Letter XXII
London, Feb. 28th, 1828.
I must go back to mention to you an acquaintance I made at Brighton, which in one point of view is interesting. You have no doubt heard that an ancestor of the Thelluson family made a will, according to which his property was to accumulate for a hundred and fifty years, interest upon interest, and the then existing young Thelluson to come into possession of the whole. In twenty years this term will expire; and I saw the present Mr. Thelluson, a man of forty, who has very little; and his son, a pretty boy of eight, who is probably destined in his twenty-eighth year to be master of twelve millions sterling,--ninety four millions of our money. An act of Parliament has prohibited all such wills for the future; but could not invalidate this, though great efforts were made to do so. So enormous a fortune certainly invests a private man with a very unnatural degree of power. However, I could not help heartily wishing good luck to the little fellow, with his splendid hopes. There is really something grand in having such enormous wealth; for it cannot be denied that money is the representative of most things in the world. What marvellous objects might be attained by such a fortune well applied!
Next to this young Croesus 'in spe,' I was interested by a man of very original character, Colonel C----, who was here some days. Lady M---- directed my attention to him, and told me as follows: "When I was young, the elegant middle-aged man you see there, was one of the most admired beaux of the metropolis. After he had run through all his fortune, with the exception of a few thousand pounds, chance one day led him before a map of America, and the thought suddenly struck him that he would go there and turn backwoodsman. He examined the map, and fixed on a solitary spot on Lake Erie, sold all his effects the same week, married his servant to a pretty young girl, embarked with them, and arrived in safety at the spot he had chosen in the primeval woods, where he lived for a few days by hunting, and slept under the leafy canopy: with the help of some backwoodsmen he soon built a log-house, which he still inhabits. He acquired a considerable influence over the settlers scattered around him, which he employed in encouraging them to their joint labours, and rendered himself peculiarly agreeable to them by playing the part of cook, and preparing palatable food, instead of the half-raw meat they used to eat. He sees an increasing and attached population spring up around him, is proprietor of a little principality in extent, calculates his income at ten thousand a year, and comes regularly every tenth year, for 'one season,' to England, where he lives, as formerly, with all the 'aisance' of a fashionable man of the world, and then returns to his woods."
My first visit in the metropolis was to Countess M----, who, 'malgré ses quarantes ans,' has added another child to her dozen during my absence. I dined there, and admired a beautiful present of plate from the King, the workmanship of which is finer here than anywhere, so that the cost of the labour is often ten times that of the metal. At dinner the Count told a curious anecdote, characteristic of the administration of justice in this country.
"A man whom I know," said he, "had his pocket-handkerchief stolen in the street. He seized the thief, and, being the stronger, held him fast, though not without receiving several violent blows; and at length gave him into the charge of a police officer who came up. The transaction was perfectly clear, and passed in the presence of many witnesses; and the delinquent, if prosecuted, would have been transported. His wife went to the gentleman, begged for mercy on her knees: the thief himself, who was not an uneducated man, wrote the most moving letters,--and who will wonder that he at length found pity? On the appointed day the prosecutor staid away, and the criminal was accordingly acquitted.
"The gentleman paid dearly enough for his ill-timed compassion. A fortnight after this transaction, he was prosecuted, by the very man who picked his pocket, for an assault, which was proved on the testimony of several witnesses. The defendant replied, that it was certainly true that he had seized the man, but that he had done so only because he had caught him in the act of picking his pocket. But as the criminal had already been acquitted of this, and no man can be twice tried for the same offence, no notice was taken of the justification. In short, it cost the too generous sufferer about a hundred pounds, which he had to pay partly to the man who robbed him, and partly to the Court." The whole company thought this sort of justice monstrous; but an old Englishman defended it with great warmth and pertinacity. "I think," exclaimed he earnestly, "that the incident just related, exactly goes to illustrate the wisdom of our laws in the most striking manner. All laws and judicial authorities are instituted solely for the purpose of preventing crime. This is also the sole end of punishment. The receiver of stolen goods is therefore, in the eye of the law, nearly as guilty as the thief; and he who knowingly tries to rescue a criminal from the grasp of the law, is almost as pernicious to the community as the criminal himself. That man who, perhaps, began his career of crime with the stealing of this pocket-handkerchief, and therefore ought to have been withdrawn from society for penitence and amendment, now, emboldened by success, is probably planning a larger theft,--perhaps a murder. Who ought to bear the blame? This very gentleman,--who has been deservedly punished for his illegal pity. He who thrusts his hand uncalled for and inconsiderately between the wheels of a useful machine, must not wonder if he breaks his fingers."
The English are, it must be confessed, most skilful sophists, whenever their usages are called in question. The most distinguished man among them, however, Brougham, lately made a speech of six hours long, which treated entirely of the defects and abuses of English law. The most stupendous of these seemed to be, that there is now in 'the Court of Chancery' the enormous sum of fifty millions sterling, which has no actual determined owner. A suit in this Court is become proverbial for something interminable; and there is a very diverting caricature, which bears the inscription, 'A Chancery Suit.' At first a young man handsomely dressed, and in high blooming health, fills the hat of a starved skeleton of a lawyer with guineas, by way of retaining fee. A long, long procession of men and things follows; and at last we see the young man as a ragged broken-down beggar, asking alms of the lawyer, now grown fat as a tun, which the latter scornfully refuses. 'Hélas, c'est encore tout comme chez nous,' only in more corpulent proportions.
On many things, however, which appear to foreigners most exasperating, they ought to take care not to form too hasty a judgment, since abuses and even obvious original defects are often only the inevitable shadows of a far greater light;--as, for instance, bribery at elections,--perhaps even the 'rotten boroughs,' and the acknowledged dependence of a considerable portion of the members of parliament on Government, by means of 'patronage,' and so forth. It seems to be quite a question whether any Ministry could stand without these means, apparently so pernicious. It is, however, something gained, that a Government should not have that conceded in theory (as it is in despotic states) which nevertheless, perhaps, they cannot quite dispense with in practice;--as the preacher's life never quite comes up to his doctrine. We must not forget that an approach to perfection is all that can be expected from human things; and therefore reformers ought carefully to keep in mind 'que le mieux est l'ennemi du bien.' Nevertheless, I think I see many indications that England is advancing towards a reform; and indeed, that it is, from various causes, quite inevitable. Whether it will end advantageously for her, or not, is another question. Perhaps the very necessity is a proof that she has outlived her highest greatness, and is already declining.
In the evening I visited the Adelphi Theatre, where a juggler exhibited his feats of art in a very new manner, under the title of 'Conversazioni.' He stood surrounded by various tables and machines on the stage, and began with a history of his journey in the Diligence: into this he introduced various characters and anecdotes, sang songs, and interspersed his narrative with tricks, or optical deceptions, or phantasmagoria, as appropriate incidents,--a good idea enough, which increases the interest of such exhibitions. His dexterity and certainty as a juggler were moreover as remarkable as his good dramatic acting and his memory. He concluded with playing on the musical glasses; not only in the harmonica style, but waltzes and the like; and even introduced long shakes, which he executed admirably.
March 9th.
The season already asserts its prerogative. The streets swarm with elegant equipages; the shops spread forth fresh treasures; all the houses are full, and all prices raised doubly and trebly. Mr. Peel the Minister gave a brilliant soirée this evening to the Duchess of Clarence. His house is decorated with many fine pictures, among which is Rubens' famous 'Chapeau de paille.' Mr. Peel gave fifteen thousand reichsthalers for this picture--a half-length.
I went with Prince E---- yesterday to see the small private collection of a clergyman (Mr. Carr,) which consists of not above thirty pictures, has cost him twenty thousand pounds, and is quite worth it. There are as many master-pieces as pictures,--the only true sort of collection for a private man, who does not use his gallery for instruction in the art, but for enjoyment.
Here is a Garoffolo, of such unearthly transparency and brightness, of so holy and deep a poetry, that you think you behold a picture of Eden, not of this earth; and a large Claude, also of the highest order of beauty, in which the smallness of the means employed are as wonderful as the extraordinary effects produced. In an adjoining room were some beautiful landscapes by Domenichino and Annibal Caracci. The richness of composition, the deepness and freshness of invention, were adorned with such a fantastic charm and such variety of details, that I could have lost myself all day long in these strange regions, with their broad watery mirrors; their islands, groves and pretty huts; their deep blue mountains, and forests of spectral darkness. In a third room you reach the crown of the whole collection, a picture by Leonardo da Vinci, in which he has represented, in the three persons of the Saviour, Peter and John, the Ideal of youth, manhood, and old age; all of a beauty, truth, and perfection, which leaves nothing to desire. It is the only head of Christ, of all I ever saw, which fully satisfies me; it is as strikingly expressive of grandeur and force of mind, as of purity and meekness; while at the same time it unites this speaking expression with perfect ideal beauty. The grouping of the whole, too, is so satisfactory to the eye; the colouring so brilliant and so fresh; the execution, down to the smallest details so masterly,--that one feels a fulness of delight such as few works of art bestow.[82] But nothing remains of the exquisite pleasure of contemplating such a work, save a cold dissection of it by words. I will therefore quit the subject; only I wish to make connoisseurs better acquainted with this choice collection.
There is an exhibition of battles by Generat Lejeune, which he first fought, and then painted. They show great talent and power. In the battle of the Moskwa, the theatrical Murat and his suite form the principal group; he, streaming with feathers, ringlets, fringe, and embroidery,--standing, with his self-satisfied air, under a fire of musketry; he is in the act of giving the order to the French and Saxon cuirassiers for that murderous attack, and the storming of a battery of forty guns, which cost so many their lives, and among them my beloved friend H----. The King is just about to put himself at the head of them. Who could then have predicted that he would so soon be ignominiously beaten by a mob, and shot as a criminal?
Deeply affecting, though too horrible for art, is the figure of an Austrian staff-officer at the battle of Marengo, who has been shot through the belly, so that the bowels are lying on the ground. The unfortunate wretch, to escape from his insufferable torture, has entreated a French 'gens d'arme' to lend him his pistol, which he is putting to his mouth with a look of despair, while the owner of the weapon turns away shuddering.
In another picture is the onslaught of a party of Spanish guerillas on a French detachment. You see a most romantic pass in the mountains of Catalonia, remarkable for four stone oxen, the erection of which is ascribed to Hannibal. At their feet lie two or three skeletons of French cuirassiers, still in full armour. Not a soul escaped this slaughter except General Lejeune himself, and this only by a half-miracle;--three of the guns aimed at him missed, which the Empecinado superstitiously took for a warning, and commanded the men not to fire at him again. You see General Lejeune stripped naked; one murderer has caught him by the hair, another is treading on his body, and the arms of the others are pointed against him; while his servants and a soldier, pierced through and through by pikes and swords, breathe their last at his side.
The battle of the Nile,--where the Mamelukes, in half-frantic flight, spur their noble Arabian horses from a high hill down into the river, whence but a few reach the opposite bank,--has also a very romantic effect.
March 13th.
I forgot to tell you that about a fortnight ago the elegant little Brunswick Theatre, scarcely finished, fell in during the rehearsal of a new piece, and destroyed a great many lives. I went to look at the ruins yesterday; the carcasses of two cart-horses, which had been crushed in the street were still lying under the rubbish. It was a fearful sight. Only one single box remained standing; in this, Farren the actor saved himself, by his coolness in not stirring from the spot.--Thence he saw the whole horrible catastrophe,--only too real and unexpected a tragedy.
In the whirl of the season it's all forgotten. Yet this tumultuous life furnishes far less stuff for thought than might be imagined; and what it does furnish, is soon forgotten in the confusion.
A family dinner at the great R----'s, who has been likened to the Sultan, because the one is the Ruler of all Believers, and the other the Believer in all Rulers, occurred as a variety. This man has really something very original about him. He was peculiarly merry to-day; ordered the servant to bring his new Austrian consular uniform, which "his friend M----ch," as he said, had sent him from Vienna; showed it to us, and even suffered himself to be persuaded to try it on before the looking-glass, and to walk about in it. And, as virtuosi when they have once begun never know when to stop, he now sent for other magnificent Court dresses, and changed his toilette several times, as if he had been on the stage:--and that with such child-like good-nature and naïveté, that I could only compare such a golden hero with Henry the Fourth, found by the foreign ambassadors acting as horse to his little son.
It was, 'au reste,' rather droll to see how this otherwise serious tradesman-like man tried to assume the various bendings and bowings, and the light and gracious air, of a courtier; and, not in the least disconcerted by our laughing, assured us, with as much confidence as joviality, that N---- M---- R----, if he liked, could act any part; and, with the help of five or six glasses of wine extra, could make as good a figure at Court as the best of them.
An acquaintance I made a few days ago had a very different sort of interest for me,--I mean that of General Mina. You have seen several portraits of him, all of which represent him with huge mustachios and wild features, like a ferocious captain of brigands. Think then of my astonishment at seeing, in the hero of Spain, a mild, simple, and singularly modest man, without the slightest trace of what is called a military 'tournure;' on the contrary, like a country schoolmaster or farmer, with an open good natured countenance, and blushing at every compliment paid him, like a girl. When he grew animated with conversation, I, however, remarked a change in his features and a lightning of his dark eye, which betrayed the spirit within.
He is in very good preservation, and has scarcely the air of a man of forty, though his short hair is quite white; but this by no means makes him look old,--it only gives him the appearance of being powdered. He said, in the course of conversation, that he never had that luxuriant bush of hair to boast, which people are so fond of bestowing upon him, and that he had often laughed at the caricatures which he saw of himself in the shop-windows.
There were two other distinguished Spaniards present: Arguelles,--Minister under the Constitutional Government, and the most celebrated popular orator of Spain--a man of most prepossessing appearance and polished manners; and General Valdez, Commandant of Cadiz during the last siege. It was he who took the beloved Ferdinand on board his ship, (he being then senior Admiral of the Fleet) to the French camp. Though as he said, before and during the voyage the King overwhelmed him with caresses, repeatedly expressed his thanks for the treatment he had received in Cadiz, and made great promises for the future, the fate of poor Valdez was already sealed. "The moment the King quitted my ship," continued Valdez, "his behaviour suddenly changed; and as soon as he felt himself secure, he cast a piercing look of triumph and of long suppressed rage at me. I knew this look, and instantly took my resolution. Without waiting to deliberate or take leave, I sprang on board my ship, and set sail instantly for Cadiz. I thus probably escaped death: but my exile here, in poverty and wretchedness,--far from my unhappy country,--is, for a man of sixty, accustomed to wealth and greatness, perhaps a greater evil."
I must now take you again to the theatre, and in the company, too, of the celebrated Lord L----, an old acquaintance of mine, who, after his varied and busy career, now preserves himself by daily washing with vinegar; whereas he used formerly to pickle others in a sauce as sour and pungent as that of the former 'Confiseur' of the Elegante Zeitung, both in writing and by word of mouth. We talked of past times; and as we reached the door of Drury Lane, he recited some wild but beautiful verses of Moore's.[83]* * *
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They are nearly as follows, in my usual halting verse--translations of the moment.[84]
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No bad motto for Desdemona, which awaited us; though truly the Moor's was a fearful return for such devoted love.
Before I go to the performance itself, let me make a few general remarks.
It is a constantly contested point in Germany, whether Shakspeare should be given in a literal translation, in a free one, or in a still freer paraphrase. I decide for the second; premising that the liberty should be restricted to this,--unfettered scope in the spirit of the German tongue,--even though a play of wit or words should occasionally be lost by the means. But to alter in any considerable degree the course of the play; to omit scenes; to give to Shakspeare words and ideas perfectly foreign to him,--can only deform and mutilate him, even when done by the greatest poet. People say Shakspeare is better to read than to see, and cannot be performed in a literal translation without carrying us back to the infancy of the scenic art; since, as they maintain, theatrical representations in Shakspeare's time were no more than stories in dialogue, with some attempt at costume. I will not go into the question of the accuracy of this assertion; but thus much I know,--that the representation of Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, Hamlet, and Othello, on the English stage,--all which pieces are given with slight omissions, and in which things generally supposed the most shocking to taste and probability, even the obligato king's trumpeters, are not wanting,--nevertheless leave a feeling of such full and untroubled satisfaction on my mind, as reading or hearing read (even by Tieck, the best reader I know of,) never had the power to produce in the most distant degree;--nay, still more, I confess that it is only since I have see them here, that I have been sensible of all Shakspeare's gigantic proportions in their full amplitude. It is true, that to produce this, a degree of concert on the part of all the actors and an excellence in those who support the chief characters are necessary, which are wholly wanting in Germany;--for Macbeths in Berlin, (as Clauren would say,) and Macbeths in London, are as different sort of people as Shaskpeare himself and his excellent commentator Franz Horn. The first actors here, such as Kean, Kemble, Young, &c., are, as I have elsewhere remarked, men of great cultivation, who have seen the best society, and devoted their lives to the earnest study of their great national poet. They seldom act any other characters than his, and do not mix up a tragic hero with one of Iffland's Geheimenräthe (privy councillors,) nor Talbot with Herr von Langsalm, nor appear to-day in Othello, and to-morrow in Wollmarkt.
It strikes one as very singular, that in appearance, and to a great extent in reality, the public before whom these distinguished artists have to present themselves is so rude, ignorant and unmannerly. Yet perhaps this very thing may produce a good effect on them. As the truly virtuous love virtue, so must an English actor love his art,--for its own sake alone,--and trouble himself little about his reception: in the end, he is thus most sure to obtain universal applause. And indeed I must confess that, spite of all this roughness, there is a portion of English audiences which has at bottom sounder taste and sense than the feeble, hyper-refined people of our German metropolitan towns; nay, even among the vulgar crowd there is an invisible church of the initiated, whose existence never suffers the sacred fire in the breast of the actors to be wholly extinguished; it is not very busy in public criticism, but has a mighty effect in society.
Many Germans don't like to be told that other nations excel us in any thing: and truly I perceive the fact with great regret: but that must not prevent my speaking out my conviction, that, as we have no dramatic poet of Shakspeare's calibre, so we possess no actor capable of making his characters live before our eyes in their full significancy. It was not always so, as it is asserted; and I myself have retained impressions received in my earliest youth from Fleck and Unzelmann, which have never been renewed in Germany. Schröder and Eckhof seem to have stood yet higher; and I remember with singular pleasure the enthusiastic descriptions given me of them by old Archenholz, who had also seen Garrick. He thought Schröder at least Garrick's equal.
That in order to form anything like a correct judgment of foreign actors, we must first in some degree throw ourselves in thought into their nationality;[85] must accustom ourselves to many of their manners and usages, which, like many turns of their language, always affect us as strange, however well we may understand them,--will be admitted by every thinking man. At first, these causes always more or less distract the attention; and I never saw more than one individual who, (if I may use the expression,) had a perfectly cosmopolitan organization,--the perhaps never-equalled, certainly never-surpassed, Miss O'Neil. In her it was only the pure abstract human mind and soul that spoke;--nation, time and external appearance, vanished from the thoughts in an ecstacy which carried all before it.
But back to the present.
We saw Othello, then; in which the combined acting of the three greatest dramatic artists of England afforded me a high intellectual treat, and has elicited this somewhat long 'expectoration;' but caused me to feel most painfully the want of the above-mentioned heroine. Had she been there, I should have witnessed the highest point of all theatrical representation. Kean, Young, and Kemble, compose the ruling triumvirate of the English stage. The first has without doubt the most genius; the second is brilliant and sustained in his acting; the third, though less distinguished in the highest tragedy, uniformly dignified and intelligent. This representation of Othello was the first time of their playing together. It was indeed a rare enjoyment! Othello and Shylock are Kean's greatest parts. It is amazing with what profound knowledge of the human heart he not only portrays the passion of jealousy,--first slumbering, then gradually awaking, and ending in madness; but with what wondrous accuracy he catches the Southern nature of the Moor,--the peculiar characteristics of the race, and never for a moment loses sight of them. In the midst of the high and noble bearing of the hero, something animal occasionally peeps forth that makes us shudder, while on the other hand it gives force to his agonizing torment, and places it bodily before our eyes. The simplicity of his acting at first, the absence of all bragging about his past achievements, and his intense love for the woman of his choice, win the hearts of the spectators as they have won that of Desdemona: the ugly Moor is forgotten in the complete, heroic man; till, amid the torments of lacerating jealousy, that hidden fierce nature slowly reveals itself to our eyes; and at length we think we see before us a raging tiger, rather than a being of like nature with ourselves. I was here confirmed anew in my persuasion, that a great poet, still more than a moderate one, stands in need of a great actor to make him perfectly understood and estimated. In Berlin, for instance, the strangling scene was not only ludicrous, but really indecent. Here, the blood froze in one's veins; and even the boisterous and turbulent English public was for a time speechless, motionless--as if struck by lightning. Nay, I must acknowledge that sometimes during the tragedy, Othello's long torment, which the fiend-like Iago with such devilish calmness doles out to him drop by drop, was so painful, and the terror of what I knew was to follow grew upon me so involuntarily, that I turned away my face as from a scene too horrible to contemplate. Young's Iago is a master-piece, and his acting first made this character thoroughly clear to me. It is, perhaps--and here I must recant, at least in this one case, an assertion I made before--Iago is perhaps, contrary to Shakspeare's usual custom, not a character quite founded in nature, but rather a brilliant conception of the poet:--but then with what astonishing consistency is it carried through! He is an incarnate fiend; a being nourished with gall and bitterness, capable neither of love nor joy; who regards evil as his element; the philosophizing on himself, the contemplating and full and clear setting forth of his own atrocities, is his only enjoyment. The tie which binds him to human kind is feeble; it is only revenge for the suspected injury done him by the Moor: and even this seems but a sort of pretext which he makes to himself with the last expiring breath of moral sensibility, and his genuine delight in torture and distress ever the real and leading motive. And yet even this monster is not utterly revolting. His intellectual superiority, his courage, his consistency, and, at the last, his firmness in extremity, never suffer the consummate villain to sink into abject, vulgar degradation. Iago is a hero, compared to Kotzebue's models of virtue. Completely in this sense Young played the character: his manners are gloomy and morose, but noble; no smile passes over his lips, and his jests lose nothing by this dryness: certain of his power, he treats all with calm superiority, but with well-defined 'nuances:' to his wife he is simply rough and domineering; to Roderigo, authoritative and humorous; to Cassio, polite and friendly; to the Moor, reverential and attached, but always serious and dignified. Kemble, on his part, played Cassio as admirably; and perfectly as Shakspeare describes him; "a man, framed to make women false;" young, gay, gallant, of a noble mein, good-natured character, and polished manners.--Desdemona, unhappily, was but moderately represented; and yet the touching contrast of her gentle, patient, womanly devotedness, with the Moor's burning passion, was not utterly lost.
