[1828.]
January 24th.—Went to the banker’s. Great preparations in the court-yard for the forthcoming marriage of Mademoiselle Lafitte with the Prince de la Moskwa, son of the late Marshal Ney. The young lady, it is said, wanted to marry her father’s head clerk, but M. Lafitte had not sufficient love for liberty and equality to allow this. It is curious to observe how fond of titles are all these people who profess “liberal” principles.
February 5th.—This morning the opening of the Chambers took place at the Louvre, and the King made a good speech, which was applauded, and he was welcomed, and accompanied at his departure by cries of “Vive le Roi!” Speaking of the battle of Navarino, he called it imprévue; but alluded to the glory of the French arms, and of their union with those of their allies. I remarked, on hearing the speech read, that his Majesty placed the King of England before the Emperor of Russia.[[106]] Ecclesiastical affairs and public instruction are to be separate. It is said a very wealthy and sensible man is appointed to be at the head of public instruction—a lawyer, but of good religious and moral principles.[[107]]
21st.—Dined at Lady Downshire’s. Sir Thomas Fellowes there. He has been in England since the battle of Navarino, and is returning to Toulon to rejoin the squadron. This evening he saw the King, who spoke, as indeed he always does, most cordially of England.
[On the 12th of April Miss Knight returned to England, and expressed much astonishment at the improvements in London since her former visit.]
June 16th.—In the evening at Princess Sophia’s. Sir J. C. came in, and gave a droll account of the magnificent breakfast given to-day by the Duchess of St. Albans, at her villa near town. Almost all the best musical performers of our nation were there, besides the Tyrolese singers and others. A silver bread-basket of vast dimensions was handed about, and an inscription on it was read aloud, announcing the happiness of the Duke and Duchess in this, the first year of their married life, and their intention of claiming the flitch of bacon at Dunmow six years hence: for which purpose they had prepared this basket. The Dukes of Cumberland and Sussex, and Prince Leopold, were there.
July 10th.—Dined at Lord Stafford’s. Miss Eden, Mr. and Mrs. Mason, Mr. Wilkie, the celebrated painter, just returned from Italy and Spain, Mr. and Mrs. Calcott, he a painter, and she the Mrs. Graham who was governess to the children of the Emperor of Brazil, were of the party. Saw some good views of Edinburgh, Stirling, and other parts of Scotland, by Lady Stafford. We were received in the gallery where the Flemish pictures are hung, and dined in the other, furnished with such noble paintings, as also is the drawing-room—magnificent treasures! The four great landscapes in the room last named are to me delightful.
29th.—Went early to Princess Augusta at Frogmore. The garden is much improved, and in great beauty just now. Dear Princess Augusta makes all happy around her.
[On the 13th of August, Miss Knight again left England for Paris, where she remained until the 2nd of October. On that day she started for Germany, and on her arrival at Frankfort, eight days afterwards, received the melancholy news of the death of the Queen-Dowager of Würtemberg, “who expired on Monday, the 6th, at a quarter before two—a dreadful loss to the country where she lived, and to all who knew her.” On the following day, October 11, Miss Knight reached Homburg, and was, as usual, kindly greeted by the Landgrave and Landgravine.]
November 7th.—M. Möller, architect of the Grand-Duke of Hesse Darmstadt, dined here, and he called upon me in the afternoon. He told me that the Cathedral of Worms is of, what they call in Germany, Byzantine architecture. There is a difference, he says, between that and the Saxon; for our Saxon buildings in England are, in fact, imitations of the Roman, whereas the Byzantine came from Constantinople, where the Roman was intermixed with the Oriental, whence came the cupolas, minarets, &c. He also mentioned that at Vienna were preserved many records of the articles they used to receive there from Constantinople, which was in its time the arbiter of taste. In return, the Germans sent to that city slaves in great numbers, and these were the Slavi, or people of the Russian States, whom the Germans made prisoners, and sold to the Greek Emperors. M. Möller seems to be a man of great reading and observation in his own line of study. The Cathedral of Mayence, he added, is of the Byzantine order.
26th.—This morning one of the Landgrave’s officers, who is much employed by him, and dines at the table every day, was married to the daughter of the Landgrave’s Master of the Horse. He had been ennobled by the Emperor of Austria at the request of the Landgravine, because if the young lady had not married an “edelman,” or noble, she would have lost the portion given to her by a Chapter to which she belongs. The Emperor signed the letters of nobility, as a compliment, on the Landgravine’s birthday. The wedding took place at the house of the lady’s father. After the ceremony, her parents, according to the custom of the country, surrounded the bride, and tied a handkerchief over her eyes. They then took off her garland of myrtle and placed it on the head of the young lady nearest to her, who happened to be her own sister. This is supposed to prognosticate which is the young person who will be the soonest married.
