London, Aug. 20th, 1827.

Dear and faithful friend,

CURIOSITY led me again to-day to the Tunnel. I went in the diving-bell down to the bed of the river, and spent half an hour there, looking at the process of stopping the breach with sand-bags and earth. Excepting a rather violent pain in my ears, I found it more comfortable in our metal box, the deeper we sank. It has two thick glass windows at the top: and near them two leathern pipes which admit fresh air. The bell has no floor,—only a narrow board on which to set your feet, and two strong benches on the sides. It is lighted by lanterns. The workmen had capital water-boots, which resist the wet four-and-twenty hours; and I was particularly delighted at writing the address of the maker in my pocket-book among the fishes, “auf des Stromes tiefunterstem Grunde.”

After having escaped safe and sound from the water, I was near suffering a sad calamity from fire. I had gone for a minute into another room, and a candle which had burned down in the socket set fire to the papers on my writing-table: before I could extinguish it, many things very interesting to me were destroyed. Copies of letters, prints and drawings, an unfinished novel, (what a pity!) numberless addresses, a part of my journal,—all became the prey of the flames. I could not help laughing when I saw that all the receipts were left untouched, while the unpaid bills were consumed to the last vestige. That’s what I call an obliging fire. The great packet of your letters is burnt round the edges, so that they look as if they were written on mourning paper:—right again, for letters between people who love each other, always mourn over the necessity for writing them. The Vienna courier you wot of, who came charged with a hundred thousand blessings, is turned negro; but his life is happily saved, and his cinq-foil leaf is in full preservation. I send him back to you as a witness and a messenger of the fire.

August 21st.

There is such an extent and variety of ‘terra incognita’ in this illimitable London, that with no other guide than chance one is sure to fall upon something new and interesting. In this way I found myself to-day in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, a noble square, almost a German mile from my lodging, surrounded with fine buildings, and adorned with lofty trees and beautiful turf. The most considerable edifice is that of the College of Surgeons, and contains a very interesting museum. One of the gentlemen showed me the establishment with great civility. The first thing which claimed my attention was a very pretty little mermaid which had been exhibited here for money some years ago, and was afterwards sold for a thousand pounds, when it was discovered that she was a deceptive contrivance made out of a small ourang-outang and a salmon, joined together in a most workmanlike manner. The existence of such creatures remains, therefore, as much a problem as ever. Near to it stood a real large ourang-outang, who lived here for a long time, and performed many domestic services in the house. Mr. C—— (so my informant was called) assured me that he must regard this animal as of a distinct genus, nearer to man than to the ape. He had long and attentively observed this individual, and had found in him the most certain proofs of reflection and combination, evidently far beyond the reach of instinct. Thus, he remarked that Mr. Dick (as he called him) felt in gentlemen’s pockets, if he were permitted, for eatables; but if his search was unsuccessful, carefully replaced every thing that did not answer his purpose, instead of throwing it away or letting it fall, as all other monkeys do. He was so sensitive to the slightest mark of displeasure, that he was depressed and unhappy for days after being unkindly spoken to. He was observed, too, to try of his own accord to assist the servants, if he saw them unusually oppressed with work.

There were some preparations exhibiting almost incredible cases of recoveries from wounds. The most extraordinary among them was the breast of a man (which Mr. C—— showed me, preserved in spirits,) who had been so completely spitted by the shaft of a carriage, that he could only be dragged from it by the efforts of several persons. The shaft had passed close to the heart and lungs, which, however, it only gently forced aside, without doing them the least injury, and had broken the ribs before and behind. After the man had been extricated from his horrible situation, he had strength enough left to walk up two flights of stairs, and to lie down on a bed. He lived fourteen years after the accident, sound and well; but the surgeons had kept their eye upon him, and got possession of his body as soon as he was dead. They have placed him in their museum, together with the shaft, which had been kept in his family as a relic.

I was struck by a small, beautifully-formed greyhound, which was built up in a cellar, and was found, after the lapse of many years, perfectly dried. He looked as if carved out of gray sandstone, and presented an affecting image of resignation,—rolled up as if in sleep, and with such a mournful expression of his little head, that one could not look at it without pity. A cat, starved and dried in the same manner, looking on the contrary savage and fiendish. Thus, thought I, is gentleness beautiful even in suffering! It was a picture of the good and the wicked in a like situation; and yet how different the effects!