Kean played Othello in the dress of a Moorish King out of the Bible,--in sandals, and a long silk talar, which is manifestly absurd. But one soon forgets his dress in his glorious acting.
Your faithful
L----.
Letter XXIII
London, March 24th, 1828.
BELOVED FRIEND,
Among the most aristocratical parties are to be numbered the concerts of one of the most liberal members of the Opposition,--an anomaly often to be found here; where a certain vague general liberalism goes hand-in-hand with the narrowest pride and most arrogant conceit of class; and where the haughtiest man in his own house possesses the reputation of the most liberal in public life.
Very amusing parties are also given by a Duchess, whose brevet is so new that she is reckoned a plebeian by the exclusives:--such an one took place to-day. On the second floor there was an excellent concert, on the first a ball, and on the ground-floor constant eating.
At the dinner which preceded, the servants waited in white kid gloves, an imitation of another fashionable Duke. This almost disgusted me, for I could not get out of my head the lazaretto, and other disagreeable cutaneous associations.
More rich in intellectual enjoyment was my yesterday's dinner at the Duke of Somerset's, a man of very various accomplishments. At table, a celebrated parliamentary orator told some strange things: among others, he said that he had lately been a member of a Commission for investigating the connexion between the police and the thieves, about which so many complaints have been made. It came out, that a Society existed in London, completely organized with 'bureaux,' 'clerks,' &c., which directed thefts and coining on a large scale, supported those who were taken, and afforded powerful assistance both offensive and defensive, &c. He asserted, that at the head of this association were not only several people in respectable stations, and members of Parliament, but even a well-known Peer of the realm. The proofs were of a kind that left no room for doubt; but to avoid the dreadful scandal, the Ministry had determined to let the matter drop. One sees that in free countries things go forward which we don't so much as dream of.
A lover of natural history afterwards read us a lecture on toads, which, in their sphere, seemed to me as odd sort of people as the foregoing.
March 27th.
I am just come back from the Levée, which was very numerously attended. The King was obliged to sit, on account of his gout, but looked very well. The Duke of Wellington returned thanks for his elevation to the Premiership by falling on both knees, whereas it is usual only to kneel on one. His gratitude was probably double, on account of his double quality of Prime Minister and former Commander-in-Chief, as the caricatures represent him,--the left half of his body dressed as a courtier, the right as field-marshal, but laughing on both sides of his face. As, with the exception of the 'Grande entrée,' almost everybody is admitted to these levées if they can but appear in the prescribed dress, there cannot be better sport for the lovers of caricatures. The unaccustomed dress, and no less unwonted splendour of royalty, raise the national awkwardness and embarrassment to their highest pitch. Our charming well drilled court-ladies would often distrust their own eyes.
As soon as I had changed my dress, I rode in the most delightful spring weather in the still solitary Regent's Park, where hundred of almond-trees are in blossom; and visited the ménagérie lately established there, which presents a model worthy of imitation. There is nothing over-done, and at the same time a neatness, which assuredly can be attained nowhere but in England. Here I saw a tiger-cat, a creature which seemed to me a perfect model of beauty and elegance among quadrupeds.
I afterwards went to a grand dinner at the Marquis of Thomond's, an Irish peer, at which I met one of the most conspicuous Tories in England, the Duke of N----. I must confess he has not much the look of a genius; and the whole party was so stiffly English, that I heartily rejoiced at being seated next to Princess P----, whose lively good-natured ultra prattle appeared to me, to-day, as agreeable as if it had been the most intellectual conversation in the world.
I concluded the evening with a ball at the Marquis of Beresford's, in honour of the Marchioness de Louly, sister of Don Miguel, who however seemed not a little bored. She speaks only Portuguese, and therefore could converse with scarcely any body but the host.
The Marshal himself is a striking soldierlike-looking man, against whom party spirit has been very unjustly directed. He is a man of resolute character, as well as of attractive manners, such as many Governments, beside the Portuguese, might employ to advantage; strong as a lion, and prudent as a serpent. He considers Don Miguel's claim to the throne of Portugal as better founded than that of his brother; and maintains, that in judging of persons and events in other countries, we must resort to a totally different standard from that which we employ in our own. He says that Don Miguel's education was so neglected, that in his three-and-twentieth year he could not write; that much therefore could not be expected from such a prince; but that he had some brilliant natural qualities, and that the newspapers were not to be implicitly believed. This latter assertion, at least, I am not inclined to doubt.
April 7th.
I thought it a real blessing to-day to dine in the country, quite 'sans gêne' at H---- Lodge, the pretty villa of the Duchess of St. A----. In front of the house, which stands on the slope of a hill, bloomed a splendid star of crocuses and other early flowers, in the midst of the bright green turf, surrounding a marble fountain; while over the tops of the trees the giant city lay dimly seen in the valley, like a 'fata montana' of the New Jerusalem in a gauze mist. The dinner was, as usual, excellent; and after dinner we had a concert in a beautiful green-house filled with flowers and fruits. I sat at table next to a lineal descendant of Charles the Second, a relation of the Duke's,--for about half a dozen English Peers spring from mistresses of the merry monarch, and bear the royal arms quartered with their own, of which they are not a little proud.
It is still very cold, but yet leaves and flowers break forth vigorously,--a sight that would enrapture me at home, but here gives me a heart sickness that is often hardly endurable. Nevertheless I do not choose to sit down again on the old golden seat of thorns, but will rather seek out a smooth and comfortable common stool, on which I may repose in freedom.
---- Park, April 9th.
I came here yesterday, and am with a large party at the house of a very 'fashionable' lady. The house is as tastefully and richly adorned as possible, but too stately and too portentous in its beauty to be truly agreeable, at least to me. Besides, there is a certain L---- here, a patent witling, whose every word the extremely good-natured company holds itself bound to admire: people affect great liking for him, from fear of his evil tongue. Such intellectual bullies are my mortal abhorrence; especially when, like this, to a repulsive exterior they unite all the gall and acrimony of satire, without any of its grace. They appear in human society like venomous insects, whom, from some pitiable weakness, we assist in feeding on the blood of others, so that they do not suck our own.
The still life about me speaks more to my heart than the human beings; especially the sweet flowers which are placed in pretty vases and receptacles of all sorts in all the apartments. Among the pictures, I admired a Joseph leading the little Jesus, by Morillo. In the beautiful child lies the germ of the future greatness and god-like nature of the Redeemer: as yet it slumbers dimly, but is wonderfully expressed in the prophetic beaming of the eye. Joseph appears a plain simple man, in the full vigour of middle age, betraying dignity of character though not of station:--the landscape is wild and original, and cherubs' heads peep sweetly forth out of the dark clouds. The picture, the owner told me, cost him two thousand and five hundred pounds.
I was much pleased with a conservatory for palms, built almost entirely of glass,--so transparent that it looks like a house of ice.
The country life here is in some respects too social for my taste. If, for instance, you wish to read, you go into the library, where you are seldom alone:--if you have letters to write, you sit at a great common writing table just as much in public; they are then put into a box with holes, and taken by a servant to the Post. To do all this in your own room is not usual, and therefore surprises and annoys people. Many a foreigner would like to breakfast in his own room; but this he cannot well do, unless he pleads illness. With all the freedom and absence of useless ceremonies and tedious complimenting, there is yet, for a person accustomed to our habits, a considerable degree of constraint, which the continual necessity of speaking in a foreign tongue renders more oppressive.
London, April 12th.
I took my leave of ---- Park this morning just as an April storm was clearing off, breathed the spring air with delight, and looked with ecstacy at the brilliant green and the bursting buds,--a sight of which I am never weary. Spring indemnifies our northern climes for all the discomfort of their winter; for this awakening of young Nature is accompanied with far less coquetry on her part in the South.
I was invited again to dinner at the Duchess of St. A----'s country-house, where a very agreeable surprise awaited me. I arrived late, and was placed between my hostess, and a tall very simple, but benevolent looking man of middle age, who spoke broad Scotch,--a dialect anything but agreeable; and would probably have struck me for nothing else, had I not soon discovered that I was sitting next to--the Great Unknown. It was not long ere many a sally of dry, poignant wit fell from his lips, and many an anecdote, told in the most unpretending manner, which, without seeming brilliant, was yet striking. His eye, too, glanced, whenever he was animated, with such a clear, good-natured lustre, and that with such an expression of true-hearted kindness and natural feeling, that it was impossible not to conceive a sort of love for him. Towards the end of dinner he and Sir Francis Burdett told ghost-stories, half-terrible, half-humorous, admirably, one against the other. This at last encouraged me to tell your famous key story, which I embelished a little in the 'dénouement.' It had great success; and it would be droll enough if you were to find it in the next romance of the prolific Scotchman.
He afterwards recited a curious old inscription which he had recently discovered in the churchyard of Melrose Abbey. It was as follows:
"The earth goes on the earth, glittering in gold, The earth goes to the earth sooner than it would; The earth builds on the earth castles and towers, The earth says to the earth--All this is ours."
When translated, something like this:
"Erd' geht auf Erde glänzend in Gold, Erd' geht zur Erde früher denn wollt'; Erd' baut auf Erde Schlösser von Stein, Erd' sagt zur Erde--Alles ist mein!'
True enough; for earth we were, are, and shall be.
A little concert concluded the evening; in which the very pretty daughter of the great bard,--a healthy-looking Highland beauty,--took part; and Miss Stephens sang nothing but Scotch ballads. It was not till late in the night that I reached London and enriched my book of memoranda with a sketch of Sir Walter Scott--very like, for which I am indebted to the kindness of my hostess. As none of the engravings I have seen resemble him, I shall send you a copy with this letter.
April 27th.
The 'trouble' of this day was very monotonous; only a dinner at the Spanish ambassador's furnished me with one agreeable recollection. A Spanish girl, full of fire and beauty, sang boleros in such a manner that they awakened a completely new musical sense in me. If I may judge from them, and from a fandango I once saw danced, Spanish society must be very different from ours, and far more 'piquante.'
Yesterday I was invited 'to meet the Dukes of Clarence and Sussex,' declined the honour for the sake of meeting Mademoiselle H---- at our friend B----'s. I had not seen her, and great and small are now at her feet.
She is indeed an enchanting creature, and very dangerous to all who are either new in the world, or who have nothing to think of but their own pleasure. It is impossible to conceive a more unstudied and yet effective inborn coquetry, (if I may use the expression,) so child-like, so engaging, 'et cependent le díable n'y perd rien.'
She seemed to seize my weak side as well as that of every other man, immediately, and talked to me, though without the slightest apparent design, only of what was likely to be appropriate and agreeable to me. The tones of my fatherland, too, fell from her pretty mouth in the stream of conversation, like pearls and diamonds, and the loveliest blue eyes lightened upon them like a spring sun behind a thin veil of clouds.
"To-morrow Kean plays Richard the Third," said she carelessly. "The Duke of D---- has offered me his box;--would you like to accompany me?" That such an in invitation will supersede all others, follows of course.
April 28th.
Never did I see or hear less of a play than this evening, and yet I must confess never did one appear to me shorter. Spite of the presence of a 'gouvernante,' and a visit from Mr. Kemble between the acts, there was scarcely a pause in our conversation, which so many reminiscences of home rendered doubly interesting.
This agreeable 'excitement,' too, lasted, on my side, during the ball which followed at the fashionable Lady Tankerville's; for I felt less 'ennuyé' than usual at these heartless wooden parties. Forgive me if I write only these few words, for Helios is leaving his bed, and I must go to mine.
April 29th.
Everything here is in colossal dimensions, even the workshop of my tailor, which is like a manufactory. You go to ask about the fate of a coat you have ordered; you find yourself surrounded by hundreds of bales of cloth; and as many workmen;--a secretary appears with great formality; and politely asks the day on which it was ordered. As soon as you have told him, he makes a sign for two folios to be brought, in which he pores for a short time. "Sir," is at last the answer, "to-morrow at twenty minutes past eleven the 'frac' will be so far advanced that you can try it on in the dressing-room." There are several of these rooms, decorated with large looking-glasses and 'Psyches,' continually occupied by fitters, where the wealthy tailor in person makes a dozen alterations without ever betraying the least impatience or ill-humour.
As soon as justice was done to the 'frac,' I continued my walk, and came to a butcher's shop; where not only are the most beautiful garlands, pyramids, and other fanciful forms constructed of raw meat, and elegant vessels filled with ice give out the most delightful coolness, but a play-bill hangs behind every leg of mutton, and the favourite newspapers lie on the polished tables.
A few houses further on, a dealer in sea-monsters competes with him, and sits, like King Fish in the fairy tale, between the marble and the fountain. He would however find it difficult to rival his celebrated colleague Crockford, who understands how to catch something better than common fish.
This person is a man of genius, who has raised himself from the estate of a poor fishmonger, to that of the scourge, and at the same time the favourite, of the rich and fashionable world. He is a gambler, who has won millions,[86] and with them has built a gaming palace on the plan of the 'salons' at Paris, but with a truly Asiatic splendour almost surpassing that of royalty. Everything is in the now revived taste of the time of Louis the Fourteenth; decorated with tasteless excrescences, excess of gilding, confused mixture of stucco painting, &c.,--a turn of fashion very consistent in a country where the nobility grows more and more like that of the time of Louis the Fourteenth.
Crockford's cook is the celebrated Ude, practically and theoretically the best in Europe. The table and attendance are in the highest perfection, combined with 'un jeu d'enfer,' at which twenty thousand pounds and more has often been lost in one evening, by one man. The company forms a club; admission is very difficult to obtain; and although games at hazard are illegal in England, most of the Ministers are members, and the Duke of Wellington, the Premier, one of the managers of this gaming club.
May 2nd.
Yesterday, the wedding day of the Duchess of St. A---, was celebrated by a very pleasant rural fête at her villa. In the middle of the bowling-green was a Maypole decorated with garlands and ribands, and gaily-dressed peasants in the old English costume danced around it. The company wandered about in the house and garden as they liked; many shot with bows and arrows; others danced under tents, swung, or played all sorts of games, or wandered in the shade of thick shrubberies; till at five o'clock a few blasts of a trumpet announced a splendid breakfast, at which all the delicacies and costly viands that luxury could furnish, were served in the greatest profusion.
Many servants were dressed in fancy dresses as gardeners; and garlands of fresh flowers were hung upon all the bushes, which produced an indescribably rich effect. The day, too, was so singularly fine that I was able, for the first time, to see London quite clear from fog, and only slightly obscured by smoke.
As night drew on, the effect of the garlands of flowers was renewed by many-coloured lamps, tastefully distributed amid the trees, or half hidden among the thick shrubs. It was past midnight when breakfast ended.
There was a concert, and then a ball, at which the lovely German waltzer outshone all her rivals,--and with the most unpretending air, as if she did not perceive one of her conquests. Perhaps there never was a woman who had the art of appearing more innocent and childlike; and certainly this captivating sort of coquetry is the greatest charm, though not, perhaps, the greatest merit, of women.
May 8th.
For a week past two or three concerts have resounded in my ears every evening, or, as they here more properly say, every night. They are all on a sudden become a perfect rage, from the highest and most exclusive down to the herd of 'nobodies.' Mesdames Pasta, Caradori, Sontag, Brambilla, Messrs. Zuchelli, Pellegrini, and Curioni, sing for ever and ever the same airs and duets; which, however, people seem never tired of hearing. They often sing--doubtless tired themselves of the eternal monotony--very negligently, but that makes no difference whatever. The ears that hear them are seldom very musically organized, and are only awakened by 'fashion;' and those who are in the centre of the crowd certainly can often hardly distinguish whether the Bassist or the Prima Donna is singing, but must fall into extacies like the rest, notwithstanding. For the performers, this 'furore' is profitable enough. Sontag, for instance, in every party in which she is heard at all, receives forty pounds, sometimes a hundred; and occasionally she attends two or three in an evening. Pasta, whose singing is, to my taste, sweeter, grander, more tragic, rivals her; the others, though their merit is considerable, are in a subordinate rank.
Besides these, Moschelles, Pixis, the two Bohrers, 'enfin' a herd of virtuosi, are here, all flocking to English gold, like moths around a candle. Not that they burn themselves; on the contrary, the women, at least, kindle fresh flames, right and left, which are sometimes even more profitable than their art.
The concerts at Prince Leopold's are generally the most agreeable, and the insufferable squeezing is somewhat avoided in his large rooms. This Prince is less popular than he deserves; for the English can't forgive him for being a foreigner.
May 9th.
Riding with M----, we accidentally came through a charming country to Strawberry Hill,--the house built by Horace Walpole, which he mentions so often in his letters, and which has been wholly unaltered and little inhabited since his death. It is the first attempt at modern Gothic in England--quite in the 'clinquant' taste of that time; the stone-work imitated in wood, and a great deal more that glitters without being gold. There are, however, many real treasures of art and curiosities. Among them is a magnificent prayer-book set with jewels, filled with drawings by Raphael and his pupils; Cardinal Wolsey's hat; a very expressive portrait of Madame du Deffant, Walpole's blind and witty friend; and a picture of the celebrated Lady Mary Wortley Montague, in a Turkish dress.
As every thing is to be found in England, I met with an Englishman of rank, to-day, who has endeavoured to introduce German habits, German domestic arrangements, and a German tone of society into his house. This is Earl S----, who lived in our fatherland for a long time in rather narrow circumstances, and suddenly came into a very large fortune. The only thing in the English taste was the crimson liveries of his people, with canary-coloured inexpressibles and stockings;--all the rest was German; even the hour of dining was an approach to ours. The length of the dinner was in the highest degree wearisome to me; I sat upon thorns, especially as I was expected elsewhere.
In spite of my ill-humour, however, I could not help laughing at the Wienerisch (Vienna dialect) of my Austrian neighbour.
May 16th.
I have been spending some days in the country at the Epsom races. The scene was very lively; all the roads full of swiftly-rolling equipages; and a large green hill in the middle of the plain, around which the races are held, so thickly covered with a thousand unharnessed carriages, and a motley crowd of horsemen and foot-passengers, that I never saw a more picturesque popular festival.--Now set this picture in the frame of a pretty cultivated landscape, with a sky full of dark clouds, much rain, and rare but hot gleams of sunshine.
I returned yesterday, that I might not miss a party at the King's to-day, to which I was invited--an event here looked upon as an extraordinary 'bonne fortune.'--You must not associate any idea of Court with it: but it is certain that the Ideal of a fashionable house cannot be more completely realized. Every comfort and every elegance of a private gentleman is united in the most tasteful and substantial manner with royal magnificence; and the monarch himself is, as is well known, prouder of nothing than of the title of "the first gentleman in England."
May 30th.
Though the everlasting whirl leaves little leisure, (and once drawn into the vortex it is not easy to extricate one's-self, even though one may find no pleasure in it,) I yet find a moment, from time to time, for more quiet and more durable enjoyment.
In one such, I lately visited a most interesting collection of pictures;--all portraits of persons eminent in English history. It was remarkable how frequently most of them corresponded in features and expression with the picture history has left us of them. The celebrated Lord Burleigh had moreover a striking resemblance to the great State Chancellor (Staats Kanzler) of Prussia, though he is greatly disguised by his head-dress, which is like an old wife's cap. James the First was divertingly true to his character; as was also his ambassador, the eccentric knight who so delightfully declares in his memoirs, that wherever he went, he charmed both men and women; and that his nature was like that of no other man, for that both he and all descended from him sent forth an atmosphere of the most agreeable natural fragrance.
