smallest pretension to be vornehm (fine), you can only live Unter den Linden, or in the Wilhelms-strasse.

"Social life does not exist in Berlin, though people are always in company, and one is, as Ranke said, gehetzt (hunted). In the fashionable parties one always sees the same faces-faces possessed by ennui. The great matter is for the men to show their decorations and the women their gowns, and to be called excellency. Generally speaking, it strikes me that the Prussians have no confidence in

their own individual power of commanding respect. Much as they hold to all the old ideas and distinctions about birth, even that does not enable them to assume an upright independent attitude, not even when combined with wealth. Count G—, a man of old Saxon nobility, with large estates and the notions and feelings of an English aristocrat, tells me that he is completely shouldered in Berlin society, because he neither has nor will have any official title, wears no orders, and, in short, stands upon his own personal distinctions. The idea of going about the world stark naked to one's mere name. Mr. Pitt, Mr. Fox, Mr. Canning-a German would be ashamed!

"The other day I went up three pair of stairs to call on a nice little professor's wife. Arrived at the top, I rang the bell, and out comes a great hulking maid, who looks down upon me from a height of three or four steps. 'Is Madame G at home?' Answer (stereotype) 'I don't know;' after a pause 'Do you mean the Frau Professorin ?' 'Yes, Madame G-.' On this out rushes a second maid, looks half stupid, half indignant- What, do you mean the Frau Geheimräthin?' The joke was now too good to drop. said again, I mean Madame Gas it seems you do not hear distinctly; take my card to Madame G—.' was admitted with the usual words, 'most agreeable,' and found the very pleasant Frau Professorin Geheimräthin, for she is both, whose servants seem ashamed of her name. Yet it is a name very illustrious in learning.

I

"

I

"Till a man is accroché on the court by some title, order, office, or what not, he may be fairly said not to exist. The Germans are becoming clamorous for freer institutions, but how much might they emancipate themselves. A vast deal of this servility is perfectly voluntary, but it seems in the blood. They dislike the King of Hanover as much as we do; but when Madame de L whispered to me at a ball, Voilà votre Prince et Seigneur,' and I replied in no whisper, Prince oui, mais grâce à Dieu, Seigneur non.' She looked frightened, and so did all the ladies round her and why? He could do them no more harm than me.

"In Dresden I met the Grand Duke of Saxe Weimar, who told me the following anecdote on the authority of his mother-in-law the Empress of Russia :

6

When Paul and his wife went to Paris, they were called, as is well-known, le Comte and la Comtesse du Nord. The Comtesse du Nord accompanied Marie Antoinette to the theatre at Versailles. Marie Antoinette pointed out, behind her fan, aussi honnêtement que possible, all the distinguished persons in the house. In doing this she had her head bent forward; all of a sudden she drew back with such an expression of terror and horror that the Comtesse said, "Pardon, madame, mais je suis sûre que vous avez vu quelque chose qui vous agite." The queen, after she had recovered herself, told her that there was about the court, but not of right belonging to it, a woman who professed to read fortunes on cards. One evening she had been displaying her skill to several ladies, and at length the queen desired to have her own destiny told. The cards were arranged in the usual manner, but when the woman had to read the result, she looked horror-struck and stammered out some generalities. The sisted on her saying what she saw, but she declared she could not. "From that time," said Marie Antoinette, "the sight of that woman produces in me a feeling, I cannot describe, of aversion and horror, and she seems

queen

in

studiously to throw herself in my way!"

"The Grand Duke told very curious stories about a sort of second sight; especially of a Princess of S- who was, I believe, connected with the House of Saxony. It is the custom among them to allow the bodies

of their deceased relations to lie in state, and all the members of the family go to look at them. The Princess was a single woman, and not young. She had the faculty, or the curse, of always seeing, not the body actually exposed but the next member of the family who was to die. On one occasion a child died, she went to the bedside and said, 'I thought I came to look at a branch but I see the tree.' In less than three weeks the father was dead. The Grand Duke told me several other instances of the same kind. But this faculty was not confined to deaths. A gentleman whom the Grand Duke knew and named to me, went one day to visit the Princess, as soon as she saw him she said, 'I am delighted to see you, but why have you your leg bound up?' 'Oh,' said her sister, Princess M- 'it is not bound up; what are you talking of?' 'I see that it is,' she said.

