.

Not to require as great an exertion of patience from you, I will now con-
clude. I wish heartily that my display of the meagre peep-shows of the
town may not tire you too much. You asked for pictures of daily life ; you
expect from me no statistical work, no topography, no regular enumeration
of the so-called sights of London, and no systematic treatise on England;
nor am I in any condition to afford you such.

Receive, therefore, the unpretending humble fare I send you, in good part.
It is at all events now and then seasoned with a grain of pepper.

Your faithful L .

LETTER VII.

London, Dec. 9th, 1826.
DEAREST FRIEND,

IT is not uninteresting to attend the auctions here ; first, on account of the
multitude of extremely rare and valuable things, which form the wonderful
activity of life and the constant vicissitudes of fortune are daily brought into
the market, and often sold very cheap ; and secondly, for the ingenuity and
eloquence of the auctioneers, of which I have already made honourable men-
tion. They embroider their orations with more wit gratis, than ours would
be willing to furnish for ready money.

This morning I saw the sale of an Indian cabinet, the property of a bank-
rupt Nabob, which contained some curious and beautiful works of art. " The
possessor of these treasures," said the orator, "has taken much trouble for
nothing; for nothing to himself, I mean, but a great deal to you, gentlemen.
He had once doubtless more money than wit, but has now, as certainly,
more wit than money." " Modesty and merit," observed he afterwards,
" go together only thus far, both begin with an m." And in this style, and
with such ' jeus de mots,' he continued. " What enables the poor to live ?"
concluded he. "Charity or liberality do but little towards it. Vanity, va-
nity is the thing, not theirs, poor devils, but that of the rich. If you then,
gentlemen, will but display a little of this praiseworthy vanity, and buy, you
will earn a blessing even without meaning it."

Yes, truly, thought I, there you are right, old jester, for so admirably is
the world contrived, that good must ever arise out of evil ; and the exist-
ence of evil only serves to render- the good which succeeds it more con-
spicuous.

One must moralize everywhere.

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 59

I dined at the house of a lady of distinction, who talked to me the whole
time we were at table about Napoleon-, and, with true English exaggeration,
was so enamoured of him, that she thought the execution of the Duke
d'Enghein, and the betrayal of Spain, laudable acts.

Though I do not go quite so far, I am, as you know, an admirer of this
man's colossal greatness, and delighted my neighbour highly by describing
to her Napoleon's former magnificence, of which I was an eyewitness,
those brilliant days in which Ca3sar himself stood amazed at his splendour ;

" Quand les ambassadeurs de tant de rois divers
Vinrent le reconnoitre au nom de Punivers."

For his own fame, I do not wish otherwise any of his later misfortunes ;
nor for the tragic interest, any of his errors and faults. He bore ' coups
d'epees' and ' coups d'epingles' with equal fortitude and dignity ; and left
an epitaph worthy of his life in the words, * Je legue 1'opprobre de ma mort
21 1'Angleterre."

Thus much is certain, he is still too near us for impartial judgment ; and
experience has amply taught us that it was less his despotic principles than
his personal aggrandisement which provoked such inveterate hostility. The
principles exist still ; but, God be praised, the energy with which he put
them in practice, is utterly wanting, and that is a great gain for human na-
ture.*

There is now a French theatre here, which is attained only by the best
company, and nevertheless is like a dark little private theatre. Perlet and
Laporte are its great supports, and play admirably. The latter also, with
true French assurance, acts on the English stage, and thinks, when the
audience laughs at his accent and French manners, that it is merely a tribute
to his ' vis comica.'

I went to the theatre with Mrs. , wife of the well-known minister

and member of parliament, and accompanied her after the play to the first
genuine rout I have attended this time of my being in England, what is
more, too, in a house in which I was entirely a stranger. It is the custom
here to take your friends to parties of this sort, and to present them, then
and there, to the mistress of the house, who never thinks you can bring
enough to fill her small rooms to suffocation : the more the better ; and for
the full satisfaction of her vanity, a ' bagarre' must arise among the carriages
below ; some must be broken to pieces, and a few men and horses killed or
hurt, so that the ' Morning Post' of the following day may parade a long
article on the extremely * fashionable soiree' given by ' Lady Vain,' or ' Lady
Foolish.'

In the course of the evening I made a more interesting acquaintance than

I expected on the staircase, (I could get no further,) in Lady C B ,

who has some reputation as an authoress. She is the sister of a Duke, and
was a celebrated beauty.

The next morning I called on her, and found everything in her house
brown, in every possible shade ; furniture, curtains, carpets, her own and

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

60 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

her children's dresses, presented no other colour. The room was without
looking-glasses or pictures ; and its only ornaments were casts from the an-
tique. * * * * * * * *

After I had been there some time, the celebrated bookseller C entered.

This man has made a fortune by Walter Scott's novels, though, as I was
told, he refused his first and best, Waverly, and at last gave but a small sum

for it. I hope the charming Lady C B had better cause to be

satisfied with him. I thought it discreet t& leave her with her man of busi-
ness, and made my bow.

December Wth.

The affairs of Portugal are now much discussed in all circles ; and the

Marquis P read us the just printed English Declaration to-night, in a

box at the French theatre. Politics are here a main ingredient of social
intercourse; as they begin to be in Paris, and will in time become in our
sleepy Germany ; for the whole world has now that tendency. The lighter
and more frivolous pleasures suffer by this change ; and the art of conversa-
tion as it once flourished in France, will perhaps soon be entirely lost. In
this country I should rather think it never existed, unless perhaps in Charles
the Second's time. And, indeed, people here are too slavishly subject to
established usages ; too systematic in all their enjoyments ; too incredibly
kneaded up with prejudices ; in a word, too little vivacious, to attain to that
unfettered spring and freedom of spirit, which must ever be the sole basis of
agreeable society. I must confess that I know none more monotonous, nor
more persuaded of its own pre-excellence, than the highest society of this
country, with but few exceptions, and those chiefly among foreigners, or
persons who have resided a good deal on the Continent. A stony, marble-
cold spirit of caste and fashion rules all classes, and makes the highest te-
dious, the lower ridiculous. True politeness of the heart and cheerful ' bon-
hommie' are rarely to be met with in what is called society ; nor, if we look
for foreign ingredients, do we find either French grace and vivacity, or
Italian naturalness ; but at most, German stiffness and awkwardness conceal-
ed under an iron mask of arrogance and ' hauteur.'

In spite of this, the * nimbus' of a firmly anchored aristocracy and vast
wealth, (combined with admirable taste in spending it, which no one can
deny them,) has stamped the Great World of this country as that * par ex-
cellence,' of Europe, to which all other nations must more or less give way.
But that foreigners individually and personally do not find it agreeable, is
evident by their rarity in England, and by the still greater rarity of their
desire to stay long. Every one of them at the bottom of his heart thanks
God when he is out of English society ; though personal vanity afterwards
leads him to extol that uninspiring foggy sun, whose beams assuredly gave
him but little 'comfort' when he lived in them.

Far more loveable, because far more loving, do the English appear in their
domestic and most intimate relations ; though even here some ' baroque' cus-
toms ; for instance, that sons in the highest ranks, as soon as they are fledg-
ed, leave the paternal roof and live alone ; nay actually do not present them-
selves at their fathers' dinner-table without a formal invitation. I lately read
a moving instance of conjugal affection in the newspaper: The Marquis of
Hastings died in Malta ; shortly befofe his death he ordered that his right
hand should be cut off immediately after his death, and sent to his wife. A
gentleman of my acquaintance, out of real tenderness, and with her previously
obtained permission, cut off his mother's head, that he might keep the skull
as long as he lived ; while other Englishmen, I really believe, would rather

IRELAND AND TRANCE. 61

endure eternal torments than permit the scalpel to come near their bodies.
The laws enjoin the most scrupulous fulfilment of such dispositions of a
deceased person; however extravagant they maybe, they must be executed.
I am told there is a country-house in England where a corpse, fully dressed,
has been standing at a window for the last half-century, and still overlooks
its former property.

Just as I was going to entertain you with more English originalities, my
long-desired head-gardener entered my room, bringing your letters. What
a pity that you could not put yourself into the large packet, (of course in all
your 'fraicheur,' and not like Lord Hastings' hand,) or inhabit a pretty box,
like Gothe's delightful Gnome, so that I might call you out and share with
you every enjoyment, fresh as it arises, without this long interval ! As it is,
you are melancholy, because I was so a fortnight before ; or your sympa-
thizing answer to a cheerful letter of mine arrives just as I am labouring
under a fresh attack of ' spleen.' As you say, such an old letter is often like
a dead body which, after being forgotten, is fished up out of the sea.

I must laugh at you, and scold you for one thing that you write me, as
is your way, scarcely any details about what is passing at my beloved
M , and send me, instead, long extracts out of a book of Travels in Af-
rica, which I have read here ages ago in the original. I will certainly pay
you in your own coin the next time you do so. I am just studying a very
interesting work, Dass Preussische Exercier-Reglement von 1805, out of
which, when other matter fails me, I shall send you the cleverest and most
entertaining extracts. O you gentle lamb ! you shall often be ' shorn' with
these African novelties of yours ; the more so, as the last shearing took
place a long time ago, and you must be sitting as deeply imbedded in your

wool as the Knights of St. John in B , when, displaying their double

crosses, they await the highest bidder on their Woolsacks. The seat of
the Lord Chancellor here is also a Woolsack, but of rather a more aristo-
cratical sort, more nearly allied to the Golden Fleece.

I now make almost daily park-excursions with R , to render his visit

to England as useful as possible ; for a good gardener will learn more here
in his profession during a short stay, than in a study of ten years at home.
There are indeed in the immediate neighbourhood of London a great number
of very interesting seats, all of them situated on very pleasant and animated
roads. Amongst these may particularly be mentioned a villa of Lord Mans-
field's, the decorations of which do much honour to the taste of his lady.
Sion House, belonging to the Duke of Northumberland, and laid out by
Brown, is also extremely worth seeing, on account of its remarkable green-
houses, and the multitude of gigantic exotic trees in the open air, none of
which would bear our climate. Here are also to be seen whole groves of
rhododendrons, camellias, &c., which are but partially covered in winter;
and all kinds of beautiful evergreens thrive luxuriantly in every season.

The green and hot-houses, which form a front of three hundred feet, con-
sist only of stone, iron and glass ; a style of building which has here the
additional advantage of being cheaper than that with wood.

I was interested by a kind of chain, the links of which consisted of
scythes, for the purpose of clearing the large standing waters (a defect in
most English parks) : by merely drawing it, like a drag-net, along the bot-
tom, it entirely removes the weeds. In the vast pleasure-ground twelve
men are daily mowing from five till nine o'clock. By this means high
grass is never to be seen there, and at the same time the disagreeable gen-
eral mowing is avoided, which destroys the neatness of the garden for some
days. It is true that they can do only a part daily ; but it is so managed

62 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

that they finish a certain allotted portion, and they come round so often that
the difference in the turf is not perceptible. This short grass is, indeed,
quite lost to economy ; but beauty and utility cannot always be combined,
and the latter must certainly be subordinate in a pleasure-ground, or it is
better to relinquish all pretensions to- one. Kew, which is on the opposite
bank of the river, unquestionably possesses the most complete collection
of exotic plants in. Europe. The park has also a great advantage in its
beautiful situation on the Thames, but is in general rather neglected. Yew
trees are found here of the height of our firs, and very fine specimens of
holly and evergreen oak ; in other respects the old Queen's plantations are
not very tasteful.

Wimbledon Park, stretching over several hills and full of beautiful groups
of trees, present fine views, but the effect of the whole is spoiled by some
degree of monotony.

- House is very near, and almost in the suburbs of London : its ar-
chitecture is not without interest.

I tell you nothing of the enchanting valley of Richmond. Every travel-
ler falls into an ecstacy about it, and with justice ; but he does not always
excite a similar feeling in the reader by his descriptions. I therefore avoid
them, and remark only that the excellent aristocratic inn (the Star and Gar-
ter,) from which one overlooks this paradise, whilst one's corporeal wants
are admirably provided for, enhances the pleasure. Solitude and tranquil-
lity joined to every comfort of life, in a country beautiful above all expres-
sion, powerfully invite to enjoyment.

In the evening I took R - to the Adelphi Theatre. It is small and
neat, and distinguished for the goodness of its machinery ; just now, too,
it possesses several excellent actors. One of them played the drunkard
more naturally than I ever saw it. It is true that he has more facilities here
for the study of that state of mind, for the same reason that the ancients
represented the naked figure better than our artists, namely, because they
saw it more frequently. An excellent trait of real life was, that the drunk-
ard, who cherished a tender passion for a young and poor girl in the house
where he lodged, when sober formed other projects, but in his drunken fits
invariably returned with tears ' at ses anciennes amours,' and in that state of
mind was at length happily brought to marry her.

December

Many thanks for the news from B : - . I am particularly pleased that
Alexander Von Humboldt is employed by Government. It must give
pleasure to every patriot to see a man like him at length fixed in his native
country, which is so justly proud of his fame in all parts of the world. It
must be a happy occurrence too for many circles there, in which the salt
will at length be mingled, the want of which has so long rendered them
quite unpalatable.

How much I lament the accident which has befallen our good and noble
King, (and I had already learned it from L - ,) you can easily imagine,
as you know my feelings on that subject; but I hope to God that his strong
constitution, and the help of such skilful men, will remove every remaining
evil. How rare, and how beautiful, to hear a whole nation exclaim with one
heart and mind, " May heaven preserve to us our beloved Monarch !"*

My own state of spirits is, * au reste,' somewhat of the same melancholy

* This is no exaggeration, as those who have had any opportunity of observing
the strong personal attachment of the Prussian people to their present King can

attest. TRANS.

IRELAND AND FEANCE. 63

cast, probably from the everlasting fogs, which are often so bad that one is
obliged to light candles in the middle of the day, and yet cannot see. Le
pire est, que je suis tantot trop, et tantot trop pen sensible a 1'opinion et aux
precedes des autres.' In the former disposition, (and dispositions unfortu-
nately govern me with despotic power,) they not only make me sad or cheer-
ful, but, what is worse, wise or foolish. I sometimes appear to myself like
a person who has climbed up a ladder of ropes, where his hands have grown
benumbed ; and after hanging for a long time near the top, and endeavouring
to get still higher, is now on the point of being obliged to let go, and fall
down again to the bottom. And yet, perhaps, when once arrived on the
level plain of common-place and obscurity, he may be more tranquil than in
the stormy breezes ; and though his hopes be less, he may be surrounded by
a happier, though a more simple reality. But a truce to such vain specula-
tions. They are unprofitable, and even fears of a threatening real misfor-
tune ought always to be forcibly banished ; for why torment ourself with
anxieties about that which may come, and yet perhaps never does come ;
yet, as a mere dreamy phantom, has embittered so much of a present which
might otherwise have been cheerful ?

In all such states of mind, your image is my best comfort ; and to you,
my only and unchanging friend, I turn at length with tearful eyes, and tender
gratitude for all your manifold love, kindness and indulgence. t In your faith-
ful bosom I deposit my grief as well as my joy, and all my hopes ; the most
brilliant fulfilment of which would, without you, lose all value for me.

But now I must leave you, as my duty requires, (for otherwise I would
not,) to go to a large party. ; where I am destined, as in life, to lose myself
in the multitude. It is I think, my last visit to the gay world, as I am pre-
paring to set out on a park-and-garden journey with B , which probably

will take us a month. The present season is indeed just the best for him
who wishes to make landscape-gardening a study, for the leafless trees afford
a clear and free view in all directions ; one can thus see the whole artificial
landscape in a single tour, understand the effects produced, and judge of the
whole like a plan on paper ; as well as distinguish the parts of every plan-
tation in their intended order.

Yesterday we visited, * en attendant,' the parks in town, Kensington
Gardens ; Regent's park, ' en detail,' &c., on which occasion we did not
omit to look in at the Diorama exhibited there. This far surpassed my ex-
pectations, and all that I had formerly seen of the same kind. It is certainly
impossible to deceive the senses more effectually ; even with the certitude
of illusion one can hardly persuade himself it exists. The picture repre-
sented the interior of a large abbey-church, appearing perfectly in its real
dimensions. A side door is open, ivy climbs through the windows, and the
sun occasionally shines through the door, and lightens with a cheering beam
the remains of coloured windows, glittering through cobwebs. Through the
opposite window at the end you see the neglected garden of the monastery,
and above it, single clouds in the sky, which, flitting stormily across, occa-
sionally obscure the sunlight, and throw deep shadows over the church
tranquil as death ; where the crumbled but magnificent remains of an ancient
knight reposes in gloomy majesty.

As our departure is fixed for to-morrow, I send off this letter, although it
has not yet grown to the usual corpulence. How slender are yours in com-
parison ! Certainly, whenever our descendants find the dusty correspon-
dence of their ancestors in a corner of the old library, they will be equally
astonished at my prodigality and at your avarice, ' A propos,' do not be

too dissipated in B- , and forget not, even for the shortest time,

The most faithful of your friends, L.

64 XETTERS ON ENGLAND,

LETTER VIII,

Watford, December 25, 1826.
DEAR FRIEND,

THIS morning we started, unluckily in bad rainy weather. Ten miles
from London we commenced operations with the inspection of two villas
and a large park, near the pretty little village of Stanmore. The first villa
was thoroughly in the rural Gothic style, with ornamented pointed gables ;
a ' genre' in which English architects are peculiarly happy. The interior
was also most prettily fitted up in the same style, and at the same time ex-
tremely comfortable and inviting. Even the doors in the walls surrounding
the kitchen-garden were adorned with windows of coloured glass at the top,
which had a singular and beautiful brilliancy among the foliage. The little
flower-garden, too, was laid out in beds of Gothic forms surrounded by gra-
vel walks, and the fancy had not a bad effect.

Very different was the aspect of the other villa, in the Italian taste, with
large vases before it, filled not with flowers but with green and yellow gourds
and pumpkins. A superabundance of wooden statues, painted white, deco-
rated, or rather deformed, the gardens. Among them a roaring rampant lion
vainly sought to inspire terror, and a Cupid hanging in a bush threatened,
as abortively, the passengers with his darts.

The Priory, formerly a religious house, now the seat of Lord Aberdeen,
has many beauties. The number of magnificent firs and pines in the park
give it a singularly foreign air. The simple beautiful house is almost con-
cealed amid trees of every size and form, so that one catches only glimpses
of it glancing between the shrubs, or overtopping the high trees. This is
always very advantageous to buildings, especially those of an antique char-
acter. One seldom sees here those unbroken views over a long and narrow
strip of level grass, but which have no other effect than that of making dis-
tance appear less than it really is. We walked about the grounds for a con-
siderable time, while a bevy of young ladies and gentlemen of the family
came around us, mounted on small Scotch poneys ; and one of the latter, a
pretty boy, attached himself to us as guide, and showed us the interior of
the house, whose dark walls were most luxuriantly clothed, up to the very
roof, with ivy, pomegranate and China-rose. It was twilight before we
quitted the park, and in half an hour we reached the little town of Watford,

where I am now reposing in a good inn. R takes this opportunity of

commending himself most respectfully to you, and is writing very busily in
his journal, which makes me laugh.

I must just remark, that at Stanmore Priory we saw (I steal it out of the
fore-named journal) a single rhododendron standing abroad, fifteen feet high,
and covering a circumference of at least twenty-five feet with its thick
branches. Such vegetation is more inviting to ' parkomanie' than ours.

Woburn, December 26th.

We have made a calculation, dear Julia, that if you were with us (a wish
ever present to the minds of your faithful servants) you could not, with your
aversion to foot-exercise, see above a quarter of a park a-day ; and that it
would take you at least four hundred and twenty years to see all the parks
in England, of which there are doubtless at least a hundred thousand, for
they swarm whichever way you turn your steps. Of course we visit only
the great ones, or look, ' en passant,' at any little villa that particularly
strikes and pleases us. Notwithstanding this, we have seen so many proud

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 65

and magnificent seats to-day, that we are still in perfect rapture at them.
For I, you know, never could subscribe to the rule of the ' nil admirari,'
which cramps and destroys our best enjoyments.

Before I begin my description, I must, however, give the excellent inns
their meed of praise. In the country, even in small villages, you find them
equally neat and well attended. Cleanliness, great convenience, and even
elegance, are always combined in them ; and a stranger is never invited to
eat, sit and sleep in the same room, as in the German inns, in which there
are generally only ball-rooms and bed-chambers.

The table-service generally consists of silver and porcelain : the furniture
is well contrived ; the beds always excellent ; and the friendly, flickering
fire never fails to greet you.

A detailed description of this morning's breakfast will give you the best
idea of the wants and the comfortable living of English travellers.

N. B. I had ordered nothing but tea. The following is what I found set
out when I quitted my bed-room, in a little town scarcely so extensive as
one of our villages. In the middle of the table smoked a large tea-urn, pret-
tily surrounded by silver tea-canisters, a slop-basin, and a milk-jug. There
were three small Wedgwood plates, with as many knives and forks, and
two large cups of beautiful porcelain : by them stood an inviting plate of
boiled eggs, another * ditto' of broiled ' oretlles de cochon a la Sainte Mene-
hould ;' a plate of muffins, kept warm by a hot water-plate ; another with
cold ham ; flaky white bread, ' dry and buttered toast,' the best fresh butter
in an elegant glass vessel ; convenient receptacles for salt and pepper, Eng-
lish mustard and ' moutarde de maille ;' lastly, a silver tea-caddy, with very
good green and black tea.

This most luxurious meal, which I hope you will think I have described
as picturesquely as a landscape, is, moreover, in proportion very cheap ;
for it was charged in the bill only two shillings (16 Gr.). Travelling is
however, on the whole, very expensive, especially the posting (which is
exactly four times as much as with us,) and the fees which you are ex-
pected to be giving all day long, in all directions, to every species of servant
and attendant.

At ten o'clock we reached Cashiobury Park, the seat of the Earl of Essex.

I sent in my name to him ; upon which his son-in-law, Mr. F , (whom

I had formerly known in Dresden, and with whom I was happy to renew
my acquaintance,) came to conduct me about. The house is modern Gothic,
and magnificently furnished. You enter a hall with coloured windows,
which afford a view into an inner court laid out as a flower-garden : leaving
the hall, you go through a long gallery on the side, hung with armour, to
the rich carved oak staircase leading to the library, which here generally
serves as principal drawing-room. The library has two small cabinets look-
ing on the garden, and filled with rarities. Among these I was particularly
pleased .with two numerous sketches by Denon, representing the levee of
Cardinal Bernis at Rome, and a dinner at Voltaire's, with the Abbe Maury,
Diderot, Helvetius, d'Alembert, and other philosophers, all portraits.

I was much interested too by a complete toilet of Marie Antoinette's, on
which the portraits of her husband and of Henry the Fourth were painted
in several places. From the library you go into an equally rich second
drawing-room ; and from thence into the dining-room. Near to both these
rooms was a green-house, in the form of a chapel ; and in every apartment
windows down to the ground afforded a view of the noble park and the river
flowing through it. On a distant rising ground you look along a very broad

66 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

avenue of limes, exactly at the end of which, during a part of the summer,
the sun sets : its horizontal rays passing along the whole length of the green-
house must afford the most splendid natural decoration, heightened by the
reflection of its beams from a large mirror at the end. The walls of the
dining-room are covered with oaken ' boiserie,' with beautiful cornices and
carving ; the furniture is of rose-wood, silk and velvet ; and valuable pic-
tures in antique gilded frames adorn the walls. The proportions of the
room may be called hall-like, and the whole is regularly heated to a tempe-
rature of fourteen degrees of Reaumur.

The somewhat remote stables and all the domestic offices, <fec., are on
the left, connected with the house by an embattled wall ; so that the build-
ing extends along an uninterrupted length of a thousand feet.

The flower-gardens occupy a very considerable space. Part of them are
laid out in the usual style ; that is, a long green-house at the bottom, in
front of which are several ' berceaux' and shady walks around a large grass-
plat, which is broken with beds of all forms, and dotted with rare trees and
shrubs. But here was also something new ; a deep secluded valley of
oval form, around which is a thick belt of evergreens, and rock-plants plant-
ed impenetrably thick on artifical rockeries ; a background of lofty fir-trees
and oak, with their tops waving in the wind ; and, at one end of the grass-
plat, a single magnificent lime-tree surrounded by a bench. From this point
the whole of the little valley was covered with an embroidered parterre of
the prettiest forms, although perfectly regular. The egress from this en-
closure lay through a grotto overgrown with ivy, and lined with beautiful
stones and shells, into a square rose-garden surrounded with laurel hedges,
in the centre of which is a temple, and opposite to the entrance a conser-
vatory for aquatic plants. The rose-beds are cut in various figures, which
intersect each other. A walk, overarched with thick beeches neatly trimmed
with the shears, winds in a sinuous line from this point to the Chinese gar-
den, which is likewise enclosed by high trees and walls, and contains a
number of vases, benches, fountains, and a third green-house, all in the
genuine Chinese style. Here were beds surrounded by circles of white,
blue, and red sand, fantastic dwarf plants, and many dozens of large China
vases placed on pedestals, thickly overgrown with trailing evergreens and
exotics. The windows of the house were painted like Chinese hangings,
and convex mirrors placed in the interior, which reflected us as in a * camera
obscura.' I say nothing of the endless rows of rich hot-houses and forcing-
beds, nor of the kitchen-gardens. You may estimate the thing for yourself,

when I repeat to you Mr. F 's assurance that the park, gardens, and

house cost ten thousand a-year to keep up. The Earl has his own work-
men in every department ; masons, carpenters, cabinet-makers, &c., each
of whom has his prescribed province. One has, for instance, only to keep
the fences in order, another the rooms, a third the furniture, &c. ; a plan
well worthy of imitation in the country.