I then went to another collection, consisting of modern paintings in water-colours, in which branch of art the English have certainly attained to a singular perfection. One is astonished at the glow and depth of colouring they produce. The Scotch landscapes were remarkably fine: there was a Sunset in the Highlands which rivalled Claude in truth; and a twilight on Loch Lomond, a poem full of romantic beauty. I had still time for a long ride, in the course of which, committing myself as usual to the guidance of chance, I came upon a most enchanting park, such as only the climate of England can produce. The gardens lay, in all their indescribable glow of beauty, in a narrow and fertile green valley full of high trees, under which three silver springs gushed forth, and flowing away in meandering brooks, took their course in all directions amid impervious thickets of blooming rhododendrons and azaleas.
My delight in such scenes is ever saddened by the regret that you cannot behold them with me: your fine and accurate taste would draw from them a thousand ideas of new and lovelier creations; either by the skilful grouping of colours, or by graceful forms, or by the distribution of light, the effect of which may be so greatly enhanced by judicious thinning or massing of the foliage.
The pleasant remembrance of this morning must diffuse itself over the rest of the day, which was filled by a dinner at Lady P----'s, distinguished for her love of good cheer; two balls at residences of British and foreign diplomacy; and a concert at Lord Grosvenor's. This was given, it is true, in a gallery of fine pictures; but on such an occasion they hardly give one more pleasure than any other hangings.
June 6th.
One of the most interesting houses to me is that of a noble Scot, the Earl of W----, a lineal descendant of Macduff. In his armoury is a branch of a tree said to be of Birnam Wood; probably a relic of the same quality as most others. Blessed is he who can believe in them! The family is most accomplished, and the Scotch mind is more nearly akin to the German than the English is. The amiable daughters taught me a new manner of preserving faithful and lasting portraits of feathered favourites:--the feathers are pulled off, and pasted on card-board or varnished wood, together with the legs and beak; this produces a bas-relief of great truth, and not exposed to destruction.
Charles the Tenth spent some time in Scotland, at Lord W----'s and left him an old maitre d'hotel, who, drolly enough, is called Bonneau, like him of the Pucelle; and is one of that nearly extinct domestic race of 'hommes de confiance' who are now never seen but on the stage, and hardly there. As such, and having been twenty-five years 'en fonction,' he is allowed occasionally to put in a word,--quite contrary to English manners, which do not permit servants to make the slightest approach to their masters, except in the way of their service. I have really found few things more amusing than this old Frenchman's stories about Court and society; his world, in fact, terminated with those times of which we can now scarcely form an idea. That the singular old man is only a 'a maitre d'hotel' detracts nothing from the interest; for he has seen more of the great world, and observed it better, than many of higher rank.
When I paid my visit to Lady W---- this morning, she had just received a great cargo of curiosities from one of her sons, who is travelling in South America. Among them was a lion-monkey, with a tail and mane like those of the king of beasts, on a body not larger than that of a rat. Instead of the disagreeable smell of most of his tribe, this little fellow exhales musk and cinnamon; and, like the knight I lately mentioned, perfumed the room like a pastile. A very complete collection of serpents, and another of butterflies, exhibited colours such as are only painted by the rising and setting sun.
I dined at Lady F----'s, where a curious incident occurred. Her husband was formerly Governor of the Isle of France, where a black-woman sold her a fortune-telling book, which, as she asserted, had belonged to the Empress Josephine before her departure for France, and in which she had read her future greatness and subsequent fall. Lady F---- produced it at tea, and invited the company to interrogate Destiny according to the prescribed method.--Now listen to the answers it gave, which are really remarkable. Madame de Rothschild was the first: she asked, whether her wishes would be fulfilled? She received for answer, "Weary not Fate with wishes; one who has received so much ought to be satisfied."
Mr. Spring Rice, a distinguished member of Parliament, and one of the most zealous champions of Catholic emancipation, (a subject in which everybody here takes a strong interest, either for or against,) next asked if this Bill would pass the Upper House, in which it was to be finally debated on the morrow?--I must interrupt my narrative to tell you that it is well known that it will not pass, but it is as universally believed that next session the desired object must be attained. "You will have no success this time," was the laconic reply. A young American lady was now urged to inquire whether she would soon be married. The answer was, "Not in this hemisphere." Next came my turn, and I asked whether what now so strongly agitated my heart were for my happiness. "Let the inclination drop," replied the magic book, "for you will find it is neither real nor permanent." The company who of course had no guess at my real meaning in this question, made themselves very merry about the answer I had received, and insisted upon my proposing another. I therefore asked, "Will Fortune be more favourable to me in more serious projects?" "Seek," was the reply, "and you will find; persevere, and you will obtain."
Without seeking, I found this evening something very agreeable; for I was presented by the Duchess of Clarence to her mother, the Duchess of Meiningen; a most amiable woman, of true German character; whom neither years nor rank have been able to rob of her 'naïf' natural manners,--perhaps the surest proof of a pure and lovely mind. This worthy mother of an honoured daughter must be a welcome guest to the English, who are much attached to their future Queen, and accordingly they pay her the greatest attentions. Pity, that high as well as low are generally too deficient in grace of manners, or felicity of address, to be able to act the drama of society on such occasions, so as to render the whole a pleasing or elegant spectacle! a drawing-room and a presentation at Court here are as ludicrous as the levée of a Bürgermeister of the ancient Free Imperial cities of our fatherland; and all the pride and pomp of aristocracy disappears in the childish 'embarras' of these 'ladies,' loaded,--not adorned,--with diamonds and fine clothes. In 'negligé,' and when they move at ease in their own houses and their accustomed circle, young Englishwomen often appear to great advantage: in 'parure' and large parties, scarcely ever; for an uncontrollable timidity, destructive of all grace, so paralyses even their intellectual powers, that a rational conversation with them would certainly be a most difficult matter to obtain.
Of all the women of Europe, I therefore hold them to be the most agreeable and 'comfortable' wives; and at the same time the most incapable of presenting themselves with grace, address, or presence of mind; and the least fitted to embellish society. In this judgment the praise manifestly far outweighs the censure.
June 16th.
To-day I was present at an interesting breakfast, given by the Pigeon Club. This title by no means implies that the members are gentle and harmless as doves:[87]--on the contrary, they are the wildest young fellows in England, and the poor pigeons have nothing to do with the matter but to be shot at. The arena was a large grass-plat surrounded by a wall. On one side was a row of tents; in the largest of which a table was spread with viands, from one o'clock till six, and furnished with a constant supply of iced moselle and champagne. About a hundred members and some guests were present; and they shot, ate and drank, by turns. The pigeons were placed in a row, eight at a time. Cords are fastened to the doors of their houses, which meet at the shooting-stand; when one is pulled it opens the door, and the pigeon flies out. The man who shot last pulls for his successor,--but standing behind him, so that the latter cannot see which cord he pulls, and is therefore uncertain which of the eight pigeons will fly out: if the pigeon falls within the wall after his fire, it is reckoned his; if not, it does not count. Every man has a double-barrelled gun, and may use both barrels.
The two most famous shots in England, are Captain de Roos and Mr Osbaldistone. They shot for a wager of a thousand pounds which is not yet decided. Neither missed once; and Captain de Roos's birds never fell twelve paces from the spot, and scarcely fluttered, but dropped like stones almost the moment he fired. Never did I see such admirable shooting. A pretty little spaniel belonging to the Club fetched every pigeon, and performed his duty like a machine, without either delay, neglect or hurry. At last the whole party shot for a golden vase of two hundred pounds value, (the annual prize of the Club,) which was won by Captain de Roos.
I did not get away from this jolly breakfast till seven o'clock, when I went to a little theatre, as yet unknown to me, called Sadler's Wells, which is a good three-quarters of a mile (German) from my dwelling. I went in a hackney coach. When I wanted to go home, towards one o'clock, I could find no coach in this out-of-the-way place, and all the houses were shut. This was the more disagreeable, as I had really not the least idea in what part of the town I was.
After wandering about the streets in vain for half an hour in search of a coach, I resigned myself to the idea of finding my way home on foot, with the aid of a watchman, when a stage coach came by which was going my way, and with which I happily regained my Penates about two o'clock.--The peculiarity of this theatre is that it contains real water, in which element the actors splash and dabble about by the hour together, like ducks or water rats: 'au reste,' nothing can surpass the nonsense of the melodrame, nor the horror of the singing by which it was accompanied.
June 20th.
I have been to another fancy ball, which has left only a melancholy impression on my mind. I remarked a pale man wrapped in a plain black domino, on whose countenance indescribable traces of the bitterest mental suffering were imprinted. It was not long before I asked L---- about him, and he told me as follows:
"This truly pitiable man might serve as the hero of a fearful romance. If it can be said of any one that he was born to misfortune, that is the man. Early in life he lost his large property by the fraudulent bankruptcy of a friend. A hundred times since has Fortune approached him, but only to mock him with hopes which were invariably dashed from him at the decisive moment: in almost every case it was some insignificant trifle--the delay of a letter--some easy mistake--some indisposition, slight in itself but disastrous in its consequences, that wrecked everything; apparently, always by his own fault, and yet, in fact, a tissue woven by mocking, malignant spirits.
"For a long time past he has made no more attempts to alter his condition; he seeks no improvement of his lot, persuaded beforehand, by long and cruel experience, that nothing can ever succeed with him. I have known him from youth up. Though guileless and unoffending as a child, the world in general deems him malignant; though one of the most upright of men, false and intriguing; he is shunned and dreaded, though never did a heart beat more warmly for the weal of others. The girl he adored committed suicide in consequence of his suspected infidelity. He found himself, by a series of unheard-of circumstances, accused of the murder of his brother, near whom he was found bleeding, having risked his life in his defence:--he was saved from an ignominious death only by the King's pardon; and it was not till some time afterwards that the proofs of his innocence came to light. Lastly, a woman with whom he was betrayed into marriage by an infamous and long protracted system of deceit, ran away with another man, and artfully contrived that, in the eyes of the world, the greater portion of the blame should rest with him.--All confidence in himself thus utterly crushed and blighted, every hope in destiny or in men annihilated, he lives among them like an unsympathizing, unconnected ghost,--a heart-rending example that there are beings who (as far as this life is concerned) seem to be sold to the Devil before their birth; for when the curse of destiny has once scathed a man, it not only raises up to him enemies at every step, but robs him of the confidence and, in time, of the hearts of his friends; till at length the unhappy one, crushed, rejected, and trodden under foot on every side, lays down his weary, wounded head, and dies; while his last sigh appears to the pitiless crowd an assumption and an intolerable discord. Wo to the unlucky! Threefold wo to them. For to them there is neither virtue, nor wisdom, nor skill, nor joy! There is but one good for them; and that is--death."
June 25th.
There is certainly something pleasant in having so many invitations at your disposal every day; and, if you are not pleased in one place, in being able immediately to seek out company that suits you better. Here and there, too, one finds something new, piquant, and interesting. Yesterday, at Prince L----'s, for instance, I met with a second Ninon de l'Enclos. Certainly nobody would take Lady A----, to be more than forty, and yet I was assured she is near eighty. Nothing in her appears forced or unnatural, but every thing youthful; figure, dress, air, vivacity of manners, grace and elasticity of limb, as far as this is discernible at a party,--all about her is perfectly young, and scarcely a wrinkle in her face. She has never made herself anxious, and has lived a very gay life from her youth up: she ran away from her husband twice, on which account she quitted England for a long time, and spent her large fortune in Paris. Altogether she is a very 'amiable' person, more French than English in her deportment, and quite 'du grand monde.' The science of the toilet she has studied profoundly, and has made some important discoveries in it. From all I could see of the results, I should be very glad to impart them to you and my other fair friends.
Next day the Duke of S---- gave a 'déjeuné champêtre' at his villa, at which invention was racked for something new in an entertainment of the kind. His whole house was hung with beautiful 'hautelisse' and gay Chinese hangings;--a multitude of sofas, easy chairs, 'chaises longues,' mirrors, &c., in all parts of the garden as well as of the rooms; besides a little encampment of tents of white and rose-coloured muslin, which had a beautiful effect, set in the emerald-green of the grounds.
In the evening, followed, as usual, an illumination, consisting chiefly of single lamps, half-hidden in tree and bush, like so many ruddy fruits or bright-glow worms, enticing the loving or the lonely. Those who preferred noisy to quiet pleasures also found their heart's desire. Here, a large part of the company was dancing in a wide tent, the way to which lay under a bowery archway of roses, brilliantly illuminated;--there, resounded a delightful concert, executed by the best performers from the Italian Opera. Italian weather, too, happily shone on this fête from beginning to end; any little mischievous spirit of air might have totally ruined it.
I have now so disposed my affairs that I shall be able to quit England in a month at furthest, to make a longer tour in Wales, and more especially in Ireland; which latter country, according to all I hear of it, excites my interest much more than even Scotland. Yet I am sorry that illness first, and the distractions of the metropolis afterwards, have robbed me of the sight of that country. It is an omission I must enter in my book of sins, which, alas! contains so many under the same head--Indolence--that terrible foe of man! Certainly that French Marshal in Louis the fourteenth's time,--a time so unfavourable to 'parvenus,' answered rightly, when he was asked, how it was possible that he could have raised himself to the highest dignities of his profession from the condition of a common soldier, "Only by this means," said he; "I never deferred till to-morrow what I could do to-day."
Almost under the same head may be classed Indecision, that other hereditary foe of the species, which another celebrated Marshal, Suvaroff, hated so much, that, with the usual exaggerations of his character, he instantly withdrew all favour from a man who replied to any question he asked him, "I don't know."
'Non mi ricordo' does better; and according to my principles I apply this to all the above-named sins, when once they are committed. We ought daily to repeat to ourselves, The past is dead, the future only lives. May it smile upon us, dearest Julia!
Your faithful L----.
Letter XXIV
Cobham Hall, June 30th.
BELOVED FRIEND,
After I had sent away my letter to you, and made an excursion into the country with some ladies, I drove to a party at the Duke of Clarence's, where there was, this time, such a genuine English squeeze, that I and several others could by no means get in; and went away, after waiting half an hour, 're infectâ,' to console ourselves at another ball. The mass in the first room was so jammed together that several men put on their hats, that they might have their arms more at liberty for active service. Ladies, covered with jewels were regularly 'milled,' and fell, or rather stood, fainting: cries, groans, curses, and sighs, were the only sounds to be heard. Some only laughed; and, inhuman as it was, I must accuse myself of having been among these latter; for really it was too droll to hear this called society. To say truth, I never saw any thing equal to it before.
Early the next morning I rode to Cobham Hall, to spend a few days there on occasion of Lord D----'s birthday, which was celebrated to-day in a rural and unpretending manner. Excepting myself, there was no one but the family, which was increased by the presence of the elder son and his beautiful and charming wife, who usually reside in Ireland. All was ordered for domestic enjoyment. We dined early, in order that we might be present at a supper in the open air, which Lord D---- gave to all his labourers, about a hundred in number. It was managed with the greatest decorum. We sat next to the iron fence in the pleasure-ground, and the tables for the people were placed on the new-mown grass. First, about fifty young girls, from the Lancasterian school which Lady D---- has established in the park, were regaled with tea and cakes. They were all dressed alike, and very prettily too; they were children of from six to fourteen. After them came the labourers, and seated themselves at a long table plentifully furnished with enormous dishes of roast beef, vegetables, and pudding. Each brought his own knife and fork and earthen pot. The servants of the house set on the dinner, did the honours, and poured out the beer from great watering-pots. The village musicians played all the while, and were really better than ours; they were also better dressed. On the other hand the labourers did not look so well or so neat as our Wends in their Sunday clothes. No one was invited except those who constantly worked for Lord D----. The health of every member of the family was drunk with nine times nine; on which our old coachman Child, (now in Lord D----'s service,) who is a kind of English improvisatore, got upon the middle of the table, and delivered a most comical speech in verse, in which I was introduced, and truly with this wish,--
To have always plenty of gold, And never to become old;
the double impossibility of which sounded rather ironical.
During all this time, and till it was dark, the little girls danced and skipped about incessantly, with great gravity, on the grass, without any sort of plan or connectedness, like puppets,--whether the music played or not. Our party in the pleasure ground was at length attacked by the dancing mania; and I myself constrained to break my vow, for I could not possibly refuse to dance with such a partner as lady D----.
July 4th.
I have not been so happy and amused for a long time as here. In the morning I make excursions in the beautiful country, or drive in lady D----'s little one horse phæton about the fields and park, without road or path; and in the evening I, like the rest, take only just so much part in the conversation as I like. Yesterday after dinner we all sat (nine persons) at least a couple of hours together in the library, reading,--each, of course I mean, in his own book,--without one single word being spoken. At which peripatetic silence we at last, all by common consent, laughed. We thought of the Englishman at Paris, who maintained 'que parler c'étoit gâter la conversation.' After visiting the Lancasterian school I mentioned,--where one person teaches sixty girls, some of whom come from the remotest parts of Lord D----'s estate, many miles, daily--I rode to Rochester to see the fine ruin of the old castle. What has not been destroyed by violence stands like a rock, from the time of William the Conqueror. The remains of the eating-hall, with its colossal pillars united by richly ornamented Saxon arches, are singularly fine. The stone ornaments were all carved in Normandy, and sent hither by water. I mounted the highest point of the ruin, whence I had a noble view of the union of the Thames and the Medway, the towns of Rochester and Chatham, with the dockyards of the latter, and a richly cultivated country.
At dinner our company received an addition,--Mr and Mrs P----, Mr M----, and a nephew of Lord D----'s. Mrs P---- told a good anecdote of Kemble the actor. On a professional tour in the provinces, he acted in a piece in which a camel is introduced. He told the 'décorateur' that, as he had just seen, there was a camel actually in the town, and that he had better therefore go and look at it, that he might make his artificial one as like it as possible. The man seemed extremely annoyed, and replied, he was sorry gentlemen in London thought people in the country were so ignorant; for his part, he flattered himself that, without going to look at any thing, he should produce a more natural camel this evening than any that was walking about the streets.
The following day we rode out, and this time in company with the ladies, after which we went on the water in Lord D----'s elegant yacht. I was to drive the party down to the Thames, four-in-hand, in which I have had so little practice of late years, that at a crossway the leaders, in spite of my efforts, ran their heads against a stage-coach driving across us:--this occasioned a scream in both the carriages, which greatly incensed old Child, who looks upon me as his pupil.
Thus, like the great Corsican, in one day I lost all my renown in the high art of guiding the reins--from the throne, ycleped ruling,--from the box, driving. I was therefore obliged to abdicate the latter, since the ladies maintained that my possession of this exalted seat was attended with too much danger to them. This mortified me so sorely, that when we got on board the yacht I climbed up the shrouds, and seated myself at the mast-head, where, fanned by a mild zephyr, I admired at my ease the ever-changing prospect, and philosophized on my downfall.
July 5th.
After I had vigorously assisted in hewing out some new prospects in the thicket, (at which we all lent a hand,) and planned a road through the park which is to be so far honoured as to bear my name, I took a cordial leave of this most estimable family, (who might serve as a pattern to the nobility of any country,) and returned to London, provided with many letters of introduction for Ireland.
July 8th.
As before I depart I mean to send you all sorts of things, with my horses, carriage and birds, (of the latter you will receive a complete cargo of the rarest sorts), I have had enough to do to-day to complete my purchases. In the course of this occupation I fell upon an exhibition of machinery and manufactures, among which are many interesting things; as, for instance, a machine which draws of itself, (if I may say so,) all the objects visible within its horizon, in perspective: a piano-forte which, besides serving the usual purpose, plays (extra) a hundred pieces by itself, which you may accompany with extemporary `fantasie' on the keys: a very compendious domestic telegraph, which spares the servants half their labour, and us nearly all their burdensome presence: a washing machine, which requires only one woman to wash a great quantity of linen: a most elegant churn, with which you can make butter on your breakfast table in two minutes; and other novelties of the like kind.
From hence I drove to the greatest nursery garden in the neighbourhood of London, which I had long wished to see. The multifold wants of such a number of rich people raise private undertakings to a magnitude and extent in England which they reach nowhere else. On such a scale I found a collection of green-houses in this garden. In many were small leaden tubes, carried along the edges of the glass roof,--three or four on each side: the tubes are perforated with very small holes: by only turning a cock, a stream of water is carried through them; and in one moment the whole house is filled with a thick shower, just like natural rain. This makes the labour of watering almost unnecessary, has a much more powerful and uniform effect, and only requires some aid where the leaves are too large and thick to allow the rain to penetrate.
Without going into the details of the innumerable sorts of pines, roses, &c., I must only remark, that in the department of esculent vegetables, there were four hundred and thirty-five sorts of salad, two hundred and sixty-one of peas, and two hundred and forty of potatoes,--and all other articles of garden commerce in the same proportion.
