Kitabı oku: «Memoirs of the Duchesse de Dino (Afterwards Duchesse de Talleyrand et de Sagan), 1836-1840», sayfa 14

CHAPTER IV
1840

The Duchesse de Sagan, eldest sister of the Duchesse de Talleyrand, had died in the winter of 1840. A number of business difficulties were involved by the disposal of her property, and the Duchesse de Talleyrand resolved upon a journey to Prussia, which she had not visited since her marriage. She was accompanied by her eldest son, M. de Valençay, while her correspondent, M. de Bacourt, who had been appointed French Minister to the United States, went to take up his new post at Washington, where he remained for several years.

Amiens, May 16, 1840.– I cannot say with what fear I think of my departure from Paris this morning and of the real trials upon which we are to enter. I am now on the way to Germany, while you are starting for America.¹⁰¹ But to return to my journey of to-day: the roads are heavy, the postillions brought us along rather badly, and we did not arrive here until nine o'clock in the evening. I have read a good deal of the life of Cardinal Ximenes. It is a sober and a serious book, correctly written, but cold, and progress in it is difficult. I do not, however, regret my trouble with it, for I know but little of this great character, and he is worth studying.

The country is beautifully green and fresh, with bushy vegetation. We had pleasant weather, in spite of a few showers, but twenty times I told myself that travelling was the most foolish of all professions; to be carried along these interminable roads, bumped upon their rough surface, delivered to the tender mercies of postillions, fleeing from all one loves, going as rapidly as possible towards things and people who are quite uninteresting; thus spending one's life as though it were eternal, and only realising its shortness when it is at an end.

Lille, May 17, 1840.– This morning before leaving Amiens we heard mass in the fine cathedral. The 17th of May is a date of special import to myself. I gave myself some credit for going to mass so far from the house of the rector of the Academy, M. Martin, with whom we put up; then it was raining hard, and the Picard streets are very dirty and the pavement detestable.

The cathedral is really magnificent; strength, grace, and boldness are combined; stained-glass windows alone are wanting, as the light is too bright. I prayed with all my heart for the dead and for the living, and for the travellers who are to entrust themselves to the sea or traverse unknown lands.

On the road from Amiens to this town I read the Diable boiteux, the merits of which do not attract me in the least. The stories are too monotonous and uninteresting, and the constant tone of mockery and satire, which is not supported by the fine verse of Boileau, quite disgusted me. However, I have read it, and am glad it is over. I now know the nature of this book, which has had a certain reputation.

We had a better journey than yesterday. Our servants have gone to the office to arrange for to-morrow's journey, which will be complicated by the Belgian railways. After the mediocrity of Amiens and Arras, where I had some broth this morning, Lille strikes one as a large if not a great town, but I must admit that at present my travelling curiosity is benumbed and my interest remarkably dull.

Liège, May 18, 1840.– We have been fourteen mortal hours on the journey from Lille to this town, notwithstanding the help of the railway. The fact is that to make use of the railway it is necessary to make a round of twenty leagues, which considerably diminishes the advantage of it. From Courtrai one must go up to Gand, touch Malines, and then to Liège by Louvain and Tirlemont. A vast amount of time is wasted in stoppages at the numerous stations. Moreover, if one takes one's own carriage time is required to put it on a truck and take it off again, while the expense for the freight of carriages is so heavy that nothing is saved by the railway. It is certainly a marvellous invention, and the machinery is interesting. All is worked with perfect punctuality and order, but at the same time it is an unpleasant way of travelling, to my taste. There is no time to see anything; for instance, we passed along the outer walls of several towns which I should have liked to examine; we did not even pass through villages, but went straight across country, with no other event than occasional tunnels, cold and damp, in which the smoke of the engine becomes thick enough to choke one. Even though the wind carries away the smoke, it and the rattling of the engine would make you imagine yourself upon a steamboat. Imagination was the easier in my case as sickness and a certain stupefaction never left me. In short, I arrived worn out and more and more displeased with the fatigues and weariness of my enterprise. At Menin we were told to get out in a bitter wind to be searched by the Custom House officials; only when the examination was half over did they ask for our passports; upon seeing our rank the Inspector of Customs checked the ardour of his subordinates and allowed us to go. The fortress of Menin is most carefully kept, and as clean and well restored as it can be; and yet, if I am not wrong, I think that our protocols had required its destruction.

