The clever man of whom I am now speaking plays also very agreeably; and jestingly declares, like Fox, that after the pleasure of winning, he knows no greater than that of losing.
We talked a great deal about Napoleon, of whom our host, like all who lived long in immediate intercourse with him, could not speak without veneration. He mentioned a circumstance which struck me. The Emperor, he said, was so incredibly exhausted by the violent excitement of the Hundred Days and the events that succeeded them, that on his retreat from Waterloo, in the early part of which he was protected by a batallion of his ‘Garde,’ he proceeded very slowly, and without any precipitation (quite contrary to our version of the affair.) Two or three times he fell asleep on his horse; and would have fallen off, had not Count F—— himself held him on. But the Count declared that, except by this complete corporeal exhaustion, he never exhibited the slightest mark of internal agitation.
February 14th.
My original friend, the Scot—who, I am told, has killed two or three men in duels—visited me this morning, and brought me his genealogy, printed, with the whole history of his race or ‘clan.’ He complained bitterly that another man of his name contested the rank of chieftain with him; and took great pains to prove to me, from the work he had brought, that he was the true one: he added, that “the judgment of Heaven between them would be the best way of deciding their respective claims.” He then called my attention to his arms, of the origin of which he related a curious history,
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It was, like most of these traditions, poetical enough, and a striking picture of those rude but vigorous ages. I did not fail to relate to him a ‘pendant’ to his story, from the Nibelungenlied, concerning my own ancestors;—probably both were equally true. We parted over the ghosts of our forefathers, the best friends in the world.
There are now private balls every evening: and in rooms to which a respectable German citizen would not venture to invite twelve people, some hundreds are here packed like negro slaves. It is even worse than in London; and the space allotted to the quadrilles allows only the mathematical possibility of making something like dancing demonstrations. A ball without this crowd would be despised; and a visitor of any fashion who found the staircase empty, would probably drive away from the door. This strange taste reminded me of one of Potier’s characters, a ‘ci-devant jeune homme’ who orders a pair of pantaloons of his tailor which are to be ‘extraordinairement collant:’ as the ‘artiste’ is going away he calls after him, “Entendez vous?—extraordinairement collant; si j’y entre, je ne le prends pas.” In like manner an English dandy would say of a rout, “Si j’y entre, je n’y vais pas.”
When you are once in, however, I must confess that nowhere do you see a greater number of pretty girls, against whom you are squeezed ‘bongré malgré,’ than here. Some of them have been educated for a year or two in France, and are distinguished for a better ‘tournure’ and style of dress; many of them speak German. A man may have as many invitations to ‘soirées’ of this sort as he likes; but he may go away as perfect a stranger as if he had been uninvited; for if he does not stay long, he does not so much as see the hostess, and certainly she does not know half the people present. At one o’clock a very ‘recherché’ cold supper is served, with ‘force champagne.’ The supper-room is usually on the ground-floor, and the table of course cannot contain above twenty persons at a time, so that the company go down in troops, and meet, pushing and elbowing, on the narrow staircase. If you succeed in getting a seat, you may rest a little; and many avail themselves of this privilege with small regard to their successors: little attention is paid to giving place to the ladies. On the other hand, the servants are very active in continually replacing the dishes and bottles, as fast as they are emptied, on the side of the table to which the guests have no access.
In order to see the whole of the thing, I stayed till four in the morning in one of the best houses, and found the end of the fête, after three-fourths of the company were gone, the most agreeable; the more so as the daughters of the house were remarkably pretty amiable girls. There were some famous originals, however, at the ball; among others, a fat lady of at least fifty-five, dressed in black velvet with white trimmings, and a turban with floating ostrich feathers, who waltzed like a Bacchante whenever she could find room. Her very pretty daughters tried in vain to rival their mamma. My curiosity being excited by such a display of Herculean vigour and pertinacity, I found the lady’s large fortune had been made by speculations in cattle. The music in most of these balls was extremely meagre and bad. The musicians, however, contrive to produce such a noise with such instruments as they have, that you cannot hear yourself speak near them.