I must mention the skeleton of the Frenchman who was exhibited here as ‘the living skeleton,’ his bones being really covered with little more than skin. His stomach was smaller than that of a new-born child; and the unhappy creature was condemned to a prolonged starvation, for he could not eat more than half a cup of broth a-day. He was twenty years old,—died in London, and sold himself, while yet alive, to the museum.

As I was driving home, I had taken a quantity of small money in change at the turnpikes, and I amused myself in an odd humour by letting a penny fall quietly out of the carriage every time I saw a poor, ragged person. Not one of them perceived it; all passed over it. And just so does Fortune with us! She drives continually through the world in her chariot, and throws out her gifts blindfold. How seldom do any of us see them, or stoop to pick them up! We are generally seeking elsewhere at the lucky moment.

On my return home, I found a real gift of fate, and a very precious one,—a long letter from you * * *

Herr von S——, whom you mention as one of the recent arrivals at the baths, is an old acquaintance of mine, a strange original whom we all liked, and yet could not resist making a butt of, and who was continually meeting with adventures the most ludicrous and the most serious. You have seen what a caricature he looks, and that he is of all men the least formed to be a man ‘À bonnes fortunes.’ When a young lieutenant, however, he was madly in love with one of the most beautiful women of her time, Baroness B——; and one evening, on her torturing him to the utmost by some biting jest, he ran a sword through his body before her eyes. The weapon went through his lungs, so that a candle held to the wound was blown out. Nevertheless our tragic madman was cured, and Frau von B—— was so touched by this proof of passion, that she became less cruel to so desperate a lover. * * *

Salthill, August 25th.

I have at length left town with L——, who will accompany me for some days, after which I shall continue my travels alone. The first resting place is a delightful inn, like a gentleman’s villa, in the neighbourhood of Windsor. The prettiest veranda festooned with roses and all sorts of creepers, and adorned with a quantity of flowers in pots, covers the whole front; and a pleasure-ground and flower-garden, in exquisite order, stretch before my window. From hence I have a noble view of the gigantic Castle in the distance, which, set in a frame of two massy horse-chestnut-trees, gleamed like a fairy palace in the evening sun. The long rain had painted every thing emerald-green, and the sweet fresh country has the most benign influence on my mind and spirits. I can talk of you too, my good Julia, to L——, whose society is very agreeable to me. To-morrow we mean to see a multitude of things. This evening, as it was late, we contented ourselves with a ramble in the fields.

August 26th.

Early in the morning we drove to Stoke Park, the residence of a grandson of the celebrated Quaker, William Penn. In the house is preserved a bit of the tree under which he concluded the treaty with Indian chiefs. The park is fine, and contains the greatest variety of deer either L—— or I had ever seen,—black, white, striped, mottled, black with white spots on the forehead, and brown with white feet. The park and garden, though beautiful, presented nothing remarkable.

This we found in Dropmore, the seat of Lord Grenville, where the most extraordinary trees and an enchanting flower-garden excited all our attention. It was more properly two or three gardens;—in richness of flowers, really unique; the beds partly cut in the turf, partly surrounded with gravel. Each bed contained only one sort of flower, which threw an indescribable richness of colour over the whole picture. Countless geraniums of every sort and colour, with many other flowers we hardly know, or of which we possess at most only single specimens, were arranged in large and splendid masses. The colours too were so admirably grouped that the eye rested on them with extreme delight.

Yet a great part of the park consisted only of barren soil with heather,—just like that of our woods. The turf was dry and scorched, yet the high cultivation gave to the whole an air of great beauty, and confirmed me in my persuasion that with money and patience every soil may be overcome,—climate alone cannot.

After we had seen another park, which commanded some remarkably fine views, we drove to Windsor to see the new part of the Castle ‘en detail.’ Unfortunately, almost at the same minute the King came up with his suite, in five phÆtons drawn by poneys; so that we were obliged to wait more than an hour till he drove off again, and we were permitted to enter.

In the interval we visited Eton College, an old establishment for education founded by Henry the Sixth. Its exterior is that of a vast and handsome Gothic building with a church attached to it; its interior, of a simplicity hardly exceeded by our village schools. Bare white walls, wooden benches, carved with the names of the scholars who have studied here, (among which are those of Fox, Canning, and other celebrated men,) are all that distinguish the room in which the best born youth of England are educated. According to the rules of the foundation, the King’s scholars have nothing day after day but mutton. What could the royal founder propose to himself by this singular law? The library is very handsomely decorated, and contains some interesting manuscripts.