I was struck with great admiration for the wealth and the good cultivation of all Belgium, and if I had been able to satisfy my taste for old buildings by visiting Ghent, Malines, and other places I should have been consoled.

Bergheim, May 19, 1840.– To travel from Liège to Cologne would have been too long a day, so we are sleeping here in a very clean little inn, though we have no means of warming ourselves, in spite of the fact that the wind is icy. It is something of a hardship to be forced to go without a fire or to be suffocated by a cast-iron stove. I am undoubtedly a very ungrateful daughter of Germany, as I find numberless material discomforts which I did not suspect in past years, but which now cause me considerable exasperation.

I was greatly struck by the delightful country through which we passed on the road from Liège to Aix-la-Chapelle by way of Verviers. Chaudfontaine especially is a charming spot. The direct road would have been through Battice, but this road is out of use and repair, and we were directed from Liège to Verviers. The richness and beauty of the countryside, the activity of the factories, and the river valleys made the scene entirely animated and agreeable.

I was struck by the changed appearance of Aix-la-Chapelle. Although the watering season had not yet commenced, the town was as animated as possible; there are plenty of fine shops and new houses. At the same time I should not care to take the waters there, as there is nothing countrified about the place, and the walks are all too distant. To-day I read a large part of a book by the Président de Brosses, Italy a Hundred Years Ago. It is written with vigour and cheerfulness, wit and fancy, but the spirit of the eighteenth century and the writer's peculiar cynicism are obvious at every page.

Cologne, May 20, 1840.– We have reached here so early that we have decided to travel another dozen leagues to-day, after seeing Frau von Binzer, changing our money, and buying some eau de Cologne. How cold it is here! The change of climate becomes more and more perceptible.

Elberfeld, May 20, 1840.– Frau von Binzer is an extremely ugly person, but cheerful, sensible, clever, and very loyal. She spent last year with my sister, the Duchesse de Sagan, and had only left her for six weeks when she was overtaken by death. She wept bitterly in speaking of my sister, and assured me that her death was a happy deliverance; that she was so sad, so wearied, irritated, and disgusted with everything that her temperament had visibly changed. She seems to have had fits of actual despair, to have suffered a great deal during the last weeks, and to have had several presentiments of her death. She made her will on the evening before her last journey to Italy, in the course of five minutes, while she had some friends in the house taking tea. She told Frau von Binzer what she was doing, to her great astonishment. She had intended to make another will, but death came upon her as a punishment for her dilatoriness. Frau von Binzer was so grieved at the rapidity of our departure from Cologne that I could not refuse to take lunch with her. She lives a long way from the hotel where I had put up, and I therefore had a considerable walk to her house and back. My walk was prolonged because she insisted upon taking me out of my way to show me the Stock Exchange, an old and curious house of the Templars, the Town Hall, with its curious tower and doorway, and the cathedral, which the Crown Prince of Prussia has taken under his patronage, and which is being rapidly restored; the results will be admirable. We stopped for a moment in front of the Church of St. Mary of the Capitol, where Alpaide, the mother of Charles Martel, is buried. We also looked at two houses belonging to old aristocratic families in the time of the Hansa, which are in Byzantine style. At the same time Cologne is a very ugly town, and the Rhine is by no means beautiful at the spot where we crossed it.

Here we are, twelve leagues from Cologne, in the prettiest town conceivable, which reminds one of Verviers; the country about it is also pretty, and somewhat Belgian in character. All is clean and well cared for. The Prussian roads are truly admirable, the postillions go much better, and the horses are kept in good condition. In this respect and in many others the country has undergone a remarkable change. At the same time the iron stoves, the beds, and the food cause me discomfort. The railway is progressing, and it is intended to continue the line to Berlin. The work is being pushed on with great rapidity, and from Liège nothing is to be seen but navvies, machinery, and other preparations for this transformation scene.