On his way home his carriage was upset and his leg broken.

"I was saying that the Italians would not learn German. Madame de S said, I perfectly understand that; I had a French bonne, and when a child spoke French better than German. When the French were masters in Germany, M. de St. Aignan was resident at the court of Weimar. He and other French officers used to come every evening to my mother's house. I never spoke a word, I never appeared to understand a word. When the news of the battle of Leipsig arrived, M. de St. Aignan escaped through our garden. I was alone when he came to ask permission, and I answered him very volubly in French. "Mais, mademoiselle," said he, astonished, "vous parlez le Français comme l'Allemand. J'ai toujours cru que vous n'en comprenez pas

"I went to see Figaro's Hochzeit, not Le Nozze di Figaro. If you have a mind to understand why the Italians can never be reconciled to Austrian rulers go to see Figaro's Hochzeit. A Herr Dettmer, from Frankfurt, did Figaro, a good singer, I have no doubt, and not a bad, i.e., an absurd, actor. But Figaro, the incarnation of southern vivacity, espièglerie and joyous grace! Imagine a square, thick-set man, with blond hair and a broad face, and that peculiar manner of standing and walking with the knees in, the heels stuck into the earth and the toes in the air, which one sees only in Germany. I thought of Piuco, a young Maltese, never, I believe, off his tiny islandwhom I last saw in that part. I saw before me his élancé and supple figure, his small head clustered round with coal-black hair, his delicately turned jetty moustache, his truly Spanish costume, the sharp knee just covered by the breeches tied with gay ribbons, and the elastic step of the springing foot and high-bounding instep. What a contrast !-and what can Art do against Nature in such a case? Then the women; I had seen Ronzi de Begnis in the Countess. What a Countess! What a type of southern voluptuous grace, of high and stately beauty and indolent charm! Imagine a long-faced, lackadaisical-looking German woman, lean and high-shouldered, and with that peculiar construction of body which German women now affect. An enormously long waist, laced in to an absurd degree, and owing its equally extravagant rotundity below to the tailor. 'Happy we,' says Countess Hahn-Hahn-who, with so many ells of muslin or silk, can have a beautiful figure.'

"The Susanna was a pretty waitingmaid. How far that is from a Spanish Susanna, it is beyond me to say.

Cherubino was the best, but he was only an espiègle boy playing at being in love-not the page whose head is turned at the sight of a woman. Then the language!

"After all, how immensely does this inaptitude of Germans to represent Figaro raise Mozart in our estimation; for he had not only to represent, but to conceive the whole-and what a conception. The sweet breath of the south vibrating in every note. Variety, grace, lightness, passion, naïveté, and, above all, a stately elegance which no one ever approached. His Don Giovanni and his Almaviva contain the most courtly, graceful, stately music that ever was conceived; and nothing like it was ever conceived. Only the real grandee, courtier, and fine gentleman could express himself so.

"Now, as a set-off, I must say what Germans can do, and what I am quite sure we English cannot in these days.

"I went to see Schiller's Braut von Messina. I expected little. The piece is essentially lyric rather than dramatic. The long speeches, thought I, will be dull, the choruses absurd; the sentiments are pagan. What have Spanish nobles to do with a Nemesis, with oracles, with a curse, like that on the house of Athens-with sustained speeches, the whole purport of which is incusare Deos?