On my way back I met the Tyrolers, who had been making holiday, and asked my old acquaintance (the girl) how she was pleased with her stay here. She declared with enthusiasm that her Saint must have brought her here; for that they had made 7000_l._ sterling in a few months, which they had earned--hard money--only with singing their dozen songs.
Prince Esterhazy has made this Gejodle[88] the fashion here, and fashion in England is every thing. Sontag and Pasta, with their wonderful talents, have chiefly this to thank for their success--they were the fashion; for Weber, who did not understand the art of making himself fashionable, gained, as is well known, almost nothing;--the two Bohrers, Kiesewetter, and other men of real genius, were not more fortunate.
While I am talking of fashion, it seems a suitable occasion, before I quit England, to enter a little more at large on the subject of the structure and tone of English society, which is certainly rather more striking to a stranger in this admired land, than fog, steam-engines, or stage-coaches. It is not necessary to remark here, that in such general descriptions only the most prominent and reigning peculiarities are taken into consideration, and that, in the censure which is passed on the whole, the hundred honourable exceptions which exhibit the praiseworthy contrast in such full perfection, are left wholly out of the account.
England is now--viewed, certainly, with relation to a totally different universal spirit of the age--in a similar state to that of France thirty years before the revolution. And it will fall out with her as with her great rival, if she does not avert the storm by radical but continuous reform. Nearly-allied fundamental evils are present here, as there. On the one side, the undue preponderance, misused power, inflexible stony arrogance, and heartless frivolity of the great; on the other, selfishness and rapacity are grown into the national character of the mass of the people. Religion no longer dwells in the heart and spirit, but is become a dead form; notwithstanding the most unenlightened spirit of Catholicism,--with fewer ceremonies, indeed, but combined with like intolerance, and a similar hierarchy; and which besides the bigotry and the pride of Rome, has this over and above, that it possesses an enormous share of the property of the country.[89]
Like causes have also given an analogous tone and direction to what is pre-eminently called, Society. Experience will confirm this to every man who has access to what is called high life in England; and it will be highly interesting to him to observe how different a growth and aspect the same plant has assumed in France and England, in consequence of the original difference of the soil; for in France it grew rather out of chivalry and poetry, combined with the dominant vanity of the nation, with levity of character, and a real delight in social existence:--in England, out of a brutal feudal tyranny, the commercial prosperity of later years, an ill-humour and moroseness innate in the nation, and a cold stony self-love.
People on the continent generally form to themselves a more or less republican picture of English society. In the public life of the nation this is certainly very observable,--as also in their domestic habits, in which selfishness is strangely prevalent. Grown-up children and parents soon become almost strangers; and what we call domestic life[90] is therefore applicable only to husband, wife, and little children living in immediate dependence on their father; as soon as they grow up, a republican coldness and estrangement take place between them and their parents. An English poet maintains, that the love of a grandfather to his grandchildren arises from this--that in his grown-up sons he sees only greedy and hostile heirs,--in his grandchildren, the future enemies of his enemies. The very thought could never have arisen but in an English brain!
In the relations and tone of society, on the other hand, from the highest step to the very lowest, not a trace of any element of republicanism is to be found. Here, everything is in the highest degree ultra-aristocratic--it is caste-like. The present so-called great world would probably have taken a different form and character if a Court, in the continental sense of the word, had given tone and direction in the highest instance.
Such a one, however, does not here exist. The Kings of England live like private men; most of the high officers about the Court are little more than nominal, and are seldom assembled except on occasions of great ceremony. Now, as somewhere in society a focus must be organized, from which the highest light and the highest authority in all matters connected with society must emanate, the rich aristocracy seemed here called to assume this station.
It was, however, spite of all its wealth and puissance, not yet qualified to maintain such a station unquestioned. The English nobility, haughty as it is, can scarcely measure itself against the French in antiquity and purity of blood (if any value is to be attached to such things), and in no degree against the higher German nobility, which is for the most part intact.[91] It dazzles only by the old historic names so wisely retained, which appear through the whole of English history like standing masks; though new families, often of very mean and even discreditable extraction, (such as descendants of mistresses, and the like), are continually concealed behind them. The English aristocracy has indeed the most solid advantages over those of all other countries--from its real wealth, and yet more from the share in the legislative power allotted to it by the Constitution: but as it is not upon these grounds that it chooses to assert or to justify its supremacy, but precisely upon its assumed noble blood and higher extraction, the pretension must, unquestionably, appear to the rest of the world doubly ludicrous. The members of the aristocracy probably had an instinctive feeling of this; and thus, by a tacit convention--not nobility, not wealth, but an entirely new power was placed upon the throne, as supreme and absolute sovereign--Fashion: a goddess who in England alone, reigns in person, (if I may so express myself), with despotic and inexorable sway,--though always represented to mortal eyes by a few clever usurpers of either sex.
The spirit of caste, which, emanating from this source, descends through all stages of society in greater or less force, has received here a power, consistency and full development, wholly unexampled in any other country. The having visited on an intimate footing in a lower class is sufficient to ensure you an extremely cold reception in the very next step of the ladder; and no Brahmin can shrink with more horror from all contact with a Paria, than an 'Exclusive' from intercourse with a 'Nobody.'--Every class of society, as well as every field, in England is separated from every other by a hedge of thorns. Each has its own manners and turns of expression,--its 'cant' language, as it is called, and, above all, a supreme and absolute contempt for all below it. Of course every reflecting person sees at a glance, that a society so constituted must necessarily become eminently provincial (kleinstädtisch, i. e. small-townish) in its several coteries; and this strikingly distinguishes it from the large and cosmopolitan society of Paris.
Now, although the aristocracy, as I have remarked, does not stand as such on the pinnacle of this strange edifice, it yet exercises great influence over it. It is indeed difficult to become fashionable without being of good descent; but it by no means follows, that a man is so in virtue of being well born--still less of being rich. It sounds ludicrous to say, (but yet it is true), that the present King for instance, is a very fashionable man; that his father was not in the least degree so, and that none of his brothers have any pretension to fashion;--which unquestionably is highly to their honour:--for no man who has any personal claims to distinction, would be frivolous enough long to have either the power or the will to maintain himself in that category. On the other hand, it would be a doubtful and critical matter to affirm decidedly what are the qualities which secure the highest places in that exalted sphere. You see alternately the most heterogeneous qualities occupy a post in it; and political motives, in a country like this, cannot be entirely without influence: yet I believe that caprice and luck, and, above all, women, here, as in the rest of the world, do more than anything else.
On the whole, fashionable Englishmen, however unable they may be to lay aside their native heaviness and pedantry, certainly betray the most intense desire to rival the dissolute frivolity and 'jactance' of the old Court of France in their fullest extent; while in exactly the same proportion the French now seek to exchange this character for old English earnestness, and daily advance towards higher and more dignified purposes and views of existence.
A London Exclusive of the present day is in truth nothing more than a bad, flat, dull impression of a 'roué' of the Regency and a courtier of Louis the Fifteenth: both have, in common, selfishness, levity, boundless vanity, and an utter want of heart; both think they can set themselves above everything by means of contempt, derision and insolence; both creep in the dust before one idol alone--the Frenchman of the last age, before his King--the Englishman of this, before any acknowledged ruler in the empire of fashion. But what a contrast if we look further! In France, the absence of all morality and honesty was at least in some degree atoned for by the most refined courtesy; the poverty of soul, by wit and agreeableness; the impertinence of considering themselves as something better than other people, rendered bearable by finished elegance and politeness of manners; and egotistical vanity in some measure justified, or at least excused, by the brilliancy of an imposing Court, a high-bred air and address, the perfect art of polished intercourse, winning 'aisance,' and a conversation captivating by its wit and lightness.--What of all this has the English 'dandy' to offer?
His highest triumph is to appear with the most wooden manners, as little polished as will suffice to avoid castigation; nay, to contrive even his civilities so, that they are as near as may be to affronts:--this indeed is the style of deportment which confers upon him the greatest celebrity. Instead of a noble, high-bred ease,--to have the courage to offend against every restraint of decorum: to invert the relation in which our sex stands to women, so that they appear the attacking, and he the passive or defensive party;--to treat his best friends, if they cease to have the stamp and authority of fashion, as if he did not know them,--"to cut them," as the technical phrase goes; to delight in the ineffably 'fade' jargon, and the affectation of his 'set;' and always to know what is 'the thing:'--these are pretty nearly the accomplishments which form a young 'lion' of the world of fashion. If he has, moreover, a remarkably pretty mistress, and if it has also happened to him to induce some foolish woman to sacrifice herself on the altar of fashion, and to desert husband and children for him, his reputation reaches its highest 'nimbus.' If, added to this, he spends a great deal of money, if he is young, and if his name is in the 'Peerage,' he can hardly fail to play a transient part; at any rate he possesses in full measure all the ingredients that go to make a Richelieu of our days. That his conversation consists only of the most trivial local jests and scandal, which he whispers into the ear of a woman in a large party, without deigning to remark that there is anybody in the room but himself and the happy object of his delicate attentions; that with men he can talk only of gambling or of sporting; that, except a few fashionable phrases which the shallowest head can the most easily retain, he is deplorably ignorant; that his awkward 'tournure' goes not beyond the 'nonchalance' of a plough-boy, who stretches himself at his length on the ale-house settle; and that his grace is very like that of a bear which has been taught to dance,--all this does not rob his crown of a single jewel.
Worse still is it, that, notwithstanding the high-bred rudeness of his exterior, the moral condition of his inward man must, to be fashionable, stand far lower. That cheating is prevalent in the various kinds of play which are here the order of the day, and that when long successfully practised it gives a sort of 'relief,' is notorious: but it is still more striking, that no attempt is made to conceal that 'crasse' selfishness which lies at the bottom of such transactions,--nay, that it is openly avowed as the only rational principle of action, and 'good-nature' is laughed at and despised as the 'comble' of vulgarity. This is the case in no other country: in all others, people are ashamed of such modes of thinking, even if they are wretched enough to hold them. "We are a selfish people," said a favourite leader of fashion, "I confess; and I do believe that what in other countries is called 'amor patriæ' is amongst us nothing but a huge conglomeration of love of ourselves: but I am glad of it; I like selfishness; there's good sense in it;"--and he added, not satirically, but quite in earnest, "Good-nature is quite 'mauvais ton' in London; and really it is a bad style to take up, and will never do."
It is true that if you choose to analyze and hunt down every feeling with the greatest subtlety, you may discover a sort of selfishness at the very bottom of everything; but in all other nations a noble shame throws a veil over it; as there are instincts very natural and innocent, which are yet concealed even by the most uncivilized.
Here, however, people are so little ashamed of the most 'crasse' self-love, that an Englishman of rank once instructed me that a good 'fox-hunter' must let nothing stop him, or distract his attention when following the fox; and if his own father should be thrown in leaping a ditch, and lie there, should, he said, 'if he couldn't help it,' leap his horse over him, and trouble himself no more about him till the end of the chase.[92]
With all this, our pattern 'dandy' has not the least independence, even in his bad qualities: he is the trembling slave of fashion, even in the extremest trifles; and the obsequious, servile satellite of the fortunate individuals who are higher than himself. Were virtue and modesty suddenly to become the fashion, nobody would be more exemplary,--difficult as would be the task to accomplish.
Destitute of all originality, and without a thought he can properly call his own, he may be compared to a clay figure, which, for a while, deceives one with all the properties of a human being, but returns into its native mud as soon as you discover that it has not a soul.
Whoever reads the best of the recent English novels--those by the author of Pelham--may be able to abstract from them a tolerably just idea of English fashionable society; provided (N.B.) he does not forget to deduct qualities which national self-love has claimed, though quite erroneously:--namely, grace for its 'roués,'--seductive manners and amusing conversation for its 'dandies.' I mixed for a while with those who dwell on the very pinnacle of this fool's world of fashion; with those who inhabit its middle regions, and with those who have pitched their tents at its foot, whence they turn longing, lingering looks at the unattainable summit; but rarely did I ever find a vestige of that attractive art of social life, that perfect equipoise of all the social talents, which diffuses a feeling of complacency over all within its sphere;--as far removed from stiffness and prudery as from rudeness and license, which speaks with equal charm to the heart and the head, and continually excites, while it never wearies; an art of which the French so long remained the sole masters and models.
Instead of this, I saw in the fashionable world only too frequently, and with few exceptions, a profound vulgarity of thought; an immorality little veiled or adorned; the most undisguised arrogance; and the coarsest neglect of all kindly feelings and attentions haughtily assumed, for the sake of shining in a false and despicable 'refinement,' even more inane and intolerable to a healthy mind, than the awkward and ludicrous stiffness of the most declared Nobodies. It has been said that vice and poverty are the most revolting combination:--since I have been in England, vice and boorish rudeness seem to me to form a still more disgusting union. * * *
* * * * *
Passing over some of the most remarkable English rulers of fashion, I must mention one foreign potentate, who has placed herself on the same throne with the highest.
The haughty and masculine spirit of this lady, which, when she chooses, she knows how to conceal under the most engaging affability, combined with all the diplomatic craftiness of her station, have enabled her to set her foot on the neck of English supremacy; but she has not been able to give to the court that surrounds her and bows blindly to all her decrees, either her wit and tact, or her high-born air, or that repulsive politeness to all, which is the 'ne plus ultra' of the manner which it is the main object of an Exclusive's life to attain. The distance in these respects between her and her associates in sovereignty is almost burlesque; yet they rule side by side in Olympus. But even the immortal gods have to encounter opposition; and thus we find a gigantic antagonist in the monarch of the nether world. * * *
* * * * *
At his house are to be seen many of the 'Dii minores gentium,' such as actresses turned into duchesses and countesses, &c. who are not admitted into the circle 'par excellence.' * * *
* * * * *
A high degree of influence is also possessed by a foreign ambassador; and without doubt he would possess the very highest, if the best tone, kind-hearted amiability, high rank, the finest taste, and (notwithstanding an assumed English 'tournure') a perfect absence of that heaviness and pedantry, of which English fashionables can never divest themselves, constituted the sole claims to pre-eminence. But it is precisely because he is too far removed from the English, both by that native amiability which continually gains an involuntary conquest over his 'Anglo manie,' and by his German cordiality, that he excites their envy rather than their admiration; and though 'recherche' by most, because he is the fashion, remains a strange meteor in their system, whom they attack where they can, and whom, at all events, they cannot take to their hearts as they do their own Jupiter Ammon, nor acknowledge in him 'autorité sans replique' with that blind submission they pay to their Autocratess. Perhaps the wife of the ambassador might easily have played the part of that lady, whom she excels in beauty as well as in youth; and for a time the chances stood equal between them; but she was too heedless, too natural and good-tempered to obtain a definitive conquest. However high therefore be her place in the fashionable world, her rival has unquestionably achieved the highest. Nobody who knows the causes will think the loser the less amiable.
Among the other female rulers of the first category, I must mention one or two whom no one may omit who seeks entrance into the sanctuary. At the very top, is a no longer young but still lovely Countess; one of the very few Englishwoman of whom it can be said, that she possesses a perfect, and truly distinguished 'tournure.' With her natural gifts she would, in any other country, have been thoroughly amiable and delightful; but here none can escape the deadening impress of that spirit of caste, so utterly blighted to all that is lovely and loving in the human heart. * * *
* * * * *
In the age of innocence of the English world of fashion, when the natives as yet were fain to copy continental manners, and had not attained to that independence which now asserts its claim to serve as model to other countries, a Dandy governed by means of his coat; and the celebrated Brummel tyrannized over town and country, by this simple instrument, during long years of glory. But this is no longer the case: the sublime Exclusive, on the contrary, affects a certain inattention to his dress, which is almost always alike; and is quite above running after or inventing new fashions: his dress is at most distinguished only for exquisite neatness and delicacy of texture. Far other qualities are now necessary to constitute a man of fashion. He must, as formerly in France, have the reputation of a heartless seducer, and be a dangerous man. But as, with all the good-will in the world, it is not so easy for men of graceless manners and invincible awkwardness to rival the brilliant charm and captivating address of the Frenchman of the 'Vieille Cour,' it is necessary, like Tartuffe, to play the soft and insidious hypocrite; with the subdued voice which is now the fashion, and false words, to make a way in the dark to unprincipled acts; such as false play, or the 'gulling' of a novice in every species of sport, in which so many young Englishmen find despair and suicide, where they sought recreation and excitement;--where these arts are not applicable, to seek, by all sorts of intrigue, to destroy the fortune and reputation of those who stand in their way, or, at the least, to rob them of all influence in exclusive society.
He who is intimately acquainted with England's dark side, will not accuse me of exaggeration in this description. * * *
* * * * *
Let a man's moral and intellectual qualities be what they may, if he is the fashion, he can say or do nothing that will not be received with admiration and applause. His words are oracles; his wit must be exquisite, since he has received his patent for it from fashionable society; and where Fashion speaks, the free Englishman is a slave. Besides, the vulgar feel that in all matters of art, talent or taste, they are no very competent judges; they therefore think it safer blindly to applaud a 'bon mot' when they see it has made their superiors laugh; or to repeat an opinion which has proceeded from privileged lips:--just as the public were in the third heavens with ecstasy for a whole winter at a party of Tyrolese ballad-singers, and rained down money, which the green butcher-family pocketed with a laugh. * * *
* * * * *
The far-famed Almack's, and the unrivalled puissance of the Lady-Patronesses, I have already described to you. I must add two signal acts of their power.
In a fit of pretty ill-humour these high and mighty Ladies ordered that no person who came after midnight should be admitted. Soon after, the Duke of Wellington came from the House of Lords a few minutes too late, and thought he should be certain to find an exception in his favour. 'Point du tout'--the hero of Waterloo could not carry this fortress, and was obliged to retreat.
Another time the Lady-Patronesses issued a decree, that only gentlemen who were bow-legged should be permitted to appear in loose pantaloons: all others were ordered to wear breeches;--in England, where the very name is forbidden, certainly a bold decree.
The dread of the new tribunal of inquisition was so great, that at first even this edict was obeyed. But a reaction followed. A great number of gentlemen appeared at the door in the prohibited pantaloons, and demanded admittance on the plea of crooked legs, of which they declared themselves guilty; and, in case they were not believed, invited the Lady-Patronesses to convince themselves of the fact by personal inspection. From that time the Ladies have winked at this offending portion of male attire.
July 10th.
To-morrow I hope to be able to take my way to wider and freer regions; and it will be some time before I resume the pent-up life of a city.
Lord Byron somewhere says of himself, that his soul never enjoyed its full activity but in solitude. This truth is applicable to lesser people, for it is just so with me. In wearisome society I am but half conscious of a soul: and I am oppressed by the horrible thought--Now, if possible, you must be 'amiable.' On the other hand, I am, as you know, least alone when alone; for then do I the least miss your society, my best of friends!
However distant you may be, my spirit hovers around your waking and your dreaming hours; and over sea and mountain my heart feels the affectionate pulse of yours.
L----.
Letter XXV
Cheltenham, July 12, 1828.
MY DEAR JULIA,
I left London at two o'clock in the morning, very ill and out of spirits; in harmony with the weather, which was perfectly 'à l'Anglaise.' It blew a hurricane, and rained water-spouts. About eight o'clock, however, the sky cleared. I had been lulled into a gentle slumber by the rapid and easy roll of the carriage; all nature shone with an emerald brightness, and a delicious fragrance poured in at the open windows from every field and flower; and your care-worn, melancholy friend was again, in a few moments, the light-hearted child rejoicing in the beautiful world, and in its mighty and merciful Creator. Travelling in England is, indeed, most delightful. Could I but witness your pleasure in it! Could I but feel my own doubled by your participation! It rained occasionally through the day, but I was little incommoded by this in a close carriage, and found the air mild and balmy. The former part of the country through which our road lay, teemed with all the luxuriant vegetation of the most beautiful park; the next presented boundless corn fields without hedges, which is a rarity in England; and the last nearly resembled the rich plains of Lombardy. I passed many large parks, which, however, weather being uncertain, and time limited, I left unvisited. It is not easy, after my long park and garden chase through half England, to find any thing new of this kind. In Cirencester I visited a beautiful Gothic church of great antiquity, with windows of coloured glass in pretty good preservation, and curious grotesque carvings. It is a grievous pity that the Gothic churches in England, without exception, are defaced by tasteless modern grave-stones and monuments.
Late in the evening I reached Cheltenham, an extremely pretty watering-place, of an elegance nowhere to be found on the continent. Even the splendid gas-lights and the new villa-looking houses, each surrounded by its little flower-garden, put the mind into a cheerful and agreeable tone. I arrived, too, just in the hour when the contest between the light of day and the artificial illumination produces a peculiar and, to me, pleasing effect. As I entered the inn, which, I might almost call magnificent, and ascended the snow-white stone staircase, ornamented with a gilt bronze railing, and trod on fresh and brilliant carpets, lighted by two servants to my room, I gave myself up, 'con amore,' to the feeling of 'comfort' which can be found in perfection nowhere but in England. In this point of view, it is a country completely made for a misanthrope like myself;--since all that is unconnected with social life, all that a man can procure with money, is excellent and perfect in its kind; and he may enjoy it isolated, without any other human being troubling himself about him.