Mersheden, May 21, 1840.– We reached Arnberg at five o'clock. This seemed a little early to finish our stage, so we continued our journey for six leagues more. Now we are in a typical village inn, but fairly clean, and with very obliging people. We might have found better accommodation at the next stage, but I could not bring myself to expose the servants any longer to the frightful weather. I have rarely seen any more dreadful; hail, rain, blasts, and storms all came down upon us. None the less I noticed that we were passing through country almost as pretty as that which we saw yesterday. It reminded me at times of the valley of Baden and of the narrower valley of Wildbad. I am still reading the Italy of the President de Brosses, which is amusing, but not entirely attractive. I will copy two passages which seem to me fairly applicable to our present mode of life: "Generally speaking, the inconveniences and the causes of impatience during a long journey are so many that one should avoid the further vexation of economy in small matters. It is certainly hard to be cheated, but we should satisfy our self-esteem by telling ourselves that we are cheated willingly and because we are too lazy to be angry." That is a piece of advice which I am inclined to practise too often. Here is the other passage which also suits my case: "In foreign countries we should be on our guard against satisfaction of the sight and weariness of the heart. There is as much as you please to amuse your curiosity, but no social resources. You are living only with people who have no interest in you or you in them, and however kind they are, it is impossible for either party to go to the trouble of discovering interest in the other when each knows that they are ready to part and never to meet again."

Cassel, May 22, 1840.– The weather to-day was as bad as yesterday, and the country not so pretty. Cassel is quite as small a town as Carlsruhe, and looks even less like a residential city. The suburbs especially are very poor. I found nothing to admire but a hill covered with magnificent oak-trees, which took us a long time both to ascend and descend. I feel the cold most bitterly, and everything here is so late that the lilac is hardly in flower.

On arriving I sent for newspapers, in which I saw an account of the long-delayed visit of the Hereditary Grand Duke of Russia to Mannheim. Poor Grand Duchess Stephanie! A year ago such a visit would have been an event; to-day it is mere empty courtesy, and it must have cost her an effort to receive it graciously. The only matter of interest to me in the newspaper was the bad account given, with no attempt at concealment, of the King of Prussia's health. This slow illness must change all the habits of the royal family and of Berlin society. I shall certainly not regret the entertainments, but I shall be sorry to be unable to pay my respects to the King, who was very kind to me in my youth.

Nordhausen, May 23, 1840.– It did not rain to-day, but it is cold enough for frost. To-morrow we have forty-one leagues to travel if we are to reach Wittenberg, a severe task which seems to me impossible. Fortunately we have done with the roads and the postillions of Hesse, which have remained faithful to the old Germanic aberrations. In Prussia both the posting system and the roads are excellent, the villages and their inhabitants look greatly superior, but for the last twenty-four hours, though the country is not precisely ugly, it has lost the richness and attractiveness which struck me on the road from Lille to Arnberg.

Wittenberg, May 24, 1840.– Forty-two leagues in twenty-four hours in a country where no one knows what going ahead means, is really excellent progress.

This town is an old acquaintance of my youth. When we used to go from Berlin to Saxony and from Saxony to Berlin, Wittenberg was always the second halt, for at that time macadamised roads were unknown. Progress was made at a walking pace, ploughing through deep sand. To-morrow I expect to cover twenty-seven leagues in nine or ten hours, which occupied two days in those earlier times. From Nordhausen to this point the country is ugly, and the inevitable pine-tree forests have reappeared. The cradle of my youth was certainly far from beautiful.

My curiosity was aroused by Eisleben and Halle, through which we passed. The former of these towns was Luther's birthplace. His house is well preserved, and there is a small museum there of all kinds of things relating to him and to the Reformation. I only saw the outside of the house, which is of no special interest, but at the door I bought a small description of Eisleben and its curiosities, which has made me quite learned.

Halle is very ugly, in spite of a few Gothic exteriors, past which I drove. Moreover, these university towns have invariably a character of their own, which is provided by the crowd of wretched students, with their noise and want of manners, who loaf about the carriages, with long pipes in their mouths, and seem quite ready to cause a disturbance.

