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.