I paid my visit to the venerable Earl, who kept his chamber with the
gout, and received from the kind friendly old man the best information, and
some (highly necessary) cards of admittance for my further journey.

Our road lay for a long time through the park, till we reached one of the
principal features in it, called the Swiss Cottage, which stands in a lovely
secluded spot in the midst of a grove on the bank of the river. We drove
over the turf; for, as I have told you, many parks here are quite like free
uncultivated ground, and have often only one road, which leads up to the
house and out on the other side. Having regained the high road, we drove

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 67

along twenty miles of country, alt equally beautiful, equally luxuriant in
fertility and vegetation, and at five o'clock reached Ashridge Park, the sent
of the Earl of Bridgewater. Here you can follow me better, dear Julia, if
you open Repton's book, in which you will find several views, and the
ground-plan of this charming garden, which old Repton himself laid out.
Remember the ' Rosary,' and you will immediately know where to look
for it. This park is one of the largest in England, for it is nearly three
German miles in circumference ; and the house which, like Cashiobury, is
modern Gothic, is almost endless, with all its walls, towers, and courts. I
must, however, frankly confess, that this modern Gothic (' castellated')
style, which looks so fairy-like on paper, in reality often strikes one not
only as tasteless, but even somewhat absurd, from its overloaded and incon-
gruous air.

If in the midst of the most cultivated, peaceful fields, amid the mingled
beauties of countless flowers, you see a sort of fortress, with turrets, loop-
holes, and battlements, not one of which has the slightest purpose or utility,
and, moreover, many of them standing on no firmer basis than glass walls
(the green-houses and conservatories connected with the apartments,) it is
just as ridiculous and incongruous, as if you were to meet the possessor of
these pretty flower-gardens walking about in them in helm and harness.
The antique, the old Italian, or merely romantic* style, adapted to our times,
harmonizes infinitely better with such surrounding objects, has a more cheer-
ful character, and even, with smaller masses, a much grander and more ma-
jestic air.

The interior of this house has certainly the most striking effect, and may
trujy be called princely. The possessor has very wisely limited himself to
few, but large, entertaining-rooms. You enter the hall, which is hung with
armour and adorned with antique furniture. You then come to the stair-
case, the most magnificent in its kind that can be imagined. Running up
three lofty stories, with the same number of galleries, it almost equals the
tower of a church in height and size : the walls are of polished stone, the
railings of bright brass, the ceiling of wood beautifully carved in panels and
adorned with paintings, and around each landing-place or gallery are niches
with statues of the Kings of England in stone. Ascending this staircase
we reached a drawing-room decorated with crimson velvet and gilded furni-
ture, lighted in front by enormous windows which occupy nearly the whole
side of the room, and disclose the view of the * pleasure-ground' and park.
Sidewards, on the left, is another room as large, in which are a billiard-
table and the library. On the other side, in the same suite, is the dining-
room ; and behind it a noble green-house and orangery, through which you
pass into the chapel, which is adorned with ten windows of genuine antique
painted glass, and with admirable carvings in wood. All the benches are of
walnut-tree, covered with crimson velvet.

In the rooms are some fine and interesting pictures, but most of them by
modern artists. The pleasure-grounds and gardens are still larger than those
at Cashiobury. You will find a part of them in Repton, viz. the American
garden, the Monk's garden, and the Rosary; to which I must add, first, the
very elegant French garden, with a covered gallery, on one side ; a porce-
lain-like ornament with flower-pots in the centre ; and a large parterre, every

* By ' romantic' the author apparently means the style of the domestic architecture
of Elizabeth's and the succeeding reigns, which affected nothing like the air of places
of defence TRASTSL.

68 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

bed of which is filled with a different sort of flower: secondly, the Rockery,
in which are to be found every kind of rock and creeping plant. Nothing
but the long habit of great luxury could enable people even to conceive a
whole so manifold, so equally exemplary in all its parts, and in such perfect
order and condition ; for we must confess that even our sovereigns possess
only fragments of what is here found united. Some thousand head of deer,
and countless groups of giant trees, animate and adorn the park, which with
the exception of the road leading through it, is left wholly to nature, and to
its numerous grazing herds.

Accept it as a small sacrifice, dear Julia, that I send you all these minute
details. They may not be useless in our own plans and buildings, and are
at least more tedious to write than to read.*

For better illustration, I take sketches of everything interesting, which will
stand us in good stead, as furnishing new ideas. In the morning we are
going to see Woburn Abbey, the seat of the Duke of Bedford, one of the
richest peers of England, which is said to exceed Ashbridge in extent and
grandeur, as much as that does Cashiobury ; a very agreeable climax.

The inn whence I write is again very good, and I purpose, after all my
fatigues, to do as much honour to my principal meal as I did to my break-
fast; though the former is here far more simple, and consists of the same
dishes day after day. The eternal 'mutton chops' and a roast fowl with
* bread sauce/ with vegetables boiled in water, and the national sauce, melt-
ed butter with flour, always play the principal part.

Leamington, Dec.

I am now in a large watering-place, of which, however, I have as yet seen
but little, as I only arrived at eleven o'clock last night. The greater part of
the day was spent in seeing Woburn Abbey. This beautiful palace is in the
Italian taste ; the design simple and noble, and infinitely more satisfactory
than the colossal would-be-Gothic * nonsense.'

Its stables, riding-school, ball-rooms, statue and picture galleries, conser-
vatories and gardens, form a little town. For three centuries this estate has
been transmitted in a direct line in this family , even in England a rare in-
stance ; so that it is not to be wondered at, if, with an income of a million
of our money, an accumulation of luxury and magnificence has been formed
here, far exceeding the powers of any private person in our country : and
indeed even were money here and there forthcoming in like profusion, yet
the state of society adapted for centuries to the providing of the materials
for a luxury so refined, and so complete in all its parts, exists not among us.

The house, properly speaking, is a regular quadrangle ; and the ' bel
etage,' which is always * de plein pied' in country-houses, forms an unbroken
suite of rooms, occupying the whole superficial extent. These rooms are
hung with valuable pictures, and richly furnished with massive and magni-
ficent stuffs ; the ceilings and the ' embrasures' of the doors are of white
plaster with gold ornaments, or of rare carved wood, all equally simple and
massy. In one room was a remarkable collection of miniature portraits of
the family, from the first Russell (the name of the Dukes of Bedford) to the
present Duke, in an unbroken line. Under such circumstances, a man may
be permitted to be a little proud of his family and his noble blood.t These

* I know not whether the reader will admit this apology. EDITOR.
f It would have been but an act of justice had the author added, that under these
very circumstances, not only the head of the family, but those who bear his illustrious

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 69

miniatures were arranged in a very tasteful manner on crimson velvet, in a
long narrow gold frame, and set like medallions. The stoves are mostly of
gilt metal, with high marble chimney-pieces ; the chandeliers of bronze,
richly-gilded ; everywhere the same magnificence, yet nowhere overloaded.
The library is at the end, divided into two rooms, and opening immediately
on the delightful garden with wide glass doors.

The gardens appear to me peculiarly charming, so admirably interwoven
with the buildings and so varied that it is difficult to describe them ade-
quately.

To give you at least a general idea of them, let me tell you, that all along
the various buildings, which sometimes project, sometimes retreat, form now
straight and now curved lines, runs an unbroken arcade clothed with roses
and climbing plants. Following this, you come to a succession of differ-
ent and beautiful gardens. Over the arcade are partly chambers, partly the
prettiest little green-houses. One of them contains nothing but heaths,
hundreds of which, in full blow, present the loveliest picture, endlessly mul-
tiplied by walls of mirror. Immediately under this, Erica-house was the
garden for the same tribe of plants ; a glass-plat with beds of various forms,
all filled with the larger and hardier sorts of heath. In one place the bow-
ery-walk leads quite through a lofty Palm-house, before which lie the most
beautiful embroidered parterres, intersected with gravel walks. Adjoining
this house is the statue-gallery, the walls of which are covered with various
sorts of marble ; there are also very beautiful pillars from Italy. It contains
a number of antique sculptures, and is terminated at either end by a temple,
the one dedicated to Freedom, and adorned with busts of Fox', &c., the other
to the Graces, with Canova's exquisite group of the tutelary goddesses.
From this point the arcade leads along an interminable plantation, on a
sloping bank entirely filled with azaleas and rhododendrons, till you reach
the Chinese garden, in which * the Dairy' is a prominent and beautiful ob-
ject. It is a sort of Chinese temple, decorated with a profusion of white
marble and coloured glasses ; in the centre is a fountain, and round the walls
hundreds of large dishes and bowls of Chinese and Japan porcelain of every
form and colour, filled with new milk and cream. The 'consoles' upon
which these vessels stand are perfect models for Chinese furniture. The
windows are of ground glass, with Chinese painting, which shows fantasti-
cally enough by the dim light.

A further pleasure-ground, with the finest trees and many beautiful sur-
prises, among others pretty children's gardens, and a grass garden in
which all sorts of gramineous plants were cultivated in little beds, forming a
sort of chequer-work, led to the Aviary. This consists of a large place
fenced in, and a cottage, with a small pond in the centre, all dedicated to
the feathered race. Here the fourth or fifth attendant awaited us, (each of
whom expects a fee, so that you cannot see such an establishment under
some pounds sterling,) and showed us first several gay-plumed parrots and
other rare birds, each of whom had his own dwelling and little garden.
These birdsl houses were made of twigs interwoven with wire, the roof
also of wire^'the shrubs around evergreen, as were almost all the other plants
in this enclosure. As we walked out upon the open space which occupies
the centre, our Papageno whistled, and in an instant the air was literally

name, and are destined to inherit his honours, are singularly free from the morgue and
arrogance with which he justly charges the English aristocracy, TBANSL.

70 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

darkened around us by flights of pigeons, chickens, and heaven knows what
birds. Out of every bush started gold and silver, pied and common, phea-
sants ; and from the little lake a black swan galloped heavily forward, ex-
pressing his strong desire for food in tones like those of a fretful child. This
beautiful bird, raven black with red feet and bill, was exceedingly tame, ate
his food * chemin faisant' out of the keeper's pocket, and did not leave us
for a moment while we were sauntering about the birds' paradise, only now
and then pushing away an intrusive duck or other of the vulgar herd, or
giving a noble gold pheasant a dig in the side. A second interesting but
imprisoned inhabitant of this place was Hero, an African crane, a creature
that looks as if it were made of porcelain, and frequently reminded me in
his movements of our departed dancing Ballerino. The incident of his his-
tory which had gained him his lofty name was unknown to the keeper.

The park, which is four German miles in circuit, does not consist mere-
ly of heath or meadow-land and trees, but has a fine wood, and also a very
beautiful part fenced in, called the * Thornery,' a wild sort of copse inter-
sected with walks and overgrown with thorns and brushwood ; in the midst
of which stands a little cottage with the loveliest flower-garden.

Here terminate the splendours of Woburn Abbey. But no two things
I must still mention. In the house, the decorations of which I have describ-
ed to you ' en gros,' I found .a very ingenious contrivance. Round all the
apartments of the great quadrangle runs an inner wide gallery, on which se-
veral doors open ; and a variety of collections, some open, some in glass
cases, and here and there interspersed with stands of flowers, are set out.
This affords a walk as instructive as it is agreeable in winter or bad weather,
and is rendered perfectly comfortable by the * conduits de chaleur,' which
heat the whole house. The second remarkable thing is a picture of the
Earl of Essex as large as life. He is represented as of a fine and slender
person, but not a very distinguished face ; small features without much ex-
pression, small eyes, and a large red beard with dark hair.

But I have written off a quarter of an inch of my finger, and must con-
clude. To-morrow another step in the ascending scale, for I must see War-
wick Castle, which is spoken of as England's pride. I am curious to see
if we can really mount higher ; hitherto we have certainly ascended from
beautiful to more beautiful.

As the mail is just going off I enclose this to L , who will have the

kindness to forward it to you more quickly than it would otherwise go.

Think of the wanderer in your tranquil solitude, and believe that if fate
drove him to the antipodes, his heart would ever be near you!

Your L .

LETTER IX.

Warwick, Dec. 26/A, 1826.
DEAR JULIA,

Now, indeed, for the first time, I am filled with real and unbounded en-
thusiasm. What I have hitherto described was a smiling country, combined
with everything that art and money could produce. I left it with a feeling
of satisfaction ; and, although I have seen things like it, nay, even possess
them, not without admiration. But what I saw to-day was more than that,

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 71

it was an enchanted palace decked in the most charming garb of poetry,
and surrounded by all the majesty of history, the sight of which still fills
me with delighted astonishment.

You, accomplished reader of history and memoirs, know better than I
that the Earls of Warwick were once the mightiest vassals of England, and
that the great Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, boasted of having deposed three
kings, and placed as many on the vacant throne. This was his castle,
standing ever since the ninth century, and in the possession of the same fa-
mily since the reign of Elizabeth. A tower of the castle, said to have been
built by Beauchamp himself, remains unaltered ; and the whole stands co-
lossal and mighty, like an embodied vision of former times.

From a considerable distance you see the dark mass of stone towering
above the primaeval cedars, chestnuts, oaks and limes. It stands on the
rocks on the shore of the Avon, and rises to a perpendicular height of two
hundred feet above the level of the water. Two towers of different forms
overtop the building itself almost in an equal degree. A ruined pier of a
bridge, overhung with trees, stands in the middle of the river, which becom-
ing deeper just at the point where the building begins, forms a foaming wa-
terfall, and turns a mill, which appears only like a low abutment of the cas-
tle. Going on, you lose sight of the castle for awhile, and soon find your-
self before a high embattled wall, built of large blocks of stone covered by
Time with moss and creeping plants. Lofty iron gates slowly unfold to
admit you to a deep hollow way blasted in the rock, the stone walls of
which are tapestried with the most luxuriant vegetation. The carriage
rolled with a heavy dull sound along the smooth rock, which old oaks dark-
ly overshadow. Suddenly, at a turn of the way, the castle starts from the
wood into broad open daylight, resting on a soft grassy slope ; and the large
arch of the entrance dwindles to the size of an insignificant doorway be-
tween the two enormous towers, at the foot of which you now stand. A
still greater surprise now awaits you when you pass through [the second
iron gate into the court-yard : it is almost impossible to imagine anything
more picturesque, and at the same time more imposing.

Let your fancy conjure up a space about twice as large as the interior of
the Colosseum at Rome, and let it transport you into a forest of romantic
luxuriance. You now overlook the large court, surrounded by mossy trees
and majestic buildings, which, though of every variety of form, combine to
create one sublime and connected whole, whose lines now shooting upwards,
now falling off into the blue air, with the continually changing beauty of the
green earth beneath, produce, not symmetry indeed, but that higher harmo-
ny, elsewhere proper to Nature's own works alone. The first glance at
your feet falls on a broad simple carpet of turf, around which a softly wind-
ing gravel-walk leads to the entrance and exit of the gigantic edifice. Look-
ing backwards, your eye rests on the two black towers, of which the oldest,
called Guy's Tower, rears its head aloft in solitary threatening majesty, high
above all the surrounding foliage, and looks as if cast in one mass of solid
iron ; the other, built by Beauchamp, is half hidden by a pine and a chest-
nut, the noble growth of centuries. Broad-leaved ivy and vines climb along
the walls, here twining around the tower, there shooting up to its very sum-
mit. On your left lie the inhabited part of the castle, and the chapel, orna-
mented with many lofty windows of various size and form ; while the oppo-
site side of the vast quadrangle, almost entirely without windows, presents
only a mighty mass of embattled stone, broken by a few larches of colossal
height, and huge arbutuses which have grown to a surprizing size in the

72 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

shelter they have so long enjoyed. But the sublimest spectacle yet awaits
you, when you raise your eyes straight before you. On this fourth side,
the ground, which has sunk into a low bushy basin forming the court, and
with which the buildings also descend for a considerable space, rises again
in the form of a steep conical hill, along the sides of which climb the rugged
walls of the castle. This hill, and the keep which crowns it, are thickly
overgrown at the top with underwood, which only creeps round the foot of
the towers and walls. Behind it, however, rise gigantic venerable trees,
towering above all the rock-like structure. Their bare stems seem to float
in upper air ; while at the very summit of the building rises a daring bridge,
set, as it were, on either side within trees ; and as the clouds drift across the
blue sky, the broadest and most brilliant masses of light break magically
from under the towering arch and the dark coronet of trees.

Figure this to yourself; behold the whole of this magical scene at one
glance ; connect with it all its associations ; think that here nine centu-
ries of haughty power, of triumphant victory and destructive overthrow, of
bloody deeds and wild greatness, perhaps too of gentle love and noble mag-
nanimity, have left, in part, their visible traces, and where they are not,
their vague romantic memory; and then judge with what feelings I could
place myself in the situation of the man to whom such recollections are daily
suggested by these objects, recollections which, to him, have all the sanc-
tity of kindred and blood ; the man who still inhabits the very dwelling of
that first possessor of the fortress of Warwick, that half-fabulous Guy, who
lived a thousand years ago, and whose corroded armour, together with a
hundred weapons of renowned ancestors, is preserved in the antique hall.
Is there a human being so unpoetical as not to feel that the glories of such
memorials, even to this very day, throw a lustre around the feeblest repre-
sentative of such a race ?

To make my description in some degree clear, I annex a ground-plan,
which may help your imagination. You must imagine the river at a great
depth below the castle-plain, and not visible from the. point I have been
describing. The first sight of it you catch is from the castle windows, to-
gether with the noble park, whose lines of wood blend on every side with
the horizon.

You ascend from the court to the dwelling-rooms by only a few steps,
first through a passage, and thence into the hall, on each side of which ex-
tend the entertaining-rooms in an unbroken line of three hundred and forty
feet. Although almost ' de plein pied' with the court, these rooms are more
than fifty feet above the Avon, which flows on the other side. From eight
to fourteen feet thickness of wall forms, in each window-recess, a complete
closet, with the most beautiful varied view over the river, wildly foaming
below, and further on flowing through the park in soft windings, till lost in
the dim distance. Had I till now, from the first sight of the castle, advanced
from surprise to surprise, all this was surpassed, though in another way,
by what awaited me in the interior. I fancied myself transported back into
by-gone ages as I entered the gigantic baronial hall, a perfect picture of
Walter Scott's ; the walls panelled with carved cedar ; hung with every
kind of knightly accoutrement ; spacious enough to feast trains of vassals,
and saw before me a marble chimney-piece under which I could perfectly
well walk with my hat on, and stand by the fire, which blazed like a funeral
pile from a strange antique iron grate in the form of a basket, three hundred
yeanr old. On the side, true to ancient custom, was a stack of oak logs piled
up upon a stand of cedar, which was placed on the stone floor partially co-

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 73

vered by * hautelisse' carpets. A man-servant dressed in brown, whose
dress, with his gold knee-bands, epaulets and trimmings, had a very antique
air, fed the mighty fire from time to time with an enormous block. Here,
in every circumstance, the difference between the genuine old feudal great-
ness and the modern imitations was as striking, as that between the moss-
grown remains of the weather-beaten fortress and the ruins built yesterday
in the garden of some rich contractor. Almost everything in the room was
old, stately, and original ; nothing tasteless or incongruous, and all preserved
with the greatest care and affection. Among them were many rich and rare
articles which could no longer be procured, silk, velvet, gold and silver
blended and interwoven. The furniture consists almost entirely either of
uncommonly rich gilding, of dark brown carved walnut or oak, or of those
antique French commodes' and cabinets inlaid with brass, the proper name
of which I have forgotten. There were also many fine specimens of mo-
saic, as well as of beautiful marquetry. A fire-screen, with a massy gold
frame, consisted of a plate of glass so transparent that it was scarcely distin-
guishable from the air. To those who love to see the cheerful blaze with-
out being scorched, such a screen is a great luxury. In one of the cham-
bers stands a state bed, presented to one of the Earls of Warwick by Queen
Anne ; it is of red velvet embroidered, and is still in good preservation. The
treasures of art are countless. Among the pictures, there was not one ' me-
diocre ;' they are almost all by the first masters : but, beyond this, many of
them have a peculiar family interest. There are a great many ancestral
portraits by Titian, Van Dyk, and Rubens. The gem of the collection is
one of Raphael's most enchanting pictures, the beautiful Joan of Arragon,
of whom, strangely enough, there are four portraits, each of which is de-
clared to be genuine. Three of them must of course be copies, but are no
longer distinguishable from the original. One is at Paris, one at Rome, one
at Vienna, and the fourth here. I know them all, and must give unqualified
preference to this. There is an enchantment about this splendid woman
which is wholly indescribable. An eye leading to the very depths of the
soul ; queenlike majesty united with the most feminine sensibility ; intense
passion blended with the sweetest melancholy ; and withal, a beauty of form,
a transparent delicacy of skin, and a truth, brilliancy and grace of the dra-
pery and ornaments, such as only a divine genius could call into perfect
being.

Among the most interesting portraits, both for the subject and the han-
dling, are the following.

First, Machiavelli, by Titian. Precisely as I should imagine him. A
face of great acuteness and prudence, and of suffering, as if lamenting over
the profoundly-studied worthless side of human nature ; that hound-like
character which loves where it is spurned, follows where it fears, and is
faithful where it is fed. A trace of compassionate scorn plays round the
thin lips, while the dark eye appears turned reflectingly inward.

It appears strange, at first sight, that this great and classic writer should
so long have been misunderstood in the grossest manner. Either he has
been represented as a moral scarecrow (and how miserable is Voltaire's re-
futation of that notion !) ; or the most fantastic hypothesis is put forth, that
his book is & satire. On more attentive observation, we arrive at the con-
viction that it was reserved for modern times, in which politics at length
begin to be viewed and understood from a higher and really humane point
of view, to form a correct judgment of Machiavel's Prince.

To all arbitrary princes and under that name I class all those who think

74 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

themselves invested with power solely * par la grace de Dieu' and for their
own advantage, all conquerors, and children of fortune, whom some chance
has given to the people they regard as their property, to all such as these,
this profound and acute writer shows the true and only way to prosper;
the exhaustive system they must of necessity follow, in order to maintain
a power radically sprung from the soil of sin and error. His book is, and
must ever be, the true, inimitable gospel of such rulers ; and we Prussians,
especially, have reason to congratulate ourselves that Napoleon had learn-
ed his Machiavel so ill ; we should otherwise probably be still groaning
under his yoke.

That Machiavel felt all the value and the power of freedom, is plain, from
many passages in his book. In one he says, " He who has conquered a
free city, has no secure means of keeping it, but either to destroy it, or to
people it with new inhabitants ; for no benefit a sovereign can confer will
ever make it forget its lost freedom. 11

By proving, as he incontestably does, that such a degree of arbitrary
power can be maintained only by the utter disregard of all morality, and by
seriously inculcating this doctrine upon princes, he also demonstrates but
too plainly, ttjat the whole frame of society, in his time, contained within
itself a principle of demoralization ; and that no true happiness, no true
civilization, was possible to any people till that principle was detected and
destroyed. The events of modern times, and their consequences, have at
length opened their eyes to this truth, and they will not close them again !

The Duke of Alva, by Titian. Full of expression, and, as I believe,
faithful ; for this man was by no means a caricature of cruelty and gloom ;
earnest, fantastical, proud, firm as iron ; practically exhibiting the Ideal
of an inflexibly faithful servant, who, having once undertaken a charge,
looks neither to the right nor to the left in the execution of it; is ready
blindly to fulfil the will of his God and of his master, and asks not whether
thousands perish in torture ; in a word, a powerful mind, not base but con-
tracted, which lets others think for it, and works to establish their authority.

Henry the Eighth and Anne Boleyn, by Holbein.* The King in a
splendid dress, a fat, rather butcher-like man, in whom sensuality, cun-
ning, cruelty, and strength, rule in a frightfully complacent and almost jo-
vial physiognomy. You see that such a man might make you tremble, and
yet somehow attach you. Anne Boleyn is a good-natured, unmeaning, al-
most stupid-looking, genuine English beauty, like many one sees now, only
in another dress.

Cromwell, by Van Dyk. A magnificent head: somewhat of the bronze
gladiator-look of Napoleon ; but with much coarser features, through which,
as behind a mask, is seen the light of a great soul: enthusiasm is, however,
too little perceptible in them. There is an expression of cunning in the eye,
combined with something of honesty, which renders it the more deceptive ;
but not a trace of cruelty, with that, indeed, the Protector cannot be re-
proached. The execution of the King was a cruel act, but one which ap-
peared to Cromwell's mind in the light of a necessary political operation,
and in no degree sprang from a delight in bloodshed. Under this picture
hangs Cromwell's own helmet.