A larger mass of varied and manifold enjoyments may certainly be found in England than it is possible to procure with us. Not in vain have wise institutions long prevailed here. What especially soothes and gladdens the philanthropist is the spectacle of the superior comfort and more elevated condition in the scale of existence, universally prevailing. What with us are called luxuries, are here looked upon as necessaries, and are diffused over all classes. Hence arise, even in the smallest and most ordinary details, an endeavour after elegance, an elaborate finish and neatness; in a word, a successful combination of the beautiful with the useful, which is entirely unknown to our lower classes.
The distress, in truth, consisted in this; that the people, instead of having three or four meals a day, with tea, cold meat, bread and butter, beef-steaks or roast meat, were now obliged to content themselves with two, consisting only of meat and potatoes. It was, however, just harvesttime, and the want of labourers in the field so great, that the farmers gave almost any wages. Nevertheless, I was assured that the mechanics would rather destroy all the machinery and actually starve, than bring themselves to take a sickle in their hands, or bind a sheaf: so intractable and obstinate are the English common people rendered by their universal comfort, and the certainty of obtaining employment if they vigorously seek it. From what I have now told you, you may imagine what deductions you ought to make from newspaper articles.
July 13th.
This morning I visited some of the public walks, which fell short of my expectations; and drank the waters, which have some resemblance to those of Carlsbad. I found them very heating. The doctors here say, as ours do, that they must be drunk early in the morning, or they lose a great part of their efficacy. The joke is, however, that here, early begins exactly where it ends with us, namely, at ten o'clock.
The weather is unfortunately not favourable: cold and stormy, after a continuance of heat pretty long for England. For travelling, however, it is not bad; at least I find myself in far better spirits than in London, and am in great delight at the anticipation of the beautiful scenery of Wales, towards which I am now bending my course.
I entreat you to be with me, at least in thought, and let our spirits journey together over sea and land, look down from the summits of mountains and enjoy the sweet repose of valleys; for I doubt not that spirits, in forms as infinitely various as infinity itself is boundless, rejoice, throughout all worlds, in the beauty of God's magnificent creation.
I will first lead you to the seven sources of the Thames, which arises two or three miles from Cheltenham. I set out on this excursion in 'a Fly' (a kind of small landau, drawn by one horse), on the top of which I sat, that I might enjoy the beautiful prospect from the highest station.
After a long ascent, you come to some solitary grassy hills; on the top of these, under the shade of two or three alders, is a little group of plashy springs, which trickle away, forming, as far as the eye can follow them, an insignificant brook. Such is the modest infancy of the proud Thames. I felt a tide of poetry come over my mind, as I thought, how, but a few hours ago, and but a few miles hence, I had seen these same waters covered with a thousand vessels; how this glorious stream, in its short course, bears on its bosom more ships, more treasures, and more human beings, than any of its colossal brethren; how the capital of the world lies on its banks, and by her omnipotent commerce may be almost said to rule the four quarters of the globe. With reverential admiration I looked down on the gushing drops, and compared them, one while with Napoleon, who, obscurely born in Ajaccio, in a few years made all the thrones of the earth tremble;--then with the avalanche, which, loosened from its bed under the foot of a sparrow, in five minutes buries a village;--then with Rothschild, whose father sold ribands, and without whose assistance no power in Europe is now able to carry on war.
My driver, who was at the same time an accredited Cheltenham cicerone, took me from this spot to a high hill called Lackington Hill, from which there is a celebrated view, with the appendage of a pleasant inn for the accommodation of visitors. Hidden under a bower of roses[93] my eye commanded an extent of seventy English miles;--a rich plain studded with towns and villages, among which the cathedral of Gloucester is the most striking and stately object. Behind it rose two ridges, the Malvern Hills and above them the Welsh mountains. Beautiful as was all around me, the distant blue mountains, bathed in air, awoke in me only an intense longing after home. How gladly should I have flown to your side with the aid of Fortunatus's cap!
Up to this time black clouds had chased each other across the heavens; just as I turned away from the prospect the sun provokingly broke forth: it lighted me through a beautiful beech-wood to the charming seat of Mr. Todd, who has built a smiling village in the midst of the leafy shade, consisting of straw-roofed cottages and pretty moss houses. In the centre of a green level turf stands a noble lime-tree, surrounded by three tiers of benches for as many generations. Not far distant, on the withered trunk of a tree, is a sun-dial, and on the edge of the hill overlooking the valley, a rural seat, sheltered by a little arched roof covered with heather, and its sides tastefully interwoven with roots. On holidays it is often covered with evergreens and flowers, and lighted at evening with gay lamps. In the neighbouring park, which has many distinguishing beauties, are the ruins of a Roman villa: they were accidentally discovered about eight years ago by the sudden sinking-in of a tree. Some baths are still in good preservation, as are also two tessellated floors; they are however of rather coarse workmanship, and bear no comparison with those discovered at Pompeii. The walls are in part covered with red and blue stucco, two inches thick, and the brick pipes for conveying heat are of a quality and durability now unequalled. About three quarters of a mile further on, the Roman road is distinctly to be traced, and a portion of it is indeed in actual use: it is to be distinguished from the English road chiefly by its running, like a north-German 'Chaussée,' in a perfectly straight line. It is to be hoped, however, that the taste of the Romans was too good to allow them to enclose their roads between two endless rows of Lombardy poplars, and thus inflict a twofold torture of monotony on the unfortunate traveller. How different from an English road, which winds around the hills in soft and graceful sweeps, avoiding deep valleys or reverend trees, instead of following the one inveterate idea of a straight line, at a sixfold cost, through thick and thin, over hill and valley.
On my return to Cheltenham, I passed through a large village, where I visited for the first time what is here called a tea-garden. The ingenuity with which a small space is made to contain a hundred little niches, benches, and picturesque, nay, often romantic seats, is quite extraordinary, and forms a curious contrast with the phlegm of the gaily dressed multitude who rather garnish than animate the scene.
As it was rather early when I reached the town, I took advantage of the beautiful evening to visit more of the mineral waters, and I found that in the morning I had stumbled on the least important. These establishments are extremely splendid, ornamented with marble decorations, and still more with flowers, green-houses and pretty plantations. As soon as a thing is the fashion in England it becomes the subject of enormous speculation. This is to such a degree the case here, that the value of an acre of land in the neighbourhood of the town has risen within fifteen years from forty to a thousand guineas. The gardens and grounds which are destined to be places of public resort and amusement, are here, and I think rightly, laid out in a totally different style from the gardens and parks of private gentlemen. Broad and shady walks, and distinct open spaces, are rather to be aimed at, than picturesque views, or a large and landscape-like whole. Their manner of planting shady walks pleases me. A strip of ground about five feet wide, on each side of the way, is dug and thickly planted with a mixture of various trees and shrubs. The most flourishing trees are afterwards left to grow, and the others are kept down by the shears as irregular underwood. Between this and the top of the high trees the prospect is as it were set in a beautiful frame; the whole is fuller and more luxuriant; and wherever the country is uninteresting, it may be shut out by merely suffering the underwood to grow.
Worcester, July 14th.
Yesterday, 'entre la poire et le fromage,' I received the twice-declined visit of the master of the ceremonies,--the gentleman who does the honour of the baths, and exercises a considerable authority over the company of an English watering-place, in virtue of which he welcomes strangers with most anti-English officiousness and pomposity, and manifests great care and zeal for their entertainment. An Englishman invested with such a character has mauvais jeu, and vividly recalls the ass in the fable, who tried to imitate the caresses of the lapdog. I could not get rid of my visitor till he had swallowed some bottles of claret with me, and devoured all the dessert the house afforded. At length he took his leave, first extorting from me a promise that I would honour the ball of the following evening with my presence. However, I had so little inclination for company and new acquaintances, that I made 'faux bond,' and left Cheltenham early in the morning.
The country continued most lovely, the near ground full of soft meadows and deep green clumps of trees; the horizon bounded by the mountains, which at every mile grew in magnitude and distinctness of outline. At almost every stage I passed a considerable town, which was never without its towering Gothic church. The situation of Tewksbury struck me as peculiarly delightful. Nothing can be more tranquil, more pastoral; and yet all these blooming plains were bloody battle-fields in the times of the countless civil wars of England, whence they retain the names, now so inappropriate, of Bloody Field, Field of Bones, &c.
Worcester, where I am now writing, the chief city of the county, has nothing remarkable except its magnificent cathedral; the windows contain but small remains of ancient painted glass: to these, new has been added, which is very little inferior either in softness or brilliancy to the old. In the middle of the nave King John is buried: his effigy in stone reposes on the tomb; the oldest monument of an English king which Great Britain contains. The tomb was opened some years ago, when the skeleton was found in good preservation, and in precisely the same dress as that represented in the statue: as soon as it came in contact with the air, the materials of which it was composed crumbled into dust; the sword was entirely consumed by rust, and only its handle remained.
Another very interesting monument is that of a Templar, of the year 1220, with this Norman inscription: "Ici gist syr guilleaume de harcourt fys robert de harcourt, et de Isabel de camvile." The figure of the knight (whose costume, by-the-by, is totally different from that of Count Brühl's Templar at Berlin[94]) is an admirable piece of sculpture, and reposes with an ease and 'abandon' which would do no discredit to antique art: his dress consists of boots or stockings (whichever you choose to call them) of mail, and golden spurs; the knee is naked; above the knee is again covered with mail, which so completely encloses the whole body, and even the head, that only the face is visible. Over this shirt of mail is a long red mantle, falling in folds below the calf; and over this a black baldrick, from which hangs a sword in a red scabbard: the left arm supports a narrow pointed shield bearing the family arms, and not the cross of the Temple. This is found only on the tomb. The whole figure is, as you perceive, painted; and the colours are from time to time renewed.
As the greatest of all curiosities, strangers are shown Prince Arthur's tomb, the intricate stone tracery of which is really like the most exquisite carvings in wood or ivory. On one side of the chapel are fine rows of small figures, one above another. The order is as follows: on the lowest row the abbesses; above them bishops; above them kings; then saints; and at the top of all, angels. 'Quant à moi, qui ne suis encore ni saint, ni ange, souffrez que je vous quitte pour mon diner.'
Llangollen, July 15th.
If I had the honour to be the wandering Jew (who of course must have money ad libitum), I should most certainly spend the greatest part of my immortality on the high road, and specially in England. ''Tis so delightful' for a man of my opinions and character. In the first place, no human being troubles or constrains me. Wherever I pay well, I am the first person (always an agreeable feeling for the lordly sons of men), and meet with none but smiling faces and obliging people, full of zeal to serve me. Continued motion, without fatigue, keeps the body in health; and the rapidly succeeding changes in beautiful, free nature have the same strengthening influence on the mind. I must confess that I am partly of Dr. Johnson's opinion:--he maintained that the greatest human felicity was to drive rapidly over an English road in a good postchaise, with a pretty woman by one's side.
It is one of the most agreeable sensations in the world to me to roll along in a comfortable carriage, and to stretch myself out at my ease while my eye feasts on the ever-changing pictures, like those of a magic lantern. As they pass, they awaken fancies serious and gay, tragic and comic; and I find an intense pleasure in filling up the sketches thus presented to my eye. What strange fantastic shapes often start up with the rapidity of lightning, and flit before my mind like figures in the clouds! Then if my fancy droops her wings, I read and sleep in my carriage. I am little troubled with my baggage, which from long practice is so well arranged that I can get at every thing I want in a moment, without tormenting my servants. Sometimes, when the weather is fine and the country beautiful, I walk for miles together: in short, I can desire no more perfect freedom than I enjoy here. Lastly, it is no slight pleasure that I can close the day by devoting a tranquil hour to conversing with the friend of my heart on all that has passed before me.
But to return to my narrative.--I travelled all night, after witnessing an extraordinary sport of nature in the clouds. From the top of a hill I saw what appeared to me a gigantic range of black mountains, and at its foot a boundless lake: it was long before I could persuade myself that it was only an illusion, created by mist and cloud. The sky above was of an uniform light grey; upon it lay a coal-black mass of clouds thrown together in the form of the wildest mountains, the upper edge of which shaped itself into a bold and abrupt outline, while the lower was trans-sected by a horizontal line of mist. This wore the appearance of a boundless extent of silvery water; and, as the green foreground of sunny wooded plains which lay beneath my feet was immediately bounded by it, the illusion was indeed complete. As I descended the hill, step by step, the magic picture faded from before my eyes.
The most beautiful reality, however, awaited me this morning in Wales. The vision of clouds seemed to have been the harbinger of the magnificence of the vale of Llangollen,--a spot which, in my opinion, far surpasses all the beauties of the Rhine-land, and has, moreover, a character quite its own, from the unusual form of the peaked tops and rugged declivities of its mountains. The Dee, a rapid stream, winds through the green valley in a thousand fantastic bendings overhung with thick underwood. On each side, high mountains rise abruptly from the plain, and are crowned with antique ruins, modern country-houses, manufactories, whose towering chimneys send out columns of thick smoke, or with grotesque groups of upright rocks. The vegetation is every where rich, and hill and vale are filled with lofty trees, whose varied hues add so infinitely to the beauty and picturesque effect of a landscape. In the midst of this luxuriant nature, arises, with a grandeur heightened by contrast, a single long, black, bare range of mountains, clothed only with thick, dark heather, and from time to time skirting the high road. This magnificent road, which from London to Holyhead, a distance of two hundred miles,[95] is as even as a 'parquet,' here runs along the side of the left range of mountains, at about their middle elevation and following all their windings; so that in riding along at a brisk trot or gallop, the traveller is presented at every minute with a completely new prospect; and without changing his position, overlooks the valley now before him, now behind, now at his side. On one side is an aqueduct of twenty-five slender arches, a work which would have done honour to Rome. Through this a second river is led over the valley and across the Dee, at an elevation of a hundred and twenty feet above the bed of the natural stream. A few miles further on, the little town of Llangollen offers a delightful resting-place, and is deservedly much resorted to.
There is a beautiful view from the churchyard near the inn: here I climbed upon a tomb, and stood for half an hour enjoying with deep and grateful delight the beauties so richly spread before me. Immediately below me bloomed a terraced garden, filled with vine, honey-suckle, rose, and a hundred gay flowers, which descended to the very edge of the foaming stream. On the right hand, my eye followed the crisped waves in their restless murmuring course through the overhanging thicket; before me rose two lines of wood, divided by a strip of meadow-land filled with grazing cattle; and high above all, rose the bare conical peak of a mountain crowned by the ruins of the old Welsh castle Dinas Bran, or the Crow's Fortress. On the left, the stone houses of the town lie scattered along the valley; the river forms a considerable waterfall near the picturesque bridge, while three colossal rocks rise immediately behind it like giant guards, and shut out all the more distant wonders of this enchanting region.
Permit me now to turn to some less refined and romantic, but not less real, enjoyments of sense--to my own room; where my appetite, enormously sharpened by the mountain air, was most agreeably invited by the aspect of the smoking coffee, fresh guinea-fowls' eggs, deep yellow mountain butter, thick cream, 'toasted muffins' (a delicate sort of cake eaten hot with butter), and lastly, two red spotted trout just caught; all placed on a snow-white table-cloth of Irish damask;--a breakfast which Walter Scott's heroes in 'the highlands' might have been thankful to receive at the hands of that great painter of human necessities. 'Je dévore déjà un oeuf.'--Adieu.
Bangor.--Evening.
The rain, which with short intervals accompanied me from London, remained constant to me to-day; but the weather seems now inclined to change for the better. I have all sorts of things to tell you, and a very interesting day to recount. Before I left Llangollen I recollected the two celebrated ladies who have inhabited this valley for more than half a century, and of whom I had heard once as a child, and again recently in London. You have doubtless heard your father talk of them,--'si non voilà leur historie.' Fifty-six years ago, two young, pretty and fashionable ladies, Lady Eleanor Butler, and the daughter of the late Lord Ponsonby, took it in their heads to hate men, to love only each other, and to live from that hour in some remote hermitage. The resolution was immediately executed; and from that time neither lady has ever passed a night out of their cottage. On the other hand, no one who is presentable travels in Wales unprovided with an introduction to them. It is affirmed that the 'scandal' of the great world interests them as much as when they lived in it; and that their curiosity to know what passes has preserved all its freshness. I had compliments to deliver to them from several ladies, but I had neglected to furnish myself with a letter. I therefore sent my card, determined if they declined my visit, as I was led to fear, to storm the cottage. Here, as elsewhere, however, in England, a title easily opened the door, and I immediately received a gracious invitation to a second breakfast. Passing along a charming road, through a trim and pretty pleasure-ground, in a quarter of an hour I reached a small but tasteful Gothic cottage, situated directly opposite to Dinas Bran, various glimpses of which were visible through openings cut in the trees. I alighted, and was received at the door by the two ladies. Fortunately I was already prepared by hearsay for their peculiarities; I might otherwise have found it difficult to repress some expression of astonishment. Imagine two ladies, the eldest of whom, Lady Eleanor, a short robust woman, begins to feel her years a little, being now eighty-three; the other, a tall and imposing person, esteems herself still youthful, being only seventy-four. Both wore their still abundant hair combed straight back and powdered, a man's round hat, a man's cravat and waistcoat, but in the place of 'inexpressibles,'[96] a short petticoat and boots: the whole covered by a coat of blue cloth, of a cut quite peculiar,--a sort of middle term between a man's coat and a lady's riding-habit. Over this, Lady Eleanor wore, first, the grand cordon of the order of St. Louis across her shoulder; secondly, the same order around her neck; thirdly, the small cross of the same in her button-hole, and, 'pour comble de gloire,' a golden lily of nearly the natural size, as a star,--all, as she said, presents of the Bourbon family. So far the whole effect was somewhat ludicrous. But now, you must imagine both ladies with that agreeable 'aisance,' that air of the world of the 'ancien regime,' courteous and entertaining, without the slightest affectation; speaking French as well as any Englishwoman of my acquaintance; and, above all, with that essentially polite, unconstrained, and simply cheerful manner of the good society of that day, which, in our serious hard-working age of business, appears to be going to utter decay. I was really affected with a melancholy sort of pleasure in contemplating it in the persons of the amiable old ladies, who are among the last of its living representatives; nor could I witness without lively sympathy the uninterrupted, natural and affectionate attention with which the younger treated her somewhat infirmer friend, and anticipated all her wants. The charm of such actions lies chiefly in the manner in which they are performed,--in things which appear small and insignificant, but which are never lost upon a susceptible heart.
I began by saying that I esteemed myself fortunate in being permitted to deliver to the fair recluses the compliments with which I was charged by my grandfather, who had had the honour of visiting them fifty years ago. Their beauty indeed they had lost, but not their memory: they remembered the C---- C---- very well, immediately produced an old memorial of him, and only expressed their wonder that so young a man was dead already. Not only the venerable ladies, but their house, was full of interest; indeed it contained some real treasures. There is scarcely a remarkable person of the last half century who has not sent them a portrait or some curiosity or antique as a token of remembrance. The collection of these, a well furnished library, a delightful situation, an equable, tranquil life, and perfect friendship and union,--these have been their possessions; and if we may judge by their robust old age and their cheerful temper, they have not chosen amiss.
I had made my visit to them in a tremendous rain, which continued undiminished as I proceeded on my journey past the ruins of an abbey, and then by the palace of Owen Glendower, a personage whom you must remember from my Shaksperian readings at M----. The variety of the scenery is extraordinary; sometimes you are hemmed in by a chaotic heap of mountains, of every form; in a few minutes you have so extensive a view before you that you could almost believe yourself in a level country; the scene shifts again, and you are in a road enclosed and overshadowed by wood. Further on, the stream turns a peaceful mill, and immediately after rushes foaming over masses of rock, and forms a magnificent waterfall.
But the vale of Llangollen is only the proem to the true epopea, the high mountain district. After quitting the waterfall and riding for about half an hour through a nearly level country, all at once, a little beyond the inn at Cernioge Maur, you enter the holy of holies. Huge black rocks form a sublime amphitheatre, and their jagged and rent peaks seem to float in the clouds. Below, at a depth of eight hundred feet of perpendicular rock, the mountain torrent forces its difficult way, leaping headlong from chasm to chasm. Before me lay mountains rising one above another in endless perspective. I was so enchanted that I exclaimed aloud with delight. And in the midst of such scenery, it is impossible to say enough in praise of the road, which, avoiding every great inequality of surface, allows the traveller to enjoy at his ease all the 'belles horreurs' of this mountain region. Wherever it is not protected by the rocks, it is fenced by low walls; at equal distances are niches neatly walled in, in which are deposited the stones for mending the roads: this has a much better effect than the open heaps by the sides of our roads.
