'JOURNAL KEPT DURING A VISIT TO GERMANY IN 1799, 1800.'
'Vienna, July 18, 1800.—Dined at La Gardie's; read "Les Mères Rivales" aloud, while she made a couvre-pied for her approaching confinement; her mother worked a cap for the babe, and he sat down to his netting: it was a black shawl for his wife. A fine tall man, a soldier, too, with a very martial appearance, netting a shawl for his wife amused me.
'Dresden, Oct. 2.—Dined at the Elliots'.[2] While I was playing at chess with Mr. Elliot, came the news of Lord Nelson's arrival, with Sir William and Lady Hamilton, Mrs. Cadogan, mother of the latter, and Miss Cornelia Knight, famous for her "Continuation of Rasselas" and her "Private Life of the Romans."[3]
A fancy portrait
'Oct. 3.—Dined at Mr. Elliot's, with only the Nelson party. It is plain that Lord Nelson thinks of nothing but Lady Hamilton, who is totally occupied by the same object. She is bold, forward, coarse, assuming, and vain. Her figure is colossal, but, excepting her feet, well shaped. Her bones are large, and she is exceedingly embonpoint. She resembles the bust of Ariadne: the shape of all her features is fine, as is the form of her head, and particularly her ears; her teeth are a little irregular, but tolerably white; her eyes light blue, with a brown spot in one, which, though a defect, takes nothing away from her beauty and expression. Her eyebrows and hair are dark, and her complexion coarse. Her expression is strongly marked, variable, and interesting; her movements in common life ungraceful; her voice loud, yet not disagreeable. Lord Nelson is a little man, without any dignity; who, I suppose, must resemble what Suwarrow was in his youth, as he is like all the pictures I have seen of that general. Lady Hamilton takes possession of him, and he is a willing captive, the most submissive and devoted I have seen. Sir William is old, infirm, all admiration of his wife, and never spoke to-day but to applaud her. Miss Cornelia Knight seems the decided flatterer of the two, and never opens her mouth but to show forth their praise; and Mrs. Cadogan, Lady Hamilton's mother, is what one might expect. After dinner we had several songs in honour of Lord Nelson, written by Miss Knight, and sung by Lady Hamilton. She puffs the incense full in his face; but he receives it with pleasure and sniffs it up very cordially. The songs all ended in the sailor's way, with "Hip, hip, hip, hurra!" and a bumper with the last drop on the nail, a ceremony I had never heard of or seen before.
'Oct. 4.—Accompanied the Nelson party to Mr. Elliot's box at the opera. She and Lord Nelson were wrapped up in each other's conversation during the chief part of the evening.
'Oct. 5.—Went, by Lady Hamilton's invitation, to see Lord Nelson dressed for court. On his hat he wore the large diamond feather, or ensign of sovereignty, given him by the Grand Signior; on his breast the order of the Bath, the order he received as Duke of Bronte; the diamond star, including the sun or crescent, given him by the Grand Signior; three gold medals, obtained by three different victories; and a beautiful present from the King of Naples. On one side is His Majesty's picture, richly set, and surrounded with laurels, which spring from two united laurels at bottom, and support the Neapolitan crown at top; on the other is the Queen's cipher, which turns so as to appear within the same laurels, and is formed of diamonds on green enamel. In short, Lord Nelson was a perfect constellation of stars and orders.
'Oct. 7.—Breakfasted with Lady Hamilton, and saw her represent in succession the best statues and paintings extant. She assumes their attitude, expression, and drapery with great facility, swiftness, and accuracy. Several Indian shawls, a chair, some antique vases, a wreath of roses, a tambourine, and a few children are her whole apparatus. She stands at one end of the room, with a strong light on her left, and every other window closed. Her hair is short, dressed like an antique, and her gown a simple calico chemise, very easy, with loose sleeves to the wrist. She disposes the shawls so as to form Grecian, Turkish, and other drapery, as well as a variety of turbans. Her arrangement of the turbans is absolutely sleight-of-hand; she does it so quickly, so easily, and so well. It is a beautiful performance, amusing to the most ignorant, and highly interesting to the lovers of art. The chief of her imitations are from the antique. Each representation lasts about ten minutes. It is remarkable that, though coarse and ungraceful in common life, she becomes highly graceful, and even beautiful, during this performance. After showing her attitudes, she sang, and I accompanied. Her voice is good and very strong, but she is frequently out of tune; her expression strongly marked and various; but she has no flexibility, and no sweetness. She acts her songs....
'Still she does not gain upon me. I think her bold, daring, vain even to folly, and stamped with the manners of her first situation much more strongly than one would suppose, after having represented majesty, and lived in good company fifteen years. Her ruling passions seem to me vanity, avarice, and love for the pleasures of the table. Mr. Elliot says, "She will captivate the Prince of Wales, whose mind is as vulgar as her own, and play a great part in England."