Berlin, May 25, 1840.– The rain has been coming down again all day, and my re-entry to my native town was made under no agreeable auspices. Fortunately I had no reason to regret that the countryside was not in sunshine, for the scenery from Wittenberg here is atrocious. I had forgotten to some extent my native land, and was surprised to find it so hideous. However, I must make an exception of the bridge of Potsdam, which is really pretty. The bank of the Havel is bright and graceful with the wooded slopes which surround it, covered as they are with pretty country houses. Even Potsdam, which is only a summer residence, looks more like a capital town than Cassel, Stuttgart, or Carlsruhe; but half a league further on everything is as dry and dismal as possible, until the suburbs of Berlin, which gave me a real surprise on the side from which we reached the town. This happened to be an English quarter, with iron gateways before the houses, and a number of gardens between the gateways and the houses, which are small, but very well kept.

Berlin itself is a handsome town, but thinly populated, while as regards carriages, cabs are the dominant feature, and sadness is therefore its chief characteristic. I am staying at the Russicher Hof. Opposite is the Castle; a pretty bridge and the museum on the left; on the right are the quays. It is a pleasant aspect, and my room on the first floor is almost too magnificent.

My man of business, Herr von Wolff, told me that the King's condition was regarded as desperate, and that yesterday he sent for his eldest son, and entrusted him with the business of government. The scene is said to have been very touching. The King's illness is intestinal catarrh, which seems incurable. It is also said that he has had the deplorable privilege of bad doctors in Berlin, where the doctors are excellent. He can take no food, and is visibly wasting away; but death is not thought to be imminent. The day before yesterday he walked as far as his window to see the troops march past, and those who saw him were horrified by the change in his appearance.

The whole town is in sadness, and the royal family in despair. The Princess of Liegnitz is quite as ill as the King, with severe gastritis, and is thought to be in great danger.

M. Bresson, who has just spent an hour with me, is in despair at the King's condition. He will see no one except the Princess of Liegnitz, his doctors, and the Prince of Wittgenstein. He has seen the Crown Prince for a moment, but none of his other children, and says he feels too weak to see any one else. A messenger has just been despatched to the Russian Empress, to stop her progress at Warsaw, where she is to arrive to-morrow. The King would be in no condition to bear this interview, much less the lamentable scenes which the Emperor Nicholas would certainly make. The Empress is also said to be in a very sad way. This approaching death will be a great blow, which will re-echo near and far.

Berlin, May 26, 1840.– I slept fairly well. My bed is not quite so narrow or so extraordinary as some that I have found on the journey from Cologne to Berlin. Unless one is prepared to sleep on nothing but feathers, nothing is to be found but thin, hard mattresses nailed on to deal boards. The bedclothes are of a remarkable character, while the sheets look like towels. I had several of them sewn together, and thus succeeded in covering my bed. As regards bedrooms, Germany is undoubtedly in a state of savagery, even more so than with regard to food, which is extraordinary enough at times, though in Berlin even M. de Valençay admits that it is good. The cleanliness is perfect, and the furniture tasteful. There are carpets everywhere, and the iron stoves are replaced by fine porcelain stoves, which give no smell and heat the room excellently, but it is disappointing to be forced to use them on the 26th of May. M. Bresson utters terrible groans about the climate.

Is it not strange that I should have felt no emotion whatever upon re-entering this town where I was born and where I was largely brought up? I examined it with the same curiosity as I felt towards Cologne and Cassel, and that was all. I have no feeling of that special patriotism which I have long felt for Germany. I am a complete stranger both to things and people, entirely unconnected with the place, speaking the language with some hesitation; in short, I am not at home, or rather ill at my ease, and ashamed at being so. I do not think it would be thus if I were to return to London. I do not think I should then be delighted; I should probably burst into tears; but at any rate I should feel some emotion, as I feel at Valençay. I am less afraid of that which stirs my feelings than of that which freezes them.

Everything goes on here so early that one must be ready at dawn. Waking up is nothing, but getting up is difficult. I am extremely tired, even more than when travelling, because when once ensconced in my carriage, which is very soft, I can rest in silence, inaction, and sleep, whereas here things are very different.

