LETTER I.
_Dresden, Sept. 8th, 1826._
MY DEAR FRIEND,
The love you showed me at our parting in B---- made me so happy and so miserable, that I cannot yet recover from it. Your sad image is ever before me; I still read deep sorrow in your looks and in your tears, and my own heart tells me too well what yours suffered. May God grant us a meeting as joyful as our parting was sorrowful! I can now only repeat what I have so often told you: that if I felt myself without you, my dearest friend, in the world, I could enjoy none of its pleasures without an alloy of sadness; that if you love me, you will therefore above all things watch over your health, and amuse yourself as much as you can by varied occupation.
As I resolved to combat the melancholy which gives so dark a colouring to all objects, I sought a kind of aid from your Sevigné, whose connexion with her daughter has, in fact many points of resemblance to that which subsists between us, only with the exception, 'que j'ai plus de votre sang,'[1] than Madame de Grignan had of her mother's. But your resemblance to the charming Sevigné is like the hereditary likeness to the portrait of an ancestor. The advantages which she possesses over you are those of her time and education; you have others over her; and what in her appears more finished and definite--classic,--in you assumes a romantic character; it becomes richer, and blends with the infinite,--I opened the book at random: it was pleasant enough that I lighted upon this passage--
"N'aimons jamais, ou n'aimons guères, Il est dangereux d'aimer tant."
On which she remarks with great feeling, "Pour moi, j'aime encore mieux le mal que le remède, et je trouve plus doux d'avoir de la peine à quitter les gens que j'aime, que de les aimer médiocrement."
It is a real consolation to me to have already written a few lines to you: since I have conversed with you, I feel as if I were nearer to you. I have no adventures to relate as yet. I was so entirely engrossed by my own thoughts and feelings, that I scarcely knew through what places my road lay.
Dresden appeared to me less cheerful than usual, and I was thankful when I found myself quietly established in my room at the inn.
The storm which blew in my face during the whole day, has heated and fatigued me; and as I am, you know, otherwise unwell, I want rest.
Heaven send you also a tranquil night, and affectionate dreams of your friend!
_Sept. 10th.--Morning._
'Vous avez sans doute cuit toutes sortes de bouillons amers, ainsi que moi.' Nevertheless I rose in better health and spirits than yesterday, and immediately set to work making all the little arrangements necessary at the beginning of a long journey. In the evening I felt extremely depressed, and as I dreaded an attack of my nervous hypochondriacal disorder, which you christened my 'maladie imaginaire,' I sent for Hofrath (Court-counsellor) W----, the favourite physician of the strangers who pass through Dresden, because, independently of his skill, he is an amusing and merry companion. You know the use I make of physicians. Nobody can be of a more homoeopathic nature than I am; for the mere conversing with a medical man on my complaint and its remedies, generally half cures me; and if I take any of his prescriptions, it is only in thousandth parts. This was the case to-day; and after some hours, which W---- passed by my bedside, and seasoned with many a piquant anecdote, I supped with better appetite, and slept tolerably till morning. On opening my eyes, they lighted on a letter from you, which the honest B---- had laid upon my bed, well knowing that I could not begin the day so joyfully. Indeed, after the pleasure of hearing from you, I have only one other--that of writing to you.
Do but continue thus unrestrainedly to give utterance to all your feelings, and fear not to wound mine. I well know that your letters must long resemble a sad and dreary landscape. I shall be tranquil, if I do but see an occasional gleam of sunlight throw its rays across it.
_Leipsig, Sept. 11th._
In a very pretty room, with well waxed parquet, elegant furniture, and silken curtains, all in their first 'fraicheur,' the waiter is now laying the table for my dinner, while I employ these few minutes in writing to you.
I left Dresden at ten o'clock this morning, in tolerably good spirits,--that is, painting fancy pictures for the future. But my lingering regrets at leaving you, dear Julia, and the comparison of my insipid and joyless solitude with the exquisite pleasure I should have had in taking this journey under more happy circumstances, with you, fell heavily upon my heart.