On our return from Eton the King had driven away, and Mr. Wyatville his architect, under whose direction the new part of the Castle is erecting, had the kindness to give us detailed information about every part. It is a vast work, and the only one of its kind in England, which is executed not only at a great cost and with technical skill, but with uncommon taste, nay genius. The grandeur and magnificence of the Castle, which, though not half finished, has cost three millions of our money, are truly worthy of a King of England. Situated on a hill above the town, and commanding a beautiful view, while it presents a noble object from every side, its position gives it an immense advantage. Its historical interest, its high antiquity, and its astonishing vastness and extent, unite to render it single in the world.

The magnificence of the interior corresponds with the exterior. Each of the separate panes of glass in the huge Gothic windows cost twelve pounds sterling, and the eye is dazzled with velvet, silk, and gilding. A high terrace on the side of the king’s chamber, which forms hot-houses in the inside, and on the outside looks only like a high abrupt wall in the stern character of the rest of the building, encloses the most charming garden and pleasure-ground. The four great gates into the castle yard are so admirably contrived, that each encloses one of the most interesting points of the landscape as in a frame.

All the recent additions are, as I have already mentioned, so perfectly executed, that they are hardly to be distinguished from the old part; and I cannot blame the architect for having faithfully imitated even the less tasteful details. On the other hand, I must confess that the internal decorations, spite of all their gorgeousness, appeared to me to leave much to wish for. They are enormously overloaded in parts, and are not always either in keeping with the character of the building, or calculated to produce an agreeable effect.

August 28th.

L—— left me yesterday,—sooner than he had intended. I am extremely sorry for it; for so agreeable and friendly a companion doubles every pleasure. I afterwards drove with an acquaintance of the Guards, to St. Leonard’s Hill, belonging to Field-marshal Lord H——, to whom E—— had given me a letter.

The weather, which had been overcast, and from time to time rainy, was splendid; scarcely a cloud in the sky. On no more beautiful day could I see a more beautiful place than St. Leonard’s Hill. These giant trees; this fresh wood, full of variety; these enchanting views, both far and near; this delightful house, with the most lovely of all flower-gardens; this luxuriant vegetation, and this delicious retirement, from which, as from behind a curtain, you look out upon a world of diversified beauty lying in the valley beneath,—form a whole which has not its equal in England. The possessors are a very agreeable old couple, unfortunately without children to whom to transmit this paradise. The old lord seemed much pleased at my enthusiasm for the beauties of the place, and invited me to spend the following day, which I accepted with great pleasure. To-day I was engaged to dine with my friend Captain B—— at the Guards’ mess at Windsor, where I passed the evening, from six o’clock till midnight.

At an early hour in the morning I was summoned by Lord H——, who is Ranger of Windsor Park, and wished to show it me before the King made his appearance. As soon as he rides out, the private part of the ground is hermetically sealed to every one, without exception, who does not belong to his own invited company. I was rather late; the kind-hearted old lord scolded me a little, and made me instantly get into a landau drawn by four noble horses, in which we rolled rapidly through the high beech woods.

The King has had several roads cut, for his own special and peculiar use, through the most interesting parts of his immense park of Windsor. We drove along one of them; and in half an hour reached the royal stables, where the celebrated giraffe is kept. Here, unhappily, we heard that the King’s carriages had been ordered, and indeed they stood already harnessed in the yard. There were seven, of various forms, but all with very low wheels, almost as light as children’s carriages, and drawn by little poneys; the King’s with four, which he drives himself,—the others with two: most of the poneys were of different colours. Lord H—— beheld these equipages with dismay. He was afraid the King might meet us, and feel ‘mal À son aise’ at the sight of unexpected strangers—for the monarch’s tastes are singular enough. It is unpleasant to him to see a strange face, or indeed a human being of any kind whatsoever, within his domain; and the Park is consequently (with the exception of the high road which crosses it,) a perfect solitude. The King’s favourite spots are, for further security, thickly surrounded by screens of wood, and plantations are daily laid out to add to the privacy and concealment. In many places where the lay of the ground would enable you to get a glimpse of the sanctuary within, three stages of fence are planted one behind the other.