Prince Rupert, by Van Dyk. Completely the bold soldier ! Every inch
a cavalier! I do not mean in the exclusive sense of an adherent of the King,

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

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 75

but in that of an accomplished gentleman and knight: a handsome face, as
dangerous to women as to the enemy, and the picturesque garb and port of
a warrior. t

Elizabeth, by Holbein. The best and perhaps the most faithful picture
I have ever seen of her. She is represented in her prime, almost disgust-
ingly fair, or rather white, with pale red hair. The eyes somewhat Albino-
like, and almost without eyebrows. There is an artificial good-nature, but
a false expression. Vehement passions and a furious temper seem to lie
hidden under that pallid exterior, like a volcano under snow; while the in-
tense desire to please is betrayed by the rich and over-ornamented dress.
Quite different, stern, hard, and dangerous to approach, does she appear
in the pictures of her at an advanced age, but even then extremely over-
dressed.

Mary of Scotland. Probably painted in prison, and shortly before her
death: it has the air of a matron of forty. There is still the faultless beauty ;
but it is no longer the light-minded Mary, full of the enjoyment of life, and
of her own resistless charms ; but visibly purified by misfortune, with a
sedate expression ; in short, Schiller's Mary, a noble nature, which has
at length found itself again ! It is one of the rarest pictures of the unhappy
Queen, whom one is accustomed to see depicted in all the splendour of
youth and beauty.

Ignatius Loyola, by Rubens. A very beautifully painted and grand pic-
ture ; but which immediately strikes one as a fiction, and no portrait. The
sanctified expression, common to so many pictures of saints and priests, is
unmeaning. The colouring is by far the finest thing about the picture.

But I should never have done, were I to attempt to go through this gal-
lery. I must take you for a minute into the furthest cabinet, which contains
a beautiful collection of enamels, chiefly after designs by Raphael, and a
marble bust of the Black Prince, a sturdy soldier both in head and hand,
at a time when the latter alone sufficed to secure the highest renown.

Many valuable Etruscan vases and other works of art, besides the pic-
tures and antiques, decorate the various apartments, and with great good
taste are arranged so as to appear as harmonious accessories, instead of being
heaped up in a gallery by themselves as dead masses.

It was pointed out to me as a proof of the perfect and solid architecture
of the castle, that, in spite of its age, when all the doors of the suite of
rooms are shut, you see the bust placed exactly in the centre of the' furthest
cabinet, through the keyholes, along a length of three hundred and fifty
feet ; a perfection, indeed, which our present race of-workmen would never
think of approaching. Though, as I told you, the walls of the hall are hung
with a great quantity of armour, there is also an armoury, which is extremely
rich. Here is the leathern, collar, stained with blood blackened by time, in
which Lord Brook, an ancestor of the present Earl, was slain at the battle
of Litchfield. In one comer of the room lies a curious specimen of art, very
heterogeneous with the rest, a monkey, cast in iron, of a perfection and
abandon' in the disposition of the limbs which rivals Nature herself. I was
sorry the ' chatellaine' could not tell me who had made the model for this
cast. He must be an eminent master who could thus express all the mon-
key grace and suppleness with such perfect fidelity, in an attitude of the
most enjoying laziness.

Before I quitted the princely Warwick, I ascended one of the highest
towers, and enjoyed a rich and beautiful prospect on every side. The wea-
ther was tolerably clear. Far more enchanting than this panorama, how-

76 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

ever, was the long walk in the gardens which surround the castle on two
sides, whose character of serene grandeur is admirably adapted to that of the
building. The height and beauty of the trees, the luxuriance of the vegeta-
tion and of the turf, cannot be exceeded; while a number of gigantic cedars,
and the ever-varying aspect of the majestic castle, through whose lofty cru-
ciform loop-holes the rays of light played, threw such enchantment over
the whole scene that I could hardly tear myself away. We walked about
till the moon rose ; and her light, as we looked through the darkening alleys,
gave to all objects a more solemn and gigantic character. We could there-
fore only see the celebrated colossal Warwick Vase by lamplight. It holds
several hundred gallons, and is adorned with the most beautiful workman-
ship. We also saw some ancient curiosities which are kept in the Porter's
Lodge ; particularly some cows' horns and wild boar's tusks, ascribed to
beasts which Guy, a hero of Sax.on times, the fabulous ancestor of the first
Earls of Warwick, is said to have destroyed. The dimensions of his arms,
which are preserved here, bespeak a man of such strength and stature as
Nature no longer produces.

Here at length I took a lingering fftewell of Warwick Castle, and laid
the recollection, like a dream of the sublime and shadowy past, on my
heart. I felt, in the faint moonlight, like a child who sees a fantastic giant
head of far distant ages beckoning to it with friendly nod over the summit
of the wood.

With such fancies, dear Julia, I will go to sleep, and wake to meet them
again in the morning, for another scene of romance awaits me, the ruins
of Kenil worth.

Birmingham, Dec. 29th: Evening.

I must continue my narrative. Leamington (' car il faut pourtant que
j'en disc quelque chose') was only a little village a few years ago, and is
now a rich and elegant town, containing ten or twelve palace-like inns, four
large bath-houses with colonnades and gardens, several libraries, with which
are connected card, billiard, concert and ball-rooms (one for six hundred
persons,) and a host of private houses, which are almost entirely occupied
by visitors, and spring out of the earth like mushrooms. All here is on a
vast scale, though the waters are insignificant. The same are used for
drinking as for bathing, and yet it swarms with visitors. The baths are as
spacious as the English beds, and are lined throughout with earthenware
tiles.

Not far from Leamington, and a league from Warwick, is a beautiful en-
chanting spot called Guy's Cliff; part of the house is as old as Warwick
Castle. Under it is a deep cavern, in the picturesque rocky shore of the
Avon, into which, as tradition says, Guy of Warwick, after many high
deeds at home and abroad, secretly retired to close his life in pious medita-
tion. After two years of incessant search, his inconsolable wife found him
lying dead in his cave, and in despair threw herself down from the rocks
into the Avon. In later times a chapel was built in the rock to commemo-
rate this tragic event, and adorned by Henry the Third with a statue of Sir
Guy. This has unhappily been so mutilated by Cromwell's troops, that it
is now but a shapeless block. Opposite to the chapel are twelve monks'
cells hewn in the rock, now used as stables. The chapel itself, which has
been entirely renovated in the interior, is connected with the dwelling of
the proprietor, part of which is Gothic some centuries old, part in the old
Italian style, and part quite new, built exactly to correspond with the most

IRELAND AND FRANCE.- 77

ancient part. The whole is extremely picturesque, and the interior is fitted
up with equal attention to taste and comfort. The drawing-room, with its
two deep window-recesses, struck me as uncommonly cheerful. One of
these windows stands above a rock which rises fifty feet perpendicularly
from the river, in whose bosom lies a lovely little island, and behind it a
wide prospect of luxuriant meadows, beautiful trees, and, quite in the back-
ground, a village half buried in wood. At a short distance on the side is
an extremely ancient mill, said to have been in existence before the Norman
invasion. A little further off, the picture was terminated by a woody hill,
also within the enclosure of the park, on which a high cross marks the spot
where Gavestone, the infamous favourite of Edward the Second, was exe-
cuted by the rebellious lords Warwick and Arundel. All these recollec-
tions, united with so many natural beauties, make a strong impression on
the mind. The other window afforded a perfect contrast with this. It
overlooks a level plain laid out as a very pretty French garden, in which
gay porcelain ornaments and coloured sand mingled their hues with the
flowers, and terminates in a beautiful alley overshadowed with ivy cut into
a pointed arch. In the room itself sjtarkled a cheerful fire ; choice pictures
adorned the walls, and several sofas of various forms, tables covered with
curiosities, and furniture standing about in agreeable disorder, gave it the
most inviting and home-like air.

I returned back to the town of Warwick to see the church, and the chapel
containing the monument of the great King-Maker, which he placed there
in his life-time, and now reposes under. His statue of metal lies on the
sarcophagus ; an eagle and a bear at his feet. The head is very expressive
and natural. He does not fold his hands as is the case in most statues of
knights, but only raises them a little to heaven, as though he would not
pray, and could greet even his Maker only with a gesture of courtesy : his
head is slightly, inclined, but with no air of humility. Round his stone
coffin are emblazoned the splendid bearings of all his lordships, and an enor-
mous sword lies threatening by his side. The splendid painted windows,
and the numerous well-preserved and richly gilded ornaments give to the
whole a stately, solemn character.

A family of the town most unfortunately got permission, about a hundred
and fifty years ago, to erect a monument to some country 'squire or other,
immediately under the large central window. It occupies the entire wall,
and destroys the beautiful simplicity of the whole by this hideous, disgrace-
ful modern excrescence.

By the side-wall lies another intruder carved in stone, but one of better
pretensions ; no less a man than the powerful earl of Liecester : he is re-
presented of middle age, a handsome, high-bred and haughty looking man ;
but without the lofty genius in his features so strikingly portrayed on the
metal countenance of the great Warwick.

A few posts from Leamington, in a country which gradually becomes
more solitary and dreary, lies Kenilworth.

With Sir Walter Scott's captivating book in my hand I wandered amid
these ruins, which call up such varied feelings. They cover a space of more
than three-quarters of a mile in circumference", and exhibit, although in rapid
decay, many traces of great and singular magnificence.

The oldest part of the castle, built in 1120, still stands the firmest, while
the part added by Leicester is almost utterly destroyed. The wide moat
which formerly surrounded the castle, and around which stretched a park
of thirty English miles in circuit, was dried up in Cromwell's time, in the

78 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

hope of finding treasure in it. The park, too, has long disappeared, and
is now changed into fields, on which are some scattered cottages. A part
of the castle, standing isolated and almost hidden under creeping plants, is
transformed into a kind of out- work ; and the whole surrounding country
has a more barren, deserted and melancholy aspect than any part we have
travelled through. But this harmonizes well with the character of the prin-
cipal object, and enhances the saddening effect of greatness in such utter
decay.

The balcony called Elizabeth's Bower is still standing; and the tradition
goes, that in moonlight nights a white figure is often seen there looking
fixedly and immovably into the depth below. The ruins of the banqueting-
hall, with the gigantic chimney-piece, the extensive kitchen, and the wine-
cellar beneath, are still clearly distinguishable ; and many a lonesome cham-
ber may still be standing in the towers, to which all access is cut off. The
fancy delights in guessing the past by what still remains; and I often
dreamed, while climbing among the ruins, that I had found the very spot
where the infamous Vernon traitorously plunged the truest and most unhap-
py of wives into eternal night. But equally lost are the traces of the crimes
and of the virtues which lived within these walls ; Time has long since
thrown his all-concealing veil over them; and gone are the eternally-repeated
sorrows and joys, the mouldering splendour, and the transient struggle.

The day was gloomy ; black clouds rolled across the heavens, and occa-
sionally a yellow tawny light broke from between them ; the wind whistled
among the ivy, and piped shrilly through the vacant windows ; now and
then a stone loosened itself from the crumbling building, and rolled clatter-
ing down the outer wall. Not a human being was to be seen ; all was soli-
tary, awful ; a gloomy but sublime memorial of destruction.

Such moments are really consolatory : we feel more vividly than at any
other that it is not worth while to grieve and trouble ourselves about earth-
ly things, since sorrow, like joy, lasts but for a moment. As an illustration
of the eternal mutation of human affairs, I found myself transported in the
evening from the mute and lifeless ruins to the prosaic tumult of a multitude,
busied but in gain ; in the reeking, smoky, bustling manufacturing town of
Birmingham. The last romantic sight was the flames which at night-fall
illuminated the town on all sides from the tall chimneys of the iron-works.
Here is an end to all sport of the fancy till more fitting time and place.

December 30th.

Birmingham is one of the most considerable and one of the ugliest towns
of England. It contains a hundred and twenty thousand inhabitants, of
whom two-thirds are doubtless workmen, and indeed, it presents only the
appearance of an immeasurable workshop.

Immediately after breakfast I went to the manufactory of Mr. Thomas-
son, our consul here, the second in extent. The first, where a thousand
workmen are daily employed, and an eighty-horse power steam-engine is
applied to innumerable uses, even in the manufactory of livery buttons and
pins' heads, has been hermetically sealed to all foreigners ever since the
visit of the Austrian princes, one of whose suite carried away some im-
portant secret.

I passed several hours here with great interest, though in hideous, dirty,
and stinking holes, which serve as the various workshops ; and made a but-
ton, which R will deliver to you as a proof of my industry.

In a better room below are set out all the productions of the manufactory,

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 79

in gold, silver, bronze, plated, and lackered wares, the latter surpassing their
Japan originals in beauty ; steel wares of every kind ; all in a profusion
and elegance which really excite amazement. Among other things, I saw
the co'py of the Warwick Vase, of the same size as the original. It is cast
in bronze, and cost four thousand pounds. I saw also magnificent table-
services in plated ware, brought to such perfection that it is impossible to
distinguish it from silver. The great people here often mix it among their
plate, as the Paris ladies mix false stones and pearls with their real ones.

I made acquaintance with a multitude of new and agreeable inventions
of luxuries in great and small, and could not quite resist the temptation to
buy, which is here so powerful. The trifles I bought will soon reach you
in a well-packed box.

The iron-works, with their gigantic steam-engines, the needle manufac-
tory, the steel works, where you find every article from the most delicate
scissars to the largest grate, polished like mirrors, with all the intermediate
* nuances,' afford agreeable occupation for a day : but pardon me any
further description of them ; * Ce n'est pas mon metier.'

December 31st: Sunday.

As the manufactories are at rest to-day, I made an excursion to Aston
Hall, the seat of Mr. Watt, where, indeed, there is little to be seen in the
way of gardening, but the old house contains many curious portraits. Unfor-
tunately an ignorant porter could give me but little information about them.

There was an extremely fine picture of Gnstavus Adolphus, as large as
life. The good-nature, dignity and prudence ; the clear honest eyes, which
yet express much more than honesty ; and the gentle, but not the less firm,
assurance in his whole aspect, were in the highest degree attractive. Near
to it stood an excellent bust of Cromwell, which I should think a better
likeness than the picture at Warwick. It is more consonant with his his-
toric character ; coarse, and, if you will, vulgar features ; but a rocky na-
ture in the whole countenance, clearly allied to that dark enthusiasm and
demoniac cunning which so truly characterize the man. Two cannon-balls
which Cromwell threw into the house, then fortified, and which broke the
banisters in two places, are carefully left on the very spot where they fell,
and the railing not repaired, though it has since most stupidly been
painted white even in the broken part.

Not to lose a day, as there is nothing to see here but workshops, I intend
to set off this evening and travel through the night to Chester. There we
shall spend to-morrow in seeing Eaton, Lord Grosvenor's celebrated seat,
of which I wrote you word that Bathiany gave me such a magnificent de-
scription, and which, according to all I hear, contains whatever gold can
procure. The day after to-morrow I shall return hither, visit some more
manufactories, and then go back'to Oxford, in the neighbourhood of which
are two of the largest parks in England, Blenheim and Stowe.

Chester, January 1st, 1827.

Another year gone ! None of the worst to me, except for the separation
from you. I lighted the lamp in the carriage and read Lady Morgan's last
novel with great pleasure, while we rolled swiftly over the level road. As

soon as the hand reached twelve o'clock, R congratulated me on the new

year, for myself and for you. In twelve hours more we reached Chester,
an ancient ' baroque' city.

Though we had gone nineteen German miles in thirteen hours, I find that

80 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

in England, as well as in France, as you go further from the metropolis you
find a general deterioration ; the inns are less excellent, the post-horses
worse, the postilions more dirty, the dress of the people generally less respec-
table, and the air of bustle and business less. At the same time, thedearness
increases, and you are subjected to many extortions which, nearer to Lon-
don, are prevented by the great competition.

The new year set in with unfavourable weather. It rained the whole day.
As soon as we had made a little toilet, we hastened to see the wonders of
Eaton Hall, of which, however, my expectations were not very high. Mo-
derate as they were, they were scarcely realized. The park and the gar-
dens were, to my taste, the most unmeaning of any of their class I had seen,
although of vast extent; and the house excited just the same feeling in me
as Ashbridge, only with the difference that it is still more overloaded, and
internally far less beautiful, though furnished still more expensively, in
patches. You find all imaginable splendour and ostentation which a man
who has an income of a million of our money can display ; but taste not
perhaps in the same profusion. In this chaos of modern Gothic excres-
cences, I remarked ill-painted modern glass windows, and shapeless tables
and chairs, which most incongruously affected to imitate architectural orna-
ments. I did riot find one single thing worth sketching; and it is perfectly
inconceivable to me how M. Laine, (to whose merits in the embellishment
of his country all must do justice,) could, in the Annals of the Berlin Hor-
ticultural Society, prefer this to any he had seen ; at which indeed his Eng-
lish critics have made merry not a little. M. Laine imitated this garden
in the one in front of the palace at Potsdam. In his place I should, I con-
fess, have chosen another model ; though this style is certainly far better
suited to the palace in question than to a Gothic castle. Treasures of art I
saw none : the best was a middling picture by West. All the magnificence
lay in the gorgeous materials, and the profuse display of money. The draw-
ing-room or library, would, for size, make a very good riding-school. The
large portraits of the possessor and his wife, in the dining-room, have little
interest, except for their acquaintances. A number of affreux' little Gothic
temples, deface the pleasure-ground, which has, moreover, no fine trees: the
soil is not very favourable, and the whole seems laid out in comparatively
recent times. The country is rather pretty, though not picturesque, and too
flat.

As we had time to spare, we visited the royal castle of Chester which is
now converted into an excellent county gaol. The whole arrangement of it
seemed to me most humane and perfect. The view from the terrace of the
'corps de logis,' in which are the Courts of Justice, down upon the prisoners
in their cells, is extremely curious and surprising.

Imagine a high terrace of rock, on which stands a castle with two wings.
The ' corps de logis' is, as I said, dedicated to the courts, which are very
spacious ; and the wings, to the prisoners for debt. The court-yard is laid
out as a little garden, in which the debtors may walk. Under the court are
cells in which the criminals are confined ; the further end on the right is
appropriated to the women. The cells are separate, and radiate from a cen-
tre ; the little piece of ground in front of each is a garden for the use of the
prisoner, in which he is permitted to walk ; before trial his dress is gray;
after it, red and green. In each division of the building behind the cells is
a large common-room, with a fire, in which the prisoners work. The cells
are clean and airy ; the food varies with the degree of crime, the lowest is
bread, potatoes and salt. To-day, being new-year's-day, all the prisoners

IRELAND AND FRANCE.

had roast-beef, plum-pudding, and ale. Most of them, especially the women,
became very animated, and made a horrible noise, with hurrahs to the health
of the Mayor who had given them this fete.

The view from the upper terrace, over the gardens, the prison, and a
noble country, with the river winding belo\y, just behind the cells ; on the
side, the roofs and towers of the city in picturesque confusion ; and in the
distance, the mountains of Wales, is magnificent, and ' a tout prendre' our
country counsellors of justice (Oberlandes gerichtsrathe) are seldom lodged
so well as the rogues and thieves here.

Thank Heaven, we set out on our return to-morrow, for I am quite weary
of parks and sights. I am afraid you will be no less so, of my monotonous
letters ; but as you have said A you must say B, and so prepare for a dozen
parks before we reach London.

Meanwhile I send my epistle thither, to afford you at least an interval,
and pray God to have you in his merciful and faithful keeping.

Your ever devoted L .

LETTER X.

Hawkestone Park, Jan. 2nd, 1827.
BELOVED FRIEND,

THOUGH I felt perfectly ' blase' of parks yesterday, and thought I could
never take any interest in them again, I am quite of another mind to-day,
and must in some respects give Hawkestone the preference over all I have
seen. It is not art, nor magnificence, nor aristocratical splendour, but nature
alone, to which it is indebted for this pre-eminence, and in such a degree that
were I gifted with the power of adding to its beauty, I should ask, What
can I add ?

Turn your imagination to a spot of ground so commandingly placed, that
from its highest point you can let your eye wander over fifteen counties.
Three sides of this wide panorama rise and fall in constant change of hill
.and dale, like the waves of an agitated sea, and are bounded at the horizon
by the strangely-formed jagged outline of the Welsh mountains, which at
either end descend to a fertile plain shaded by thousands of lofty trees, and
in the obscure distance where it blends with the sky is edged with a white
misty line the ocean.

The Welsh mountains are partly covered with snow, and all the culti-
vated country between so thickly intersected with hedge-rows and trees,
that at a distance it has rather the appearance of a thinly planted wood,
here and there broken by water or by numberless fields and meadows. You
stand directly in the centre of this scene, on the summit of a group of hills,
looking down over the tops of groves of oaks and beeches alternating with
the most luxuriant slopes of meadow-land, upon a wall of rock five or six
hundred feet high, which forms numerous steep precipices and pretty val-
leys. In one of the gloomiest spots of this wilderness arise the venerable
ruins of * the Red Castle,' a magnificent memorial of the time of William
the Conqueror.

Now imagine this whole romantic group of hills, which rises isolated
from the very plain, to be surrounded almost in a perfect circle by the silver
waves of the river Hawke. This naturally bounded spot is Hawkestone
Park, a spot whose beauties are so appreciated even in the neighbourhood,

82 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

that the brides and bridegrooms of Liverpool and Shrewsbury come here to
pass their honeymoon. The park seems indeed rather the property of the
public than of its possessor, who never resides here, and whose ruinous and
mean-looking house lies hidden in a corner of the park, like a ' hors d'ceu-
vre.' There is, however, a pretty inn, in which visitors find all that is
needful to their comfort. Here we passed the night, and after a good break-
fast ' a la fourchette,' set out on our long excursion on foot ; for the roads
are so bad that we could not drive. Our scrambling walk, almost dangerous
in winter, lasted four hours.

We crossed a grassy plain, shaded by oaks and covered with grazing cat-
tle, to the rocks I have mentioned, in which the pale green veins show the
existence of copper. They rise out of a lofty hanging wood of old beeches,
and are crowned at their summits with black firs, the whole effect of which
is most striking. In this natural wall is a grotto, which, after climbing wea-
rily along a zig-zag path in the wood, you reach through a dark covered
way more than a hundred feet long, hewn in the rock. The grotto consists
of numerous caverns incrnsted with all sorts of minerals. There are small
openings in which are set pieces .of coloured glass cut like brilliants ; in the
dark they gleam like the precious stones of Aladdin's cave. An old woman
was our guide, and excited our wonder by her unwearied walking, and the*
dexterity with which she climbed up and down the rocks in slippers. The
irregular steps of stone were as smooth as glass, and so difficult sometimes
to pass over, that our good R , who had iron heels to his boots, com-
plained bitterly of the efforts he had to make to keep himself up. We reach-
ed a summer-house, built of trunks and branches of trees and covered with
moss, which commanded a picturesque view of a fantastic hill called the
Temple of Patience. Our way then led us to the so-called Swiss Bridge,
which is boldly thrown from one rock to another. As the railing is partly
broken down and the passage rather a dizzy one, my good Julia, if it were
possible for her to have come thus far, would have found an end to her ex-
pedition. How fortunate it is to have such an unwearied guide through the
regions of imagination one who bears you in an instant across the giddy
bridge, and now places you before a black tower-like rock projecting out of
the glittering beeches, overgrown with thorns and festooned with garlands
of ivy ! This was long the abode of a fox, who lived secure from pursuit
in his castle of Malapartus ; it is still called Reynard's House. We went
on, up hill and down dale, and at length, rather tired, reached the terrace, an
open place with beautiful peeps at the country cut in the wood. Not far
from thence, behind very high trees, stands a column a hundred-and-twenty
feet high, dedicated to the founder of the family, a London merchant and
Lord Mayor of London in the time of Henry the Third, whose statue
crowns the pillar. A convenient winding staircase in the inside leads to its
summit, whence you overlook the panorama of fifteen counties already men-
tioned. You pass through still wider chasms between the rocks to a lovely
cottage, standing in complete seclusion at the end of a green valley, where
formerly various beasts and birds were kept, which are now preserved stuff-
ed in a room of the cottage. A young woman showed them to us, with the
strange announcement, ' All these animals that you see used to live for-
merly.' I spare you the green-house built of masses of rock and branches
of trees, and the Gothic tower a sort of summer-house, and lead you a
long, long way through wood, then over green hills and through a narrow
defile to the magnificent ruin, the sublimely situated Red Castle. The de-
cayed walls and the hewn rocky sides are of great extent. You can reach

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 83

the interior only through a winding passage blasted in the rock, so utterly
dark that I found myself obliged to use my guide's petticoat as an Ariadne's
clue, for I literally could not see my hand before my eyes. Out of this tun-
nel you emerge into a picturesque alley of rock, with smooth high walls
overarched with mountain-ashes. On the side you perceive a cavern, the
mouth of which is still closed with a rusty iron gate. Climbing rude steps
in the rock, you reach the upper part of the ruin- a high roofless tower, in
whose walls, fifteen feet thick, many trees centuries old have struck their
roots, and in the interior of which is a well, which appears to sink down to
the entrails of the earth. The massy and unshaken barrier around it, the
lofty tower through which the sky appears above, and the bottomless depth
beneath, where reigns eternal night, produce an effect I never remember to
have experienced. You see Hope and Despair allegorically united in one
picture before you. The tower, and the rock on which it stands, look down
from a giddy height, in a perfectly perpendicular line, upon the valley, in
which the huge trees appear like copse-wood.

By a somewhat considerable leap of the imagination you reach a New
Zealander's hut on the banks of a little lake, built many years ago from a
drawing of Captain Cook's, and furnished with arrows, spears, tomahawks,
skulls of eaten enemies, and such-like pretty trifles, the innocent luxuries of
these children of nature.