Of the road hither, there is not much to be said; it is not romantic,--not even the vineyards, which extend to Meissen, and which present to the eye more sand than verdure. Yet the country, though too open, sometimes excites agreeable feelings by its freshness and fertility: this is the case at Oschatz, where the pretty bushy Culmberg looks down upon the plain, like the rich-locked head of youth. The 'chaussée' is good, and it appears that the post is improving even in Saxony, since the excellent Nagler created a new post-era in Prussia. Nothing amuses me more than the energetic zeal with which B---- drives on the willing as well as the phlegmatic: he behaves to them as if he had already made the tour of the globe with me, and had--of course--found things better everywhere than at home.
In the delicate state of my health, the comfortable English carriage is a real blessing. I rather hug myself on understanding the art of travelling better than my neighbours; particularly as far as the maximizing of comfort is concerned: in this I include the taking the greatest possible number of things (often dear, accustomed memorials) with the least possible 'embarras' and loss of time,--a problem which I have now perfectly solved. In Dresden, before I packed up, you would have taken my room for a broker's shop. Now all my wares have vanished in the numerous receptacles of the carriage: yet without giving it that heavy, overloaded look, at which our postilions so readily take fright; and which marks a man, to the discriminating eye of innkeepers, as one embarked on the grand tour. Every article is at hand, and yet perfectly distinct, so that when I reach my nightly quarters, my _domestic relations_ are quickly re-established in a strange place. On the road, the transparent crystal windows of the largest dimensions obstructed by no luggage or coach-box, afford me as free a view of the country as an open 'calèche,' while they leave me lord of the temperature.
The men on their lofty seat behind overlook the luggage and the horses, without the power of casting curious glances into the interior, or of listening to the conversation which may be passing there; if, perchance, on our arrival in the country of the Lilliputs or the Brobdignags, secrets of state should come under discussion. I could deliver a course of lectures on this subject,--one by no means unimportant to travellers; but I have been thus diffuse here only for the sake of furnishing you with a complete picture of myself as you are to think of me, wandering over the face of the earth, while my nomadic dwelling and the ever changing post-horses daily bear me further from your sight.
The host of the Hotel de Saxe, unquestionably one of the best inns in Germany, is an old acquaintance of mine, and established many strong claims on my gratitude when I was a student at Leipsig. Many a joyous and sometimes rather riotous repast was given at his house; and I now invited him to partake of my solitary one, that he might talk to me of the past, and of the wild days of my youth. The present times are, alas! become more serious everywhere. Formerly, pleasure was almost raised into a business,--men thought of nothing else--studied nothing else; and feet, so ready to dance, were lightly set in motion. Now-a-days, people find their pleasure only in business, and stronger excitements are required to make us merry--if that ever be the end proposed.
_Weimar, Sept. 13th.--Evening._
I will not weary you with any 'tirades' on the battle-fields of Leipsig and Lützen, nor with a description of the 'chétif' monument to Gustavus Adolphus, or of the meagre beauties of the environs of Schulpforte. In Weissenfels, where I wanted to buy a book, I was surprised to learn that not a bookseller was to be found in the residence of the great Müllner. They were most likely afraid that he would saddle them with a law-suit, at first hand.
I trod the plains of Jena and Auerstadt with just such feelings as a Frenchman of the 'grande armée' might have had in the years 1806 and 1812, when he marched across the field of Rossbach;--for the last victory, like the last laugh, is always the best. And as the seat of the Muses, the cheerful Weimar, received me in its bosom after all these battle reminiscences, I blessed the noble prince who has here erected a monument of peace; and has helped to light up a beacon in the domain of literature, which has so long illumined Germany with its many-coloured flames.
Next day I presented myself to this my old commander, and to the rest of the illustrious family, whom I found little altered. The Court had, however, received the agreeable addition of two amiable princesses, who, had they been born in the humblest sphere, would have been distinguished for their external charms and their admirable education. A stranger is received here with a politeness and attention now completely out of fashion in other places. Scarcely was I announced, when a 'laquais de cour,' waited upon me to place himself and a court equipage at my disposal during the time of my stay, and to give me a general invitation to the Grand Duke's table.
In the morning, the Grand Duke had the kindness to show me his private library, which is elegantly arranged, and remarkably rich in splendid English engravings. He laughed heartily when I told him that I had lately read in a Paris journal that Schiller had been disinterred by his order, and that the skeleton of the illustrious poet was to be placed in the Grand Ducal library. The truth is, that his bust, with some others, decorates the room, but that his skull, if I was rightly informed, is enclosed in the pedestal;--certainly a somewhat singular token of respect.