The mountain region of Wales has a very peculiar character, which it is difficult to compare with any other. Its height is about that of the Riesengebirg, but it is infinitely grander in form, richer in striking and picturesque grouped peaks. The vegetation is more varied in plants, though there is less wood, and it contains rivers and lakes, in which the Riesengebirg is quite deficient. On the other hand, it wants the majestic impervious forests of the abode of Rübezahl;[97] and in some places cultivation has already occupied the middle ground in a manner which would harmonize better with the beautiful than with the sublime. The road from Capel Cerig to within a few miles of Bangor is, however, wild and rugged as can be desired; and broad masses of red and yellow heath flowers, ferns and other plants which do not bloom in our severe climate, clothe the rocks and replace the trees which do not flourish at such an elevation. But the most striking variety of the picture is produced by the strange, wild and colossal forms of the mountains themselves; some of them are much more like clouds than solid masses. The peak of Trivaen is surmounted by such extraordinary basaltic pillars, that travellers can hardly be persuaded they are not men: they are only mountain spirits, keeping the everlasting station to which Merlin condemned them.
I was struck with the good taste which had rendered all the houses along the high-road so perfectly in keeping with the scenery: they are built of rough stone of a reddish colour, roofed with slate, in a heavy, simple style of architecture, and enclosed by iron gates, the gratings of which are so disposed as to represent the intersecting rays of two suns. The post-boy pointed out to me the remains of a Druidical castle, into which, as my guide-book informed me, Caractacus retired after his defeat at Caer Caredoc. The Welsh language sounds like the cawing of rooks. Almost all their names begin with C, pronounced with a guttural explosion which no foreign organs can imitate. The ruin is converted into two or three inhabited huts, nor are the boundaries of the original building even distinguishable.
A more remarkable object is a rock a little further on, in the form of a bishop with crozier and mitre, as if he had just started from the caverns of the mountain to preach Christianity to the heathen. Whence comes it that when Nature plays these sportive tricks, the effect is almost always sublime; when Art seeks to imitate them, it is invariably ludicrous?
A minor 'tormento' in this region is the multitude of children, who start up and vanish like gnomes: they pursue the carriage, begging with inconceivable pertinacity. Wearied by their importunity, I had made a positive determination not to give anything to any-body; a single deviation from which rule insures your never being rid of them for a moment. However, one little girl vanquished all my resolutions by her perseverance: she ran at least a German mile, up hill and down dale, at a brisk trot, sometimes gaining upon me a little by a foot-path, but never losing sight of me for a minute. She ran by the side of the carriage, uttering the same incessant tone of plaintive lamentation, like the cry of a sea-mew, which at length became so intolerable to me that I surrendered, and purchased my deliverance from my untireable pursuer at the price of a shilling. The ill-boding tone had however taken such possession of my ear, that I could not get rid of it for the whole day.
August 16th.
I have slept admirably, and am now sitting at the window of an inn on the sea-shore, and enjoying the sight of the ships cutting the transparent waters in every direction. On the landward rises a castle built of black marble, surrounded by ancient oaks.
As I am very comfortably housed, I shall make this inn my head-quarters, and begin my excursions by this castle. I found here, very unexpectedly, an amusing countryman. You know the clever A----, who is so thin, and yet exhibits such magnificent calves, so elegantly dressed, and yet so frugal, so good-natured, and yet so sarcastic, so English, and yet so German. Well, this same A---- ate a second breakfast with me, without any visible diminution of appetite from the former one; and in return, regaled me with the most diverting conversation. He came from S----, concerning which he told me as follows.
JEST AND EARNEST.
You know, my dear friend, that in Vienna, every man who can eat a roast fowl, and (N.B.) pay for it, receives the title of Euer Gnaden (Your Grace.) In S----,[98] on the other hand, every man who has a whole coat is called, in dubio, Herr Rath (Counsellor;) or still better, Herr Geheimer Rath (Privy Counsellor.) They do not trouble themselves with the distinctions between an actual and a nominal Rath, a half, (that is a pensioned,) or a whole, (that is a full-payed,) and a payless Rath, a titular nullity. The attributes and functions of this mysterious Counsellorship are wonderfully various. In the first place comes the invalid statesman in the Residenz, who, from respect for his declining years, and as a reward for living over half a century, has been invested with the yellow griffin; or a provincial chief president, more remarkable for his prepossessions in his own behalf, than for his public labours, whom his services on occasion of the visit of some foreign sovereign have raised to honours and to orders. Here we find the vigorous prop of the finances, or that 'rara avis,' a man of influence near the throne, yet as full of modesty as of merit: there a vegetating Excellenz, who knows no other occupation than that of going from house to house dishing up antiquated jokes and jeux de mots, which for half a century have enjoyed the uninterrupted privilege of delighting 'la crême de la bonnie société' in the capital. Next we see it in the person of one who is equally delightful as man and as poet, and who has never trodden any but the straight forward path. A little further we recognize it in the form of a less brilliant but more comprehensive genius, which, although consecrated to Themis, has an acute eye for the glories of the theatrical, as well as the celestial stars. This Proteus then transforms itself into a Cameralist, celebrated for his breed of sheep and his political economy, who manures his fields;--then into a physician, who performs a similar good office on the churchyard. It is also to be found in the invincible Landwehr; nay even the post,[99] the lottery, &c., cannot exist without it. The court-philosopher, and court-theologian, all shake hands as Geheime Räthe; for so they are, have been, or shall be hereafter: in short, no nation under the sun is more richly provided with counsel, and truly of the most privy kind; for such is the modesty of these countless counsellors, that many of them keep their talents buried in the most profound secrecy.
It is, however, a real pleasure to see with what unconstrained and touching 'bonhommie' they bandy titles and compliments, every one exalting the other, and awaiting in return a grateful reciprocity of good offices.
The various adjuncts and applications of the poor word geboren (born) must doubtless for ever remain a mystical enigma to all foreigners who endeavour to acquire the German language. Without plunging deeper into this labyrinth, I will only mention for their information, that with us the meanest beggar will no longer condescend to be merely geboren; that Edelgeboren[100] (nobly born) begins to be a sensible affront to the lower order of official persons; and Wohlgeboren (well born) no less so to the higher, but not noble functionaries. For my part, I am very careful to write to my tailor, "Hochwohlgeborner Herr" (High-well-born Sir.) He was moreover a very distinguished man, a descendant of our old friend Robinson Crusoe, who has attained to historic importance by the daring and inimitable cut of uniforms: he was therefore deserving, at the least, of an order of merit.[101]
That no restraint may be imposed on this arbitrary distribution and assumption of titles, matters are so favourably arranged, that with all this avidity for rank, there exists no real and fixed order of rank, either determined by the court, or by birth, or grounded on opinion and custom, so general and rooted in the nation as to have nearly the force of law. Sometimes it is birth, oftener place; sometimes merit, sometimes favour, sometimes irresistible impudence which seizes precedence wherever accident or circumstances offer it. This gives occasion to many strange anomalies, which an old nobleman like myself, a Baron von Tunderdendronk, "qui ne sauroit compter le nombre de ses ânes," as general P---- said, cannot understand. Complaints, affronts, and anxieties are therefore endless in society. There is only a certain lively and excellent old lady, who has the sole and proper art of maintaining the first place almost everywhere, and under all circumstances. She unites great talents with remarkable bodily strength and bravery; and by means of these mingled advantages, sometimes by wit, sometimes by unimaginable rudeness; sometimes, when nothing else will do, by a hearty push, she takes and maintains precedency at court and on all gala occasions. I know from good authority that Countess Kackelack, at one of our courts (for you know we have many,) felt herself slighted and aggrieved by a certain court party, and by the advice of her friend the Starost von Pückling addressed a petition directly to our upright and equitable ruler, praying that her place might be officially determined. It was allotted immediately after that of the Princess Bona, who (for once, on account of the services of her late husband,) is in possession of the first. The Grand-Marshal (Grosswürdenträger, Grand-dignity-bearer) Prince Weise, brought her the order, and added, "But, my dear Countess, you must yield precedence to Baroness Stolz, for with your slender person what can you do against her? A single blow from her elbow lames you for ever. Do therefore let her go first; for you know even the police is afraid of her since the famous challenge she put forth some years ago."
Everything must yield to force; and this shows how difficult it is to secure precedence to mere merit without universal and declared rules:--merit is so relative. If a minister or a general is a great man,--who can deny that the best of cooks, the loveliest of opera-dancers, has great merit? merit which, as history teaches us, monarchs and states have recognized and honoured.
In England, where antiquity of title gives precedence (be it remarked, by-the-bye, the safest and best adapted to a monarchy,[102]) the great Field Marshal and Prime Minister Wellington must yield precedence to the little Duke of St. Albans, (who is known, indeed, but not very illustrious,) because the latter is an older Duke; that is to say, the services of his progenitress Nell Gwynn, an actress and mistress of Charles II., are of more ancient date than those of the Duke of Wellington, and consequently entitle her descendants to all the rights of precedence over the great general.
In our capital it is otherwise. We are generally too well accustomed to bad eating to estimate very highly the merits of a good cook, and are of late universally become so virtuous that nobody has a mistress. As to rewarding merit, that is a thing which does not often come under contemplation.[103]
What really and mainly gives rank and consideration here, is to be a servant of the state or of the court, 'n'importe lequel et comment.' "Beati possidentes." The good old German proverb applies here, "When God gives a place, he gives brains to fill it." The Bureaucracy has taken the place of the Aristocracy, and will perhaps soon become equally hereditary. Even now the Government itself cannot dismiss any of its 'employées' without regular trial and judgment: every man regards his place as his most stable property, and it is not to be wondered at that place-holders laud this state of things to the skies. Strange, that nevertheless all states which have a free constitution,--all in which it is a recognized principle that the nation, and not any privileged class--not even that of its official servants--is the main object,--follow a totally opposite system.[104]
The middle classes are, in another way, happy in their disregarded state: they enjoy their competence 'con amore,' and, as the salt of life, they indulge themselves now and then with a lawsuit, for which the ministers of justice afford them every possible facility. The merchant, whether Christian or præ-Christian, finds his account in this, and, if he knows how to come at it, useful patronage. Indeed to have a great deal of money is almost as good as to be a wirklicher Geheimerath (actual privy counsellor):[105] and rich bankers, who keep a good house, are reckoned among the privileged classes, and not unfrequently for these high deserts elevated to nobility.
In this manner, all manage to get something; the unfortunate nobles, especially those of ancient date, are the only people with whom it goes hard. Without money, without any land of which he has the free disposal, his titles affording an example of infinite multiplication, and his hereditary estates of infinite division, without any share in the legislation, long stripped of his ancient endowments and benefices,[106] unnecessarily and unfairly annoyed by the authorities, his ill-supported claims often bringing upon him not only ridicule and contempt, but hostility and persecution, the nobleman has, as member of a Corporation, lost all dignity and importance in the eyes of the people, and he retains scarcely any other distinction than that of serving as the only stuff out of which to make chamberlains and lords in waiting, in the respective courts of the capital;--doubtless always a most enviable lot.
This last truth is duly known to many; and a great deal of talent has been displayed thereupon by a celebrated authoress, who was some time ago engaged in a sort of amicable rivalry with her husband on the field of romance,--a contest which used to produce two or three works of that nature, consisting of as many volumes each, every Leipsig fair, to the great joy of the public. The most extraordinary part of the story is, that the works of the husband were characterized by the overflowing tenderness of a female pen; those of the wife, on the contrary, by a somewhat unwieldy quantity of masculine knowledge, a lead which even the alchemical hand of an amiable and accomplished prince could not turn to gold. The works of both, especially the former, have outlived their vogue; and the graceful and child-like simplicity of the Northern heroes, who tilted at each other with tenderness, looked on their slain friend with clear blue eyes, and imprinted upon his lips the kiss of peace; nay, even their wondrous steeds, who galloped over precipitous crags and swam after their lords through seas, have been forced, spite of all their marvellous gifts, to give way to Walter Scott's unbreeched Highlanders.
The poetical young lords of the chamber, and the learned tea-parties of the noble lady, had long before been deserted as somewhat insipid. In such a tea-party did Ahasuerus, (as we read in the memoirs of the Devil,) after his long and restless wanderings, first find repose, and sink into a refreshing sleep. Since that time, the thick volumes of the distinguished authoress have dwindled to small tales,--pretty ephemera,--which live but a day indeed, but are well requited by the honour of circulating exclusively in courts and antechambers, among princes, ladies in waiting, and maids of honour, lords of the chamber, equerries and grooms of the chambers (for nothing within the precinct of a court is to be treated lightly). Haunted rooms were lately introduced, but the ghosts were so dull and fades, so like white-washed boards, 'avec un bel air de famille,' that the utmost they could do was to make one think of a cold shudder, never to excite one. The most piquant of all these stories was unquestionably that which 'persiffloit' the society of the capital, in which poor Viola played a very suspicious part, and a fashionable lady was introduced, who sold her for a large sum to an illustrious person. This story was justly called moral: for it excited in every person of good feeling, who read it, detestation of calumny and of hasty condemnations. The ill-natured, however, were delighted with it for other reasons; and so in one way or other it was not without value. It might fairly be called a master-piece when compared with the "Tales of the middle ages," full of virtue and distress, of Christianity and indecency, of Italianism and Germanism, which the necessities of journal and almanack literature call into existence by myriads, and of which we may say with Schiller, "When people are gorged with vice, set virtue on the table."[107] These do not reach either the one or the other; but, from the beginning to the end, one suffers the moral 'pendant' of a so-called medical cure by nausea. After enduring all sorts of allusions, the whole thing burns in the pan, and so far from being fit to bring to table, the unfortunate reader is for a long time disgusted with all food whatsoever.[108]
But to return to the learned and amiable lady, of whom we were just speaking. At the time I was in those regions, a strange swarm of insects sported in the wintry sun of her courtly and literary celebrity, ycelped in the great world a coterie, which, I believe, establishes it as a principle (who has not principles now-a-days?), that nobles have really and truly a different sort of blood in their veins from that of other men; and that if a common tree can be ennobled at all, it can be only by the process of grafting; for instance, by the insertion of some illegitimate scion of a noble stock. They teach that this nobility should remain, before all things, pure and distinct; it must dishonour itself neither by trade nor by any speculations of public utility, which latter offence has lately been denounced as the cause of the decay of the nobility of the land by a certain Frau von Tonne in a very voluminous work. To dabble a little in authorship and artistship is lawful (even for money, nay for burghers' money,) seeing that artists[109] occupy a sort of middle region between the noble and the bourgeois. A constitutional high nobility and a representative government are by no means to the taste of this party; from the very natural reason that under any such terrible system, men, the date of whose nobility is known to nobody but themselves, and whose encumbered estates are split up into portions of microscopic invisibility, would be condemned to the horror of being compelled to take their seat in the Chamber of Commons (where else?). Who can blame them, therefore, under circumstances, for preferring the chambers of princes, especially if they can lord it there? Which Heaven forfend! It is to be hoped they will remain merely titular, and not actual privy counsellors and lords of the bedchamber.
Evening.
I could bear no longer to sit still in my room, while the castle opposite to my windows tempted me forth. As soon therefore as A---- had taken his departure, I procured a mountain pony and rode out in high spirits. This remarkable edifice was built by the proprietor of the slate quarries, situated about three miles distant, which bring him a yearly income of 40,000_l._ He has laid out a part in the most delightful situation on the sea-shore; and has pursued the strange but admirably executed idea of erecting every building within its enclosure in the old Saxon style of architecture. The English falsely ascribe the introduction of this style to the Anglo-Saxons: it arose in the time of the emperors of Saxon line; and it is quite certain that none of the numerous Saxon remains are to be traced to an earlier date. The high wall, which surrounds the park in a circuit of at least a German mile, has a very singular appearance; pointed masses of slate three or four feet high, and of irregular shape, are built upright into the top of the wall. At every entrance a fortress-like gate with a portcullis frowns on the intruder,--no inapt symbol, by-the-bye, of the illiberality of the present race of Englishmen, who shut their parks and gardens more closely than we do our sitting-rooms. The favoured visitor must then cross a drawbridge before he passes the gate-way of the imposing castle. The black marble of the island of Anglesea, rudely hewn, harmonizes admirably with the majestic character of the surrounding scenery. The pure Saxon style is preserved in the minutest details, even in the servants' rooms and meanest parts of the building. In the eating-hall I found an imitation of the castle of William the Conqueror, at Rochester, which I formerly described to you. What could then be accomplished only by a mighty monarch, is now executed, as a plaything,--only with increased size, magnificence and expense,--by a simple country-gentleman, whose father very likely sold cheeses. So do times change!
The ground-plan of the building, which the architect had the politeness to show me, gave occasion to certain domestic details, which I am glad to be able to communicate to you; because nearly all large English country-houses are constructed on the same plan; and because in this, as in many other things, the nice perception of the useful and commodious, the exquisite adaptation of means to ends, which distinguish the English, are conspicuous. The servants never wait in the ante-room,--here called the hall,--which, like the overture of an opera, is designed to express the character of the whole: it is generally decorated with statues or pictures, and, like the elegant staircase and the various apartments, is appropriated to the use of the family and guests, who have the good taste rather to wait on themselves than to have an attendant spirit always at their heels. The servants live in a large room in a remote part of the house, generally on the ground-floor, where all, male and female, eat together, and where the bells of the whole house are placed. They are suspended in a row on the wall, numbered so that it is immediately seen in what room any one has rung: a sort of pendulum[110] is attached to each, which continues to vibrate for ten minutes after the sound has ceased to remind the sluggish of their duty. The females of the establishment have also a large common room, in which, when they have nothing else to do, they sew, knit, and spin: close to this is a closet for washing the glass and china which comes within their province. Each of them, as well as of the men-servants, has her separate bed-chamber in the highest story. Only the 'housekeeper' and the 'butler' have distinct apartments below. Immediately adjoining that of the housekeeper, is a room where coffee is made, and the store-room containing every thing requisite for breakfast, which important meal, in England, belongs especially to her department. On the other side of the building is the washing establishment, with a small court-yard attached; it consists of three rooms, the first for washing, the second for ironing, the third, which is considerably loftier, and heated by steam, for drying the linen in bad weather. Near the butler's room is his pantry, a spacious fire-proof room, with closets on every side for the reception of the plate which he cleans here, and the glass and china used at dinner, which must be delivered back into his custody as soon as it is washed by the women. All these arrangements are executed with the greatest punctuality. A locked staircase leads from the pantry into the beer and wine cellar, which is likewise under the butler's jurisdiction.
I followed a very romantic road, which led me through the park, and then along the bank of a beautifully wooded mountain stream, and in about an hour arrived at the slate quarry, which lies in the midst of the mountains, six miles from the castle. From what I have already told you, you may imagine what a vast work this is. Five or six high terraces of great extent rise one above another on the side of the mountain; along these swarm men, machines, trains of a hundred wagons attached together and rolling rapidly along the iron railways, cranes drawing up heavy loads, water courses, &c. It took me a considerable time to give even a hasty glance at this busy and complicated scene. In order to reach a remote part of the works, where they were then blasting rocks with gunpowder,--a process which I had a great desire to see,--I was obliged to lie down in one of the little iron wagons which serve for the conveyance of the slate, and are drawn by means of a windlass through a gallery hewn in the solid rock, only four feet in height, four hundred paces in length, and pitch dark. It is a most disagreeable sensation to be dragged through this narrow passage at full speed, and in Egyptian darkness, after having had ample opportunity of seeing at the entrance the thousand abrupt jagged projections by which one is surrounded. Few strangers make the experiment, spite of the tranquillizing assurances of the guide who rides before. It is impossible to get rid of the idea that if one came in contact with any of these salient points, one would, in all probability, make one's egress without a head. After passing through this gallery, I had to walk along a path at the edge of the precipice, only two feet wide, and without any railing or defence; then to pass through a second low cavern, when I reached the fearfully magnificent scene of operations.
It was like a subterranean world! Above the blasted walls of slate, smooth as a mirror, and several hundred feet high, scarcely enough of the blue heaven was visible to enable me to distinguish mid-day from twilight. The earth on which we stood was likewise blasted rock; just in the middle was a deep cleft six or eight feet wide. Some children of the workmen were amusing themselves in leaping across this chasm, for the sake of earning a few pence. The perpendicular sides were hung with men, who looked like dark birds, striking the rock with their long picks, and throwing down masses of slate which fell with a sharp and clattering sound. But on a sudden the whole mountain seemed to totter, loud cries of warning re-echoed from various points,--the mine was sprung. A large mass of rock loosened itself slowly and majestically from above, fell down with a mighty plunge, and while dust and splinters darkened the air like smoke, the thunder rang around in wild echoes. These operations, which are of almost daily necessity in one part or other of the quarry, are so dangerous, that, according to the statement of the overseer himself, they calculate on an average of one hundred and fifty men wounded, and seven or eight killed in a year. An hospital, exclusively devoted to the workmen on this property, receives the wounded; and on my way I had met, without being aware of it, the body of one who had fallen the day before yesterday; 'car c'est comme un champ de bataille.' The people who escorted it were so smartly dressed and so decorated with flowers, that I at first took the procession for a wedding, and was shocked when, in answer to my inquiry for the bridegroom, one of the attendants pointed in silence to the coffin which followed at some distance. The overseer assured me that half these accidents were owing to the indifference of the men, who are too careless to remove in time and to a sufficient distance, though at every explosion they have full warning given them. The slate invariably splits in sharp-edged flakes, so that an inconsiderable piece thrown to a great distance, is often sufficient to cut a man's hand, leg, or even head, clean off. On one occasion, this last, as I was assured, actually happened.