One day very much resembles another. This is the ordinary routine. At seven the drum beats a réveil: a few minutes afterwards the stoves are lighted. At half-past eight the servant brings hot water, and at nine, coffee, boiled milk, a small white loaf, a piece of brown bread, a slice of butter, a salt-cellar, and in a saucer ten small lumps of sugar. At half-past eleven a message from the Landgravine to know how I have slept, and if I should like to go out with her at a quarter or half-past twelve. At which hour, if tolerably fine, we go out in a drosky, and afterwards walk, returning home by a quarter before two, when the trumpet sounds for dress. At two, it sounds again to serve up dinner. I then go through a long passage, down twenty-five steps and up twenty-five steps, which lead me to another long passage, and that to the drawing-room, where I find two or three or more guests. The door opens, and the gentleman esteemed the most considerable gives me his arm. We walk into the dining-room, and stand still till the other door is thrown open, when the grand maître d’hôtel, with a white wand and hat in hand, enters, preceding the Landgrave and Landgravine, followed by the aide-de-camp of the former and the maids of honour of the latter. All sit down to table, the Landgrave having made me a sign to sit down beside him on his left hand. On his right is the Landgravine, and next to her one of his brothers—except when Princess Louise, their sister-in-law, dines at table, for then she sits between the Landgrave and Landgravine. Three or four times in the week the band plays during dinner, after which the brother gives his arm to the Landgravine, and the Landgrave his to me. During all these movements the ladies curtsey and the gentlemen bow down to the ground. We walk into the drawing-room; the Landgrave and his brother stand at one window; the Landgravine and the ladies sit near another; the gentlemen stand at the other end of the room, unless any one happens to be addressed by the Landgrave. Coffee is served; after which the Landgrave and Landgravine leave the room, making bows and curtseys, which are answered by profound bows from all present. A maid of honour throws a shawl over the Landgravine’s shoulders and walks after her, first turning to salute the company. The aide-de-camp does the same, and follows the Landgrave, after which everybody retires. The drum beats soon after as a salute to the Landgrave and Landgravine as they drive out in a drosky, returning before six. About half-past six the Landgravine sends for me. A servant with a lantern lights me down stairs to her apartment, and I sit with her in her boudoir till eight o’clock strikes. The servant then lights me through the passages and up the twenty-five steps, and I arrive at the drawing-room, where I find a maid of honour at the tea-table, and, about a quarter of an hour later, the door flies open, and the Landgrave and Landgravine enter. The former takes his tea, and then desires the card parties to be formed; he playing at one table and the Landgravine at another. At a quarter before nine the other door opens, and Prince Ferdinand, the Landgrave’s youngest brother, comes in, and bows to the company. He walks up and down and looks at the players, at a little distance; then sits down, and then walks again. I sit at the corner of the Landgravine’s table. A few minutes after, the drum beats for some time. At half-past nine the aide-de-camp and a captain, who is always in waiting, come in with low bows, and almost immediately afterwards a servant enters, goes up to the grand maître, and announces supper. He is probably playing at the Landgrave’s table, but, as soon as the game will permit, he rises, takes his white wand and hat from the chair on which he had deposited them, and comes up to the Landgravine’s table, where he stands till he catches her eye. He then announces supper, makes a bow, and retires. As soon as the parties break up, all go to supper, as before to dinner. The Landgrave and Landgravine retire as soon as it is over; so do the company; and a crowd of servants and kitchen-maids rush in to put out the lights and carry away the plates and dishes. The guard is relieved every two hours: at one, three, five, &c. At eleven at night a man blows a horn eleven times, once at one, and three times at three. On Sundays we dine at three. The Princes and officers all in full-dress uniforms, and company, to the number of thirty to thirty-five, all full dressed. On Mondays and Thursdays, the days for hunting, we dine at half-past two.
In the latter part of December the Landgravine received a letter from the Duchess of Gloucester, telling her that, on the 21st, the King received the little Queen, or Princess, of Portugal, Donna Maria da Gloria, at Windsor Castle, the apartments of which were fitted up with great elegance and magnificence. The Duchess was there with the Duke, and the Duke and Duchess of Clarence, the Duke of Wellington, &c. &c. All thought the little Princess remarkably like poor Princess Charlotte, though on a smaller scale. She is nine years and a half old, very fair, with blue eyes. She was dressed like a young person of eighteen, and had fine jewels, with her father’s portrait. She breakfasted with the King, and behaved very properly.
[Miss Knight left Homburg on the 13th of January, and proceeded to Louisburg, where she found the ladies and gentlemen of the Court still grieving over the loss of the late Queen-Dowager. The Landgrave of Hesse-Homburg died, almost suddenly, on the 3rd of March following.]