I visited the park with renewed pleasure. The ground is not, indeed, rich in picturesque beauty, but the laying out is so skilful, the several parts are so well imagined and executed, that they leave on the mind a feeling of satisfaction which such combinations, even under more favourable natural circumstances, seldom produce in an equal degree.
Among the new improvements I found a small botanic garden, laid out in a circular plot of ground, in the centre of which stands a majestic old tree. The garden is arranged according to the Linnæan system, and exhibits a single specimen of every tree, shrub, and plant which will stand abroad, and is to be found in the park and gardens. It is impossible to conceive a more agreeable spot for the living study of botany than the seat under this tree, which, like a venerable patriarch, looks down upon the surrounding youthful generations of every form, foliage, blossom, and colour. Continuing my walk, I saw a model farm of the Grand Duke's, where gigantic Swiss cows give little milk,--for transplantations of this sort seldom answer. Further on, I found the pretty pheasantry, which is rich in gold and silver pheasants and white roes. The great ladder on which from seventy to eighty heavy turkeys are drilled by the gamekeeper to climb in company is curious enough; and the old lime-tree, completely loaded with such fruit, has a strange exotic aspect.
As the Court dines at a very early hour, I had scarcely time to put myself into costume, and arriving late found a large company already assembled. Among them I remarked several Englishmen, who very wisely study German here, instead of first learning, with great trouble, the ungraceful dialect of Dresden: they are most hospitably received here. The conversation at table was very animated. You know the joviality of the Grand Duke, who in this respect completely resembles his friend, the never-to-be-forgotten King of Bavaria. We recapitulated many a laughable story of the time when I had the honour of being his adjutant; after which I was compelled to ride my grand 'cheval de bataille'--my expedition in the air-balloon.
Much more interesting were Duke Bernard's descriptions of his travels in North and South America, which I understand we shall soon have an opportunity of reading in print, with remarks by Göthe. This prince, whom the accident of birth has placed in a high station, occupies a still higher as man: no one could be better fitted to give the free Americans a favourable idea of a German prince than he, uniting, as he does, frank dignity of deportment with genuine liberality of thought, and unpretending kindness and courtesy.
In the evening there was a grand assembly, which, in virtue of its nature and quality, was not particularly rich in enjoyment. Every agreeable feeling however revived within me, when I found myself seated at cards opposite to the Grand Duchess. Who has not heard of this noble and truly excellent German woman, before whose serene and clear spirit Napoleon himself, in the plenitude of his power, stood awed, and who is beloved by every one who is permitted to enjoy her gentle and heart-cheering society? We sat indeed at the card-table, but gave little heed to the laws of whist; while time fled amid animated and delightful conversation.
In a court like this, visited by so many foreigners, there cannot fail to be originals who afford matter for piquant anecdotes, even those least given to scandal. Some very diverting stories were related to me when, on rising from table, I mingled again in the crowd. Among other things, a visiting card, 'in naturâ,' was showed to me which apparently owed its existence to a well-known anecdote concerning an Englishman. This example suggested to the mad-cap Baron J---- the thought of re-acting the affair with one of his table companions, a ci-devant captain, who was tolerably ignorant of the world and its usages. With this view, he hinted to the poor man, who had been leading a secluded life in D----, that politeness required of him to make a round of visits in the town; to which the unsuspecting captain patiently replied, that he was not conversant in these matters, but would willingly put himself under J----'s guidance. "Well then," said he, "I will provide the cards, which must be written in French, and in three days I will call you in my carriage. You must put on your uniform, and your cards must express to what service you formerly belonged." All was done according to agreement; but you may imagine what laughing faces greeted our visitors, when you learn that the following 'carte de visite' was sent up before them in every house:--
"Le Baron de J----, pour présenter _feu_ Monsieur le Capitaine de M----, jadis au service de plusieurs membres de la Confédération du Rhin."