My man of business from Silesia was at my house at nine o'clock. He is going away this evening to make preparations for my arrival. At eleven o'clock Herr and Frau von Wolff came in. They told me that the Duke of Coburg was negotiating to buy the estate of Muskau from Prince Pückler for his sister, the Grand Duchess Constantine. The garden of Muskau is said to be the most beautiful in Germany. It is only ten leagues from my house.

M. Bresson came in at midday to tell me that there was some improvement in the King, that he had been able to take some soup and to walk round his room. He urged me at the same time not to put off my calls upon the chief ladies of the Princesses.

Midday is the fashionable hour for calls here, so I started off with M. de Valençay. First we went to the Countess of Reede at the Castle. She is the chief lady of the Crown Princess, and was an intimate friend of my mother. She was not at home, nor was the Baroness of Lestocq, lady-in-waiting to the Princess William, the King's sister-in-law. We also went to the Countess of Wincke at the King's palace to call upon the Princess of Liegnitz. She is an old lady belonging to the palace of the late Queen, of which I retained some confused idea from my youth. She received us with an old aristocratic air which pleased me. The Countess of Schweinitz, at the new palace of Prince William, the King's son, was also at home. Countess Kuhneim, at the Teutonic Palace, where the Princess Charles of Prussia resides, was out.

Frau von Schweinitz told me that Prince William was to start to-morrow to meet his sister, the Empress of Russia, and to stop her from coming here. We also went to see the Werthers, who were delighted to talk of Paris; and then to the house of Madame de Perponcher, with whom I played a great deal in my youth. She was not at home.

Berlin is really a very fine town. The streets are wide and laid out in regular lines, the houses are tall and regular, there are many palaces and fine buildings, fine squares with trees, gardens and walks, and yet it is gloomy. There is obviously a lack of wealth to fill the fine setting. The carriages of private individuals are so much like cabs that I was deceived by the resemblance for some time. The horses and liveries and everything of the kind are dreadfully shabby.

Yesterday we dined with M. Bresson, who lives in a beautiful house which my sister the Duchess of Acerenza occupied in past years. The rooms are fine and beautifully furnished for Berlin, but spoilt by a horrible portrait of the French King, whose hand is stretched over a vast charter – quite an atrocity! The other guests were von Humboldt, Lord William Russell, and M. de Loyère, who is attached to the French Embassy. Herr von Humboldt talked in his usual style of all the rivers, all the mountains, all the planets, and of the whole universe. He did not forget his neighbours, whom he did not treat with superlative charity. Princess Albert seemed to me to be very much in his bad books, and also to some extent in those of M. Bresson. Lord William Russell is always taciturn, as a Russell should be. He says he is not displeased with his position, and anything that separates him from Lady Russell always suits his taste. As for M. Bresson, he is obviously bored, and the nine years he has spent here have completely exhausted his patience. I think that he greatly fears the approaching death of the King as likely to affect his position. He complains of the effects of the climate, and is obviously beating against his bars.

In the middle of this dinner Princess William, the King's daughter-in-law, asked me to wait upon her at half-past six. I therefore went. She lives in a charming palace, beautifully arranged; the conservatories are decorated with marble, the floors are magnificent, and the furniture is beautiful; in short, the whole is in exquisite taste. The Princess was alone, and received me most graciously. I stayed a long time.

The general fear of a visit from the Russian Imperial family is very curious. The royal family is preoccupied with the business of avoiding anything of the kind, and use a thousand devices for the purpose. They seem to be afraid of them as of a devastating torrent.

I have just had a call from Madame de Perponcher. Her queenly bearing and her regular features have survived the passing of her youth. She is a clever woman, and her conversation is animated.

Berlin, May 27, 1840.– A special luxury in Berlin, to be found in all the houses belonging to people of importance, are the wide windows, which light the rooms brilliantly, and give a bright appearance to the houses.

This morning I had a private audience of the Crown Princess, who lives in a part of the Castle properly so called. Her large private room is handsome and curious. The Princess is very polite, but a little cold and timid, with beautiful blue eyes, a dull complexion, strong and by no means attractive features; she limps a little. The conversation became animated upon the arrival of the Crown Prince. He showed me great cordiality, and had just come from the King, who was perceptibly better. This improvement has revived all their spirits, but there is still a grave reason for anxiety.

