Gastein, 24th July, 1863.
I wanted to send you Edelweiss herewith, but it is mislaid. Salzachofen I thought more imposing ten years ago. The weather was too fine. The road hither, which you did not see, is pretty, but not imposing. I here live opposite the King at the Waterfall—a child to that at Golling. I only saw two finer in the Pyrenees, but none greater. I have taken two baths, very pleasant, but tiring afterwards, unfitting one for work. From to-morrow I shall bathe only at mid-day, and write before. The air is charming, but the neighborhood rather imposing than friendly. The King is well.
Gastein, 28th July, 1863.
As this day sixteen years ago brought sunshine into my wild bachelor life, so to-day it has rejoiced this valley, and I have seen it on a morning walk for the first time in all its beauty. Moritz would call it a giant dish full of cabbage, narrow and deep, the edges set round with white eggs. Steep sides, some thousand feet high, covered with furze and meadow-green, and huts of thatch, strewed here and there up to the snow-line, the whole surrounded by a wreath of white peaks and bands, richly powdered with snow during five rainy days, and the lower frontier of which the sun is causing gradually to grow higher. Dozens of silver threads run through the green from above—little water streams, tumbling down hastily, as if they were too late for the great fall which they make with the Ache close before my dwelling. The Ache is a river with somewhat more water than the Stolpe has near Strellin, and waltzes swiftly through all Gastein, falling down at different levels some hundreds of feet between rocks.
It is possible to live here in such weather, but I should prefer to have nothing to do, only to walk about on the heights, and sit down upon sunny banks, smoke, and look at the rocky snow-peaks through the telescope. There is little society here. I only mix with the retinue of the King, with whom dinner and tea bring me in daily contact. The rest of the time scarcely suffices for work, sleeping, bathing, and walking. I yesterday evening visited old —— with the Emperor, who is expected on the second. N. N. will come, and will complain to me that lying is the curse of this world. I have just heard that the King (who is very well, only he has hurt his ankle, and must sit still) keeps the courier till to-morrow, and this letter will not reach by post any sooner, as it would lose a day by being opened. I shall therefore leave it. Good Prince Frederick was yesterday released from his sufferings: the King was much overcome.
Gastein, 2d Aug., 1863.
Bill’s day was kept by me in fine weather, and the King was informed; he asked how old he was, and how industrious his godson might be. To-day the Emperor is coming, flags and garlands are the order of the day, the sun is shining, and I have not yet been out of my room; have been writing for three hours, therefore no more than hearty greetings. If I do not write by way of Berlin, I fall into the hands of the post-office here—certainly I write no secrets, but it is very unpleasant. The mare is in Berlin again. I bathe every day; it is agreeable, but tiring.