Here we closed our walk, leaving unseen several devices which deform
the place, and which, as well as (alas !) the paths, are somewhat in decay.
But these defects are slight, in a whole so full of sublime and wondrously-
varied natural beauty.

Newport, Jan. 3rd.

It is winter in good earnest; the earth covered with ice and six inches,
of snow, and the cold in the rooms, so insufficiently warmed by open fires,
almost insufferable. As I passed the greater part of the day in the carriage,
I have little to tell.

Birmingham, Jan. 4th.

To-day too we saw nothing remarkable on our road but a newly laid out park
through which we drove, with a small but elegant garden, with very pretty
flower-stands of various sorts, and baskets, all of fine wire, and clothed with
creepers. R was obliged to draw them with stiff fingers.

The inn at which we ate our luncheon bore the date 1603 carved in stone,
and is the prettiest specimen of a cottage in an antique style, with brickwork
in various patterns, I have met with. Towards evening we reached Bir-
mingham, where I am reposing comfortably after the excessive cold.

January 6th.

The whole day has been, as in my last visit, devoted to the manufacto-
ries and warehouses. The poor workmen, however, have a bad time of it.
Their earnings are sufficient, it is true ; but many of their occupations are
of such a kind that the slightest neglect or carelessness may be productive
of the most dreadful consequences. I saw a man whose business it is to
hold the piece of metal out of which livery buttons are stamped. He has
had his thumbs twice shattered, and they are now only little formless lumps
of flesh. Wo to those whose clothes approach too near to the steam-engines
or other hideous machines ! Many a one has this inexorable power seized
and crushed, as the boa crushes its helpless prey. Some occupations are

84 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

as unhealthy as those of the lead-works in Siberia ; and in others there is a
stench which a stranger can scarcely endure for a minute.

Everything has its dark side, this advanced state of manufacture among
the rest; but that is no reason for rejecting it.

Even virtue has its disadvantages when it oversteps the bounds of mode-
ration ; while on the other hand the greatest evil, crime itself not excepted,
has its bright spots.

It is remarkable that, in spite of this wonderful progress in all discoveries,
the English have not yet been able, as Mr. Thomasson assured me, to rival
the iron-castings of Berlin. What I saw of this kind were immeasurably
inferior. I am sometimes tempted to think that we are arrived at that point
at which, far as the English now excel us, they will begin to descend, and
we to ascend. But as they have to fall from such a height, and we to rise
from such a depth, a long time may elapse before we arrive at the meeting-
point. However, as I said, I think we have started on the road. Deutsch-
land, Gluck avff! if thy sons obtain but freedom, their efforts will succeed.

Straff or d-on-^v on, Jan. 6th.

This day's journey was not long, but full of interest ; for the place whence
my letter is dated is the birth-place of Shakspeare.

It is profoundly affecting to see the familiar trifles which centuries ago
stood in immediate arid domestic contact with so great and beloved a man ;
then to visit tbe place where his bones have long been mouldering ; and thus
in a few moments to traverse the long way from his cradle to his grave.
The house in which he was born, and the very room hallowed by this great
event, still stand almost unchanged. The latter is perfectly like a humble
tradesman's room, such as we commonly find them in our small towns;
quite suited to the times when England stood on the same step of civiliza-
tion which the lower classes still occupy with us. The walls are completely
covered with the names of men of every country and rank ; and although I
do not particularly like the parasitical appendages on foreign greatness, like
insects clinging to marble palaces, yet I could not resist the impulse of gra-
titude and veneration, which led me to add my name to the others.

The church on the Avon (the same river which washes the noble walls
of Warwick,) where Shakspeare lies buried, is a beautiful remnant of anti-
quity, adorned with numerous remarkable monuments ; among which, that
of the chief of poets is, of course, the most conspicuous. It was formerly
painted and gilded, as was the bust ; but through the stupidity of a certain
Malone, was whitewashed over about a century ago, by which it lost much
of its singular character. The bust is far from having any merit as a work
of art : it is devoid of expression, and probably, therefore, of resemblance. It
was not without a considerable outlay of trouble and money that I succeeded
in getting a little engraving of the monument in the original colours, the
last copy the clerk's wife had, as she assured me. I send it with my letter.

I also bought in a bookseller's shop several views of the place, and of the
objects I have mentioned. In the town-house there is a large picture of
Shakspeare, painted in more recent times ; and a still better one of Garrick,
which has some resemblance, not only in the features but the ' tournure' to
Ifliand.

Oxford, Jan. 7th.

After having given the ' parkomanie' two days rest, we revived it to-day,
having visited no less than four great parks, the last of which was the famous
Blenheim. But in order: ' Executez vous.'

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 85

First we passed through Eastrop Park, remarkable in as far as it is of the
time in which the French style had just begun to decline; but at this transi-
tion period the change was as yet so slight, that avenues of clumps, of dif-
ferent but regularly alternating figures, replaced avenues of single trees ;
and hedges were planted in serpentine lines. The whole appeared in great
decay.

Ditchley Park is more beautiful. Unfortunately, the English climate
played us a sad trick to-day. In the morning (for the second time since we
left London) the sun shone, and we were triumphing in our good luck, when
suddenly there fell such a fog that during the whole remaining day we
never could see a hundred steps before us, often scarcely ten. In the
house we found a number of good pictures, especially very fine portraits,
but no creature could tell us whom they represented. We learned nothing
new in our art, but we found a novelty in another department. In the
gamekeeper's lodge, in default of spoils of nobler beasts, were about six
dozen rats nailed up, their legs and tails displayed with great taste.

Our third visit was to Blandford Park, belonging to Lord Churchill; very
inconsiderable as a park, but the house contains some noble pictures. Two,
I particularly envied the possessor. The first, a female figure, attributed,
no doubt falsely, to Michael Angelo. The drawing is certainly bold, but
there is a truth and elasticity in the flesh, a Titian-like colouring, and a
lovely archness of expression, which betray no Michael Angelo, even sup-
pose the assertion to be false, that we possess no oil-paintings of that great
master.

The second riveted me still more ; a Judith ascribed to Cigoli, a painter
whose works I do not remember to have seen. The subject is common
enough : the triumphant virgin, with the trunkless head in her hand, has
always appeared to me rather disgusting than attractive ; but here the artist
has diffused an expression over Judith's elevated and captivating face, which
appears to me to be conceived in the very spirit of poetry.

I had rather possess good copies of such exquisite pictures, than less in-
teresting originals by great masters : it is the poetical not the technical part
of a work of art that has charms for me. I pass over a fine collection of
drawings by Raphael, Claude, and Rubens, and many interesting portraits.

The horrid fog was thicker and thicker, and we saw Blenheim as if by
twilight. In grandeur and magnificence it is doubtless extraordinary ; and
I was much pleased with what I saw, or rather divined; for it was all
shrouded in a veil, behind which the sun appeared rayless, like the moon.
The house is very large and regular, built, unhappily, in the old French
style, and truly royal in magnificence. The park is five German miles in
circumference, and the piece of water, the finest work of its kind existing,
occupies alone eight hundred acres. The pleasure-grounds are on an equally
vast scale; forty men are daily employed in mowing. Opposite to the
house the water forms a cascade, so admirably constructed of large masses
of rock brought from a great distance, that it is difficult to believe it artificial.

One cannot help admiring the grandeur of Brown's genius and concep-
tions, as one wanders through these grounds : he is the Shakspeare of gar-
dening. The plantations have attained to such a height that we saw a sin-
gle Portugal laurel growing out of the turf, which measured two hundred
feet in circumference.

The present possessor, with an income of seventy thousand pounds, is so
much in debt that his property is administered for the benefit of his credi-
tors, and he receives five thousand a year for his life. It is a grievous pity

86 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

that he spends this little in pulling in pieces Brown's imposing gardens,
and modernizing them in a miserable taste; transforming the rich draperies
which Brown had thrown around Nature, into a harlequin jacket of little
clumps and beds. A large portion of the old pleasure-ground is thus de-
stroyed ; as the old gardener, almost with tears in his eyes, remarked to us.
Many noble trees lay felled around ; and a black spot on the turf showed the
place where a laurel, nearly as large as the one I mentioned, lately stood in
all its pride and beauty. I thought with grief how vain it is to attempt to
found anything lasting, and saw in imagination those of my successors who
will destroy the plantations which we have designed and tended together with
so much fondness. Blenheim is chiefly situated on the spot where stood
the ancient royal park of Woodstock (which yon remember from Walter
Scott's last novel). A great part of the oak wood which existed in the
time of the unhappy Rosamond is still alive, and dying in an agony of a
century's duration. There are perfect monsters of oaks and cedars, both as
to form and size. Many are so entirely enwreathed with ivy that it has
killed them, but at the same time clothed them with a new and more beau-
tiful evergreen foliage which enwraps the decayed trunk, like a magnificent
shroud, till it falls into dust.

Deer, pheasants and cattle, people the park, whose green plains seemed,
in the uncertain mist, boundless as the sea ; in some places, bare as a Steppe,
in others thickly planted.

The interior of the house looks rather neglected, but contains a number
of valuable works of art. It must be confessed that never did a nation bestow
a richer reward on one of its great men than Blenheim, which is princely
even in its minutest details.*

As we entered, there was such a smoke that we thought we had to en-
counter a second fog in the house. Some very dirty shabby servants a
thing almost unheard-of here ran past us to fetch the Chdtelaine,' who,
wrapped in a Scotch plaid, with a staff in her hand and the air of an en-
chantress, advanced with so majestic an air towards us, that one might have
taken her for the Duchess herself. The magic wand was for the purpose
of pointing more conveniently to the various curiosities. As a preliminary
measure, she required that we should inscribe our names in a large book :
unhappily, however, there was no ink in the inkstand, so that this import-
ant ceremony was necessarily dispensed with. We passed through many
chili and faded rooms, decorated with numerous and fine pictures, though
among them are many inferior ones, on which the names of Raphael, Guido,
&c. are liberally bestowed. The gallery is extremely rich in fine and ge-
nuine Rubens' ; the most attractive among which, to me, was his own fre-
quently repeated but excellent portrait. I was also much interested by a
whole length portrait of the wild Duke of Buckingham, by Van Dyk, a
roue of a very different sort, both in the delicate turn of the features, the
chivalrous dignity, and the tasteful dress, from our modern ones. Further
on is a beautiful Madonna, by Carlo Dolce, less smooth and 'banale' than
most of those- by the same master ; and an excellent and most characteristic
portrait of Catharine of Medicis. She is very fair, with exquisitely beauti-
ful hands, and a singular expression of cold passion (if I may use the words)
in her features', which yet does not excite the feeling of repulsion one would
anticipate. Ruben's wife hangs opposite to her, a handsome Flemish

* The description is abridged. It is feared the English reader has already been
sated with parks and houses. TIIANSL.

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 87

housewife, somewhat vulgar, but beautifully painted and admirably con-
ceived. Philip the Second, by Titian, appeared to me unmeaning : two
beggar boys, by Morillo, admirable. Lot and his daughters, by Rubens ;
the female figures somewhat less vulgar and coarse than most of his beau-
ties, who generally have too much in common with the chief produce of his
native country : Lot is admirably painted : the picture is however a very
unpleasing one. In the bedroom was hung, oddly enough, a disgusting,
fearful picture of Seneca's death in the bath, -Seneca already a livid corpse.

The portrait of the Duke's mother, by Sir Joshua Reynolds is extremely
pleasing. Her beauty and sweet child-like look were worthy of a Madon-
na ; and the little boy is a perfect Cupid, full of archness and grace.

The library is a magnificent room, containing seventeen thousand vol-
umes, decorated on the one side with a marble statue of Queen Anne ; on
the other, a strange pendant- a colossal antique bust of Alexander ; a model
of youthful beauty, in my opinion excelling the Apollo Belvedere. It is
more human, and yet the god-like nature appears through the human, not
indeed in the Christian, but the pagan sense of the word.

It is but fair to notice the portrait of the great Duke of Marlboro ugh, to
whom this whole splendid edifice owes its existence. His history is re-
markable in many points of view : I especially advise every man who wishes
to make his fortune to study it attentively ; he may learn much from a char-
acter so formed to get on in the world. The following anecdote has always
appeared to me remarkable, insignificant as was the incident.

The Duke was one day overtaken by a violent shower of rain while
riding with his suite. He asked his groom for his cloak ; and not receiv-
ing it at the instant, repeated his order in a rather hasty tone. This pro-
voked the man, and he replied with an impertinent air, " Well, I hope you
will wait just till I have unbuckled it." The Duke, without evincing the
slightest irritation, turned smiling to the person next him, and said, " Now
would I not for all the world be of that fellow's temper."

The more well-known story of the * petulance' of the Duchess of Cas-
tlemaine, which Churchill turned to such good account, and which in the
strangest way laid the basis of his great career, showed an entirely similar
' disposition,' and power over himself.

In night and fog we reached Oxford, where I alighted at the Star, and
refreshed myself with an admirable dinner prepared by a French cook from
London. Though I do not, like the ancients, regard cooks as objects of
religious veneration, I cannot deny that I have singular respect for their art :
'II est beau au feu' may be said with as much justice of a virtuoso of this
kind, as of the most dashing soldier ; and in the field of politics and diplo-
macy, every minister knows how much he is indebted to his cook.

My excursion draws to a close, and in three days I hope to send off B

with all the materials he has collected, like a bee laden with honey.

January 8th.

Oxford is a most singular city. Such a crowd of magnificent Gothic
buildings, from five hundred to a thdusand years old, can nowhere else be
found collected in one place. There are spots in which you can imagine
yourself transported back to the fifteenth century. You see nothing around
you but monuments of that period, without a single incongruous object.
Many, nay almost all, of these old colleges and churches are also very beau-
tiful in detail, and all of a most picturesque character. I have often won-
dered why we do not adopt many of the details of this style of architecture ;

88 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

for instance, the broad light windows in two or three divisions, sometimes
diversified With large bows and irregularly divided ; only habit could make
us endure the uniform rows of square holes which we call windows.

I went first to the so-called Theatre, which was built by a bishop three
hundred years ago. The iron railing which surrounds it has, instead of
pillars, a sort of ' termini' with the heads of the Roman Emperors, a strange
fancy, but the effect is not bad. In this theatre which, as might be ex-
pected from its origin, is more like a church the Emperor of Russia, the
King of Prussia, and the Prince Regent were made Doctors, and were
obliged to appear in scarlet robes. The portraits of all three have since
been placed here. The King of England in his coronation robes an ad-
mirable picture by Lawrence, worthy of ancient times hangs in the cen-
tre, in a most splendid frame ; on either side, in far simpler frames and
simpler garb, hang the Emperor of Russia, and the King of Prussia, also
by Lawrence. The King is not like : of the Emperor Alexander I never
saw a better portrait.

At the University Stereotype Press, where the printing of a sheet on
both sides is accomplished in five minutes, I again displayed my activity,
and had the honour to print a sheet, which I send you as companion to the
Birmingham button : it contains some interesting incidents concerning the
Maccabees.

A great deal of the printing for the Bible Society is done here ; and if it
goes on at this rate, the time will soon arrive concerning which a periodical
called The Catholic,' of the year 1824, prophesied in this wise : " If .it
comes to that, that all read the Bible, the world will be a fit abode only for
wild beasts." If " the Catholic" means that all will understand it, he may
be right, for then the. whole human race will be ripe for another world.
Nevertheless I am so far of " the Catholic's" mind, that I think the indis-
criminate diffusion of the Bible among all, even the rudest savages, is
throwing pearls before swine.

I next went to the Museum, which contains a very heterogeneous mix-
ture of things. On the staircase as you enter is a picture of the battle of
Pavia, in which the principal figures are portraits painted at the time, as is
expressed on the canvass. It is precisely in the style of the old miniatures,
and very interesting for the accuracy of the dresses and armour: under it
is the inscription " Comen les gens de Lempereur deffirent les francoys en
Ian 1525." Portraits of Cardinal Wolsey and Cardinal Richelieu also adorn
the staircase. Under them was that of Tradescant, a noted gardener of

Charles the First, from which it was impossible to tear his colleague R

away ; he looked at the picture with a sort of protecting air, and was spe-
cially delighted with a garland of mulberries and cucumbers which pictur-
esquely surrounded this father of gardeners. The most interesting thing
in the picture, to me, was the portrait of a strange large bird ; worthy of
the Arabian Nights, called Dodo, which belonged to the gardener when
alive, and whose like has never been seen in these parts since. As a proof
that this is no fable, they showed us the genuine head and beak wonder-
fully odd.

In the collection of natural history were a great many rare parrots, and
a curious bird with spikes on its wings, with which it spears fish as with a
lance. The diminutive warrior, who is only six inches high, looks uncom-
monly fierce and bold ; he is like a miniature crane, only much more cun-
ning and pugnacious. Here is the duck-billed platypus, that strange ani-
mal from New Holland. The productions of that part of the globe are so

IRELAND AND TRANCE. 89

unlike those of all the others, that they almost make one imagine it belongs
to another era of creation, or that it dropped on our earth from some wan-
dering star.

The colours of a picture made of humming-bird's feathers seemed some-
thing unearthly. Equally curious was a bas-relief of a knight in splendid
gold-green armour made of beetles' wings. Our modern knights might be
very handsomely represented in steel-blue armour made from the wings of
the dung-beetle. I cannot attempt to give you an inventory of the cabinet
of curiosities ; I confined myself, as I always do, to what struck me, which
was not always the most celebrated ; a jewelled glove of Henry the^Eighth's ;
an autograph letter of Queen Elizabeth's to Lord Burleigh, beautifully
written; a pretty riding-cloak and shoe of the Maiden Queen, which latter
proves the extreme beauty of her foot; lastly, her watch, with a tasteful
chain consisting of five medallions in a row, each containing hair of a dif-
ferent colour probably of her chief favourites. Far more curious and sa-
cred is a medallion with a portrait rudely executed in mosaic, and an inscrip-
tion signifying that it belonged to the great Alfred. This precious relic was
found ten years ago in ploughing a fie'd in the island of Athelney, where
Alfred lay hidden from the Danes.

I must now conduct you to the picture-gallery built by Elizabeth, and
preserved exactly 4 in statu quo.' The roof is of wainscot panelled, and
in each panel a coat-of-arms, which has a most antique and magnificent ef-
fect. Very good models of the principal temples of antiquity stand in the
ante-room. There are some excellent pictures. The one which charmed
me the most was an authentic portrait of Mary of Scotland, by Zuccaro,
painted just after her arrival from France, and brilliant in all the indescriba-
ble radiance and fascination of her youth and freshness. It is easy to un-
derstand how it was that this woman had only passionate adorers and de-
voted partisans, or furious enemies. A face more, in the true sense of the
word, charming, seductive, can scarcely be imagined : with all its
French graces, it however betrays the selfishness of the beauty, the reck-
lessness of unbridled passion ; but of malignity or vulgarity, such as we
see, the former in Elizabeth, the latter in Catharine of Medicis, not a trace ;
in short, a perfectly womanlike, and therefore perfectly captivating cha-
racter of countenance, with all the virtues and all the weaknesses and vices
of her sex in their fullest proportions. I should think the possession of
such a picture a real happiness, that of the original might give one too
much trouble. The same artist painted a portrait of Elizabeth, precisely
like that at Warwick. The Earl of Leicester, taken shortly before his death,
is extremely interesting. His face is as elegant and high-bred as it is hand-
some ; and though not indicative of genius, has the expression of a saga-
cious, dignified, and powerful man. There are no remains of the brilliancy
of youth, but a proud complacent consciousness of secure unalterable favour.
In a copy of the School of Athens by Giulio Romano, I admired once more
the exquisite face of the young duke of Urbino, that ideal of soft youthful
beauty : the loveliest girl might be more than satisfied with the possession
of it. Garrick's portrait, by Raphael Mengs, did not answer my idea of
that great actor so perfectly as the one at Stratford-on-Avon. I was de-
lighted with a picture of Charles the Twelfth, by Schrb'ter, every inch a
grand Don Quixotte : and with a very characteristic Charles the Second,
by Sir Peter Lely. Charles' aspect, like his age, seems to me entirely
French, even to his features, which are strikingly like those of Bussy Ra-
butin. His father hangs near, a more attractive picture than usual. He

LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

has unquestionably a fine face, with very speaking eyes ; but the soft, me-
lancholy, ideological expression too plainly shows that the bearer of such
features was little fitted to encounter such a man as Cromwell, or such an
age as that he lived in. It is the greatest calamity for a prince to fall upon
an ill-suited time, unless he be strong enough to impress his own stamp
upon it. The great Locke, by Gibson, is a pale attenuated student. Near
him is a handsome portly Luther, by Holbein ; the stately Handel, by
Hodson; ; and Hugo Grotius, with his acute, crafty, and yet high chival-
rous face, more that of an energetic man of the world than of a man of let-
ters. These are the subjects that struck me the most.

January 9th.

To-day I have walked all over Oxford ; and I cannot express with what
intense delight I wandered from cloister to cloister, aud refreshed myself at
this living spring of antiquity.

There is a magnificent avenue of elms, which like the buildings around it,
dates from the year 1520. From this queen of avenues, in which not a
single tree is wanting, and which leads through a meadow to the river, you
see on one side a charming landscape, on the other a part of the city, with
five or six of the most beautiful Gothic towers, ever a noble view, but to-
day rendered almost like a picture of fairy enchantment : the sky was over-
cast, the wind drove the black fantastic clouds, like a herd of wild beasts,
across it ; at length the most beautiful rainbow, vaulting from one tower and
descending on another, spanned the whole city.

From this ancient seat of the Muses of England, from all its colleges,
each different from the other, each enclosing a spacious court, and adorned
with noble towers, each with its own more or less beautifully ornamented
church, its library and picture-gallery, all in their kind of new and varied
interest, I carry away the most agreeable recollections. If you can bear
to drink again and again from the old cup, you shall accompany me in my
rambles*

My first walk was to the Ratcliffe Library; a round and modern building,
erected, that is, in the last century, at Dr. Ratcliffe's cost, nearly in the
centre of the town. The interior is simply a rotunda in three stages or
stories, with a cupola and two open galleries, whence side-rooms radiate
from the inner, to the outer circles. Below are casts of the best antiques.
A small winding staircase leads to a side tower, from the roof of which you
have a splendid view of the Gothic palaces pointing to heaven with their
hundred spires. The surrounding country is cheerful, fertile, and well wood-
ed. There are four-and-twenty colleges (a sort of cloister for education,) and
thirteen churches in this small town, containing only sixteen thousand inha-
bitants.

From hence we proceeded to Henry the Eighth's Library, preserved, ex-
ternally and internally, in nearly its original state, and containing not less
than three hundred thousand volumes. The ' locale' is like no other of the
kind, and transports one completely into past ages. The cruciform room ;
the strange shelves ; the iron gratings, half blue, half gilded, and of a form
no longer seen ; the enormous windows, as broad as three church windows
together and ornamented with beautiful coloured glass ; the gay gilded ceil-
ing, with numberless panels, each containing the picture of an open Bible
with four crowns ; even the Doctors sitting at the tables in the dress of Luther,
which they still wear, how strangely is the fancy excited by such a scene !
A gallery runs round midway of the high shelves, for the purpose of reach-

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 91

ing the books above. On the railing of this gallery are hung the portraits of
the various librarians, from the first to the last; some, unhappily, in modern
dresses, who look like apes among their venerable predecessors. In the
middle of the room the shelves are so arranged on either side, that they form
a long alley of enclosed closets, in which every man who wishes to use the
library can work completely undisturbed, an old and most exemplary ar-
rangement. There are also books in the rooms which occupy the whole
ground-floor of this quadrangular edifice. Here-are some very curious manu-
scripts and specimens of early printing. I saw with sorrow how large a
tribute the poverty of Germany has been compelled to pay to the wealth of
England ; among other things, a magnificent copy of Faust's first Bible, of
the year 1440, which I think belonged to our Doctor Barth, and is inscribed
with .a number of notes in his handwriting. I was delighted to find a manu-
script so exactly like a volume of Froissart in our library, (that with the
miniatures in every leaf,) embellished with the same arabesques of fruit and
flowers on a gold ground, the style and colouring of the figures so precisely
the same, that it is scarcely to be doubted they are by the same painter.
Unfortunately there is neither name nordatet The text is Quintus Curtius,
all the figures exactly in the costume of the time of the illuminator:
Alexander, cased in iron from head to foot, breaks a lance with Darius, and
throws him from his saddle, just in the style of the French and English
knights in Froissart.

A very curious French manuscript, the subject of which is an heroic poem,
contains the name of the writer with the date 1340, (an extremely rare oc-
currence,) and under it the name of the painter with the date 1346 ; this gives
reason to conclude that the latter had spent six years in the illuminating,
which is almost all executed on a very unusual design, in gold, blue and red
in squares, like a carpet. This manuscript is peculiarly interesting from
the circumstance that the painter, instead of enclosing the text within a bor-
der or arabesque, has surrounded it with a representation of the trades, sports,
and pastimes of his time. A cursory glance showed me, together with many
games and occupations which we have lost, so many which are still so pre-
cisely the same, that I was really surprised. For instance, a masked-ball ;
Kammerchtn vermiethen;* the Handespiel, or ' gioco di villano ;' the same
with the feet, which we boys often used to play in winter to warm ourselves ;
throwing at cocks, and cockfighting; rope-dancers and conjurors ; horse-riders
and trained horses, whose feats are more wonderful than ours ; rifle-shooting
at a man who (' mille pardons') turns himself in unseemly wise to the com-
pany, like one still existing on a gate at Lausitz ; a smithy, where a horse
is shoeing ; a wagon, with three large cart-horses harnessed out at length,
with harness, &c. all in the present form, even the driver's costume, a blue
slop the very same ; and many other things which I have not time to no-
tice, showed that though many things change, yet an infinite deal remains
unaltered, and perhaps, ' tout prendre,' human life is more the same in dif
ferent ages than we generally imagine.