We hastened accordingly to secure a sight of the giraffe, which was led out before us by two Moors who had accompanied her from Africa. A wonderful creature indeed! You know her form; but nothing can give an idea of the beauty of her eyes. Imagine something midway between the eye of the finest Arab horse, and the loveliest Southern girl, with long and coal-black lashes, and the most exquisite beaming expression of tenderness and softness, united to volcanic fire. The giraffe is attached to man, and is extremely ‘gentle’ and good-natured. Her appetite is good, for she daily sucks the milk of three cows who were lying near her. She uses her long bright-blue tongue like a trunk, in which way she took from me my umbrella, which she liked so much that she would not give it up again. Her walk was somewhat ungainly, from having sprained her leg on board ship; but the Africans assured us that when in perfect health she is very swift-footed. Lord H—— hurried off, for fear of the King; and after passing through a thickly-planted part of the pleasure-ground attached to the ‘Cottage,’ which we only saw from a distance, we directed our course to Virginia Water, the King’s favourite haunt. It is a large, artificial, but very natural-looking lake, on which His Majesty almost daily fishes.

I was not a little surprised to see the whole country here assume a new character, and one very uncommon in England,—that of my beloved Fatherland:—fir- and pine-wood intermingled with oaks and alders; and under foot our heather, and even our sand, in which this year’s plantations were completely dry and withered. I could have given the King’s gardeners some useful hints about planting in sand, for I convinced myself that they do not at all understand the treatment of that sort of soil.—A little frigate lay rocking on the lake, on whose banks were various little devices,—Chinese and Moorish houses executed with taste and not caricatured. The haste with which we drove along rendered it only possible to see things in a transient, and for the most part distant manner. I was, however, very glad to have gained at least a general idea of the whole.

My venerable host climbed up on the seat of the carriage, and stood there, supported by his wife and me, to look about whether the King might not be somewhere in sight; nor was he perfectly tranquil till the gate of the sanctuary closed upon us.

On our way back we saw the King’s hunters—beautiful animals, as you may suppose,—and a peculiar breed of small elegant hounds, which are not to be met with out of England. We returned with good appetites for dinner, where I found several guests. Our hostess is a very agreeable woman, and as ‘parkomane’ as myself. All the noble trees in front of the house, between which glimpses of the distant landscape appear like separate pictures, were planted by herself forty years ago, and from that time to this only two have been removed. Every day convinces me more and more that the wide unbroken prospects which are here almost prohibited, destroy all illusion. With the exception of some few very old parks, you find hardly a house in England the view from which is not broken by scattered trees. Drawings deceive you, because the main object of the draftsman generally is to show the architecture and size of the building, and he consequently leaves out the trees.

A most useful contrivance in this garden was a gigantic umbrella as large as a little tent, with an iron spike at the bottom to stick into the ground. You could thus establish yourself in any spot shaded from the sun.

I gladly accepted an invitation from my friendly host for the following day, to meet the ladies of honour (Hofdamen[68]) of the Queen of WÜrtemburg. After dinner we walked again, to see a cottage in the low ground of the park. Enclosed on every side by hill and wood, it forms a charming contrast to the handsome villa on the height. Rode home (B—— and I) by brilliant star-light.

August 29th.

After paying a visit to Mrs. C—— in Windsor, I returned to Lord H—— ‘s, enjoying with new delight the noble oakwoods of his park, at the entrance of which, the prettiest lodge, tastefully built of trunks and branches of trees, and overgrown with roses, is a sort of index to the lovely character of the whole. I found a large party assembled;—the principal lady of honour (Oberhofmeisterin,) two ladies in waiting (Hofdamen,) and two equerries of the Queen of WÜrtemburg,—all German: le Marquis de H——, a Frenchman, with two sons and a daughter, (the latter a true ‘Parisienne;’) an English clergyman, and another foreign nobleman.

The French party have judiciously put forward their cousinship with the childless Peer, are very kindly received, live in the cottage in the valley which I described yesterday, and have expectations of inheriting this noble property,—so that the little French girl is already regarded as ‘a good match.’

The most interesting person to me in the whole company, however, was the Countess herself. She is a most amiable old lady, full of dignified courtesy, united to a very agreeable turn of mind. She has seen much of life, and relates what she has seen in the most interesting manner. She told me many particulars concerning Lord Byron, who passed much of his boyish time in her house, and was then so untameable that she said she had had unspeakable trouble with the daring, mischievous boy. She did not think him base, but ill-tempered; for she observed that he always took a sort of pleasure in giving pain, especially to women; though when he chose to be amiable, she confessed that it was hardly possible to resist him. She added, that whatever were the defects of his wife, he had certainly treated her very ill, and had exercised a refinement of torture towards her; probably because she had formerly refused him, for which he swore never-ending vengeance even on the day of his marriage.

I did not put implicit faith in this account, in spite of my great respect for the narrator. The soul of a poet like Byron is hard to judge;—the ordinary standard is quite inadequate to it, and very few people have any other to apply.