I dined with Princess William, the King's daughter-in-law; her husband has delayed his departure. At dinner there were the Crown Prince and Princess, and the two Princes of Würtemberg, the sons of Prince Paul; the latter are starting to-morrow to meet their sister, the Grand Duchess Helena, who is going to Ems, and then to Italy. The other guests were Prince George of Hesse, brother of the Duchess of Cambridge; a Russian general and an English officer who had come to look at the manœuvres; Werther, his wife, and his son, who is going to Paris to take the place of Arnim till the new appointment is made; and the Count and Countess of Redern. The Countess is a Hamburg heiress, entirely ugly; she looks like a blonde Jewess, which is to be ugly twice over.

I sat near the Crown Prince, who asked me many questions about Versailles, and was then interested in all the recollections of our youth; he has grown very stout and old.

At seven o'clock in the evening I was requested to visit Princess Albert, and invited to stay for tea and supper. It is impossible to imagine anything which takes up so much time as Court life here. The only satisfactory point is that everyone withdraws before ten o'clock at night; but at that time one is more exhausted than one would be at two o'clock in the morning at Paris.

I think that of all the persons I have seen here Princess Albert has filled me with the greatest curiosity and interest. At first I thought her face long and narrow, her mouth large, and the lower part of her face, when she laughed, very ugly, while the want of eyebrows was remarkable; but by degrees I have grown used to her, and find her actually pleasant. Her teeth are white, she has a cheerful laugh and lively eyes, her figure is pretty, and she is tall, like myself; but it is too obvious that she laces very tightly, which is the more noticeable as she is never at rest; she wriggles, gesticulates, laughs, fidgets, and talks somewhat at random; she never crosses a room except at a run and a skip, and does not shine in point of dignity of bearing, but on the whole she is by no means unpleasant, and I think that men might find her somewhat attractive. She was very kind to me, with a frankness and good-nature in putting her questions as if she had always known me, and poking fun right and left at her family to begin with; she astonished me greatly. The fact is that she is a spoilt child, accustomed to do and say anything she likes, and is regarded here as quite beyond restraint. She goes away to The Hague when her family would like her to stay in Berlin, and comes back when they think she intends to make a long stay in Holland. In short, she is a strange being. Her husband is very delicate. Their palace, though pretty outside, seemed to me rather poor within. At her house I saw no one except the Princess of Würtemberg, Madame de Perponcher (reasons of etiquette forbid her to receive M. de Perponcher, as the Diplomatic Body are excluded from royal residences), Herr von Liebermann, Prussian Minister at St. Petersburg, and the Prince and Princess William, the King's son, who arrived late.

I cannot be anything but grateful for the reception that has been offered to me here, but the want of rest overpowers every other consideration, and I should like to be back in my dear Rochecotte.

Berlin, May 28, 1840.– This morning I had an audience of Princess Charles. She has charming features, a fine figure, a high colour, tired eyes, beautiful manners, and a kind and pleasant way of speaking. Her appearance, on the whole, is insignificant, but she shows much kindness of heart. Her husband is simply vulgar. At the present moment he has a mania for seeing operations, and watches all the new experiments in surgery. Berlin is just now much excited by a mode of curing squinting, practised by Dieffenbach. Out of two hundred cases he has had only one failure, and that was due to the impatience of the patient. It is a very clever idea, and people come in from all parts to be made beautiful instead of ugly.

Here every one professes surprise at the resemblance between Madame de Lazareff and myself.

I have called upon Princess Pückler, the wife of the traveller; she is a lady who is largely supported by the Court; but she was not at home. In the afternoon I called upon Princess William, the Queen's sister-in-law, who was extremely kind to me. She has been very beautiful, and some remnants of her beauty still remain. She is a leading member of the sect of the Pietists. She introduced me to her unmarried daughter, a pretty princess of fifteen years of age, whose face pleased me greatly.¹⁰²

Princess William is the sister of the Dowager Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg, step-mother to the Duchesse d'Orléans.