As we ourselves were not far enough from the 'foyer,' I instantly obeyed the signal, and turned on the left through the infernal gallery, to inspect the more peaceful operations: these are extremely varied and interesting. Paper cannot be cut more neatly and rapidly than slates are here; and no deal board can split more easily and delicately than the blocks which the workmen with one single stroke of the mallet divide into slices, from three to four feet in breadth, as thin as the thinnest pasteboard. The rough blocks come from the region I have just described, down Parisian 'montagnes russes' to the stone-hewer; and, as in those, the downward impetus of the loaded wagons sends them up again when empty. The iron railways are not here, as they commonly are, concave, but convex, and the wagon wheels correspond.
July 17th.
The day has passed in rest, writing, and reading; so that it affords few materials. But before I go to bed I must indulge the delightful habit of chatting with you. I was just thinking of home, and our honoured friend L----, who is now travelling, and has sent me a whole volume of his former lucubrations. Shall I send you a specimen? Listen then.
"REFLECTIONS OF A PIOUS SOUL OF SANDOMIR, OR SANDOMICH.[111]
"1. On occasion of the quantity of Schnapps drunk at my expense by the Saxon postillions.
"How much better is our country in all respects than any other! Really one witnesses strange things! For instance, it is certainly an extraordinary circumstance,--and yet after repeated experience I cannot doubt it,--that when the horses here are tired and lazy, (which, alas! is too often the case,) the postilion has only to drink Schnapps, to render them brisk and active. The wisdom of Nature and her hidden powers are unfathomable! The above-mentioned phenomenon may perhaps be elucidated by the well-known fact, that wine begins to ferment in the cask when the vine blossoms.[112] At the last stage before Torgau, my companion Count S----, Lieutenant of the Guards, from Potsdam, upon whom the light of Grace hath not yet broken, and who consequently is unduly moved by worldly things, was so angry with the postilion that he shook his stick at him, and called him a Saxon dog. 'O Lord! no, sir,' answered the fellow stupidly; 'there you're mistaken--we have been Prussian dogs these ten years and more.' This is a plain proof that the people here are entirely destitute of that high civilization which prevails among us.
"2. After my signal deliverance on the 6th of July, 1827.
"For four weeks I have not been able to write! With thankfulness and deep inward feeling I now take up my pen for the first time, to set forth the wonderful dispensation I have experienced. As I was travelling to M---- last month, I was overturned directly before the door of the tollhouse, and broke my right arm. My first exclamation--I confess it to my shame--was a shocking curse: but my second, thanks, fervent thanks to the Creator that I had broken my arm and not my neck. In such events we clearly perceive the 'unfathomable ways' and the protecting arm of Providence, which is ever at hand to help us at the moment of need. Did not my life hang upon a hair? and was it not the Lord's pleasure herein to give me an impressive proof that it depends on him alone to close my eyes for ever, or still to preserve my young life, which perhaps (for what is impossible to him?) is reserved for great and weighty things? Yes, ye philosophers, with heartfelt joy and triumph do I feel it, Faith alone makes us happy.
"3. On occasion of my being nearly drowned in the Elbe, near Torgau.
"Certain it is that we ought not to venture into the water till we can swim, as a Grecian sage hath very justly remarked. I was so imprudent as to bathe yesterday without having acquired this art, for I ever kept myself far aloof from all revolutionary gymnastics and exercises of that sort, and being seized with a cramp in the calf of my leg, and consequently somewhat frightened, I should perhaps now be among the dead, had it not been for a man whom Heaven led in this direction, exactly at this time, for my preservation. Can I be blind at such repeated proofs of special interposition in my favour? The whole Elbe is, nevertheless, become rather disagreeable to me. I strive with this as a blameable feeling, since we ought to recollect how useful this river is to many of our fellow-creatures.[113] The remark has I believe been made before, but it nevertheless is not the less worthy of attention--that wherever we find a large city, we almost invariably find a great river by the side of it;--but so wisely, so graciously has a kind Providence arranged all things for our good, though we men acknowledge it but too seldom! Yes, Nature, like a good mother, has taken care for all. To the bee she gave her sting, to the beaver his tail, to the lion his strength, to the ass patience; but to man his lofty understanding, and--on subjects which this, with our deceitful reason, cannot reach--divine revelations. O how thankful do I always feel when I think rightly on this! I, who moreover have so much more cause than numbers of my brethren to be thankful for the manifold bodily and mental advantages I enjoy. May I never forget them!--Amen.
"4. On occasion of my being forced to pay Abraham the Jew my twice prolonged bill, with 'alterum tantum.'
"I have been sorely disquieted by the doubt, whether the Jews are really to remain to the end of the world; and, in spite of the curse which lies upon them, scattered and oppressed as they are on earth, to continue for ever to cheat us so astonishingly as they do.
"Yet is not this very doubt a sin? since we are assured in many holy books that this will certainly be the case. Besides, the conversion of these misguided wretches is now proceeding from our country, whence the greatest light formerly went forth. But alas! here a new fearful doubt besets me: Will all the inhabitants of the earth ever be called Christians? It is indeed so declared: but in the course of my learned studies I lately met with a calculation which, to my horror, showed me that out of eight hundred millions of souls on the earth, only two hundred millions are called by the true name. Let us hope, however, that the worthy and admirable Bible Societies will do their part, and not weary. The English cannot be truly in earnest in this matter, seeing that as yet they have hardly made a convert in India. It is probable that they, as usual, have only political ends in view.[114] I read lately, that a Hindoo audaciously answered a missionary who was trying to convert him, 'I shall not suffer myself to be converted to Christianity by you, till you consent to be converted to the religion of Brama by me. I believe in the truth of my religion, as you believe in the truth of yours; and what is right for one, is fair for the other. Some fables and abuses may perhaps have crept into both, but they are of the same family.' What dreadful views! I myself, who,--I say it without vain-glory,--persuaded an old Jew, whose trade had fallen off, to be baptized, (for which I still allow him a pension,) sought also to contribute my mite by the spiritual change of a real Indian, who after many wonderful adventures had been driven into our hyperborean regions, where the Herrnhuters had long, though vainly, laboured at his conversion. He heard me very patiently; and, to say the truth, I was so carried away by the momentous nature of the circumstance, that I wondered at my own eloquence. But what was the result? he smiled at me, took my gift, shook his head like a Chinese idol, and left me without an answer.
"P. S. I have just heard, to my inexpressible horror, that the Jew I converted is dead: and being seized on his death-bed by pangs of conscience (would any body think it possible?) turned Jew again.
"5. On returning from Madame R----'s funeral.
"A most remarkable incident occurred here a few days ago. About ten years since a pretty and, what is far more important, a pious young woman served in a confectioner's shop. Although exposed by her sweet occupation to many temptations, (for all young men who frequent confectioners' shops have not my morals,) she would listen to no one, and found all her pleasure in godliness. She never missed a prayer-meeting at President S----'s, or at any other house where she could gain admittance; and above all, went to church at least once every Sunday. One Sunday, however, (it was St. Martin's day if I mistake not,) she forgot her duty and staid at home, busied with worldly attire. Then did the Tempter draw near in the form of a young man, to whom she had long been secretly attached. It seems probable that on that fatal day he made great advances in her favour, since they were shortly after married. At first they lived very happily, and had several children. By degrees she exhibited a sensible falling off in piety, in consequence of the cares and distractions of married life. The unhappy woman appeared greatly attached to her duties as wife and mother, and henceforth preferred them to the comfort of prayer-meetings and pious readings. But the consequences of her carnal-mindedness soon appeared: her husband was assailed by numerous and, as I am assured, otherwise undeserved misfortunes; some of her children died; the whole family fell into poverty; and the husband, at length, into the deepest melancholy. Last Sunday, exactly on the tenth anniversary of that fatal Sunday on which the misguided girl did not go to church, her husband in a paroxysm of madness horribly murdered himself and his wife.--Here may be seen that the divine wrath if slow, is so much the more sure. I refrain from all severe animadversions:--but he who is not rendered serious by this warning, who does not see how sinful and dangerous it is to neglect, even for once, regular attendance at church, is truly an object of my pity. He can be made wise only by his own suffering; and well is it for him if he become so in time!
"6. On my last disappointment at D----.
"I am very unfortunate in love,--a circumstance which it is difficult to understand; but it is nevertheless true that another of my best laid plans has miscarried!
"For a long time I had loved Miss M---- with all the fire of my impetuous character. I did not venture to declare it; but my eyes, which I fixed upon her for hours with languishing tenderness, spoke too plainly not to be understood. Nevertheless, I had never been able to win aught but a scornful smile from my adored fair; when an important epoch, viz. her eighteenth birthday, arrived. I determined now to lay storm to her heart by some distinguished act of gallantry--which I could do with the greater propriety, and without any stings of conscience, since I never entertain any but the most virtuous designs. I now meditated long what to choose;--roses, and all sorts of botanical presents, as fruit and the like, are so common-place;--dress would not do, for that would have looked like an insinuation that I thought her vain;--still less could I offer her any thing costly, which would have appeared an indirect accusation of a mercenary spirit: I dared not choose a pious hymn-book, or other godly work, lest I should sinfully profane what is holy by using it with an earthly aim;--no, it must be something tender, and containing a delicate allusion to our situation. Suddenly, like a flash of lightning in a dark night, the thought occurred to me that the season of new herrings was at hand. The word electrified me, and, with the wonted rapidity of my conceptions, I instantly saw the meaning which lay hidden. I immediately sent an estafette to Berlin, where, as is well known, every thing new is to be had, in order, if possible, to get the above-mentioned creatures of the Lord before the annual advertisement of them appeared in the two blotting-paper journals of that city. Every thing succeeded according to my wishes:--ere many days had elapsed, a couple lay before me. I had them laid upon some leaves of artificial 'forget-me-not,' instead of parsley, and once more reflected upon all that their mute language (I mean the herrings') could convey.
"It would perhaps appear too far-fetched were I to urge how herring resembles hymen; these words having clearly an etymological relation, since both begin with a great H,[115] and a little n occurs in both. But there was one circumstance which spoke plainer, viz. that they were a couple--the principal point of view from which they were to be regarded. The blue colour, which reminds us of heaven, signified our mutual gentleness and meekness; and the strong salt wherewith they were salted, the acuteness of our understandings, and our attic wit. The unfading leaves cried aloud, 'Forget me not!' and at the same time clearly alluded to that never-fading delight we should find in each other! But in my opinion the crown of the whole was the pretty play of words which is in the name itself--herring--here-ring. It was impossible for me to declare my love and my honourable intentions more plainly, and at the same time more delicately, (in every sense of the word, for new herrings are a great delicacy in Prussia and Saxony.) To make all doubly sure, however, I laid on them a beautiful rose, painted and cut out of Chinese rice-paper, in the leaves of which I concealed with a trembling hand the first effort of my youthful muse, in which I expressed all these tender and delicate ideas.
"Who could believe that all would be in vain! The mother answered me in plain prose, briefly and carelessly, that her daughter was very sorry that she had always had an idiosyncratical antipathy to herrings; so strong indeed, that she had not been able to sit out the last play of the celebrated Wilibald Alexis, having accidentally heard that his real name was Herring. She therefore sent me back my fish and the accompanying poetry, with many thanks for my good intentions.
"Happily, godliness consoles a spirit truly possessed by it for every thing; but I was obliged to read the Bible two hours before I recovered my accustomed patience and composure. I read for my edification the history of Jonas; and although the whale which swallowed him was so very large, it continually disappeared in my fancy before the luckless herrings.
"In my anger (which alas! I have not yet completely conquered) I must now censure some things in the two blotting-paper periodicals above mentioned. They ought not only to strive after a more correct orthography in their advertisements, but to pay some attention to the sense. In a collection of natural curiosities made by a Berlin friend of mine, I find two of the above-named newspapers, containing the two following notices of deaths inserted by the same unfortunate father; and an old advertisement of a concert.
1. 'This day the Lord, on his journey through Tettow, took to himself my youngest son Fritz, with his teeth.'
2. (A month later). 'This day the Lord again took to himself my daughter Agnes to eternal blessedness.'
3. 'On Monday a concert will be given at the theatre. The receipts are to serve as the basis of a fund destined for the support of our countrymen who fell in defence of their country.'
"Now I ask anybody whether this is not making death ludicrous,--certainly a grievous sin, even when done unintentionally."
So far friend L----.
But the night grows pale--already the morning dawns. I must say, therefore, like Moore, it is day--therefore good night. I send you this long letter, which an acquaintance takes to London to-morrow morning, through our embassy; and with it a hearty kiss, which I hope the P---- custom-house will suffer to pass undisputed.
Your faithful L----
Letter XXVI
Caernarvon, July 19th, 1828.
MY BELOVED FRIEND,
I am now returned, dog-tired, from ascending Snowdon, the highest mountain in England, Scotland, and Wales, which indeed is not saying much. Excuse me till morning, when I will give you a faithful relation of my 'fata'. Meantime, good night.
July 20th.
As soon as I had committed the packet for you to Mr. S----, with the strongest injunctions to care, I left Bangor as quickly as four post-horses could convey me. On the way I visited some iron-foundries, which, however, I shall spare you, as I observed nothing new in them. I was rather unwell when I arrived at the inn at Caernarvon, where a most beautiful girl with long black hair, the daughter of the absent host, did the honours with great grace and sweetness. The following morning at nine o'clock I set out in tolerable weather on a 'char-à-banc,' drawn by two horses of the country. My driver was a little boy who did not understand a word of English. He drove like mad, 'en train de chasse,' over the narrow cross-roads of this rocky country. All my shouts and expostulations were vain, or seemed to be interpreted by him in the very contrary sense from what I intended; so that we went nine miles from the lake of Llanberis in less than half an hour, over stock and stone: I do not understand how the horses and carriages bore it. By the fishermen's huts which lie scattered along the shore, I found a gentler mode of conveyance, a pretty little boat, in which I embarked with two robust mountaineers. Snowdon now lay before us, but unfortunately had, as the country-people say, put on his night-cap, while the lower mountains around shone in the brightest sunshine. It is not more than about four thousand feet high, but has a very imposing aspect, in consequence of its immediate rise from the shore of the lake, whereas most other mountains of the same class spring from a base of considerable elevation. From the point where we embarked, to the little inn at the foot of Snowdon, the lake is three miles over; and as the wind was very high, our voyage was rough and tedious. The water of the lake is black as ink; the mountains bare and strewed with rock, and only varied by occasional small green glens: here and there are a few stunted trees, but the general aspect is wild and desert. Not far from the small church of Llanberis is the so-called Holy Well, inhabited by a solitary trout of enormous size, who has for centuries been exhibited to strangers. Frequently, however, he will not be tempted from his hiding-place; and the country-people think it an unlucky omen if he appears immediately. As I am an enemy of all oracles, I did not visit it. My companions also told me a history of a wondrous amazon of gigantic strength, who long led a wild masculine sort of life here: and described to me certain enormous bees, which the Welsh admire and venerate so much that they think them natives of Paradise. Excellent salmon are caught here: the manner of catching them is strange; they are hunted by small dogs trained to the sport, who drag them out of the mud into which they occasionally creep.
As soon as I arrived at the inn I secured a 'poney' (a small mountain horse), and a guide, and hastened to set out, in hope that the threatening clouds would break about noon. Unfortunately, the very contrary happened; it grew darker and darker, and before I had climbed half an hour, followed by my guide leading the poney, one uniform mantle enshrouded hill and valley; and a heavy rain, against which my umbrella did not long protect me, beat upon us. We at length took refuge in the ruins of an old castle; and after I had laboriously climbed a decayed winding staircase I reached the remains of a balcony, where I found shelter under a dense mass of ivy. Everything around me wore an air of profound gloom; the crumbling walls, the wind which moaned plaintively through their fissures, the monotonous dropping of the rain, and the disagreeable termination of my hopes conspired to throw me into a melancholy frame of mind. I thought with a sigh, how nothing,--not even the smallest trifle,--falls out as I wish it;--how all that I undertake looks ill-timed and eccentric as soon as I undertake it; so that everywhere, as here, what others accomplish in light and sunshine, I must toil through in storm and rain. Impatiently I left the old walls, and once more climbed the mountain. The weather was, however, now so terrible, and the increasing storm so dangerous even, that we were once more compelled to seek shelter in a miserable ruinous hut. The inside was filled with smoke, in the midst of which sat an old woman spinning in silence, while some half-naked children lay on the ground, gnawing dry crusts of bread. The whole family seemed hardly conscious of my entrance; at least they made no pause or change in their occupations. For a moment the children stared stupidly and incuriously at me, and then fell again into the apathy of wretchedness. I seated myself on the round table, the only piece of furniture in the house, and once more gave audience to my thoughts, which were not the most exhilarating. Meanwhile, as the storm raged more furiously, my guide earnestly advised me to turn back. This would doubtless have been the most reasonable course, particularly as we had not yet ascended a third way up the mountain. But as I had long resolved to drink your health, dear Julia, on the summit of Snowdon, in champagne, and had brought a bottle with me from Caernarvon for that express purpose, it seemed to me of ill omen to give it up. With the cheerfulness which a firm determination and fixed purpose, whether in great things or small, never fails to impart, I said, laughing, to my guide, "If it were to rain stones instead of water, I would not turn back till I had been at the top of Snowdon." I made the poor old woman a little present, which she received with apathy. The road was become extremely difficult; it lay over loose and smooth stones washed by the rain, or over very slippery turf. I admired how my active sturdy little beast, shod as he was with smooth English shoes, could step so securely forward on such a road.
Meanwhile it soon became so piercingly cold, that, drenched as I was by the rain, I could keep my seat no longer. I am so out of practice in climbing, that I was sometimes nearly overpowered by weariness; but as the Knight in the Romance of old Spiess was cheered by the sound of the bells of the twelve sleeping virgins, so I was continually exhorted to perseverance by the "ma--ma" of the mountain sheep, who were feeding in hundreds on the thin herbage around me. I thought of our pet lamb at home, and stepped vigorously onward, till at the end of an hour I had recovered from my fatigue, and felt fresher than at setting out. I was not compensated for my sufferings by the view, for, shrouded as I was in clouds, I could hardly see twenty paces before me. In this mysterious 'clair obscur' I reached the wished-for summit, the way to which lies over a narrow irregular wall of rocks. A pile of stones, in the centre of which is a wooden pillar, marks the highest point.
I thought I met my wraith, as a young man emerged from the mist who precisely resembled me, that is to say what I was when I wandered over the Swiss Alps sixteen years ago. He had, like myself, a light knapsack on his back, a sturdy staff in his hand, and a substantial dress, which may be called the classical costume of mountain travellers, contrasting as strongly with my London boots, stiff cravat, and tight frock-coat, as the youthful freshness of his face with the yellow, city hue of mine. He looked like the young son of Nature; I like the 'ci-devant jeune homme.' He had ascended the mountain from the other side, and, without stopping, asked me eagerly how far it was to the inn and what sort of road it was. As soon as I had given him the information he desired, he bounded away over the rocks, singing carelessly, and soon disappeared from my sight. I scratched my name near a thousand others on a block of stone, took out the drinking-horn which my host had lent me, and ordered the guide to draw the cork out of my bottle of Champagne. It must have contained an unusual portion of fixed air, for the cork flew higher than the top of the pillar by which we stood; and you may therefore, without imitating Münchausen, assert, that when I drank your health on the 17th of July, 1828, the cork of the Champagne bottle flew four thousand feet above the level of the sea. I filled the horn, to the foaming brim, and shouted with stentor voice into the dim obscure, 'Long life to Julia!' with nine times nine (in the English style). Three times I emptied the cup; and thirsty and exhausted as I was, never did I relish Champagne more. After my libation was completed, the prayers I sent up were not words, but profound emotions; the most fervent among which was the wish, that it might be Heaven's will to grant happiness on earth to you, and then 'if possible,' to me;--and see, a pretty lamb sprang forth from the cloudy veil, and the mist opened and rolled away, and before us lay the earth suddenly gilded by a momentary gleam of sunshine. But in a minute the curtain fell again,--an emblem of my destiny: the beautiful and the desirable--the gilded earth--appear now and then like delusive meteors before me: as soon as I seek to grasp them, they vanish like dreams.