A Boccacio, with exquisitely beautiful miniatures, is one of the show-
pieces of the library. A copy of the Acts of the Apostles, of the seventh
century, in Greek and Latin, is shown as a great curiosity : each line con-
tains only one word in each language. Considering its great antiquity, it
is in very good preservation.

In the beautiful court of All Souls College which moreover is carpeted

* laterally, * Little rooms to let;' I think we call the game, Seats,'

92 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

with the finest turf there is a spot whence you have a most magnificent
view of spires, towers, and facades of ancient buildings, rising in unbroken
series, one behind another, without the least mixture of modern houses.
Here is another noble library. In the middle is an orrery, which illustrates
our solar system very clearly, and keeps equal course with the sun and
planets through the year.

Christ's College is a beautiful building of modern times ; a part of it only
is very old. The church is of Saxon architecture ; round and pointed
arches intermingle, but do not at all offend the eye. Here is the famous
shrine of St. Frisdewilde, a most magnificent and tasteful Gothic monument
of the beginning of the eighth century, and still in good preservation. It
was enriched with silver Apostles and other ornaments, which were plun-
dered in Cromwell's time. That unhappy religious war did irreparable
damage to the antiquities of England ; till then, all these sacred relics were
in perfect preservation.

Attached to this college is that most charming walk I described to you
above. It leads us to Magdalen College, which has been in part newly re-
stored. The restoration is perfectly in the ancient style, and renders this
part of the building secure for five hundred years to come ; it has already
cost forty thousand pounds, though but a small part is completed : it may
be imagined what enormous sums the execution of such works from the
foundation would cost. Nothing great in art can be executed now, for the
money it would cost is absolutely unattainable. The sum which formerly
purchased a god-like work of Raphael's, would now (even allowing for the
difference in the value of money) scarcely buy a moderate portrait by Law-
rence. The Botanic Garden, which closed our walk, contains nothing worth
describing. I therefore release you for the present, my dear Julia ; ' mais
c'est a y revenir demain.'

Buckingham, Jan. IQth.

It is a sin how long my private journal has been neglected. The more
my letters to you swell, the more does my unhappy journal shrink. If you
were to burn these letters, I should have lyo trace of what had become of
me all this time. Imagine how unpleasant to vanish from one's own me-
mory !

My imagination is so ' montee' by the many vestiges and echoes of past
times, that I dream of a distant future, in which even ruins will be no
more, in which we shall lose not only these shadows of humanity, but hu-
man nature itself, and begin a new life in new spheres. For in remem-
brance, say what you will, we entirely lose that which we actually were;
even here, the old man nearly loses himself as a child. We may indeed
find ourselves again, my best friend, and then will the tie that binds us ne-
cessarily re-unite. Let this satisfy us.

4 Mais revenons a nos moutons ; c'est dire, parlons de nouveau de
pares.'

Dreadful weather rain and darkness, detained me at Oxford till three in
the afternoon, when it cleared sufficiently for me to set out. The postilion
missed the road, which is not a main one, and drove us a long way about,
so that we arrived very late. While the fire was lighting in my room, I sat
down in mine host's, where I found a very pretty girl, his niece, and two
doctors of the place, with whom I talked away the evening very pleasantly.

Aylesbury, Jan. llth.
Stowe is, like Blenheim, another specimen of English grandeur and mag-

IRELAND AND PRANCE. 93

nificence. The park embraces a large tract of undulating ground, with fine
trees ; the house is a noble building in the Italian style. The grounds were
laid out long ago ; and though in many respects beautiful, and remarkable
for fine lofty trees, are so overloaded with temples and buildings of all sorts,
that the greatest possible improvement to the place would be the pulling
down ten or a dozen of them. There is a charming flower-garden, thickly
surrounded with high trees, firs, cedars and evergreens, and flowering shrubs.
The parterre forms a regular pattern like a carpet, in front of a crescent-
formed house filled with rare birds. In the middle of this carpet is a foun-
tain, and on either side are two pretty 'volieres' of wire.

In the park stands a tower called the Bourbon Tower, from the circle of
limes around it which Louis the Eighteenth planted during his long residence
at Hartwell in this neighbourhood. The tower, though modern, is half fallen
in. 1 wish this be no ill omen for the Bourbons in France, where even the
sage Charter-giver could obtain no better titles from his subjects than ' Louis
I'lnevitable,' and ' Deux Fois Neuf.'

Here is a monument deserving of mention, dedicated to the great men and
women of England, with very appropriate inscriptions, and busts modelled
after the best pictures.

The facade of the building is four hundred and fifty feet long, and as long
is the unbroken ' enfilade' of rooms in the 'beletage,' which you enter from
the garden by a fine flight of steps. You pass through a bronze door into
an oval marble hall with a beautiful dome, whence alone it is lighted. A
circle of twenty pillars of red scagliola marble surrounds it, and in the niches
between them are ten antique statues. The floor is paved with real marble,
and a gilded grating admits heated air. I will not weary you with further
description of the rooms ; they are very rich, and all more or less deco-
rated with pictures and curiosities. The state bed-room, which is not used,
is crowded with fine porcelain, and contains a curious old bed of embroi-
dered velvet with gold fringe.

In a boudoir near were many other curiosities, which we were only per-
mitted to see through a grating. The loss of a ruby necklace formerly be-
longing to Marie Antoinette, is the very sufficient reason for this prohibi-
tion, which is never removed but in the Duke's presence.

The library is a long gallery covered from top to bottom with shelves,
with a light and elegant gallery in the middle. An adjoining room, fitted
up in the same way, contains nothing' but maps and engravings, probably
one of the richest collections in the world. This seems the peculiar taste
of the present Duke.

The hall on the other side of the house, looking on the park, commands
a view which struck me as quite peculiar. You see a large open grassy
plain, skirted on either side by an oak wood, and in the middle and back
ground meadows and wood interspersed. In the centre of the plain, about
sixty or seventy paces from the house, stands, perfectly isolated, a colossal
snow-white equestrian statue, of admirable workmanship. The pedestal is
so high that the horseman seems to rest on the top of the wood behind him.
Not a building, nor any other object than trees, grass, and sky, are visible ;
and the whole scene so utterly still and inanimate, that the white spectral
image rivets the attention : no finer decoration for Don Juan could be
imagined. It happened, too, by a fortunate chance, that the sky on that
side of the house was perfectly black with a threatening snow-storm, so that
the dazzling white statue stood out in almost fearful grandeur. At the mo-
ment, it looked alive, and every muscle seemed to rise in the sharp lights.

94 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

Among the pictures is a treasure which seems to be unknown to our Ger-
man travellers, at least I never saw it noticed : a genuine portrait of Shak-
speare, painted during his lifetime by Barnage. The hypercritics of Eng-
land will have it there is no genuine portrait of Shakspeare; but it seems to
me almost impossible to invent a physiognomy carrying on it such a tri-
umphant air of truth, so fully expressing the grandeur and originality of the
man ; furnished with all the intellectual elevation, all the acuteness, wit,
delicacy, all the genuine humour, whose exhaustless treasures were never
so lavished on any mortal. The' countenance is nowise what is vulgarly
called handsome ; but the sublime beauty of the mind within beams from
every part. Across the lofty forehead gleam the bright flashes of that dar-
ing spirit ; the large dark brown eyes are penetrating, fiery, yet mild ; around
the lips play light irony and good-natured archness, but wedded to a sweet
benevolent smile, which lends the highest, the most heart-winning charm to
the lofty, awful dignity of the intellectual parts of the face. Wondrously
perfect appears the structure of the skull and forehead ; there are no single
prominences, but all the organs so capacious and complete that we stand
astonished before such a glorious pattern of perfect organization, and feel a
deep joy at finding the man in so beautiful a harmony with his works.

Two excellent Albrecht Diirers a pair of female saints in a fantastic
landscape attracted me, particularly by their primitive German character.
They are two genuine Niirnberg housewives, dressed in their fatherlandish
caps, and taken from nature itself; good-natured, and busied about their
saintly affairs. A picture of Luther, by Holbein, is more intellectual and
less fat than usual.

There is a remarkable picture, by Van Dyk, of the Duke of Vieuxville,
ambassador from the Court of France to Charles the First, who with chi-
valrous devotion followed the King into the field and was killed at Newbury.
The dress is old, but picturesque; a white ' juste-au-corps, a la Henri
Quatre,' with a black mantle thrown over it ; full short black breeches fall-
ing over the knee, with silver points ; pale violet stockings with gold clocks,
and white shoes with gold roses. On the mantle is embroidered the star of
the Holy Ghost, four times as large as it is now worn, the blue riband ' en
sautoir,' but hanging down very low, and the cross worn in the present
fashion, on the side ; it is narrower and smaller than now, and hangs by the
broad riband almost under the arm.

The Duke de Guise was not such as I had pictured him to myself: a
pale face with reddish beard and hair; with the expression rather of an 'in-
triguant' than of a great man. A picture which corresponds better with the
character of the person it represents is Count Gondemar, Spanish ambassa-
dor to the Court of James the First, by Velasquez ; he ingratiated himself
with the King by his dog-Latin, in which burlesque form he made free to
say anything. He brought the gallant Sir Walter Raleigh to the scaffold
by his Jesuitical intrigues.

A picture of Cromwell, by his Court painter Richardson, has a double
interest for the family, It was painted expressly for one of the Duke's an-
cestor's, who appears in the same picture. as page, in the act of tying the
Protector's scarf. This portrait is not much like the others of the same
personage I have seen ; it represents him as younger, and of a more refined
nature, and is therefore probably flattered. From the hand of a Court painter
this is to be expected.

I must only mention two fine and large Teniers', one of which represents
three wonderfully characteristic Dutch boors, meeting in a village and gos-

IRELAND AND PRANCE. 95

Piping with their pipes in their mouths ; an excellent Ruysdael ; six famous
Rembrandt's, and Titian's lovely mistress. I admired, too, a new specimen
of art, two Sevres cups with miniatures after Petitot, by that admirable
porcelain-painter Madame Janquotot. The one represents Ninon de 1'En-
clos, of whom I had never before seen a picture that answered to my idea
of her. This expressed her character fully, and is of the most attractive
beauty, genuine French, lively as quicksilver, bold almost to impudence,
but too generous and too truly natural to leave any other than an engaging
impression on the mind. The other a gentle, placid, and voluptuous
beauty- was inscribed, Franchise d'Orleans de Valois. As thoroughly ini-
tiated in French genealogies and memoirs, you will know who she is. * Je
1'ignore.' Each cup cost a thousand francs.

In a beautiful moonlight we drove to Aylesbury, whence I now write.

Uxbridge, Jan. 12th.

This evening I hope to be in London again. While the horses are put-
ting-to I write a few words. We saw Lord Carrington's park this morn-
ing, for your comfort be it said, the last, at present atleast. The garden
is nothing remarkable : the house is in the beloved modern Gothic style,
but, being simple and unpretending, looks less affected. It is built of stone,
without ornament. A good portrait of Pitt hangs in the library. This great
man has anything but the face of a man of genius, and who knows whether
posterity will think his deeds betray more than his face ?

One thing pretty I observed in the garden, a thick massy wreath of ivy
planted on the turf. It looks as if negligently dropped there. Our excur-
sion was to be closed by the sight of Bulstrode, which Repton describes at
such length as the model of parks ; but this drop is spared you, my poor
Julia, for the Duke of Portland has- sold it, and the present owner has felled
the trees about which Repton is so enthusiastic, ploughed up the park, and
pulled down the house to sell the stone. It was a miserable scene of de-
solation, made more miserable by the strange dress of the women at work ;
they were wrapped from top to toe in blood-red cloaks, and looked like an
ill-omened assemblage of executioners.

London, Jan. 13th.

By bright gas-light, which is always like a festal illumination here, we
drove into town, and as I wished to have an instant contrast with my park-
and-garden life, I alighted at Covent Garden to see my first Christmas pan-
tomime. This is a very favourite spectacle in England, particularly with
children ; so that I was quite in my place. Playwrights and scene-painters
take great pains to make every year's wonders exceed the last. Before I
bid you good-night I must give you a rhapsodical sketch of the performance.
At the rising of the curtain a thick mist covers the stage and gradually rolls
off. This is remarkably well managed by means of fine gauze. In the dim
light you distinguish a little cottage, the dwelling of a sorceress ; in the
back-ground a lake surrounded by mountains, some of whose peaks are
clothed with snow. All as yet is misty and indistinct ; the sun then rises
triumphantly, chases the morning dews, and the hut, with the village in the
distance, now appear in perfect outline. And now you behold upon the
roof a large cock, who flaps his wings, plumes himself, stretches his neck,
and greets the sun with several very natural Kikerikys.* A magpie near
him begins to chatter and to strut about, and to peck at a gigantic tom-cat
* German for 'Cock-a-doodle-doo. 5 TRANS t.

96 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

lying in a niche in the wall, who sleepily stretches himself, cleans his face,
and purrs most complacently. This tom-cat is acted with great * virtuosite*
by an actor who is afterwards transformed into Harlequin. The way in
which he plays with a melon, the lightness and agility \vith which he climbs
up the chimney and down again, his springs, and all his gesture, are so na-
tural that they could only be acquired by a long study of the animal himself.
Happily the scenic art is come to that, that it no longer suffers men to be
excelled by poodles and monkeys, but has actually raised them to the power
of representing those admired animals to the life.

Meanwhile the door opens, and Mother Shipton, a frightful old witch,
enters with a son very like herself. The household animals, to whom is
added an enormous duck, pay their morning court to the best of their abili-
ty. But the wjtch is in a bad humour, utters a curse upon them all, and
changes them on the spot into the persons of the Italian comedy, who, like
the rest of the world, persecute each other without rest, till at last the most
cunning conquers. The web of story is then spun on through a thousand
transformations and extravagances, without any particular connexion, but
with occasional good hits at the incidents of the day ; and above all, with
admirable decorations, and great wit on the part of the machinist. One of
the best scenes was the witch's kitchen. A rock cleaves open and displays
a large cave, in the midst of which more than a cart-load of wood forms the
fire, before which a whole stag with its antlers, a whole ox, and a pig, are
turning rapidly on the spit. On a hearth on the right side is baking a pie
as big as a wagon, and on the left a plum-pudding of equal calibre is boiling.
The * chef de cuisine' appears with a dozen or two assistants in a grotesque
white uniform, with long tails, and each armed with a gigantic knife and
fork. The commandant makes them go through a ludicrous exercise, pre-
sent arms, &c. He then draws them up ' en peloton' to baste the roast,
which is performed with ladles of the same huge proportions as the other
utensils, while they industriously fan the fire with their tails.

The scene next represents a high castle, to which the colossal batterie
de cuisine' is conveyed like a park of artillery. It appears smaller and
smaller along the winding path, till at length the pie disappears in the hori-
zon like the setting moon.

Next we are transported into a large town, with all sorts of comical in-
scriptions on the houses, most of them satires on the multitude of new in-
ventions and companies for all manner of undertakings ; such as, " Washing
Company of the three united kingdoms ;" " Steam-boat to America in six
days ;" * Certain way of winning in the lottery ;" " Mining shares at ten
pounds a share, by which to become worth a million in ten years." The
fore-ground exhibits a tailor's workshop, with several journeymen busily
stitching away in the ' rez de chaussee ; a pair of shears six yards long are
fixed over the door as a sign, with the points upwards. Harlequin arrives,
pursued by Pantaloon and Co., and springs through the air with a somerset
in at a window on the first story, which breaks with a loud crash. The
pursuers drawing back from the * salto mortale,' tumble over and thump
each other with artist-like skill and wonderful suppleness. Ladders are now
brought, and they climb into the house after Harlequin : but he has made
his escape through the chimney, and runs off over the roofs. Pantaloon
with his long chin and beard leans out of the window before which the
shears are placed, to see which way Harlequin is gone. Suddenly the part-
ed blades shut to, and his head falls into the street. Pantaloon, not a whit
the less, runs down stairs and rushes out at the door after his rolling head ;

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 97

unluckily a poodle picks it up and runs off with it, and Pantaloon after
him. But here he meets Harlequin again, disguised as a doctor, who holds
a consultation with three others as to what is to be done for the unhappy
Pantaloon. They at length decide to rub the place where the head is want-
ing with Macassar oil ; and by means of this operation a new head happily
grows under the eye of the spectators.

In the last act, Tivoli at Paris is well given. A balloon ascends with a
pretty child. While he floats from the stage over the heads of the audi-
ence the earthly scene gradually sinks, and as the balloon reaches the lofty
roof, where it makes a circuit round the chandelier, the stage is filled with
rolling clouds through which a thousand stars shine and produce a very
pretty illusion.

As the balloon sinks, town and gardens gradually rise again. A rope is
next stretched, on which a lady drives a wheelbarrow to the summit of a
Gothic tower, in the midst of fire-works ; while other ' equilibristes-' per-
form their break-neck feats on level ground.

At the conclusion, the stage is transformed, amid thunder and lightning,
into a magnificent Chinese hall with a thousand gay paper lanterns ; where
all spells are dissolved, the witch banished to the centre of the earth by a
beneficent enchanter, and Harlequin, recognized as legitimate prince, mar-
ries his Columbine.

On our way home we had another and more terrible spectacle, gratis.
A lofty column of lurid smoke poured from a chimney, and soon became
tinged with blue, red and green ; the nearer we came the thicker and more
variegated it ascended, like one of the Chinese fireworks we had just seen.

* Probably," said I to R , " a chemical laboratory, if it be not indeed a

fire in earnest." Hardly had I said the words when my fears were fulfilled.
Cries resounded from all sides, the flames streamed wildly forth towards
heaven, the people flocked together, and fire-engines soon rattled through
the streets. But the huge city swallows up all particular incidents, five
hundred steps further, and the fire in the neighbourhood excited no interest
whatever ; the guests in an illumined mansion danced merrily, the play-
goers walked quietly home, and all traces of alarm or sympathy were lost.

But, my dear Julia, * il faut que tout finesse' and so must my long nar-
rative, which certainly furnishes you with a sheet for every year of my life.
That it ends with fire you must take as an emblem of ardent love, and
here it is not necessary, as your superstition requires, to exclaim " In a
good hour be it said." Every hour, even the most unfortunate, is good
where love is.

Your L .

LETTER XL

London, Jan. 19th, 1827.
DEAREST JULIA,

R left London to-day for Harwich, and will be with you in a fort-
night. I know how glad you will be to have a living witness of the sayings

and doings of your L ; one whom you can question about so many

things which, even with the best intentions cannot always find place in
letters.

I have now settled myself into a town life again. Yesterday I dined

98 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

with Prince E , where the secretary of legation kept us in an in-
cessant laugh. ' He is a kind of agreeable buffoon, and although of very
mean extraction, a superlative ultra ; (' tel le maitre, tel le valet.') I have
often admired the talent of the French, and envied it too, for making the
most amusing stories out of the most common-place incidents ; such as lose
all their salt coming from any mouth but theirs.

Nobody possesses this talent in a higher degree than Monsieur R .

He affords another proof that it is entirely the result of a language so ad-
mirably adapted to produce it, and of an education which springs from the

same source ; for Monsieur R is a German I think a Swabian ; but

was brought to France when only two years old, and educated as a French-
man. Language makes the man, more than blood ; though 'tis true, blood
has first made the language.

4 Au reste,' one must acknowledge that however brilliant such agreeable
chatter may be at the moment, it goes out like a fusee, and leaves nothing
on the memory ; so that the pedantic German feels a sort of uneasiness
after listening to it, and regrets having spent his time so unprofitably. Had
it been possible to that element of Germanism which formed our language,
to give it that lightness, roundness, agreeable equivocalness, and at the same
time precision and definiteness, qualities which are called into full play
in society by French audacity, the conversation of the German would cer-
tainly have been the more satisfactory of the two, for he would never have
neglected to connect the useful with the agreeable. As it is, we Germans
have nothing left in society, but that sort of talent which the French call
4 lesprit des escaliers ;' that, namely, which suggests to a man as he is
going down stairs, the clever things he might have said in the 4 salon.'

Of this Frenchman's fireworks and crackers I retain nothing but the fol-
lowing anecdote. A diplomatic writer, who passed as authority in the time
of Louis the Fourteenth, concluded a treatise on the great privileges per-
taining to foreign envoys, with the following words ; * mais des qu'un am-
bassadeur est mort, il rentre dans la vie privee.'

January 22nd.

The poor Duke of York is at length dead, after a long illness, and lay in
state yesterday with great magnificence. I saw him in October, and found
him, even then, the shadow of the robust stately man whom I had formerly

so often seen at Lady L 's, and at his own house, where six bottles of

claret after dinner scarcely made a perceptible change in his countenance.
I remember that in one such evening, it was indeed already after midnight,
he took some of his guests, among whom were the Austrian Ambassador,
Count Meerveldt, Count Beroldingen, and myself, into his beautiful ar-
moury. We tried to swing several Turkish sabres, but none of us had a
very firm grasp ; whence it happened that the Duke and Count Meerveldt
both scratched themselves with a sort of straight Indian sword, so as to
draw blood. Count Meerveldt then wished to try if it cut as well as a real
Damascus, and undertook to cut through one of the wax candles which
stood on the table. The experiment answered so ill, that both the candles,
candlesticks and all, fell to the ground and were extinguished. While we
were groping about in the dark, and trying to find the door, the Duke's

aide-de-camp, Colonel C , stammered out in great agitation, " By God,

Sir, I remember the sword is poisoned !" You may conceive the agreeable
feelings of the wounded at this intelligence. Happily on further examina-

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 99

lion it appeared that claret and not poison was at the bottom of the Colonel's
exclamation.

The Duke seems to be much regretted, and the. whole country wears deep
mourning for him, with crape on the hat, and black gloves, ' ce qui fait le
desespoir' of all shopkeepers. People put their servants into black liveries,
and write on paper with a broad black edge, Meantime the Christmas pan-
tomimes go on as merrily as ever. It has a strange effect to see Harlequin
and Columbine skipping about on the stage in all conceivable frivolities and
antics, while the coal-black audience, dressed as for a funeral procession,
clap and shout with delight.

I this minute received your letter from B . Really so merry, I might

almost say so pungent a one, you have not written of a long time. The

B originals seem to have quite electrified you, and though I rejoice at

it, I can't help being a little jealous. But you will soon come back to your
original. I say with Caesar, I fear not the fat, but the lean; and so long as
you tell me that you preserve your charming * embonpoint,' I am easy. I
had a great mind, however, to plague you a little in return ; but I know you
don't bear jesting 'par distance' well, so I abstain. To vent my humour in
some way, I send you a bit out of my journal, a ' pendant' to your African
Travels ; for the poor meagre journal is still alive, though it has received
no nutriment by the month together, and the little it has had, has not the
least ' haul gout.' Don't expect, therefore, anything facetious or satirical,
but something quite serious. It is laid upon you as a punishment.

EXTRACTS FROM MY JOURNAL.

I was lately reading a review of Lady Morgan's Salvator Rosa. A pas-
sage in it touched me deeply, ' et pour cause.' It is the very original de-
scription of her hero, nearly as follows.

" With a thirst for praise, which scarcely any applause could satisfy, Sal-
vator united a quickness of perception that rendered him suspicious of pleas-
ing, even at the moment he was most successful. A gaping mouth, a closing
lid, a languid look, or an impatient hem ! threw him into utter confusion,
and deprived him of all presence of mind, of all power of concealing his
mortification. . . . Abandoned by the idle arid the great, whom his delight-
ful talents had so long contributed to amuse, he voluntarily excluded himself
from the few true and staunch friends who clung to him in his adversity,

and shut himself up equally from all he loved and all he despised

His reference to this journey is curious, as being illustrative of those high
imaginations, and lofty and lonely feelings, in which lay all the secret of his
peculiar genius : while his pantings after solitude, his vain repinings, exhi-
bit the struggles of a mind divided between a natural love of repose and a
factitious ambition for the world's notice and the eclat of fame, no unusual
contrast in those who, being highly gifted and highly organized, are placed
by nature above their species in all the splendid endowments of intellect;
and who are, by the same nature, again drawn down to its level through their

social and sympathetic affections His fine but fatal organization,

which rendered him so susceptible of impressions, whether of good or evil,
and which left him at times no shelter against ' horrible imaginings,' or
against those real inflictions, calumny and slander, plunged him too fre-
quently into fits of listless melancholy, when, disabused of all illusion, he
saw the species to which he belonged in all the nakedness of its inherent
infirmity."

100 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

Yes, this picture is copied from the very soul ; and it is no less true, that
a man born with such a disposition can never feel at ease or happy in the
world which surrounds him, unless he be placed very much above it, or live
in it entirely unnoticed.

So far I was led by the thoughts of others. Now I must conclude for
to-day with a few of my own, the subject of which lies far nearer to our in-
most hearts ; and discuss a question, the full investigation of which must in-
terest every one, be he ever so little a philosopher by profession.

What is conscience ?

