A. v. Humboldt.

Was not the young Tyrolese very amiable poet Adolf Pichler (properly speaking a geologist by trade) with you? I do not believe in peace during this quite ... or at least uncomfortable humiliating ... ...[[77]] year, though certainly in useless diplomatic transactions.

Note by Varnhagen.—In the third line stands “Madame de Quitzow,” clearly a mistake instead of “Madame de Lieven.” What may have been the reason that that name, here entirely without meaning, should have protruded itself, cannot be guessed.

Later Note by Varnhagen.—The Princess Lieven is closely connected with the late Minister Guizot, they even say secretly married to him. Guizot, pronounced German easily sounds Quitzow, a well-known name in the Mark. Humboldt, always inclined to jesting, and particularly here, may have given her this surname—perhaps current already at the court—with full intention. [This is quite right.]

170.
THE PRINCESS LIEVEN TO HUMBOLDT.

Paris, January 8th, 1856.

You have not forgotten me, my dear Baron. I know that by two kind messages which Baron Brockhausen brought me from you. I have charged him to testify my lively gratitude; but I now prefer to express it myself. On this occasion, it serves me as the passport to a question which I take the liberty of addressing you.

Can you, who know everything, remember the following fact? In 1799 or 1800, the Emperor Paul took it into his head to propose a combat on a tilted field, where England, Russia, Austria, and I know not what other power, should adjust their differences by the persons of their Prime Ministers, Pitt, Thugut, etc. The task of drawing up this invitation was assigned to Kotzebue, and the article inserted in the “Hamburg Gazette.” This is my very distinct recollection. I have not dreamed any part of it. Could you complete the tradition? I can meet with no one who remembers it. I have thought you might be able to sustain my memory, and I hope so still, for I am suspected of having lost my wits.

Paul I. was not such a fool, after all. Do you not consider the follies of our time much greater? What a chaos? And for what?...

My dear Baron, I live here in a little intimate circle of old friends, who are your friends also, and who hold you in affectionate remembrance. What a pleasure we should have in seeing you here, and together forgetting the troubles of the hour! O that men and things were worth more at this day! Is this an old woman’s commission with which I trouble you?