As there was no hope that the weather would become permanently clear in these elevated regions, we resolved to return. I found myself so strengthened that I not only felt no trace of weariness, but experienced a feeling unknown for years, in which walking and running, so far from being irksome, are in themselves a source of elastic enjoyment. I sprang, therefore, like my youthful double, so rapidly over the rocks and down the wet rushy slopes, that in a few minutes I accomplished a portion of the way which it had taken me an hour and a half to ascend. I emerged at length from the interminable cloud; and if the prospect were less magnificent than from the summit, it still afforded me great delight. It was still about seven hundred feet above the level of the sea, which lay in boundless extent before me. The Island of Anglesea reposed on its bosom; and in the mountain-gorges, which intersected each other in every direction, I counted above twenty small lakes; some dark, some so brightly illumined by the sun that the eye could scarcely bear to rest on their mirror-like surface. Meanwhile the guide had overtaken me; but as I could now perfectly distinguish the 'terrain,' the evening was beautiful, and I felt no fatigue, I let him and his clever little horse return home by the straight road, and determined to take my solitary way across the most striking points, 'et bien m'en,' for since I was in Switzerland I remember no more delicious walk.--I followed a defile along the wild pass of Llanberis, celebrated in the wars between the English and the Welsh, and where the latter, under their great prince Llewellyn, often contemplated the destruction of their foreign invaders, perhaps from the very spot where I then stood.
The jagged walls of rock which in many places sank perpendicularly to the pass, are a good exercise for heads subject to giddiness. I gradually ascended many considerable peaks of the same kind, and found only an enjoyment the more in the slight shudder which my perilous station excited. "L'émotion du danger plait à l'homme," says Madame de Staël. My solitude was not complete. The mountain sheep which I have already mentioned, much smaller than the ordinary breeds, wild and agile as the chamois, often bounded before me like roes, and in their flight leaped down crags and precipices where it would not have been easy for any one to follow them. The wool of these sheep is as remarkable for coarseness, as their flesh for tenderness and delicacy. The London 'gourmands' set a high value upon it, and maintain that a man who has not eaten roast mutton from Snowdon has no conception of the ideal in that kind.
I came almost into collision with a large bird of prey, which hovering slowly with out-spread wings, had fixed his eyes so intently on something beneath, and had so little calculated on making my acquaintance in this impracticable path, that I could almost have seized him with my hands before he perceived me. He darted away with the velocity of an arrow, but did not for a moment lose sight of the object of his eager pursuit; and I saw him for a long time like a point, poised in the blue ether, till the sun sunk behind the surrounding mountain.
I now endeavoured to reach the hut at which I had before stopped, in as straight a line as possible. Not far from it a girl was milking her cow, which afforded me a refreshing draught. Here too I found my guide, and thankfully availed myself of his services during the rest of my way, wrapt in my cloak and resting most luxuriously on my sure-footed 'poney.' After returning to my inn and changing my clothes, I set out afresh and embarked on the lake, now splendidly burnished with the glow of evening. The air was become mild and soft; fish leaped sportively from the water, and herons wheeled their graceful flight around the sedgy shores; while here and there a fire gleamed upon the mountains, and the heavy thunder of blasted rocks resounded from the distant quarries.
Long had the moon's sickle stood aloft in the deep blue heavens, when the dark-locked Hebe welcomed me back to Caernarvon.
July 21st.
I was still somewhat fatigued by my yesterday's expedition, and contented myself with a walk to the celebrated castle built by Edward I. the conqueror of Wales, and destroyed by Cromwell. It is one of the most magnificent ruins in England. The only thing to regret is, that it stands so near the town, and not in solitary grandeur amid the mountains. The outer walls, although in ruins, still form an unbroken line, enclosing nearly three acres of ground. The interior space, overgrown with grass and filled with rubbish and with thistles, is nearly eight hundred paces long. It is surrounded by seven slender but strong towers, of different forms and sizes. One of them may still be ascended, and I climbed by a crumbling staircase of a hundred and forty steps to its platform, whence I enjoyed a magnificent view over sea, mountains, and town. On descending, my guide showed me the remains of a vaulted chamber, in which, according to tradition, Edward II., the first prince of Wales, was born. The Welsh, in consequence of the oppression of English governors in the earlier times of partial and momentary conquest, had declared to the king that they would obey none but a prince of their own nation. Edward therefore sent for his wife Eleanor in the depth of winter that she might lie-in in Caernarvon castle. She bore a prince: upon which the king summoned the nobles and chiefs of the land, and asked them solemnly whether they would submit to the rule of a prince who was born in Wales, and could not speak a word of English. On their giving a joyful and surprised assent, he presented to them his new-born son, exclaiming in broken Welsh, Eich dyn! i. e. "This is your man!" which has been corrupted into the present motto of the English arms, Ich Dien.
Over the great gate still stands the statue of Edward, with a crown on his head and a drawn dagger in his right hand, as if after six centuries he were still guarding the crumbling walls of his castle. He might justly have broken out into indignant complaint at the desecration I witnessed. In the midst of these majestic ruins, a camel and some monkeys in red jackets were performing their antics, while a ragged multitude stood shouting and laughing around, unconscious of the wretched contrast which they formed with these solemn remains of past ages.
The tower in which the prince was born is called the Eagle Tower; not from that circumstance, but from four colossal eagles which crowned its pinnacles, one of which is still remaining. It is believed to be Roman, for Caernarvon stands on the site of the ancient Segontium, which.... But I am wandering too far, and am in the high road to fall into the tone of a tour-writer by profession, who thinks himself privileged to bore if he does not instruct, although his information is generally the result of a weary search through road-books and local descriptions. 'Je n'ai pas cette prétension, vous le savez, je laisse errer ma plume,' heedless whither it leads me.
The Marquis of Anglesea has lately established a sea-bath here, which is supplied by a steam-engine, and very elegantly fitted up. I availed myself of it on my way back from the castle, and observed in the entertaining-room a billiard-table of metal set in stone. It is impossible to desire one more accurate;--whether the steam-engine performed the office of marking, I forgot to ask. This is by no means impossible, in a country in which somebody has gravely proposed to establish steam-waiters in coffee-houses, and in which affairs would go on much the same if a forty-horsepower steam-engine sat upon the throne.
Dear Julia, a traveller must be allowed to speak often and much of weather and of eating. The Novels of the Illustrious, erst Unknown, or the Illustrious Unknown, derive no inconsiderable part of their attractions from the masterly pictures of this kind they contain. Whose mouth does not water when he sees Dalgetty, the soldier of fortune, display at the table a prowess even greater than in the fight? I am really not in joke when I assure you that when I have lost my appetite, I often read an hour or two in the works of the Great Unknown, and find it completely restored. To-day I wanted no stimulus of this or any kind. It was sufficient to see the most excellent fresh fish and the far-famed 'mountain mutton' smoking on the table, to induce me to fall on them with ravenous hunger; for a sea-bath and the ascent of Snowdon have a yet greater influence on the stomach than Walter Scott. My dark-locked maiden, who, as I was the only guest in the house, waited on me herself, was at length impatient of my reiterated attacks on the mutton; and said somewhat sullenly that I did nothing but eat, except when I was rambling about. She was of a much more ethereal nature, and in the short time I had been here, had read through half my portable Novel library. Every time I saw her she presented me with a newly devoured volume, and begged so earnestly for another, that I must have had a hard heart to refuse her.
July 22.
A large packet has been sent after me to-day from Bangor. I vainly searched it for tidings from you; but could not refrain from laughing heartily over a letter from L----, who writes to me in despair at the scrape he is in. He tells me that he suffered his "Reflections" (the beginning of which I sent you,) to be printed in fragments, and a certain party which feels itself too sore not to be over-sensitive 'y a entendu malice.' They have inserted a furious article against him in the Lamb's Journal; and poor L----, who knows the people he has to deal with, is afraid that he will certainly be rejected at his examination. As this philippic is not long, and is very characteristic of our times, and as I have a holiday to-day, I shall transcribe it with some abridgments.
"On the REFLECTIONS of a pious Soul of Sandomir: A discourse by Herr von Frommel, Adjutant of his Highness the Prince of ----. Pronounced in the Nobility's pious Conventicle for both sexes, at A----, No. 33, Zion Street, May 4th, 1828. (Reprinted separately, from the Collection, for true Christians.)
"High and high-well born, pious brethren and sisters! Truly is it said there be many wolves in sheep's clothing! The author of these reflections is doubtless the wearer of such a sheepskin. It is not difficult to discover that under the mask of godliness, and of a simplicity approaching to silliness, are heard the hissings of that same mischievous serpent who seduced our pious mother Eve, who has since incessantly vented his venom upon our holy Religion, and still labours to overthrow the throne and the altar. But we, my brethren, will not resemble our, alas! too credulous Mother, but will exterminate the satellites of the Devil wherever we find them, with fire and sword.
"Yes, my friends, you know and are certain that the Devil is, and lives--not as the unbelieving herd say, in us, as the demon of anger, of vanity, of hatred, of sin;--no, bodily he roams over the earth, like a roaring lion, with goat's horns and a long tail and pestilential stench, wherever he chooses to show himself. He who does not thus believe on the Devil, has no true religion. But wherefore do I urge this? We are no reasoners--no worldly-wise: here are none but simple lambs, one flock under one shepherd.
"A warning is, however, necessary; and therefore I now give the alarm. We have as yet seen only fragments of these poisonous 'Reflections,' and know not how far the author means to go;--but they are aimed at us; of that there is no doubt; and, God be praised! we find already enough fully to justify our denouncing him as an Atheist. Is it not obvious that he jests at Providence and its omnipotence? We hope, we pray, therefore, confidently and earnestly, that Omnipotence will speedily avenge itself, and give this presumptuous soul a foretaste of what awaits him in the everlasting flames. And may the all-merciful God do this promptly and fearfully, that no innocent lamb of our flock may be led astray by that unclean one. Certainly, my friends, a fiend, a vampire, an atheist wrote these words. Nothing is sacred to him. He attacks not alone the Creator, but even the Redeemer of the world.
"Oh my brethren and sisters! horrible--we may reckon upon it assuredly--horrible will be the lot of such an one at the last day! when the dead shall arise in the body, and his carnal ear shall hear again, only to listen to the thunders of the trumpets which announce to him his eternal damnation. There will be no pity! There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth! And let us follow that example, and be inexorable towards him, as will be that eternal condemnation.
"We could scarcely have believed that after all our Christian labours in our so truly--I say it with pride--Christian city, in which everything is done to destroy the poison of toleration and of mad confidence in our own judgment, men could be found amongst us, who would dare, unrestrained by all authority, to go their own way in search of truth;--these free-thinkers and heathens spring up only because the constituted authorities (even our otherwise so active Censorship at their head) are far too indulgent towards the greatest of all crimes, unbelief. It would perhaps have been expedient and beneficial to introduce a moderate Inquisition, together with the new prayer book, for the defence of true believers, those genuine Christians, those sole predestined favourites of God, who believe whatever their King and their Church order, without hesitation or examination. Only such can have any real value for Church or State. Away then with all others! Be they damned for ever! like all the unbaptized children of Jews and Heathens. Oh could we but for ever expunge from our annals that disgraceful period in which a philosopher (and not merely an ideological but a practical philosopher) sat on a German throne,--and, my Christian brethren, would you believe it? received the name of the Great! The mildest that we, converted to the grace of godliness with tears of blood, can now say of him is, the Lord be merciful to his poor soul! Long however must the pious and their sacred legion struggle, before the seed which this great (!!!) man sowed will be wholly trodden down; before the last trace of that miserable Reason which he fostered will be entirely eradicated. Nevertheless, despair not, my Christian brethren; to such holy zeal as ours nothing is impossible, and this world's rewards await you in various forms here, from those exalted sources from which we daily draw; and hereafter yet greater glories in the Palace of the Lord. Only beware of reasoning, in every shape: believe--not upon your own inquiry--but as it is prescribed to you; and above all, beware of Toleration! Love your Redeemer not only above all, but solely and alone. But he who is not for him is against him, and upon such have no mercy. Persecute them without intermission. And if this cannot be done openly, undermine him with calumnies, with secret detraction; yea, shun not the rankest lies, provided you can disseminate them with security to yourselves; for remember that the end sanctifies all means. Ah, were we but in such a frame of mind as never to wax cool in our zeal! It is only because we are luke-warm, that these philosophers have dared to preach that virtue of heathens, toleration. We have seen to what it brought us when the delirious raving about freedom seized the mob, and universal anarchy threatened to overthrow the throne, the church, our old nobility, and everything venerable. Therefore away with every thought of mischievous tolerance towards those who think otherwise! Christ indeed has said, "Bless those who curse you:" and further, "If any man strike you on one cheek, offer him the other also." But upon this subject I have my own thoughts. Passages of this sort ought certainly to be differently understood: for how could they be reconciled with the indispensable laws of our station? Does not the honour of our rank, and of our uniform, command us instantly and without hesitation, to strike again a man who should dare to lay hands upon us? Yes, I know not whether even I, the favourite of my prince, should dare to show myself at court or in the highest places, after publicly receiving a slap on the face. It is therefore highly probable that our Saviour intended these words to be taken with one limitation,--that is, for the common people, in whom it is unquestionably meritorious when struck on one cheek, instead of giving way to wrath and bitterness, to offer the other. Let it be remembered also, that when Christ became man, he sought out not only a noble but a royal race. And who knows whether the disciples were really of such mean extraction as they are represented, and not perhaps men of old Jewish families of high descent? the matter is wrapt in so much historical darkness. And doth not Christ say, "My coming is not to bring peace, but rather the sword?" These two passages would seem to contradict each other, if we did not understand that patience is enjoined to one class and warfare to the other. For is not that the primitive destination of the nobility?--formerly with the sword, now with the pen and the word. For this cause, my brethren and sisters, strive against the unbelieving. Gird on the sword of the times, and strive for the Lord with the Bible and Jacob Böhmen, with the Chamberlain's Key and the Field Marshal's Baton, with the Prayer-book and the Surplice. Believe me, my dear friends, soon shall we earn the fruits of our holy zeal; soon shall we begin to stand on the brazen floor.
"People yield more and more to our secret influence and strong union: the powerful support which we give to all our fellow-labourers when their labours in the vineyard deserve it; the many favours from exalted sources, of which we are the sharers; above all, the inexorable piety we are known to possess, hold even the most daring within bounds, and lay the timid in shoals at our feet.
"But whenever an Antichrist dares to attack us, (and whoever dares to do so is one,) I exhort you again,--watch, strive, destroy, and rest not till your victim is fallen. It is all for Charity's sake, the last effort for a poor erring mortal, to force him, if possible, to acknowledge Christ.--Amen.
"It will perhaps be agreeable to this noble congregation in Christ, and moving to their hearts, if I hereby communicate to them, that we have been so happy in the course of the present month as to bring seven and a half condemned souls to the true faith, which has cost us not more than a hundred reichsthalers. As we are obliged to keep a worldly account of these matters, we have agreed to reckon children under twelve years of age as half souls. And may Heaven in like manner bless our further pious efforts, and the disinterested zeal with which the unconverted are drawn to the lap of Jesus.--Amen."
I had read thus far when the little Eliza appeared with my breakfast, and with an arch good-nature bid me good morning "after my long sleep." She had just been to church, had all the consciousness of being well-dressed, and was waiting upon a foreigner; three things which greatly incline women to be tender-hearted. She accordingly seemed almost embarrassed when I inquired about my departure early the following morning; but was soon consoled when I promised to leave her my travelling library, and to bring her a fresh assortment of books in a week.
After dinner I went, under her guidance, to visit the walks around the town. One of these is most romantically placed on a large rock. We saw from hence to Snowdon, in almost transparent clearness, undimmed by a single cloud; and I could not restrain some feelings of vexation at having so exactly missed the right day.
After this pastoral walk, 'tender mutton' closed a day of which I am sorry to have nothing more interesting to record.
But I now recollect a somewhat singular incident which my host told me to-day. On the night of the 5th of August, 1820, the boat which crossed a ferry at this place was lost, and out of twenty-six persons only one man was saved. Exactly thirty-seven years before, the same disaster occurred, and out of sixty-nine persons only one survived. What renders the coincidence the more perfect is, that on both occasions the name of the sole survivor was Hugh Williams.
Bangor, July 22d.
Bangor is also a bathing place; that is, every body may jump into the sea who likes it. The artificial arrangements for the purpose are reduced to the private tub-establishment of one old woman, who lives in a wretched hovel on the shore; and if an order is given an hour before, heats the sea-water in pots and kettles on her hearth, and proceeds 'sans façon,' to undress and afterwards to rub down and dress again any stranger who may come unprovided with a servant. I entered her hut accidentally, and after I had taken a bath of this sort, 'pour la rarité du fait,' I hired a boat to take me across the arm of the sea which divides Wales from the island of Anglesea. Here is another castle built by Edward I., and destroyed by Cromwell; it was originally even of greater extent than that at Caernarvon, and covered five acres of ground; but the ruins are less picturesque, in consequence of its having lost all its towers. To see it thoroughly one must walk along the narrow and lofty walls, which are wholly unprotected. The boy who keeps the keys ran along like a squirrel; but the barber of the town, who offered his services as guide when I landed, left me in the lurch at the first step. The ruin stands in the park of a Mr. Bulkley: with singular bad taste he has made a tennis-court within its enclosure. His house commands a very celebrated view. It is, however, far surpassed by one I met with about a mile and a half further on, from a simple and elegant cottage called Craig y Don. This is a true gem,--one of those blessed spots which leave nothing to wish. It lies between thickly wooded rocks close to the sea: not too large, but adorned like a boudoir, surrounded by the greenest turf, and by the blended beauty of flowers of all colours; the whole house, with its thatched roof and verandah tapestried with China roses and blue convolvuluses, forms a picture which, enclosed as it is between wood and rock, formed the most indescribably beautiful contrast with the sublime scenery around it. Labyrinthine footpaths wind in all directions through the cool and shady thicket, subdividing into many and exquisite fragments the rich treasures of landscape beauty afforded by the situation. Beneath and in front lies the deep blue sea, whose surf beats against the sharp pointed rocks upon which I stood; while further away on its smooth mirror a hundred fishing-boats and other vessels glided to and fro. Among them I descried the cutter of the proprietor of Craig y Don lying at anchor, and two steam-boats, one of which, far in the distance, left a long line of smoke; the other, close to shore, sent up a slender column of white vapour. On the right, a deep bay stretches into the land, studded with little islands of every character and form; some clothed with brushwood, others bare and almost polished by the waves; some covered with little huts, others crowned with upright tower-like rocks. On turning again toward the strait, and following its gradual contraction, my eye rested with amazement on that stupendous chain-bridge which closes the prospect: that giant work which is justly called the eighth wonder of the world, and which, bidding defiance to nature, has united two portions of land which she had severed by the ocean. I shall have an opportunity hereafter of describing it more nearly; from this point it looks as if spiders had woven it in the air.
After I had satisfied myself with gazing at this romantic specimen of human power and skill, I turned to one of the greatest and most varied works of nature;--the entire range of the Welsh mountains, which rises immediately from the water, distinct and near enough clearly to distinguish woods, villages and valleys, and stretches along an extent of ten miles. The mountains grouped themselves in every variety of light and shadow; some were wrapped in clouds, some gleamed brightly in the sun, others stretched their blue heads even above the clouds; and villages, towns, white churches, handsome country-houses and castles, were visible in their gorges, while shifting gleams of light played on the green slopes at their foot. The eye, wearied with a variety, turns to the north, which is on my left. Here nothing distracts the gaze: the wide ocean alone blends with the sky. For a short time you follow the retreating shore of Anglesea at your side, on which large nut-trees and oaks droop their pliant boughs into the sea, and then you are alone with air and water; or at most you fancy you descry the sails of a distant vessel, or shape fantastic pictures in the clouds.
After an hour of intense enjoyment, I rode at the full speed of a pony, which I hired in Anglesea, to the great bridge. The best point of view is from the beach, near some fishing huts about a hundred paces from the bridge. The more thoroughly and minutely I viewed it, the greater was my astonishment. I thought I beheld in a dream a filagree work suspended by fairies in the air. In short, the fancy cannot exhaust itself in comparisons; and as a stage-coach with four horses drove rapidly over the arch a hundred feet high and six hundred wide, half concealed by the intertexture of the chains on which the bridge is suspended, I thought I saw larks fluttering in a net. The men who were seated in various parts of the chain-work, giving it its first coat of paint, were like captive insects. Those who know the castle at Berlin will be able to form some idea of the enormous dimensions of this bridge, when they hear that it would stand perfectly well under the centre arch: and yet the chains hold the latter so firmly, that even driving at the quickest rate or with the heaviest burden, which is by no means forbidden, does not excite the smallest perceptible vibration. The bridge is divided at the top into three roads, one for going, another for returning, and a third for foot-passengers. The planks rest on an iron grating, so that they are easily removed when out of repair, and no danger is to be apprehended when they break. Every three years the whole iron work receives a fresh coat of paint, to prevent rust. The name of the architect, who has earned a high and lasting reputation, is Telford. 'Sur ce, n'ayant plus rien à dire,' I close my epistle, and wish you, my dear Julia, all the happiness and blessings you deserve, 'et c'est beaucoup dire.'
Ever your most faithful
L----.