Conscience has unquestionably a twofold nature, as it has a twofold
source. The one flows from our highest strength, the other from our greatest
weakness ; the one from the spirit of God dwelling .in us, the other from
sensual fear. Perfectly to dissever and distinguish these two kinds of con-
science, is necessary to that serenity of mind which can arise only out of
the utmost possible clearness : for man, when he has once got beyond the
original dominant instinct of feeling, attains to the Permanent, even the re-
cognition of truth, only by mental labour and conflict, the moral 'sweat
of his brow.'

Man, however, is a whole, compounded of countless parts ; and it is only
in the perfect equipoise of these parts, that, as man that is, as a being at
once sensual and spiritual he can obtain perfect happiness and contentment.
It is the common, ever-recurring error, to strive to cultivate one side predo-
minantly : with one man it is the province of religion ; with another, that
of severe reason ; with the man of the world, those of the understanding and
the senses alone. But all these together, exercised, enjoyed, and blended,
so to speak, with artist-like skill, can alone produce the most perfect Life
for this earth, and for our destinies while upon it, the complete, entire
Truth.

Under this point of view, then, must that which we call Conscience be
considered, and the true distinguished from the false.

Under the head of the True, I understand the infallible suggestions of the
divine spirit in us ; which restrains us from evil, generally, as from the
wholly one-sided, inconsistent, and negative : and this requires no further
explanation. By the False, I mean that which arises only from the Con-
ventional ; from custom, authority, from subtleties which have grown out
of these foundations, and from overstrained anxiety; in a word, from fear.
Delicate, excitable natures, in whom the cerebral system predominates, in
whom, therefore, the head and the fancy are more powerful and active than
the heart : in whom the distributing intellect too easily breaks up and scat-
ters the depth and intensity of the full feelings, are most subject to this kind
of error. It is, however, so difficult to follow these subtle ramifications and
secret counter-workings, that we often take that for a primary feeling, which
is only the retro-action of a sophistical intellect.

Now, as right and wrong, applied to the individual actions of human
life with ?ll their various conditions and intricacies, must obviously be rela-
tive ; nothing remains but that every man should, with the help of all the
powers of his soul, make quite clear to himself, sincerely and faithfuHy lay
down to himself, what he can reasonably regard as right and what as wrong ;
and having ascertained it, thenceforward tranquilly apply that standard ; and
not trouble himself further about his so-called conscience ; that is, the inward
uneasiness and uncertainty which disturb the mind under new and conflicting
circumstances. These cannot possibly be avoided ; since the distinctions

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 101

we have heard of right and wrong, reasonable and absurd, in our childhood
and early youth, will ever exercise an irresistible influence.*

To give a few exemplifications. A man of gentle temper, educated in
the fear of God and the love of man, who becomes a soldier, the first time
he has to take deliberate aim at human life will hardly do it without a strong
pang of conscience. So, at least, it was with me. Nevertheless it is his
duty ; a duty which may be justified on higher, although worldly grounds ;
so long at least as mankind are not further advanced than they now are.

In like manner, he who after a long struggle forswears the religion of his
fathers the daily repeated lesson of his youth, and embraces another on
full conviction that it is better, will generally feel a slight, but difficultly sub-
dued inquietude ; and it is with that, just as it is with the most absurd fear
of ghosts in those who have been educated in the belief of ghosts. They
have a ghost-conscience, which they cannot get rid of. Nay, even more;
with irritable characters, the mere persuasion that others hold them guilty
of an evil action will give them so much the feeling of an evil conscience,
that it appears in all its usual outward signs embarrassment, blushing, and
turning pale.

This may be carried so far as to lead to insanity. For instance : A man
universally believed to have killed another, or one who really, though quite
innocently, has killed another, may never enjoy a moment's tranquillity or
happiness again. We even read of a Bramin, whose religious creed makes
the murder of an insect as criminal as that of a man, who killed himself be-
cause an English * savant' told him that he never drank a glass of water
without destroying thousands of invisible creatures. 'II n'y a qu'un pas
du sublime au ridicule.'

Ugoni, in his Life of one of the most conscientious of men, Passaroni,
relates that as he was one day going over the bridge of the * Porta Orien-
tale,' he saw a man lying fast asleep on the broad stone parapet, whence, if
suddenly waked, he would probably have fallen into the river. He seized
him by the arm, with difficulty aroused him, and with still greater made him
understand why he had waked him. The porter, in a passion, requited his
trouble with a hearty curse, and bid him go to the devil. Passaroni, greatly
mortified and grieved at being the innocent cause of the man's wrath, pulled
out a handful of coin, and gave it to him to drink the giver's health. There-
upon he left him quite satisfied ; but had scarcely reached the end of the
bridge, when it struck him that his gift would probably produce even worse
consequences than his waking of the man had done ; for that it would very
likely lead the poor fellow into the crime of drunkenness. He immediately
hurried back in great anxiety, found the man fortunately at the same spot,
where he had laid himself down again exactly in his old position, and begged
him, with some embarrassment, to give him back so much of the money as
he did not want for his most pressing necessities. But as the rage of the
porter, who thought himself fooled, now boiled over more furiously than
ever, Passaroni devised another expedient: " Here % my friend," said he,
" as you will not give me anything back, take another scudo, and promise

* Cases moreover do occur, in which the conscience is, so to speak, right and wrong
at the same time. An act may be -necessary, which is unquestionably, viewed on one
side, culpable, but which is chosen as the lesser of two evils ; in which case no rea-
sonable moralist will contend that it is unpardonable. In telling 1 a compulsory lie, for
instance, we must ever make a considerable sacrifice of our moral dignity, though by
refusing to tell it, we might be guilty of the basest treachery to parents or friends.
EDITOR.

102 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

me solemnly, that if you spend all the rest of the money in drink, yon will
buy something with that scudo to eat with it." Having received this pro-
mise from the ' fachino,' Passaroni's conscience was at length at rest, and
he went contentedly home.

We must, I repeat, if we would not be either unhappy, or ridiculous,
and like a reed shaken with every wind, educate our consciences as well
as all the other faculties of our souls : that is, while we preserve them in all
their purity, prescribe to ,them due limits ; for even the noblest are other-
wise liable to deterioration and perversion. The simplest and most univer-
sally applicable and universally intelligible guide is the precept of Christ,
" Do not unto others (nor, we might add, to yourselves) what ye would not
that others do unto you."

But as there exist, as yet, no true Christians, certain exceptions to this rule
are, and, in the present state of society, must be, permitted, as for instance,
the case of the soldier above cited; or that of a man who obeys the laws of
honour, which in certain stations it is utterly impossible to brave. And then
there remains no other solution of the difficulty, than to allow to others the
same liberty of making exceptions that we find ourselves compelled to claim ;
in this way we just manage to preserve charity, and, at all events, that
justice which is called the * lex talionis.'

That man has a happy, an enviable existence, to whom nature and sur-
rounding circumstances have made it easy or possible to walk constantly in a
beaten track ; to be, from youth upwards, kind and loving, moderate in his
desires and pure in his actions. The first fault is pregnant with sorrow and
evil ; for, as our philosophical poet so truly says,

"Das eben ist der Fluch des Bosen
Dass es fortwuchernd immer Boses muss gebahren!"

And regeneration in this life is not always to be attained. May it not, then,
be the last and highest act of mercy of Eternal Love, to have appointed death
as a means of wiping out the confused and blotted scrawl, and restoring the
troubled, misguided, soul to the condition of a pure white sheet, ready for
happier trials ? For that upon which the Holy has already been written
here, must far higher bliss be in store. All-loving Justice punishes not as
weak man punishes ; but it can reward only where reward is due, where
it follows as an inevitable consequence of the past.

January 2lst.

It is become very cold again, and the fire-place, * zvo Tag und Nacht die
KoJile brennt,' is unhappily quite insufficient to produce a warm room, such
as our stoves which, spite of their ugliness, I now think of as admirably
efficient procure us. To set my blood in motion I ride the more, and to-
day, on my way home, saw one of the many Cosmorames exhibited here,
which certainly affords a very agreeable chamber journey, as they call it in
B . The picture of the Coronation of Charles the Tenth in the Cathe-
dral at Rheims, doubtless gave me a far more commodious view of it than I
should have had in the crowded church. But what tasteless costume, from
the King to the lowest courtier ! New and old mixed in the most ludicrous
and offensive manner ! If people will perform such farces, the least they
can do is to make them as pretty as those at Franconi's. The ruins of Pal-
myra lay outstretched in solemn majesty in the boundless Desert, which a
caravan in the distant horizon is slowly traversing under a torrid sun.

The most perfect illusion was the great fire at Edinburg : it actually bum-

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 103

ed. You saw the flames stream upwards ; then clouds of black smoke as-
cend ; while the view of the whole landscape incessantly changed with the
changes of this fearful light, just as in a real fire. Probably the proprietor's
kitchen was behind the picture, and the fire which heated the fancy of cre-
dulous spectators like myself, roasted the leg of mutton which our shillings
paid for.

January 28th.

For some days I have vegetated too completely to have much to write to

you about. This morning I was not a little surprised to see R , whom I

thought almost with you, enter my room. He had been shipwrecked on his
way to Hamburg, and driven back by the storm to Harwich ; had passed a
whole night in imminent peril, and is so heartily frightened, that he will hear
no more of the sea as long as he lives. I therefore send him by Calais, and
only write that you may not be uneasy. He has unfortunately lost some of
the things he took for you.

Hyde Park afforded a new spectacle this morning. The large lake was
frozen, and swarmed with a gay and countless multitude of skaters and others,
who enjoyed these wintry pleasures, so rare here, with true child-like de-
light. 'A few years ago, in weather like this, a strange wager was laid. The
notorious Hunt deals in o >hoe-blacking : a large sort of wagon filled with it
and drawn by four fine horses, which the young gentleman his son drives
' four-in-hand,' daily traverses the city in all directions. This young Hunt
betted a hundred pounds that he would drive the equipage in question at full
speed across the ' Serpentine,' and won his wager in brilliant style. A.
caricature immortalized this feat, and the sale of his blacking, as is reasonable,
increased threefold.

My house is grown very musical, for Miss A , a newly-engaged opera-
singer, has come to live in it. The thin English walls give me the advan-
tage of hearing her every morning gratis.

I have not been well for some days. The town air does not agree with
me, and compels me to follow a ' regime' like that in your song':

" un bouillon
d'un roguon
de papillon."

C Hall, Feb. 2d.

Lord D , to whose wife I had been introduced in London invited, me

to visit him for a few days at his country house. I accepted his invitation

with more pleasure because C Hall is the place of which Repton says

that he had laboured at its embellishment, together with its proprietor, forty
years ago. Indeed it does him the greatest honour ; though, from all I saw
and heard, it appeared to me that the admirable taste of its Lord was entitled
to the largest share of the merit ; especially in sparing old trees which Rep-
ton would have removed. Nevertheless an honourable feeling of gratitude
has dedicated an alcove, commanding a wonderfully beautiful prospect, to
the man to whom landscape-gardening is so much indebted. Repton's son,

who was with us, had told Lady D a great deal about M ; and as

she is almost as good a ' parkomane' as myself, we had a very attractive
subject in common, and walked about for some hours in the flower-garden,
which is still more tasteful than splendid, and is adorned with some graceful
marble statues by Canova.

104 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

I did not see the master of the house, who was suffering from gout, till
we came down to dinner, when I met a large company ; amongst others

Lord M , who had just been to inspect the ships of war lying in the

Thames.

Lord D was lying on a sofa, covered with a Scotch plaid, and em-
barrassed me a little by his first address.

*' You don't know me," said he, " and yet we saw each other very often
thirty years ago." Now as I was in frocks at the time he spoke of, I was
obliged to beg for a further explanation, though I cannot say I was much
delighted at having my age so fully discussed before all the company, for
you know I claim not to look more than thirty. However, I could but ad-
mire Lord D 's memory. He remembered every circumstance of his

visit to my parents with the Duke of Portland, and recalled to me many a
little forgotten incident. What originals were then to be found, and how
joyously and heartily people entered into all sorts of amusement in those
days, his conversation gave me new and very entertaining proof of.

He mentioned among others a certain Baron, who believed as firmly in
ghosts as in the Gospel, and held Cagliostro for a sort of Messias. One
day when he went out alone, to skate on the lake near our house, the whole
party dressed themselves in sheets and other things borrowed from the ward-
robe of the theatre, and presented to the eyes of the terrified Illuminatus
the awful appearance of a party of ghosts, in broad daylight, on the ice. In
mortal terror he fell on his knees, spite of his skates ; and with a volubility
which the venerable Lord could not think of, even now, without laughing,
uttered " Abracadabra," and bits of Faust's incantations, interspersed with
fragments of quavering psalms. During this, one of the ghosts, who, with
the help of a long stick under his sheet, made himself sometimes tall and
sometimes low, slipped and fell, stripped of all disguise, directly before the
knees of the praying Baron. His faith was too robust, however, to be
shaken by such a trifle. On the contrary, his terror was increased to such
a pitch, that he sprang up, fell again, in consequence of his unlucky * chaus-
sure,' but soon scrambled up, and with a dexterity no one gave him credit
for before, vanished like the wind, amid the cheers of the whole company.

Even the confession of the whole joke by the actors in it never could
convince him that he had been hoaxed, and no power on earth could ever
induce him to see the frightful lake again as long as he remained at M .

You know I cannot avoid the reflections which often fill me with melan-
choly even on the most joyous occasions. So was it with me now, as Lord
D thus conjured up before me the picture of departed times ; as he eu-
logized my grandfather's amiable character, described my mother's high
spirit, and what a wild child I was : ' Helas, ils sont passes ces jours de
fete.' The amiable man has long lain mouldering in his grave ; the high-
spirited young woman is old, and no longer high-spirited; and even the
wild boy is more than tamed nay, not very far from those days in which
he will say, * I have no pleasure in them :" the mad-cap young Englishman
who played the ghost on the ice, lay before me, an old man, tortured with
gout, stretched helpless on a sofa, the tale of the merry pranks of his
youth interrupted by sighs extorted by pain ; while the poor fool whom he
so terrified as ghost has long been a ghost himself, and the good Lord would
be not a little alarmed if his visit happened to be returned. "Oh world,
world !" as Napoleon said.*

* I must explain this exclamation. When Napoleon, after the defeat at Aspern,

IRELAND AND PRANCE. 105

February Bd : Evening.

Lord D possesses a fine collection of pictures, among which are Ti-
tian's celebrated Venus; the death of Regulus, by Salvator Rosa; a large
picture of Rubens, which has frequently been engraved ; and a very fine
Guido. In the two latter indeed, a not very agreeable subject, a lifeless
head, is the principal object; in the one that of Cyrus, in the other that of
John the Baptist. But Guide's Herodias is another of those figures instinct
with the genius of poetical, divine beauty, uniting the most lovely woman-
liness with the deepest tragic expression, which leave so indelible an im-
pression, and are so seldom found in reality. There is a lady of your ac-
quaintance who corresponds with this ideal. Countess A of B .

She was, when I knew her,* the most beautiful and richly dressed woman I
ever beheld. Perfect symmetry, absolute harmony, reigned in her person
and in her mind ; so that the most heterogeneous things equally became her.
Majestic as a queen, when she was i en representation;' distinguished by
the most easy and graceful manners, the most exquisite knowledge of the
world, when doing the honours of her own house; and by the most 'naiVe,'
touching kindness and sweetness in the circle of her family ; but under
every aspect rendered more interesting and impressive by a trace of thought-
ful melancholy never wholly effaced, allied to that perfect feminine tender-
ness which gives to woman the highest and most resistless charm in the
eyes of men; her resemblance to this picture of Guido's was striking.
Two very pretty attendants of Herodias are in admirable contrast with the
main figure. They are perfect ladies-in-waiting, who have no soul for any-
thing beyond their court and their service ; and their beauty receives from
its very unmeaningness a certain rather animal character, which we can con-
template with an agreeable carelessness a sort of repose to the mind after
the profound and thrilling impression made by the main figure. The one
is watching the glance of her mistress with an unmeaning smile; the other
looks at the head of the Martyr in the charger with the same indifference as
if it were * a pudding.'

I must describe to you, once for all, the * vie de chateau' in England ; of
course only the common canvas, on which the Special is in every case em-
broidered by each man according to his fancy. The groundwork is in all
the same, nor did I find it at all altered from what I formerly saw here. It
forms, without any question, the most agreeable side of English life ; for
there is great freedom, and a banishment of most of the wearisome ceremo-
nies which, with us, tire both host and guest. Notwithstanding this, one
finds not less luxury than in the town ; this is rendered less burthensome by the
custom I mentioned of receiving guests only during a short period of the
year, and on invitation.

The ostentation which, doubtless, lies at the root of such customs, we
may well forgive, for the better reception it procures us.

Strangers have generally only one room allotted to them, usually a spa-
cious apartment on the first floor. Englishmen seldom go into this room
except to sleep, and to dress twice a-day, which, even without company and
in the most strictly domestic circle, is always 4 de riguer ;' for all meals are

put off in a frail boat with a few followers for the Island of Lobau, General Tcher-
nicheflf, then a very young man, was by his side. He relates, that the Emperor sate
profoundly absorbed in thought, spoke to nobody, and only now ajid then broke into
the half-suppressed exclamation, O monde, O monde !' He might, perhaps, silently

add, tu m'echappes' as a few years more verified EDITOR.

* And is still. .EDITOR.

106 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

commonly taken in company, and any one who wants to write does it in the
library. There, also, those who wish to converse give each other ' rendez-
vous,' to avoid either the whole society, or particular parties, in the forma-
tion of which people are quite at liberty. Here you have an opportunity of
gossiping for hours with the young ladies, who are always very literarily
inclined. Many a marriage is thus concocted or destroyed, between the

* corpus juris' on the one side and Bouffler's Works on the other, while
fashionable novels, as a sort of intermediate link, lie on the tables in the
middle.

Ten or eleven is the hour for breakfast, at which you may appear in ' ne-
gligee.' It is always of the same kind as that I described to you in the inn,
only of course more elegant and complete. The ladies do the honours of
the table very agreeably. If you come down later, when the breakfast is
removed, a servant brings you what you want. In many houses he is on
the watch till one o'clock, or even later, to see that stragglers do not starve.
That half-a-dozen newspapers must lie on the table for every one to read
who likes, is, of course, understood. The men now either go out hunting
or shooting, or on business ; the host does the same, without troubling him-
self in the least degree about his guests (the truest kindness and good breed-
ing;) and about half an hour before dinner the company meet again in the
drawing-room in elegant toilette.

The course and order of dinner I have already described to you.

# # * # * * * * * # * - * *

England is the true land of contrasts * du haut et du bas'-at every step.
Thus, even in elegant houses in the country, coachmen and grooms wait at
dinner, and are not always free from the odour of the stable. At the second
breakfast, the 4 luncheon,' which is served a few hours after the first, and is
generally eaten only by the women (who like to make * la petite bouche' at
dinner,) there are no napkins, and altogether less neatness and elegance than
at the other meals.

This as parenthesis : I now return to the * order of the day.' When the
men have drunk as much as they wish, they go in search of tea, coffee, and
the ladies, and remain for some hours with them, though without mixing
much. To-day, for instance, I observed the company was distributed in
the following manner. Our suffering host lay on the sofa, dosing a little ;
five ladies and gentlemen were very attentively reading in various sorts of
books (of this number I was one, having some views of parks before me ;)
another had been playing for a quarter of an hour with a long-suffering dog ;
two old Members of Parliament were disputing vehemently about the '* Corn
Bill;' and the rest of the company were in a dimly-lighted room adjoining,
where a pretty girl was playing on the piana-forte, and another, with a most
perforating voice, singing ballads.

I cannot help remarking here, that Lord and Lady D are among the

most enlightened, unpretending, and therefore most agreeable, of the people
of rank here. He is of the moderate Opposition, and desires the real good
of his country, and nothing else ; a patriot wholly devoid of egotism, the
noblest title that a cultivated man can bear. She is goodness, cordiality, and
unpretendingness itself.

A light supper of cold meats and fruits is brought, at which every one
helps himself, and shortly after midnight all retire. A number of small can-
dlesticks stand ready on a side-table ; every man takes his own, and lights
himself up to bed; for the greater part of the ser-vants, who have to rise
early, are, as is fair and reasonable, gone to bed. The eternal sitting of

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 107

servants in an ante-room is not the custom here ; and except at appointed
times, when their services are expected, they are little seen, and one waits
on oneself.

At night I found a most excellent chintz bed with a canopy. It was so
enormously large that I lay like an icicle in it, for the distant fire was too
remote to give any sensible warmth.

February 5th.

Between ourselves be it said, however agreeable, however unconstrained
may be one's abode in another's house, it isalways too constrained, too
unaccustomed, above all too dependent for me, proud and fond of ease as I
am, ever to feel perfectly at home. This I can be nowhere but wilhin my
own walls, and, next to that, in a travelling carriage or an inn. This may
not be the best taste in the world, but it is mine. There are so many men
who have no taste of their own, at all, that I am delighted with myself for
having one, though it be not of the best. I shall therefore not exhaust the
term of my invitation, but evacuate my large bed to-morrow, and proceed
to Brighton, a watering-place now in great fashion.

I have ridden all over the park here, in company with Lord D 's very

kind and polite son. It is less remarkable for features of striking beauty,
than for the absence of all defect. Some views through wooded valleys, of
the distant Thames, the town of Gravesend and its rising masts, have how-
ever a grand character; but nothing can exceed the incomparable skill with
which the walls of wood within the park are planted, in masterly imitation
of nature. As a study, I should recommend Cobham, in some respects,
more than any of the parks I have described ; though in extent and costliness
it is surpassed by many. It is very modest, but to the admirer of nature its
character is only the more delightful and satisfactory. It has also a great
variety of hill, valley, and wood.

I took leave of Lady D- in her own room ; a little sanctuary, furnish-
ed with delightful disorder and profusion : the walls full of small 'consoles,'
surmounted with mirrors and crowded with choice curiosities ; and the floor
covered with splendid camellias, in baskets, looking as if they grew there.

Among these flowers, dear Julia, I take my leave of you. I entreat you
to send me an answer of equal length, that your conscience may not reproach
you with loving me less than I love you.

Your hearty Friend, L .

LETTER XII.

Brighton, Feb. 7th, 1827.
BELOVED,

I TRAVELLED these sixty miles yesterday with great rapidity, and in~the
most charming state of indolence, without even the exertion of looking up ;
for one must once in a while travel like a fashionable Englishman.

It seems that here is a better atmosphere than in any other part of the
land of fog ; the bright sunshine waked me this morning as early as nine
o'clock.

1 soon went out ; first on the Marine Parade, which stretches to a con-
siderable extent along the sea ; then made a tour through the large, clean,
and very cheerful town, which with its broad streets is like the newest parts

108 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

of London; and concluded with visits to several London acquaintances. I
then rode out, for I had sent my horses here before me. Vainly did I look
around for a tree. The country is perfectly naked: nothing is to be seen
but hilly downs covered with short turf; and sea and sky are the only pic-
turesque objects : -even this first day of my visit they greeted me with the
most beautiful sunset. The majestic orb was veiled in a rosy transparent
mist, so that it darted forth no rays, but was like a ball of massive gold,
glowing with the most fervid heat : as it touched the water, it appeared slow-
ly to dissolve, and to spread itself over the surface of the blue deep. At
length Ocean swallowed the fiery globe ; the burning hues faded from red to
violet, then gradually to whitish gray, and at length the waves driven by the
evening wind, dashed murmuring on the shore in the dim twilight, as if in
triumph over the buried sun.

A distinguished old Minister enjoyed this noble spectacle with me, and
was fully alive to its beauty. Lord Harrowby is an amiable man, of mild
refined manners, and of great experience of the world and of business.

February 8th.

Public rooms, lists of visitors (J3adelisten),&Lc., do not exist here. Brigh-
ton has only the name of a bathing-place in our sense of the word, and is
chiefly resorted to by the inhabitants of London for recreation and pure air.
People who have no country -house, or who find London too expensive, spend
the winter, which is the fashionable season, here. The King was formerly
very fond of Brighton, and built a strange Oriental Palace, which seen from
the adjoining heights, with its cupolas and minarets, looks exactly like the
pieces on a chess-board. The interior is splendidly though fantastically
furnished. Although it has cost enormous sums, its possessor, long sick of
it, is said to have shown a desire to pull it down, which indeed would be no
great subject of lamentation.

The only large trees I have seen in the neighbourhood are in the gardens
of this Palace. But the walks by the sea are so ageeeable that one does very
well without ; especially the large Chain Pier, which extends a thousand
feet into the sea, and from whose extremity the steam-vessels sail for Dieppe
and Boulogne.

Not far from thence an Indian has established Oriental baths, where people
are shampooed after the Turkish fashion, which is said to be very healthful
and invigorating, and is in great favour with the fashionable world. I found
the interior arrangements very European. The treatment is like that in the
Russian vapour-baths, only I think not so good. I cannot help thinking the
sudden cold after such profuse perspiration very dangerous.

I thought the method of drying linen more worth imitating. It is laid in
a sort of wardrobe lined with tin, and kept at an equal heat by means of
steam.

February 9th.