'Oct. 8.—Dined at Madame de Loss's, wife to the Prime Minister, with the Nelson party. The Electress will not receive Lady Hamilton, on account of her former dissolute life. She wished to go to court, on which a pretext was made to avoid receiving company last Sunday, and I understand there will be no court while she stays. Lord Nelson, understanding the Elector did not wish to see her, said to Mr. Elliot, "Sir, if there is any difficulty of that sort, Lady Hamilton will knock the Elector down, and —— me, I'll knock him down too!"
'Oct. 9.—A great breakfast at the Elliots', given to the Nelson party. Lady Hamilton repeated her attitudes with great effect. All the company, except their party and myself, went away before dinner; after which Lady Hamilton, who declared she was passionately fond of champagne, took such a portion of it as astonished me. Lord Nelson was not behindhand, called more vociferously than usual for songs in his own praise, and after many bumpers proposed the Queen of Naples, adding, "She is my queen; she is queen to the backbone." Poor Mr. Elliot, who was anxious the party should not expose themselves more than they had done already, and wished to get over the last day as well as he had done the rest, endeavoured to stop the effusion of champagne, and effected it with some difficulty, but not till the lord and lady, or, as he calls them, Antony and Moll Cleopatra, were pretty far gone. I was so tired, I returned home soon after dinner; but not till Cleopatra had talked to me a great deal of her doubts whether the queen would receive her, adding, "I care little about it. I had much sooner she would settle half Sir William's pension on me." After I went, Mr. Elliot told me she acted Nina intolerably ill, and danced the Tarantula. During her acting, Lord Nelson expressed his admiration by the Irish sound of astonished applause, and by crying every now and then, "Mrs. Siddons be ——!" Lady Hamilton expressed great anxiety to go to court, and Mrs. Elliot assured her it would not amuse her, and that the Elector never gave dinners or suppers. "What?" cried she, "no guttling!" Sir William also this evening performed feats of activity, hopping round the room on his backbone, his arms, legs, star and ribbon all flying about in the air.
'Oct. 10.—Mr. Elliot saw them on board to-day. He heard, by chance, from a king's messenger, that a frigate waited for them at Hamburg, and ventured to announce it formally. He says: "The moment they were on board, there was an end of the fine arts, of the attitudes, of the acting, the dancing, and the singing. Lady Hamilton's maid began to scold, in French, about some provisions which had been forgot. Lady Hamilton began bawling for an Irish stew, and her old mother set about washing the potatoes, which she did as cleverly as possible. They were exactly like Hogarth's actresses dressing in the barn."'
At Berlin, the fair diarist was introduced to Beurnonville, the French minister, who had gained notoriety for his services at Valmy and Gemappes. He was one of the commissioners despatched by the convention to arrest Dumouriez, who, it may be remembered, treated him with marked cordiality; the special envoy of the republic was, however, arrested, with his companions, and delivered by the general into the hands of the Austrians.
'Nov. 18-23.—I have been to a great supper at Count Schulenberg's. As usual, I saw Beurnonville, who was very attentive. He looks like an immense cart-horse, put by mistake in the finest caparisons; his figure is colossal and ungainly; and his uniform of blue and gold, which appears too large even for his large person, is half covered with the broadest gold lace. His ton is that of a corps-de-garde (he was really a corporal), but when he addresses himself to women, he affects a softness and légèreté, which reminds one exactly of the "Ass and the Spaniel," and his compliments are very much in the style of M. Jourdain. It is said, however, he is benevolent and well-meaning.
'Nov. 30.—Supped at Mad. Angeström's, wife of the Swedish Minister, who is perfectly indifferent to all the interests of Europe, provided nothing interrupts her reception of the Paris fashions, for which she has an uncommon avidity. "N'est-ce pas, ma chère, que ceci est charmant? C'est copié fidèlement d'un journal de Paris, et quel journal délicieux!"
'She wears very little covering on her person, and none on her arms of any kind (shifts being long exploded), except sleeves of the finest cambric, unlined and travaillé au jour, which reach only half way from the shoulder to the elbow. She seems to consider it a duty to shiver in this thin attire, for she said to Lady Carysfort, "Ah, Milédi, que vous êtes heureuse, vous portez des poches et des jupes!" I conversed chiefly with Beurnonville and Pignatelli. Beurnonville says, "Mon secrétaire est pour les affaires, mon aide-de-camp pour les dames, et moi pour la représentation." The people about him are conscious he is peu de chose, but say, "Qu'importe? on est si bon en Prusse, et si bien disposé pour nous." A person asked Vaudreuil, aide-de-camp to Beurnonville, if the latter was a ci-devant. "Non," dit-il, "mais il voudroit l'être"—a reply of a good deal of finesse, and plainly proving how unconquerable the respect for rank, and wish among those who have destroyed the substance to possess the shadow.'