Stuttgard, Jan. 23rd.—Received a message from the King and Queen, asking me to dine with them and meet the English Minister. At a quarter before five I went to the palace, and at five we dined. Princess Pauline was there, and the usual persons of the household, but no other company, except Mr. and Mrs. Desbrowe. The Queen seemed much affected, and shed tears in speaking of the late Queen-Dowager. The King spoke of her with the highest esteem and the deepest gratitude. He said that during the fourteen years which had elapsed since the death of his father, he had never in one instance had reason to complain of his stepmother, but, on the contrary, had always experienced from her the kindest and most judicious conduct towards himself and his family. Princess Pauline was very civil and very gay, for she is much pleased with the idea of her approaching marriage with the Duke of Nassau.
February 25th.—Went to a ball at Court in the state apartments, which are magnificent, and really elegant; the music good, and the rooms perfectly well lighted. It was Princess Pauline’s birthday. The Duke of Nassau was there, and, it seems, made her some fine presents on the occasion. He is about thirty-six, not handsome, and rather short; but apparently very good-natured, and not ill-looking. He was with the Duke of Wellington at the battle of Waterloo. Prince Augustus was at the ball. He goes into the army in about three months. I came away before supper, but saw the tables set out in a very handsome style.
April 21st.—The Duke of Nassau arrived with his grand chamberlain and two aides-de-camp. All are to be lodged at the palace. The apartments—which, I think, are those of the late Queen-Dowager—are dressed out with young trees, flowers, &c. The King and Queen have invited me to the wedding, the dinner, and the Polonaise ball for Thursday, but I have excused myself, from being still weak.[[108]]
23rd.—This day the Duke of Nassau was married to Princess Pauline. The bride’s jewels are valued at 300,000 florins.
May 25th.—Dined with the King and Queen. There was no company, but some of their household. They were very gracious, and I took leave of them with feelings of sincere gratitude.
Baden, June 7th.—The weather improved, and the country in great beauty. The theatre opens this evening with the opera of “Tancredi.” Nine hundred and ninety-three strangers already arrived, though the “season” has not yet commenced. Many new houses have been built since I was here in 1824.
8th.—Walked in the afternoon up the hills, where the scenery is very pleasing, and the grass ornamented with wild flowers. I went into the garden of the Grand-Duchess, whose house stands on a little eminence. Baden is composed of various hills, which render its situation very picturesque, and the running rivulets from little cascades, added to the magnificent oaks which enrich the scenery, form altogether a very interesting picture. The shape of the hills does not compose so good a background as might be wished, but the houses, though not of regular architecture, are pretty and fanciful. Most of them have terraces, or balconies, with flowers, and they are interspersed among the high trees on the hills and hillocks.
July 1st.—Baden appears to fill daily. The Grand-Duchess Stéphanie arrived this evening. It seems she was a niece of Count Beauharnais, the first husband of Joséphine, and that Lady Bute (the wife of Sir James Pulteney) took compassion on her, and had her educated in the south of France. She was forced to go to Paris by Bonaparte, who also compelled her to marry the Grand-Duke of Baden, against her inclination and his. Lady Bute left her 1000l. in her will, which Bonaparte would not allow her to accept. The executors, however, placed it in the funds, and she has since received it, with the accumulated interest, settling both on her youngest daughter. She had two sons, who died, and has now three daughters. She usually resides at Mannheim, but went this spring to Paris to consult an oculist, and was well received by the King, Dauphin, Dauphiness, &c. &c.
August 21.—The Russians are supposed to be by this time in possession of Constantinople. By the last accounts they were within a few leagues of that capital.[[109]] I remember my mother used to say, “Russia wants to drive the only honest man out of Europe.”
[In the beginning of September, Miss Knight quitted Baden and travelled by way of Zurich, Lucerne, Berne, Friburg, Geneva, Mont Cenis, and Susa, to Turin. In that city she remained only a few days, and then continued her route to Genoa, where she passed the ensuing winter. She here met an old Roman acquaintance, Signor Gagliassi, who, after visiting her one day, composed the following lines of doubtful gallantry:
Salve, cui Noctis dedit Anglica patria nomen!
Noctis, quam propriam docta Minerva vocat.
Salve, quam vidi Romæ, Arcada! inter euntem,
Et nunc in Liguri lætor adesse solo.
Salve, quae pulchram ducens, viridemque senectam,
Ævo et consilio fœmina Nestor eris!
Accipe, quam scribo curru properante, salutem;
Vota tibi rediens fervidiora feram.
This “epigramma” Miss Knight copied out and sent to a friend, accompanied by the following verses:
Gagliassi seems to think it strange
That I still breathe the air of life,
And still abroad delight to range—
He says I might be Nestor’s wife.
The compliment has made you stare,
And, I confess, has made me smile;
But, could I Nestor’s wisdom share,
Such union might be worth the while.
As Greece is all the fashion now,
To Pylos I my course might steer,
And, should old Nestor make his bow,
There keep a Court and give good cheer.
But Night, dark Night, is not my name;
I spring not from Minerva’s race;
From Chivalry my lineage came;
Romance alone in me you trace.