"Well, I was wrong. In the opening scene, Mademoiselle Berg has to stand for a quarter-of-an-hour between two straight lines of senators and to make a speech-rien que cela! Can anything be more difficult? Yet such was the beauty of her declamation of Schiller's majestic verse, such the solemnity and propriety, grace and dignity of her action, that at every moment one's interest rose. Her acting through the whole of this arduous part gave me the highest idea of her sense and culture. Tenderness and passion were nicely proportioned to the austere character and sculptural beauty of the piece. I cannot at this moment recollect ever to have seen an actress, French or English, who could have done it as well. Made

moiselle Rachel, with all her vast talents as a declaimer, would have been too hard for the heart-stricken mother.

"Emil Devrient's Don Cesar was quite as good. His acting in the last scene, where Beatrice entreats him to live, was frightfully good. The attempts at paternal tenderness, instantly relapsing into the fatal passion, ignorantly conceived, made one's heart stand still. And yet such was the extreme delicacy of his art, one felt none of the disgust which attends every allusion to such love. One saw before one only the youth vainly struggling with the hereditary curse of his house-the doomed victim and instrument of the vengeance of an implacable destiny.

"Anything more thoroughly heathenish than the play I cannot conceive, and I much question if an English audience would sit it out-on that score-not to mention others. We should find it our duty to be shocked. The audience last night was thin; those who went were probably attracted by Schiller's name, and knew that such "horrid opinions' once existed in Greece, and that a poet imitating Greek tragedy might represent Greek modes of thinking. In short, we did not feel ourselves the least compromised by the Queen of Sicily's attack upon the gods-nor. the least more disposed to quarrel with our fate.

"The Chorus is, as in duty bound, versöhnend (conciliatory). The amount

of the comfort, it is true, often is, 'It can't be helped;' but even this is so nobly and beautifully expressed that one is satisfied. The Chorus has every imaginable claim to be a bore. They deal in good advice, moral reflections, and consolation of the new and satisfactory kind above mentioned. Yet so great is the majestic, harmonious, composed beauty of Schiller's verse, so much greater the eternal beauty of truth and virtue, that the old men's words fall on one's heart like drops of balm, and one feels calmed and invigorated for the struggle with life. struggle with life. The Chorus spoken, and in parts by all the voices at once, can never have a good effect - but somehow or other cela allait. Such

are the triumphs of the true poet and artist."

The following anecdote dates from before the Russian emancipation :—

"The Archbishop of Erlau told me that at the time the Russian troops were stationed in Hungary, he and another gentleman were walking in the streets of and suddenly heard a woman cry out. In a moment she ran into the street exclaiming that a Russian soldier had robbed or was about to rob her. Such complaints were very frequent and sometimes unfounded. The soldiers could not make themselves understood, and took up things without meaning to rob. Be that as it may, two Russian officers were passing and heard the woman's story. They instantly collared the man, threw him down on the pavement, and, without making the smallest inquiry into the facts, they then and there spurred him to death. This, said the Archbishop, I saw, with infinite horror and disgust."

Here we have a story which, though not absolutely new, is too good to be omitted:

"Dr. F-- told me the following story of Voltaire, which I never met with before. Voltaire had for some reason or other taken a grudge against the prophet Habakkuk, and affected to find in him things he never wrote. Somebody took the Bible and began to demonstrate to him that he was mistaken. C'est égal,' said he, with an air of impatience, Habakkuk était capable de tout!'

"Two days before we left Dresden, as I was dressing to go out, Nannie, my maid, came into my room and said two ladies wanted to see me. She said she had never seen them-they said I did not know them. I sent to say that I was sorry but I could not receive them, as Madame de S― was already waiting for me. Nannie came back with the answer that they would wait in the anteroom-they only wanted to speak to me for a moment. Annoyed at being forced to commit a rudeness, I hurried on my gown and went out. In the

anteroom were a middle-aged lady and a young one. I broke out into apologies, &c., upon which the elder lady said, in German, Pardon me for being so pressing. I only wished to give my daughter strength for the battle of life.' I was literally confounded at the oddness of this address, and remained dumb. It seemed her daughter wished to translate from the English. After a short explanation she turned to her daughter, and pointing to me, said, 'Now, my dear, you have seen the mistress, so we will not keep her any longer.' And so they went. I threw myself into a chair, and, alone as I was, burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. This is as good a piece of Germanism as is to be found in any novel. Even my Dresden friends thought it quite amazing.