Where one is much pleased, one generally pleases; and accordingly I was pressingly invited to spend a few days in this little paradise. My restlessness is, however, as you know full well, equal to my indolence: and as I am difficult to move from a place where I have once fixed myself, (‘tÉmoin’ my long unprofitable abode in London,) I find it equally difficult to bring myself to remain where the immediate interest is exhausted. I therefore gratefully declined the invitation, and returned to Salthill.

August 30th.

The terrace of Windsor Castle forms a delightful promenade for the people of the town, and is frequently enlivened by the band of the Guards. I walked there this morning with the pretty and amiable Misses C——, and paid a visit with them to the ‘chÂtelaine’ of the Palace, an old unmarried lady.

It is impossible to have a more delightful residence. Every window commands a beautiful landscape. The venerable lady showed me a stone in the wall of her bedroom, on which was a decayed inscription. “This,” said she, “was carved by a charming young knight who pined here in captivity, just before his death; he was suffocated under this very stone.” “Good God!” said I, “are you not afraid to sleep here—suppose the young knight’s ghost should appear!” “Never fear!” exclaimed the sprightly old lady, “at my time of life one is not so timid; I am safe from all young knights, living or dead.” We proceeded to the noble chapel, where divine service was going on. The banners, swords, and coronets of the Knights of the Garter proudly ranged around; the melancholy light of the coloured windows; the beautiful carvings in stone and wood; the reverential groups of hearers,—formed a fine picture only defaced by some few objects: for instance, the ridiculous monument of the Princess Charlotte, in which the four subordinate figures turn their backs completely on the spectator; while on the other hand the Princess appears in a twofold character,—extended as a corpse, and ascending to heaven as an angel.

Lulled by the music, I gave myself up, in the quiet nook in which I had niched myself, to my fancies, and, absorbed in the kingdom of sound, soon forgot all around me. At last I thought myself dead, and yet I fancied myself a visitor of that Gothic chapel we wished to build, dear Julia, and standing before my own tomb. In the centre of the church, on a white marble sarcophagus, lay a figure wrapped in thick folds of drapery, with a wolf and a lamb at his feet. Another pedestal of the same form was vacant. I approached, and read the following inscriptions on the marble. On the end under the head of the recumbent figure were the following words,

At the opposite end was written;

On the one side,

On the other side,

And now I thought much of you, and of all I love, and I felt a sort of pious sorrow for myself;—and as the sudden pause of the music awoke me from my dream, the silent tears were actually upon my cheek, so that I was almost ashamed to be seen.

August 31st.

One is well served in England,—that is certain. I was invited to dine at six at the Guard’s mess which is very punctual, and sat writing till late. The barracks are three miles from my inn, which is, as usual, a post-house. I therefore told my servant to call for ‘horses’ instantly. In less than a minute they were harnessed before the door, and, in fifteen, driving like the wind, I was at table as the clock struck six.

The military profession is on a far more social footing here than with us, for the simple reason that the members of it are richer. Though the service is as far as possible from being neglected, there is not the slightest trace of pedantry; and, out of service, not the least distinction between the colonel and the youngest lieutenant. Every man takes as unrestrained a part in conversation as in any other society. In the country the officers are all in uniform at mess, but not in London,—with the exception of the officer ‘du jour.’ After dinner, however, they all take their ease; and to-day I saw a young lieutenant sit down in dressing-gown and slippers to play whist with his colonel in uniform. These gentlemen have given me a general invitation to their table as long as I remain in the neighbourhood, and are extremely friendly and cordial to me.

I had passed the morning in seeing Frogmore, and the pictures in Windsor Castle. In the hall of the throne are several tolerable battle-pieces, by West: the subjects are the feats of Edward the Third and the Black Prince,—a throng of knights, snorting horses, ancient armour and caparisons, lances, swords and banners, which form a very appropriate decoration for a royal hall. In another room I was struck by the very expressive portrait of the Duke of Savoy,—the true Ideal of a ruler. Luther and Erasmus, by Holbein, are excellently paired, and yet contrasted: the acute and sarcastic countenance of the latter looks as if he were just about to utter the words he wrote to the Pope, who reproached him with not keeping his fasts: “Holy Father, my soul is Catholic, but my stomach is Protestant.”

The beauties of the Court of Charles the Second, who adorn a whole wall, are well suited to lead a man into transgression of another kind. There is nothing remarkable at Frogmore.—The piece of water is now only a swamp for frogs, though surrounded by hedges of rose and hew. A complete encampment of light moveable tents on the turf had a pretty effect.