_September, 14th._
This evening I paid my visit to Göthe. He received me in a dimly lighted room, whose 'clair obscure' was arranged with some 'coquetterie'; and truly, the aspect of the beautiful old man, with his Jove-like countenance, was most stately. Age has changed, but scarcely enfeebled him: he is perhaps somewhat less vivacious than formerly, but so much the more equable and mild; and his conversation is rather pervaded by a sublime serenity, than by that dazzling fire which used occasionally to surprise him, even in the midst of his highest 'grandezza.' I rejoiced heartily at the good health in which I found him, and said with a smile, how happy it made me to find our spiritual King in undiminished majesty and vigour. "Oh, you are too _gracious_," said he, (with the yet uneffaced traces of his South German manner, accompanied by the satirical smile of a North German,[2]) "to give me such a title." "No," replied I, truly from my very heart, "not only king, but despot, for you have subjugated all Europe." He bowed courteously, and questioned me concerning things which related to my former visit to Weimar; then expressed himself very kindly with regard to M----, and my efforts to improve it, gently remarking, how meritorious he ever thought it to awaken a sense of beauty, be it of what kind it may, since the Good and the Noble unfolded themselves in manifold ways out of the Beautiful. Lastly, he gave me some gleam of hope that he might comply with my earnest request that he would visit us there. Imagine, dearest, with what 'empressment' I caught at this, though perhaps but a 'façon de parler.'
In the course of our conversation we came to Sir Walter Scott. Göthe was not very enthusiastic about the Great Unknown. He said he doubted not that he wrote his novels in the[3] same sort of partnership as existed between the old painters and their scholars; that he furnished the plot, the leading thoughts, and skeleton of the scenes, that he then let his pupils fill them up, and retouched them at the last. It seemed almost to be his opinion, that it was not worth the while of a man of Sir Walter Scott's eminence to give himself up to such a number of minute and tedious details. "Had I," added he, "been able to lend myself to the idea of mere gain, I could formerly have sent such things anonymously into the world, with the aid of Lenz and others--nay, I could still--as would astonish people not a little, and make them puzzle their brains to find out the author; but after all they would be but manufactured wares." I afterwards observed, that it was gratifying to Germans to see what victories our literature was achieving in other countries; "And," added I, "our Napoleon has no Waterloo to dread."
"Certainly," replied he, disregarding my 'fade' compliment, "setting aside all our original productions, we now stand on a very high step of culture, by the adoption and complete appropriation of those of foreign growth. Other nations will soon learn German, from the conviction that they may thus, to a certain extent, dispense with the learning of all other languages; for of which do we not possess all the most valuable works in admirable translations?--The ancient classics, the master-works of modern Europe, the literature of India and other eastern lands,--have not the richness and the many-sidedness[4] of the German tongue, the sincere, faithful German industry, and deep-searching German genius, reproduced them all more perfectly than is the case in any other language?"
"France," continued he, "owed much of her former preponderance in literature to the circumstance of her being the first to give to the world tolerable versions from the Greek and Latin: but how entirely has Germany since surpassed her!"
On the field of politics, he did not appear to me to give into the favourite constitutional theories very heartily. I defended my own opinions with some warmth. He reverted to his darling idea, which he several times repeated;--that every man should trouble himself only thus far,--in his own peculiar sphere, be it great or small, to labour on faithfully, honestly, and lovingly; and that thus under no form of government would universal well being and felicity long be wanting:--that, for his own part he had followed no other course; and that I had also adopted it in M---- (as he kindly added), untroubled as to what other interests might demand. I replied frankly, but in all humility, that however true and noble this principle were, I must yet think that a constitutional form of government was first necessary to call it fully into life, since it afforded to every individual the conviction of greater security for his person and property, and consequently gave rise to the most cheerful energy, and the most steady trust-worthy patriotism, and that a far more solid universal basis would thus be laid for the quiet activity of each individual in his own circle: I concluded by adducing,--perhaps unwisely,--England in support of my argument. He immediately replied, that the, choice of the example was not happy, for that in no country was selfishness more omnipotent; that no people were perhaps essentially less humane in their political or in their private relations;[5] that salvation came not from without, by means of forms of government, but from within, by the wise moderation and humble activity of each man in his own circle; that this must ever be the main thing for human felicity, while it was the easiest and the simplest to attain.
He afterwards spoke of Lord Byron with great affection, almost as a father would of a son, which was extremely grateful to my enthusiastic feelings for this great poet. He contradicted the silly assertion that Manfred was only an echo of his Faust. He confessed, however, that it was interesting to him to see that Byron had unconsciously employed the same mask of Mephistophiles as he himself had used, although, indeed, Byron had produced a totally different effect with it. He extremely regretted that he had never become personally acquainted with Lord Byron, and severely and justly reproached the English nation for having judged their illustrious countryman so pettily, and understood him so