"Dr. Waagen and I were talking of the danger of disputing the authenticity of pictures. I said I had rather tell a man he's a rascal than that his pictures are copies. 'Yes,' said Waagen, 'I always compare a man, the genuineness of whose pictures is attacked, to a lioness defending her young.'

"We afterwards came upon intercourse with princes. Waagen said, Wilhelm von Humboldt, who was a great friend and patron of his when a young man, once said to him-'My dear friend, your position will probably bring you into frequent contact with royalty. Take one piece of advice from me; always regard them as wild beasts in cages, and the courtiers as keepers. You see how noble and gentle and beautiful they look. But if you begin to put your hand through the bars and play with them, then you'll feel their claws and fangs. Always ask the keepers first what sort of humour they are in.'

"Countess H-, wife of the Mecklenburg Minister, a Rubens beauty, and a very good-natured woman, told me she was invited to a grand dinner party at V to meet an English great lady. The hour was five. After everybody waiting till six, the hosts determined to sit down. Some time after

dinner was begun, Lady came in.

The hostess began to regret, hoped nothing had happened, &c.

"Non, madame, c'est que je n'avais pas faim,' was the refined and graceful reply.

"At a dinner party we were talking of Niebuhr, Varnhagen von Ense's article, &c. They spoke of his arrogance and caprice, which they said he had in common with all Holsteiners. He was much disliked by the Germans at Rome, partly for these qualities, partly for his parsimony and want of hospitality.

"Herr von Raumer said-'I went to his house one evening, and we nearly succeeded in boiling some hot water for tea, but not quite.' Niebuhr told him that it was a serious thing to associate with Amati the Roman archæologist, because he frequented a certain winehouse called the Sabina, where the wine was dear. Amati was keeper of the Chigi library, and held a post in the Vatican. His learning and judgment were universally acknowledged. He was particularly well known for his transcription and collation of codices, and a man whom any one might be proud to know.

"When the late King was at Rome, Niebuhr did the honours so badly that the King was quite impatient.

He

showed him little fragments of things in which he could take no interest, and none of the great objects. One day Niebuhr spoke of Palestrina. 'What is that?' said the King. 'What, your Majesty does not know that?' exclaimed Niebuhr in a tone of astonishment. The King was extremely annoyed, and turning round to some one

said, 'Stuff and nonsense; it's bad enough never to have learnt anything, without having it proclaimed aloud.'

"Niebuhr's ideas about his own importance, and his excessive cowardice were such, said B, that at the time of the Carbonari affairs, he actually wrote home to the Prussian Government that the whole of this conspiracy was directed against himself.

"In the steamer from Mainz to Bonn was-inter alios-an individual of the genus Rath. He sat opposite to us at dinner on the deck, and first attracted my attention by the following reply to his neighbour, a man who appeared to entertain the profoundest admiration for him. 'Oh, yes, there are lots of theorists in the world, only too many. I represent den gesunden Menschenverstand (sound common sense).' Delighted at this declaration, I raised my eyes and saw a face beaming with the most undoubting self-complacency. He went on to detail certain schemes of his for the good of his country-Oldenburg, as it seemed. My husband began to interrogate him about Oldenburg, and I said all I knew of it was from Justus Möser. The worthy Rath looked at me amazed, and said this was the first time he ever heard Justus Möser mentioned by a lady. I said so much the worse, there is an infinity of good sense in his writings. Yes, but he never expected to hear of his being read by a lady, and that I was evidently the second representative of sound common sense in the world, 'worthy to be my disciple,' added he with emphasis."

JANET ROSS.