The sun has disappeared again, and the cold has returned with such force
that I am writing to you in gloves for the better preservation of my white
hands, to which I, like Lord Byron, attach great importance. I honestly
confess I don't see that a man is * un fat' merely for trying to preserve the
little beauty God has given him ; at all events chapped hands are a horror
to me and always were. Talking of this, I remember that I was once in
the boudoir of a very beautiful woman in Strasburg, where I met Field-
marshal W (then only General), who in eulogizing Napoleon laid a

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 109

peculiar stress on his temperance, adding in a contemptuous tone, " A hero
could not be a gourmand.' " Now the fair lady, who was otherwise a very
kind friend of mine, knew me to be not quite insensible to ' bonne chere,'
to gratify her malicious pleasure in teasing me, made the General repeat his
observation. Though I never set up for a hero, (except in a little romance
or two, here and there,) I felt that I blushed ; one of those stupidities of
which I never could break myself, even on many occasions where there was
no ground for it. Provoked at myself, I said with some pique, " It is for-
tunate for the lovers of a good table, General, that there are a few brilliant
exceptions to your rule. Remember Alexander : it is true that a too luxu-
rious feast led him into the burning of Persepolis ; but I think you will
allow him to have been a hero for all that : and 'gourmandise' did not prevent
Frederick the Great from acquiring immortal renown, both as a warrior and
ruler. You, General, who have fought with the French with so much glory,
should not attack a good 'cuisine;' for that nation, however, distinguished
be her generals, will obtain a wider and perhaps more lasting fame from her
cooks." This last sentence was doubtless inspired by a prophetic spirit ;
and how would the enthusiastic eulogist of Napoleon have wondered, had I
told him that in a little while he would stand opposed to the great ' non-
gourmond' himself, and would receive one of the last effectual ' coups de
griffes' of the sick lion.

You think, I dare say, dear Julia, that this anecdote is as much in place

here as one of our friend H 's ' a-propos.' But you are mistaken. I

now go to adduce Alcibiades and Poniatowsky, as examples of men distin-
guished for attention to dress and to their persons ; thus proving from ex-
perience that neither sensibility to good cheer, nor a little ' fatuite,' are any
obstacles to heroism, if other qualities be not wanting.

A visit from Count F , one of the most agreeable and respectable re-
presentatives of Napoleon's time, who carried into the Imperial Court 4 les
souvenirs de 1'ancien regime,' and into the present one the reputation of
spotless integrity and fidelity, (a most rare instance !) here interrupted me.
He came to invite me to dinner to-morrow. This has detained me : it is
too late to ride ; I am not in the humour to seek Club society : I shall put

on a second dressing-gown, dream about you and M , read over your

letters, and patiently freeze in my room, for more than eight degrees of
heat I find it impossible to procure by means of an open fire in my airy and
many-windowed room. * Au revoir,' then.

February Wth.

It was fair that I should indemnify myself to-day for my confinement to
my room, so I wandered about in the neighbourhood for many hours. I
enjoyed my freedom the more, as I was to execute myself in the evening
at a great subscription ball.

The country all around is certainly very remarkable ; for in a four hours
ride I did not see a single full-grown tree. Yet the numerous hills, the
large town in the distance, several smaller ones scattered about, the sea and
ships all under rapidly changing lights, sufficiently diversified the land-
scape ; and even the contrast with the generally well-wooded character of
England was not without its charms. The sun'at length retired to rest in-
cognito, the sky cleared, and the moon rose cloudless and brilliant over the
waters. I now turned my horse's head from the hills down to the sea, and
rode five or six miles, about the distance to Brighton, hard on the edge of
the waves along the sandy shore. The tide was coming in, and my horse

110 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

sometimes shyed when a wave, crowned with snowy foam, rolled under
his feet and quickly retreated as if in sport.

I love nothing better than to ride alone hy moonlight on the wide shore,
alone with the plashing and roaring and murmuring of the waves ; so
near to the mysterious deep, that my horse can only be kept within reach
of its rolling waters by force, and as soon as his rein is loosened darts away
with redoubled speed towards the firm land.

How different from this poetical scene was the prosaic, ball ! which
moreover so little answered my expectations that I was perfectly astonish-
ed. A narrow staircase led directly into the ball-room, which was ill-lighted
and miserably furnished, and surrounded with worsted cords to divide the
dancers from the spectators. An orchestra for the musicians was hung with
ill-washed white draperies, which looked like sheets hung out to dry. Ima-
gine a second room near it, with benches along the walls, and a large tea-
table in the middle ; in both rooms the numerous company raven black from
head to foot, gloves inclusive ; a melancholy style of dancing, without the
least trace of vivacity or joyousness ; so that the only feeling you have is
that of compassion for the useless fatigue the poor people are enduring ;
and now you have a true idea of the Brighton Almack's, for so these very
fashionable balls are called. The whole establishment is droll enough.
Almack's balls in London are the resort of people of the highest rank dur-
ing the season, which lasts from April to June ; and five or six of the most

intensely fashionable ladies (Princess L among the number), who are

called Patronesses, distribute the tickets. It is an immense favour to obtain
one ; and, for people who do not belong to the very highest or most modish
world, very difficult. Intrigues are set on foot months beforehand, and the
Lady-patronesses flattered in the meanest and most servile manner, to secure
so important an advantage ; for those who have never been seen at Almack's
are regarded as utterly unfashionable I might almost say disreputable ; and
the would-be-fashionable English world naturally holds this to be the great-
est of all possible calamities. So true is this, that a novel was lately writ-
ten on this subject, which contains a very fair delineation of London socie-
ty, and has gone through three editions. On nearer observation, however,
one sees that it betrays more of the ante-chamber than of the * salon,'
that the author is one, as the Abbe de Voisenon said, * qui a ecoute aux
portes.'

How admirably well-informed the English are concerning foreigners is
seen in a passage in this novel, in which the wife of a foreign ambassador,
born however in England, is extremely facetious on the ignorant London-
ers who assigned a higher rank to a German Prince than to her husband the
Baron, whose title was far nobler. " But the word Prince," adds she,
" whose nullity is well known to everybody on the Continent, dazzled my
stupid countrymen." ' C'est bien vrai,' says a Frenchman, * un Due cirait
mes bottes a Naples, et a Petersbourg un Prince Russe me rasait tous les
matins.' " As the English generally mis-spell and mis-quote foreign words
and phrases, I strongly suspect that a slight mistake has crept in here, and
that it ought to be printed, " un Prince Russe me rossait tous les matins."*

* It is natural enough that it should be difficult for the English, who trouble them-
selves so little about anything non-English, to distinguish the respective ranks of Ger-
man, Russian, and French princes, and that they therefore place them sometimes too
high, sometimes too low. In England and France, there are properly no Princes but
those of the blood royal. If Englishmen or Frenchmen bear such titles, they are for-
eign ones, and were given to the younger sons of noble families ; for instance, the

IRELAND AND FRANCE. Ill

You may partly conceive the burlesque effect such a fashionable novel
produces on people in the middling society of London, who are continually
groping in the dark after ' le bel air,' are consequently in perpetual terror
and agony, lest they should betray their acquaintance with the great world,
and thus generally make themselves exquisitely ludicrous. I had a very
amusing example of this a few weeks before the publication of the book in
question.

1 was invited, with several other foreigners, to dine with a very rich

* * * -* # * * * * *

Among them was a German Prince, who had visited at the house before,
and, luckily for the farce, a German Baron also. When dinner was an-
nounced, the Prince advanced, as usual, to the lady of the house to hand
her out, and was not a little amazed when she turned her back upon him
with a slight curtesy, and took the arm of the most agreeably-surprised
Baron. A laugh, which I really found it impossible to suppress, almost
offended the good Prince, who could not explain to himself the extraordi-
nary behaviour of our hostess ; but, as I instantly guessed the cause, I soon
helped him out of his wonderment.

Regardless of rank, he now took the prettiest woman of the party ; while
I, for my part, made haste to secure , that I might be sure of an amus-
ing conversation during dinner. The soup was hardly removed, when I
expressed to her as politely as 1 could, how much her nice tact and exact
knowledge of the usages of even foreign society had surprised me. " Ah,"

replied she, " when one has been so long, one becomes thoroughly

acquainted with the world." " Certainly," replied I, " especially in ,

where 1 you have all that sort of thing in black and white." kt You see,"
said she, speaking rather low, " we know well enough that ' a foreign
Prince' is nothing very great, but to a Baron we give the honour due."
" Admirably distinguished !" exclaimed I ; " but in Italy you must be on
your guard, for there ' barone' means a rascal." " Is it possible ?" said
she ; *' what a strange title !" " Yes, madam, titles on the Continent are
mysterious things ; and were you the Sphinx herself, you would never
fathom the enigma." " May I help you to some fish ?" said she. " With
great pleasure," answered I, and found the turbot, even without a title, ex-
cellent.

But, to return to Almack's : The oddest thing is, that one of these
tickets, for which many English men and women struggle and strive, as if
for life and death, are, after all, to be paid for with the sum of ten shillings ;
for Almack's are neither more nor less than balls for money, Quelle folie
que le mode !' We are sometimes forced to conclude that our planet is the
mad-house of the solar system.

In Brighton we find the copy of London in little. The present Lady-
patronesses are * * * * -.*
When I entered, I saw no one of my acquaintance, and therefore addressed

Prince de Polignac, as second son, bears the Roman title of Prince ; the eldest, is
Duke de Polignac.

With the exception of a man of very exalted merit, there are no Princes in Ger-
many who are not of old family and high rank, with the appurtenant rights and pri-
vileges ; therefore Princes have in that country the first rank immediately after the
reigning houses. In Russia, on the other hand, the title of Prince is as good as no-
thing, since the service alone gives rank, privilege or importance ; and in Italy, the
title is not worth much more. The English mix all this up together, and seldom know
what sort of tone to take with a foreigner, or what place to assign to him.

112 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

myself to a gentleman near me to show me the Marchioness of , from

whom I had received my ticket, through the * entremise' of Countess F .

I was obliged to present myself to her, to return my thanks ; and found her
a very kind, amiable, domestic woman, who had never quitted England.

She introduced me to her daughters, and also to a certain Lady , who

spoke very good German. That is the fashion now, and the young ladies
labour hard to accomplish it.

I afterwards found- a gentleman of my acquaintance who introduced me

to several very pretty young ladies, among whom Miss W , a niece of

Lord C , was peculiarly distinguished. She was brought up in Ger-
many, and is more German than English, of course an advantage in my
eyes. She was by far the prettiest and most graceful girl in the room, so
that I was almost tempted to dance once more ; though from vanity (for I
always danced badly) I renounced that so-called pleasure years ago. I might
safely enough have attempted it here, for God knows, nowhere do people
jump about more awkwardly ; and a man who waltzes in time is a real cu-
riosity. But it seems to me too ludicrous, to join the worshippers of the
tarantula so far on my way towards forty. * II est vrai que la fortune m'a
souvent envoye promener, mais danser c'est trop fort!'

I was told that the chief of a Highland clan, with a name as long as a
Spaniard's, a descendant of some island king, and proud as Holofernes of
a thousand years of noble ancestry, wished to make my acquaintance. I
had reason to congratulate myself on making his ; for I found him a living
model of one of Walter Scott's pictures. A genuine Highland Scot, hang-
ing with body and soul on ancestry and ancient customs, having great con-
tempt for the English, full of fire, good-natured, loyal-hearted, and brave ?
but childishly vain, and, on that side, as easy to wound as to win. I very
gladly took refuge from the tedium of the crowd in conversation with a man
of so original a character. I sat down by him on a bench in the tea-room,
and got him to tell me of all the glories of his ancient heritage, all the bat-
tles of his forefathers, and his own travels and adventures. The worthy
man described to me at great length his Highland dress, to which he evi-
dently attached immense importance ; and told me a long history of the ef-
fect his appearance in it had produced on the Court of Berlin. There was
doubtless enough to excite a smile in his account of the astonishment of the
King and Queen, and of the signal attentions his striking dress commanded ;
yet there was a fire and a simplicity in his manner of relating the triumphs
of his national costume, that touched me extremely.

February llth.

This morning I went to church, with a full intention of being pious ;
but it did not succeed. Everything was too cold, dry, and unaesthetic. I
am an advocate for a more imaginative worship, though it be addressed
rather more to the senses. If we did but follow Nature, we should find
her the best instructress in religion, as in other things. Is it not by her
most magnificent and sublime spectacles that she awakens our hearts to'
emotions of piety ? by the painting of her sunsets, by the music of the
rolling deep, by the forms of her mountains and her rocks ? Be not wiser,
my brethren, than him who created all these wonders, and formed the hu-
man heart to feel them ; but imitate him, according to the measure of your
feeble powers.

But on this matter I should preach to deaf ears, except to yours, dear
Julia; they have long listened, with me, to the heavenly song of the

IRELAND AND TRANCE. 113

spheres, which ceaselessly resounds in the eternal, beautiful creation, if men
did not stop their ears with the cotton of positive dogmas and traditions,
through which they cannot hear it.*

The sermon too which I heard, though prepared beforehand, and read,
was stony and unprofitable. Preachers would do much more good if they
would lay aside the old mechanical custom of taking texts only out of the
Bible, and take them from local life and circumstances, and from human so-
ciety as it now exists ; if they would rather seek to foster the in-dwelling
poetical religion, than the mere spirit of dogma ; if they would treat moral-
ity not only as the Commanded, but as the Beautiful and the Useful, the
Necessary, indeed, to the happiness of the individual, and of society. If
more pains were taken to instruct the working-man from the pulpit, to
form him to think instead of to believe, crime would soon become less fre-
quent; he would begin to feel a real interest in what he heard, a positive
want of the church and of the sermon, for his own guidance and informa-
tion : whereas he now attends them mechanically and without reflection, or
from some motives equally unprofitable. The laws of the land, too, and not
the Ten Commandments alone, should be declared and expounded to the
people from the pulpit ; they should be made perfectly conversant with
them, and with the grounds of them ; for, to use the words of Christ, how
many sin without knowing what they do !t

The best practical receipt for a universal morality is, without doubt, to
ask oneself whether an action, or course of action, if adopted by every man,
would be useful or injurious to society. In the first case, it is of course good,
in the second, bad. Had Governments, and those upon whom devolves
the sacred and neglected duty of instructing the people, habituated them to
the constant application of this test or measure of conduct, and then demon-
strated to them, directly, ' ad oculos,' the inevitable, ultimate reaction of
evil conduct on themselves, they would, in the course of a few years, have
improved not only the morality of the country, but its physical condition
and commercial prosperity : whereas the ordinary priestly wisdom, which
sets faith, authority, and dogma above everything, has left mankind in the
same state for centuries, if indeed it have not made them worse.

It would, perhaps, do no harm occasionally to choose teachers who have
been converted to virt. 1 ^ by experience of the evil consequences of vice (as,
for instance, the late Werner,) and who are therefore best informed on the
subject. Not only is there more joy in heaven over one sinner that repent-

* My departed friend was possessed with a sort of fixed idea that a new Church
was at hand. What a pity that he did not live to witness what is now forming 1 ! I
have just read the following consolatory announcement in the Jlllgemeine Zeitung:

"To the Unknown.

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

f In this case it were, indeed, desirable that our laws should be brought nearer to
the comprehension of the people ; that instead of a hundred different provincial and
local laws, we had one code for the whole monarchy ; so that an act should not be le-
gal in one village, which ten miles off is illegal ; in short, that the P Jurists should

at length become workers in bronze, and not tinkers. EDITOR.

114 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

6th than over ninety-and-nine just men, but such a man is more firm in hisi
Convictions and perceptions, and generally more zealous in reclaiming others,
fig the exrmples of many holy men prove.

Above all, in every well-organized society all clergymen, be they of what
persuasion they may, must, in my opinion, be paid by fixed salary, and not
be permitted to take money for every separate consolation of real, or cere-
rnony of conventional, religion ; & meanness which necessarily destroys
all true reverence for the priest, and which must degrade him in his own
eyes, if he have any delicacy. It is really dreadful to see the poor man stick
hig two groschen behind the altar for the holy elements he has just receiv-
ed j or crowd a fee into the reverend gentleman's hand when his child is
Christened, just as if he were giving him a shilling to drink. But when we
hear the parson storm and scold from the pulpit, because his offerings and
tithes decrease ; when we hear him announce such a falling-off in his reve-
nues as a proof of the decline of religion ; then, indeed, we feel distinctly
\vhy there are so many parsons, and what they themselves regard as their
true and proper vocation. Soldiers naturally love war, and in like manner
priests love religion,* for their own advantage. But patriots love war only
as a means of obtaining freedom; and philosophers, religion only for its
beauty and its truth.

That is the difference. But, as the author of the Zillah so truly says,
" Establishments endure longer than opinions ; the church outlasts the faith
tyhich founded it ; and if a priesthood has once, succeeded in interweaving
itself with the institutions of the country, it may continue to subsist and to
flourish long after its forms of worship is regarded with aversion and con-
tempt."

The afternoon was more satisfactory. I climbed the hills around the
town, and at last crept up to the top of a windmill in order to see the whole
panorama of Brighton. The wind turned the sails of the mill with such
force that the whole building rocked like a ship. The miller's lad, who
had shown me the way up, went to a flourbin and took out a telescope.
Spite of its soft bed, it was unhappily broken. I was however well satis-
fied with the general view, enlivened as it was by hundreds of fishing-boats
Which seemed struggling with the storm, and hastened back with the sink-
ing sun to my social duties.

The party at Count F 's was small but interesting ; it was rendered

60 in the first place by the host himself; then by a lady celebrated for her
beauty ; and lastly, by a former well-known leader of ' ton' in Paris. In
his youth he played a considerable part there, and was at the same time
Constantly implicated in political affairs. He now passes a great part of the
year in England, probably still not without political views. He is one of
that sort of men, daily becoming more rare, who live in great style, one
knows not how ; contrive to acquire a sort of authority everywhere, one
knows not why ; and under whom one always expects to find something

mysterious, one knows not wherefore. is very agreeable, at least

when he chooses : he narrates admirably, and has forgotten nothing of his
eventful life which can give zest to his conversation. For adventurers of
this high order, whose consummate knowledge of the world affords conti-
nual matter for admiration, (though generally employed only to make dupes,)
the French character is better suited than any other. Their agreeableness
in society smooths their way; and their not over warm hearts and oecono-
mical understandings, (if I may use the expression,) admirably enable them
to keep all the ground they have won, and to maintain a firm footing on it
For ever.

The clever man of whom I am now speaking plays also very agreeably ;

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 115

and jestingly declares, like Fox, that after the pleasure of winning, he knows
no greater than that of losing.

We talked a great deal about Napoleon, of whom our host, like all who
lived long in immediate intercourse with him, could not speak without vene-
ration. He mentioned a circumstance which struck me. The Emperor, he
said, was so incredibly exhausted by the violent excitement of the Hundred
Days and the events that succeeded them, that on his retreat from Waterloo,
in the early part of which he was protected by a batallion of his ' Garde,'
he proceeded very slowly, and without any precipitation (quite contrary to
our version of the affair.) Two or three times he fell asleep on his horse;

and would have fallen off, had not Count F himself held him on. But

the Count declared that, except by this complete corporeal exhaustion, he
never exhibited the slightest mark of internal agitation,

February 14th.

My original friend, the Scot who, I am told, has killed two or three men
in duels visited me this morning, and brought me his genealogy, printed,
with the whole history of his race or ' clan.' He complained bitterly that
another man of his name contested the rank of chieftain with him ; and took
great pains to prove to me, from the work he had brought, that he was the
true one : he added, that " the judgment of Heaven between them would be
the best way of deciding their respective claims." He then called my at*
tention to his arms, of the origin of which he related a curious history.

It was, like most of these traditions, poetical enough, and a striking picture
of those rude but vigorous ages. I did not fail to relate to him a ' pendant'
to his story, from the Nibelungenlied, concerning my own ancestors ; pro-
bably both were equally true. We parted over the ghosts of our forefathers,
the best friends in the world.

There are now private balls every evening : and in rooms to which a re-
spectable German citizen would not venture to invite twelve people, some
hundreds are here packed like negro slaves. It is even worse than in Lon*
don ; and the space allotted to the quadrilles allows only the mathematical
possibility of making something like dancing demonstrations. A ball with'
out this crowd would be despised; and a visitor of any fashion who found
the staircase empty, would probably drive away from the door. This strange
taste reminded me of one of Potier's characters, a 'ci-devant jeune homme 7
who orders a pair of pantaloons of his tailor which are to be ' extraordinaire-
ment collant:' as the 'artiste' is going away he calls after him, " Entendez
vous ? extraordinairement collant; si j'y entre, je ne le prends pas." la
like manner, an English dandy would say of a rout, "Si j'y entre, je n'y
vais pas."

W lien you are once in, however, I must confess that nowhere do you see a
greater number of pretty girls, against whom you are squeezed ' bongre mal-
gre,' than here. Some of them have been educated for a year or two in
France, and are distinguished for a better ' tournure' and style of dress ;
many of them speak German. A man may have as many invitations to
* soirees' of this sort as he likes ; but he may go away as perfect a stranger
as if he had been uninvited; for if he does not stay long, he does not so much
as see the hostess, and certainly she does not know half the people present.
At one o'clock a very ' recherche' cold supper is served, with ' force cham-
pagne.' The supper-room is usually on the ground-floor, and the table of
course cannot contain above twenty persons at a time, so that the company
go down in troops, and meet, pushing and elbowing, on the narrow

116 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

case. If you succeed in getting a seat, you may rest a little ; and many
avail themselves of this privilege with small regard to their successors : little
attention is paid to giving place to the ladies. On the other hand, the ser-
vants are very active in continually replacing the dishes and bottles, as fast
as they are emptied, on the side of the table to which the guests have no
access.

In order to see the whole of the thing, I stayed till four in the morning
in one of the best houses, and found the end of the fete, after three-fourths
of the company were gone, the most agreeable ; the more so as the daugh-
ters of the house were remarkably pretty amiable girls. There were some
famous originals, however, at the ball ; among others, a fat lady of at least
fifty-five, dressed in black velvet with white trimmings, and a turban with
floating ostrich feathers, who waltzed like a Bacchante whenever she could
find room. Her very pretty daughters tried in vain to rival their mamma.
My curiosity being excited by such a display of Herculean vigour and per-
tinacity, I found the lady's large fortune had been made by speculations in
cattle. The music in most of these balls was extremely meagre and bad.
The musicians, however, contrive to produce such a noise with such instru-
ments as they have, that you cannot hear yourself speak near them.

February 16th.

I read yesterday that " strong passions are increased by distance." Mine
for you must be very strong then though indeed tender friendship is ever
the surest of any for I love you better than ever : but this is intelligible
enough. If we truly love a person, we have, when absent from him, only
his good and agreeable qualities before our eyes ; the unpleasant little de-
fects which exist in every man, and which, however trifling they may be,
annoy us when present, vanish from our recollection,' and thus love natu-
rally increases in absence. And you what do you think on this subject?
How many more faults have you to cover with the mantle of Christian love
in me !

I am going to London to-morrow, expressly to deliver this letter to our
ambassador with my own hands, since the last was delayed so long. Prob-
ably it fell into the hands of the curious, for we shall not soon get rid of the
* infamie' of opening letters. In two days I shall return, and shall be hap-
py enough to miss three or four balls in the interval. I took a long walk
this morning, and this time not entirely alone, but with one of the many
agreeable girls I have met with here. When young unmarried women are
once 4 lancees' in the world, they enjoy more rational freedom in England
than in any other country in Europe. The young lady l quaBSlionis' was
just seventeen, and polished in Paris.

On my return home I found, to my no small astonishment, a letter from
the luckless R , who has been again driven back to Harwich, and de-
spairingly implores money and help. Contrary to my desire, as I now
learn for the first time, he did not go by Calais. These wanderings of the
Garden-Odysseus are as ludicrous as they are disagreeable, and you will
doubtless think the adventurer * malgre lui' is eaten by the fishes, till you
have ocular proof of the contrary. I recollect that twelve years ago, about
this same season, I was going to embark for Hamburg, from which I was
fortunately dissuaded by my old French valet. He said, with rather an odd
turn of expression ; ** Dans ces terns ci, il y a toujours quelques equinoxes
dangereuses, qui peuvent devenir funestes." He was right ; the vessel was
wrecked, and several lives lost.

London, Feb. ISth.

Honour to Mr. Temple ! Your letter, which he forwarded, reached me

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 117

in ten days, while those which come through our diplomacy are three weeks
on the road. Give him my best thanks. I laughed heartily at the news

H sends me so humourously. The little Criminal-rath (* conseiller

criminel') whom the jester calls 4 le Rat criminel ; the ' Renvoye extraordi-
naire,' and the * Diplomate a la fourchette,' are admirably painted ; so is
The Fortunate house- court- state- and body-servant. Don't wonder at his
success : it is indisputable that there is a sort of narrowness which almost
always succeeds in the world ; and a character of mind which never suc-
ceeds. Mine is of this latter sort a fantastic picture-making mind, that
fashions its own dream-world anew every day, and thence remains for ever
a stranger in the actual world. You tell me that if Foriune had offered her-
self to me, I should have slighted her, or at most, playfully taken her by
the finger, instead of clutching her earnestly ; that I never valued the pre-
sent till it stood as a picture in the far distance ; that then indeed it was
often a picture of repentance and regret; the future, a picture of longing
and aspiration ; the present, never anything but a misty spot. * A merveille.'
You say all this most charmingly ; and I must acknowledge that nobody
understands better how to moralize impressively than you. If it were but
of any use to me ! But tell me, if you could convince the lame man that
it were far better for him not to be lame ; as soon as the poor wretch tries
to set one foot before the other, does he limp the less ? Naturam expellas
furca,' &c. Vainly do you desire your stomach to digest better, your wit
to be sharper, your reason to be more efficient : things go on in their old
train, with a few modifications.