September 3rd.

I have been prevailed upon to devote some days to the enjoyment of a country life at the beautiful Lady G——’s, a relation of Canning.

At breakfast she told me that she was present some months ago when Canning took leave of his mother (both being then in perfect health) in these words: “Adieu, dear mother! in August we shall meet again.” In July the mother died suddenly, and in the beginning of August her son followed her.

Yesterday and the day before we drove to Egham races, which are held on a plain surrounded by hills. I met many persons I knew; was presented by the Duke of Clarence to the Queen of WÜrtemberg; betted successfully; and in the evening went to a pic-nic ball in the little town, which, as with us, was fruitful with country dandies and other amusing provincialisms.

To-day I walked nearly the whole day long with some young ladies. Young Englishwomen are indefatigable walkers, through thick and thin, over hill and dale,—so that it requires some ambition to keep up with them.

In the park of a nabob we found an interesting curiosity; two dwarf trees, transplanted from China,—elms a hundred years old, with completely the shrivelled look of their age, and yet scarcely two feet high. The secret of rearing such trees is unknown in Europe.

At last the high-spirited girls climbed over a fence of Windsor Park, and disturbed the shades sacred to royal solitude with their merry laugh. By this means I saw several forbidden parts of the lovely scenery round Virginia Water, into which the anxious Lord H—— had not ventured;—had we been caught, it surely would not have gone very hard with us in such company.

Windsor, Sept. 5th.

During the four days of my stay we had become such cordial friends, that I felt almost sad at parting. The ladies accompanied me two or three miles before I got into the carriage. I drove away somewhat ‘triste,’ and directed the post-boy to the barracks of the Guards, where I arrived just in time for dinner. With the aid of much champagne and claret, (for my long walk had made me thirsty,) I consoled myself for the parting with my fair friends as well as I could, and then drove with Captain B—— to a ‘soirÉe’ at Mrs. C——’s. After tea, at about eleven o’clock of a splendid night, in compliance with the wishes of the ladies, it was determined to take a walk in the Park, to see the gigantic castle by moonlight from a peculiarly favourable point. The walk was certainly rather long, but it well rewarded us. The sky had flocks of sheep scattered over its deep blue fields, (one of the officers, with more exactness than poetry, compared it to curds and whey,) over which the light of the lustrous moon was beautifully diffused. Our delight was soon rather rudely interrupted by two sentinels with muskets, who challenged and prepared to arrest us as trespassers and breakers of the peace. (N. B. A company of twenty persons, principally ladies, and at least seven officers of the Guards in full uniform!) At last they consented to be satisfied with two officers whom they immediately took into custody. How different from our manners! With us, officers would have felt themselves dishonoured by the hard words the sentinels used, and perhaps have thought it their duty to run them through on the spot. Here, it appeared quite in order, and not the slightest attempt at resistance was made. The rest of us went home; and in about an hour the two prisoners returned, having had to encounter many delays before they could obtain their release. One of them, Captain F——, laughed heartily while he told us that the gamekeeper had reproved him severely, and said “it was a shame that officers, who were bound by their profession to repress all disorders, should not have abstained from committing a trespass,” and so forth. “The man was not so much in the wrong,” added he; “but ladies’ wishes must always be complied with, ‘quand mÊme.’”

On returning to my inn I found my old B——, who came to receive my orders in person before his final departure. I am very well pleased with the Englishman whose character I investigated craniologically, and therefore shall not miss my old countryman so much.

He is the bearer of a large plan of a garden, on which I lay outstretched for an hour before I went to bed, to finish it; as Napoleon used to lie on his maps and plans. He, however, with his rough pencil drew blood; I, only water and flower-beds;—he fortifications, I summer-houses;—he soldiers, and I trees.

In the sight of the All-seeing it may be the same whether his children play with cannon-balls or with nuts; but to men the difference is considerable:—in their opinion, he who causes them to be shot by thousands is far greater than he who only labours to promote their enjoyment.

A long index will illustrate my plan. Go hard to work to execute what I lay before you, and gladden my return with the realization of all my garden-dreams which have your approbation.

My intention is now to return to London for a few days, for the purpose of seeing my horses embarked, and then to set out on my long tour in the country. The Journal will therefore have a long time to swell before I can send it you. Do not think, however, that I grow negligent; for, as the illustrious and brilliant prince says, “There are few things I enjoy more than writing to you.”

Your L——.