Dresden, June 2, 1841.—The day before yesterday I left Berlin overwhelmed and spoilt with kindness, but wearied by the dreadful heat. The Baron von Werther whom I saw on my last day at Berlin, told me he feared that M. Bresson had not been entirely happy during the last years of his stay; that his speech had caused much displeasure and inspired great distrust; that he was ill-informed if he thought the contrary; and that all his reliable sources of information had been closed since the death of the old King. The Princess of Prussia and Madame Perponcher spoke to the same effect. I also learnt that when the treaty of July 15 was made known here, M. Bresson committed an inconceivable outburst, drove down the Unter den Linden and shouted war in the wildest manner. I am really sorry that he should re-enter upon a position that he has spoilt.
Dresden, June 3, 1841.—Yesterday evening I went to the theatre to see the new auditorium which has a great reputation throughout Germany. It is, in fact, of considerable size, pretty and well decorated. The boxes are convenient, the seats comfortable and there is an air of grandeur about the whole. The decorations are fresh, the costumes brilliant and the orchestra good, but the singers so bad that I could only stay for half an hour.
Prague, June 5, 1841.—Prague is not without interest for me. I there spent the year of mourning for my father with my mother and sisters and afterwards revisited the town upon two occasions shortly after the Congress of Vienna. I have been spending to-day there and think I have driven round to every object of interest: the chief churches, the tomb of Tycho Brahé and his observatory; all the offerings in honour of St. John Nepomucenos, his relics, the old castle, the Calvary from whence Prague is to be seen as a panorama; Wallenstein's war horse, which has been stuffed, and the various traces of the Hussite war and of the Thirty Years War; the bombs thrown by Frederick II.; the chapel where Charles X. prayed twice a day and which was restored by him, bears the arms of France and of Navarre. Prague, like Nuremburg, is one of the oldest towns in Germany: the latter may be more interesting to artists, but the former is more attractive to the archaeologist, and I am one of the latter class. Prague contains sixteen convents, every class of monk is to be found there, and though upon a much larger scale it reminds me of Friburg in Switzerland. Especially characteristic are the large residences, almost all kept by the great Bohemian lords who own them and who are generally deserting Prague in favour of Vienna. I was curious enough to look in at the theatre of the Leopold Stadt to see a local farce played by a Vienna company. The auditorium which was by no means beautiful, was crowded and the laughter was loud and long; I stayed only a short time as it was too hot and the Vienna lazzi are not to my taste. I do not understand them.
Vienna, June 8, 1841.—I had a most unpleasant journey from Prague hither. The weather had broken: it was cold, stormy, and damp; I spent the first night in my carriage and the second in a small inn, eventually arriving here at three o'clock this afternoon. I am staying in rooms which my sisters had engaged for me. I have already seen my quondam brother-in-law, the Count of Schulenburg, whom I shall make my major-domo, for which position he is exactly suited.
It is strange to be once more at Vienna.[ [29] The whole of my destiny is contained in the name of this city, and here my life of devotion to M. de Talleyrand began and that strange and unusual association was formed which could only be broken by death, though broken is the wrong word; I should have said interrupted, for I have constantly felt during the past year that we shall meet elsewhere. At Vienna I entered upon that troublesome and attractive life of publicity which rather wearies than flatters me. I found much amusement here and many occasions for tears: my life became complicated and I was involved in the storms which have so long roared about me. Of the many who turned my head and provided me with amusement and excitement, none remain. Old and young, men and women, all have disappeared; indeed the whole world has undergone two changes since that time. My poor sister with whom I was to live, is also dead. Prince Metternich alone remains; he has sent me very pleasant messages and I shall probably see him to-morrow.
I doubt if I shall sleep to-night; I am greatly disturbed by the ghosts which haunt these scenes and which all speak with one voice of the vanity of the things of this world.
Vienna, June 10, 1841.—The choice of M. de Flahaut as French ambassador here, which recent news from Paris represents as increasingly possible, has aroused general dissatisfaction. Madame de Flahaut wrote to Lord Beauvale, the English ambassador, to try and disarm this opposition and said that people need not be afraid of her husband's appointment as she would not be able to follow him for a long time. This is certainly an unusual method of seeking popularity.
I went back to my house yesterday at two o'clock in the afternoon to await Prince Metternich who had sent word to say that he would come at that time. He kept his appointment and I did not find him greatly changed. It is a real pleasure to see him again and to find him in possession of all his freshness of mind, his power of judgment, his wide knowledge of men and affairs and his genial kindness to myself which has never varied. He stayed for two hours upon which I look back with great pleasure. As a rule he never pays personal visits. His wife sent to say that she would have come if she had not been afraid of wearying me, as she was extremely anxious to make my acquaintance. No one could have been kinder; I am dining with them to-day in their suburban villa where they are spending the spring.
I hear that Schlegel, the platonic admirer of Madame de Staël, is at Berlin to help in the publication of the works of Frederick the Great. M. Thiers was expected there and I am glad to have missed him. It has been decided to receive him as a member of the Academy and as a historian, but not as a politician and certainly not as a statesman. Meanwhile M. Guizot seems to be taking walks with the Princess de Lieven at nine o'clock in the morning in the gardens of the Tuileries, which is their mode of observing nature.
I found that Marshal Marmont had called when I came home yesterday evening. I had seen him from a distance at the opera.