The decisions of the Ministers on the S affair, which you commu-
nicate to me, also remain after the old sort, in spite of the extreme polite-
ness of those gentlemen. Is it not strange, however, that our inferior func-
tionaries distinguish themselves as much by their ' tracasseries,' and by
their ill-bred, and I might say contemptuous style, as the higher do (with
a single exception) by their care in using none but the most refined and
polished forms ? Do not these on this very account wear the appearance of
the bittereyt irony ? You may give this as a subject for a prize-essay to our
G dilettante academy.

* A propos,' who is that very wise Minister of whom II speaks ?

Ah ha ! I guess but all Ministers are now-a-days so wise 'ex officio,' that
it is difficult to know which he means. The other, however, I guessed in-
stantly* as well as the pure horizontal individual, whose illness grieves me
heartily ; for when he is well, he stands, in my opinion, most singularly
perpendicular, towering above disfavour or envy, by the dignity of his cha-
racter, and by Bis experience and talents for business. There are, to be
sure, some official persons in our country whom one might fairly ask, with
Burger's Lenore, every time one sees them, " Bist lebend, Liebster, oder
todt?"*

Heaven preserve us both in better health of body and mind ! And, above
all, may it preserve to me your tender friendship, the most essential ele-
ment of my well-being !

Your faithful L .

LETTER XIII.

Brighton, Feb. 19th, 1827.
DEAR JULIA,

* To make the best of my time,' (as the practical English say,) before I
left town yesterday I visited three theatres in succession. In the first piece

* Art living, dearest, or dead?'

118 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

I saw, the principal person was an Irish servant. According to all I have
been able to learn from plays and novels, these Irish must be an odd people,
of a fresh originality very unlike the English. Irish beggars are very
common in the streets of London, where they are easily recognized by their
Gascon-like manner and dialect. A modern author remarks with equal
drollery and truth : " The English beggar whines out the same monotonous
words in a drawling tone, ' Give a poor man a halfpenny, Give a poor man
a halfpenny.' What an orator is his Irish colleague ! ' O your honour, give
us a penny, only one blessed penny, your honour's honour, and God's
blessing be upon your children, and your children's children ! Give us only
one little penny, and may Heaven grant you a long life, and a quiet death,
and a blessed resurrection !' " Who can withstand entreaties so humorously
moving ?

In the next theatre we were regaled with a pantomime, in which was a
quadrille of birds, and another of tea-things ; after which the tea-pot, milk-
jug, and cup, executed a ' pas de trois,' while spoons, knives, and forks
danced around them as * figurantes.' The birds were ' a s'y meprendre,'
and I recommend something of the same kind, with parrots which might

speak too, to be arranged for the S Court theatre by Mephistophiles.

A clever account of it would be a still further novelty, and a tea-kettle and
accompaniments would be very suitable additions to the society.

I saw the Indian jugglers for the third time. They exhibited something
quite new. Instead of balls, they threw up and caught short burning
torches. This produces a curious sort of fire-work, a continuous develope-
ment of burning figures, wheels, serpents, triangles, stars, flowers, &c.,
as if in a kaleidescope. The immovable steadiness and accuracy of these
people never misses.

The fantastic absurdities of the pantomimes probably affected my imagi-
nation in the night, which I dosed away between London and Brighton ; for
I had the strangest visions in my carriage. At first I was mounted on my
beautiful gray, whom for once I could not manage : he constantly resisted
my will ; and when at last I mastered him, shook his head with such fury,
that it broke from his neck and flew to a distance of twenty paces, while I
plunged down a precipice on the headless body. I was next sitting on a
bench in my park, and watching the devastations made by a frightful hurri-
cane, which tore up the old trees far and near, and threw them together like
faggots. At last I quarrelled with you, dear Julia, and in despair went for
a soldier. I forgot you (which is possible only in sleep,) and found myself
in my new sphere, once more young and brilliant, full of fresh spirit, and
not less full of wanton pride. It was the day of battle. 'The thunder of
the cannon rolled magnificently ; noble martial music accompanied it, and
animated our spirits ; while, with the prerogative of a dream, we sat quietly
breakfasting on a ' pate aux truffes et champagne,' in the midst of a fire of
musketry. A spent cannon-ball now came ' en ricochet' towards us ; and
before I could spring aside, carried off the head of my comrade, who was
sitting on the ground by my side, and both my legs, so that I fell groaning
with pain and horror. When I recovered my senses, the storm was roar-
ing around me, and the sea howled in my ears. I thought myself on the
voyage, when, behold my carriage stopped at the door of the inn on the
Marine Parade at Brighton ! To-morrow perhaps I shall dream out the rest.
But are the waking fancies of life much less confused? Castles in the air,
for good and for evil ; nothing but castles in the air. Some stand for mi-
nutes, some for years, some for tens* of years ; but they all fall at last, and

* Jahrzehende, Jahrhunderte, Jakrtausende, from Jahre. Corresponding to these con-
venient forms, we have only centuries. It is to be remarked, too, that each has its ad-

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 119

palace, just as easily as a miserable hut, a grave or a dungeon. But you are
ever by, my Julia, either sharing the palace, adorning the hut, weeping over
the grave, or consoling me in bonds. At this moment I am floating midway,
without any determinate abode : I am, however, all the more ethereal and
light-hearted for that ; but, I must confess, with a very sleepy physique,'
for it is three in the morning : and so I kiss your hand, and bid you good-
night. But I beg you to look in your dream-book what these adventures of
mine portend.

You know my favourite superstition, which I set too high a value upon to
have it torn from me by chaffy reasonings. As, for instance, when an ' es-
prit fort' shrugs up his shoulder, (if he does not venture to turn up his nose
in my face,) or a well-anointed priest says, " It is extraordinary to see how
inconsistently many men refuse to believe in religion, (by which parsons
always mean their Church and its ordinances,) and yet give way to the ut-
most credulity in the greatest absurdities." " But, reverend Sir," I ask in
reply, " in what then do these absurdities consist?" " Why, the belief in
sympathies, in dreams, in the influence of the stars, and so on." "But,
most respected Sir, I see no inconsistency in the matter. Every reflecting
man must confess that there are a number of mysterious powers in nature,*
influences, and attractions, both of our earth, and of the system to which
it belongs, of which many that formerly passed for fables have been dis-
covered ; others that as yet we do but suspect or divine, and cannot ascer-
tain. It is therefore by no means contrary to reason to make one's own hy-
pothesis concerning them, and to believe in these more or less. I do not,
therefore, contest your miracles, nor your symbols ; I contest only certain
other things, which many of you teach, and which are equally incompre-
hensible to the understanding and repugnant to the heart : for instance, a
God more passionate and partial than the frailest man,; infinite torments ap-
pointed by infinite love, for finite sins ; arbitrarily-predestined forgiveness or
damnation, and so on. Such things can be possible only when two and
two shall make five, and no superstition can approach the insanity of such
a belief."

February 22nd.

I am just returned from a grand Almack's fancy ball, where everybody
was either in s6me fantastic outlandish dress, or in uniform, a ' melange'
which does not seem to me in very good taste, nor very respectful to the
latter. You may imagine that my friend the Highland chieftain did not fail
to appear in his national costume. It is really very handsome ; in the high-
est degree rich, picturesque, and manly : the only thing that does not please
me is the shoes with the large buckles. The sword is just in the form of
one of our student's rapiers ; and besides that, there is a dagger, pistols, and
cartouche-box. The arms are set with precious stones ; and an eagle's fea-
ther, the badge of a chieftain, adorns the cap.

I escorted two ladies to the ball, the one a good-natured and sensible
woman, still very pretty at five-and-thirty, who likes the world and is liked
by it, and nurses an invalid husband with the most unremitting care. Her
* tournure' is agreeable, her disposition kind and good, so that she is just
the person * pour en faire une amie dans le monde.' The other lady, her
intimate friend, is a young and very pretty widow ; not a very considerable
only seem realities. Nobody can furnish a greater abundance of plans to archi-
tects of such castles than I. On the slightest inducement I can build a fairy

jectival and adverbial form. The poverty of the English, and still more of the French
language makes it impossible to translate adequately into them from the German.
TRANSL.

120 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

person, but a good-tempered friendly little creature, who is perfectly con-
tented if you tell her that her teeth are pearls and her eyes violets.

1 had no reason to be ashamed of my ladies, either as to person or dress ;

but they, and all present, were eclipsed by the youthful Miss . She is

really one of the most beautiful girls I have seen, a little sylph, who
must have stolen her exquisite foot and her graces from another land. She
is only sixteen, wild, and mobile as quicksilver ; unwearied in dancing as
in frolic. I was so fortunate as to gain her good graces to-day by a lucky
offering. This consisted in a * cornet' of remarkably well-made ' bonbon'
crackers, in the distribution of which she had found infinite diversion at the
last ball. This indecorum had been strongly reprobated by the mammas ;
so that there were no more to be had at supper, as heretofore. I had provi-
dentially laid in a stock at the confectioner's, and now presented them to her
unexpectedly ; and I doubt whether the gift of a million of money would
give poor me half the pleasure I now bestowed by such a trifle. The little
thing was in an ecstacy of delight, and immediately prepared her batteries,
which were the more successful, as the enemy thought themselves secure.
At every explosion she laughed as if she would kill herself; and every time
I met her she smiled upon me with her sparkling eyes, as sweetly as a lit-
tle angel. Poor child ! this perfect innocence, this overflow of happiness
and joy, touched me deeply for, alas ! she will soon, like all the rest, be
undeceived.

There were many other very pretty young women ; but they were too
* dressees ; some were loaded with jewels and trinkets, but none were com-
parable to this girl.

February 24th.

I spent this evening at Mrs. F 's, a very dignified and delightful wo"

man, formerly, as it is affirmed, married to the King. She is now without
influence in that region, but still universally beloved and respected, ' d'un
excellent ton et sans pretension.' I there heard some interesting details
concerning Lord Liverpool: a man who, an hour before, ruled half a world
with energy and sagacity, becomes an * imbecile' from the neglect to open a
vein ! His predecessor, Lord Castlereagh, from the same cause commits
suicide ! On how frail a tenure hangs the human intellect !

In this house one sees only ' beau monde.' Indeed there is not much of
the very emptiest, the exclusive society here ; or they live completely re-
tired, that they may not come into collision with the persons they call 'No-
bodies,' whom they shun with greater horror than Brahmins shun Farias.
Though my station and connexions allow me to enter the sanctuary, I do
not on that account disdain the world without. As a foreigner, and still
more as an independent man, I take the liberty to seek enjoyment wherever
I can find it, unfettered by such restrictions, nor do I always find the most
in the highest places. Even the vulgar and laughable ' singerie' of the * par-
venus' is sometimes extremely amusing, and has a much more burlesque
character in England than in any other country ; since wealth, establish-
ment, and luxury, in a word, all their ' entourage,' are essentially the
same as those of the great and high-bred ; only the persons wander among
them as if stripped bare.

Here occurred a long pause in my correspondence. Pardon, I was eat-
ing my solitary dinner; a snipe stood before me, a ' mouton qui reve' by
my side. You guess who is the latter. Don't be distressed about the place
on the left, for on the right is a blazing fire, and I know how much you fear
that.

I shall spend the evening again at Count F 's, who is of the Brahmin

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 121

class. Have I described him to you ? He is no insignificant person. Uniting
French agreeableness with English solidity, he speaks both languages with
nearly equal ease and fluency. Though no longer young, he is still a hand-
some man, and his external appearance is rendered more striking by a very
noble, dignified air. Simple, and thoroughly polite, cheerful without sar-
casm or malignity, his conversation amuses and satisfies, even when it is not
brilliant at the moment. His wife is neither remarkable for beauty nor the
contrary. She has sense, * 1'usage du grand monde, et quelque fois de la
politesse ;' no inconsiderable talent for music, and ten-thousand a-year. With
all these materials, I need not tell you the house is an extremely pleasant
one.

February 25th.

There is a delightful custom for the men at English balls. After the con"
elusion of a dance, each takes his partner on his arm, and walks about with
her till the next begins. Many a man has thus time to conquer his timidity,
and nothing is wanting but our large and numerous rooms to make it more
agreeable. Here there is no wider field to expatiate in than down the stairs
to the eating-room, and up again ; still many a gentle word may be whispered
in the crowd, for nobody heeds what his neighbour does.

As I am tormented on all sides to dance, (a German who does not waltz
appears incomprehensible here,) and do not like it, I have given out that I
am restrained by a vow, and leave it to be inferred that it is a tender one.
The ladies do not know how to reconcile this with the persuasion that I
came here in search of a wife, which they stoutly maintain. Thank Hea-
ven ! I find my tranquillity quite undisturbed. * * *
A poor Englishman here is in much worse plight. He threw himself off the
pier to-day, being, as the English say, ' crossed in love,' and only yesterday
he was dancing as if stung by a tarantula. The poor fellow must have been
like the turkeys that are made to dance ballets in Paris by being set on a metal
plate, under which a fire is lighted. The spectator who sees their convul-
sive bounds, thinks they are very merry, while the poor things are burning
by inches.

I have often complained that Brighton has no vegetation ; but the sunsets
in the sea, and the cloud-pictures by which they are accompanied, excdedall
I ever beheld in variety. To-day it had rained all day, and in the evening,
when it cleared up, a dark range of mountains formed itself above the watery
mirror, gradually acquiring a firmer consistency as the sun reached the highest
peak, and broke through the black masses as if with clefts of flaming gold;
I thought I saw Vesuvius again, streaming with lava. After I had attended
this magnificent ' coucher' of the monarch of the heavens till its last moment,
I wandered about the bare downs till it was perfectly dark, scouring hill and
dale on my swift steed. Probably he too had pictures in his fancy which
urged him to greater speed, enticing visions of oats and hay.

March I4tk.*

These everlasting balls, concerts, dinners, and promenades, I cannot call
exactly tedious, but time-killing. Meanwhile a poor dying man has taken
up his abode in my house; and his groans and complaints, which all night
long reach me through the thin walls, form too sharp and melancholy a con-
trast with this abode of frivolity and dissipation. I can do nothing for him,
so I shall leave the house to-morrow for London.

I have received both your letters, and am heartily grieved to hear that both

* The account of the intermediate days has been suppressed. EDITOR.

122 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

cook and doctor are wanting at your baths. You must do everything you
can to get both these important chemists, (destined by Nature to play into
each other's hands,) as soon as possible, and of the best quality.

You know that a celebrated French physician, the first time he was call-
ed into a house, always began by running into the kitchen, embracing the
cook, and thanking him for a new patient.

When Louis the Fourteenth grew worse and worse, and, distrusting his
own physicians, consulted our Esculapius, the latter made representations to
the first ' homme de bonne bouche' that he should provide fewer and simpler
dishes for the King. "Allons done, Monsieur," replied the heroic cook,
embracing the physician, '* rnon metier est de faire manger la Roi, le votre
de lui en oter les suites. Faisons chacun le notre."

Before I left Brighton I was forced to be present at a musical ' soiree,' one
of the severest trials to which foreigners in England are exposed. Every
mother who has grown-up daughters, for whom she has had to pay large
sums to the music-master, chooses to enjoy the satisfaction of having the
youthful ' talent' admired. There is nothing therefore but quavering and
strumming right and left, so that one is really overpowered and unhappy :
and even if an Englishwomen has the power of singing, she has scarcely
ever either science or manner. The men are much more agreeable * deletanti,'
for they, at least, give one the diversion of a comical farce. That a man
should advance to the piano-forte with far greater confidence than a David,
strike with his forefinger the note he thinks his song should begin with, and
then 'entonner,' like a thunder-clap, (generally a note or two lower than the
pitch,) and sing through a long 'aria' without rest or pause, and without ac-
companiment of any sort, except the most wonderful distortions of the face,
is a thing one must have seen to believe it possible, especially in the pre-
sence of at least fifty people. Sometimes the thing is heightened by their
making choice of Italian songs ; and, in their total ignorance of the language,
roaring out, words,' which, if they were understood by the ladies, would force
them to leave the room. It did not appear to me that people constrained
themselves much in laughing on these occasions : but some vocalists are far
too well established in their own opinion to be disturbed by that; once
let loose upon society, they are extremely hard to call off again.

London, Feb. 17th.

I am once more in Albemarle Street, and after my long absence I yester-
day paid no fewer than twenty-two visits ; dined at a Club dinner ;* went
to a ball at the house of the above-mentioned fair Napoleonist, and closed
the day with a * soiree' at Mrs. Hope's, a very fashionable and pretty wo-
man, wife of the author of Anastasius.

To-day I visited * in another quarter' two Chinese ladies who also receive
company here, and in a very original style too, only one must pay one's

* entree.' Even from the very staircase everything is arranged as if in China
itself; and when you enter, and see the ladies reclining, with outstretched
feet five inches in length, under an illumination of paper lanterns, you may
almost fancy yourself in Canton. They claim to be of high descent, to
which their feet bear witness ; for the lower classes, of course, have not
this distinguishing mark. The small-footed women have so little centri-
pedal power, that they" can hardly totter from one ottoman to another with-
out a stick.

I am a passionate admirer of small feet in women ; but these are too
small, and horrible to behold naked : the toes, doubled under from infancy,

* A note explanatory of this word is omitted, as unnecessary in England.

IRELAND AND FRANCE. 123

are literally grown into the sole. This practice is nearly as absurd as the
stays of our ladies, though perhaps not quite so injurious to the health.

I bought a new pair of shoes of these princesses, which I made them try-
on before my eyes. I send them to you, together with several other Chi-
nesiana, silk hangings, pictures, &c. ; among others, portraits of the Em-
peror and Empress. The good creatures seem to me, spite of their quali-
ty, to have brought a complete warehouse with them, for the moment a
thing is sold it is replaced by another. Though they have been for some
time in England, they have not learned a single word of English. Their
own language appeared to me very heavy and dragging ; and their faces
were, to a European taste, more than ugly.

February 18th.

The Italian Opera has commenced, -the only theatre 'du bel air,' except
the French Play. As people cannot, appear there but ' en toilette,' even in
the pit, the effect is very brilliant. The opera however was bad, orchestra
as well as singers, and the ballet likewise. The lighting of the theatre is
better adapted for being seen than for seeing : in front of every box hangs
a chandelier, which dazzles one very offensively, and throws the actors into
the shade. The opera lasts till one o'clock, so that you have ample time
to visit it without giving up other engagements. The * trouble' has now
begun in good earnest ; one seldom gets home before three or four o'clock
in the morning : and a man who chooses to be very l repandu' which the
exclusives indeed do not, but which is amusing to a foreigner may very
well accept a dozen invitations for every evening.

The great world is consequently not alive before two o'clock in the after-
noon. The Park hours are from four till six, when the ladies drive about
by thousands in their elegant equipages and morning dresses, and the gen-
tlemen on their beautiful horses ' voltigent' about from flower to flower, dis-
playing all the grace Heaven has bestowed upon them. Almost all Eng-
lishmen, however, look well on horseback, and ride better and more natu-
rally than _our riding-masters, who certainly understand admirably, when
they are on a horse trained to every sort of pace and speed, how to sit like
a clothes-peg on a linen-line.

The green turf of the Park swarms with riders, who can ride faster there
than in the 'corso.' Among them are many ladies, who manage their horses
as skilfully and steadily as the men.

But Miss Sally is now led out before my door, and snorts impatiently on
the macadamized pavement. My letter is long enough : a thousand greet-
ings to all who are good enough to remember me, and the most affection-
ate farewell to you !

Your friend L .

LETTER XIV.

London, March 25th.
DEAREST AND BEST.

IT would be too tiresome if I sent you a daily list of the parties I go to :
I shall only mention them when anything strikes me as remarkable ; and
perhaps hereafter, if I feel the inclination and the power, I shall give you
a general * apper^u' of the whole. The technical part of social life the
arrangements for physical comfort and entertainment is well understood
here. The most distinguished specimen of this is the house of the Duke
of D , a king of fashion and elegance.

124 LETTERS ON ENGLAND,

Very few persons of rank have what we, on the Continent, call a palace,
in London. Their palaces, their luxury and their grandeur, are to be seen

in the country. The Duke of D is an exception ; his palace in

town displays great taste and richness, and a numerous collection of works
of art. The company is always the most select ; and though here, as every-
where, too numerous, is rendered less oppressive by the number of rooms :

still it is too much like a crowd at a fair. The concerts at D House,

particularly, are very fine entertainments, where only the very first talent to
be found in the metropolis is engaged, and where perfect order combined
with boundless profusion reigns throughout. Among other things, the ar-
rangement of the suppers and 'buffets,' which are excellent in such crowded
parties, is most recommendable. In a separate room is a long table, with
the most delicate and choice refreshments of every kind, so placed that it is
accessible to the guests only on one side. Behind it stand maid-servants, in a
uniform of white gowns and black aprons, who give everybody what he
asks for, and have room enough to do their ministering conveniently : be-
hind them is a door communicating with the * offices,' through which every-
thing needful is handed to them without disturbance to the company; the
disagreeable procession of troops of men-servants balancing great trays and
pushing about the 'salons' with them, always in danger of discharging their
contents, cold or warm, into the laps or pockets of the company, is thus
avoided.

The supper is served at a later hour, by male attendants, in another room,
which communicates with the kitchen. The waiting is far better, with much
fewer people, than on the Continent, and accomplished without the least
confusion.

I must observe, by the by, as to ' bonne chere,' that the very best in the
world is to be found at the first tables in London : they have the best French
cooks and the best Italian confectioners, for the very simple reason that they
pay them best. I am told there are cooks who receive twelve hundred a
year here ; -to merit, its crown !

Sometimes, after concert and supper, at two in the morning dancing
begins, and one drives home by sunlight. This suits me admirably, for yon
know I always had the taste of Minerva's bird. In such a night-morning I
often enjoy a drive in the Park ; for, thank heaven ! Spring is visibly coming,
and the tender green of the young leaves and the pink almond blossoms
peep forth over the garden-walls and amid the dark net-work of the swelling
branches.

March 26th.

I devoted this morning to an excursion to Deptford, to see Captain Par-
ry's ship, the Hecla, which is to sail in a few days for the North Pole.
Whether she will reach it, is another matter: I wish it may not fare with
Parry as with poor Count Zambeccari, who to this hour is not returned from
his last asrial voyage.

Captain Parry did the honours of his singular vessel with great polite-
ness ; his air and manner perfectly bespeak the frank, determined, gallant
seaman he is known to be. Some curiously formed boats, which were like-
wise to serve as sledges, lay on the deck. The ship herself has double
sides, filled with cork, to keep in the heat ; she is also warmed by ' con-
duits de chaleur.' The provisions consist of the strongest extracts ; so that
a whole ox in his quintessence can be put in a man's coat-pocket, like the
stereotype editions of the ' chef d'ceuvres' of the whole literature of England
in one volume. All the officers seemed picked men. I found Captain Ross,
who has accompanied Captain Parry in all his voyages, a very polished and

IRELAND AND PRANCE. 125

agreeable man. The ship was thronged with visitors, climbing in a conti-
nual stream up the rope-ladder. It was impossible to look without intense
interest on a crew who were going to confront such toils and dangers, in the
light-hearted and enterprising spirit of their class, solely for the advance-
ment of science and the satisfaction of a noble curiosity.

I was invited to dine in barracks by a Major of the Horse Guards. There
is a most advantageous custom prevalent throughout the English army, I
mean the so-called ' Mess.' Each regiment has its common table, to which
every officer is bound to contribute a certain sum, whether he choose to
avail himself of it or not. By this he is entitled to the privilege of dining
at it daily, and of bringing an occasional guest according to some established
regulations. A committee superintends the economical part. Each officer
presides at table in turn, from the colonel down to the youngest lieutenant,
and is invested, so long as he is * en fonction,' with the requisite authority.
The * ton' of the officers is excellent ; far more * gentleman-like' than that
commonly to be found on the Continent; at least so I am bound to conclude
from this sample. Although the strictest subordination prevails in service,
yet when that is over, they meet as gentlemen, so entirely on an equality,
that it were impossible for a stranger to discover from their deportment the.
superior from the subordinate officers. The table was admirably served.
There was not wanting either an elegant service of plate, or champagne,
claret, or any of the requisites of luxury. The dinner was followed by no
excess ; and the conversation, though perfectly unconstrained and cheerful,
was confined within the bounds of decorum and good breeding. To crown
all, the whole did not last too long; so that I had still time to pay some
visits at the opera, which is convenient enough for that purpose.

March 28th.

In most companies pretty high play is the order of the day, and the ladies
are the most eager players. The crowding to the ' ecarte' table, which is
almost out of fashion at Paris, is incessant; and the white arms of the Eng-
lish beauties appear to great advantage on the table-covers of black velvet
embroidered with gold. But if their arms are dangerous, their hands are
still more so, ' car les vieilles surtout trichent impitoyablement.' There are
some old maids whom one meets in the first society who make a regular
trade of play, so that they carry off fifty pounds at a stroke without changing
a feature. They have small parties at their own houses, which are as ' like
4 tripots' as possible.

In no country can the admirer of ' le moyen age,' ' fair, fat and forty,'
meet more women in high preservation than in England. Even still m