Berlin, 1st May, 1852.
I have just returned from an infinitely tedious dinner at Le Coq’s, where I sat between L. G. and the younger M.—two persons widely different in nature. I tried in vain to settle some dispute about what is now agitating the King and the Chamber. The one was dry, wise, and practical; the other delightful, enthusiastic, and theoretical; he might really have forgotten the world and its government, in his own views about them, but the air of the Chambers has stimulated this impractical direction in him, and in this gymnastic exercise of soul and tongue he forgets, or holds cheap, what is necessary to be done. There is really something quite demoralizing in the atmosphere of the Chambers—the best people grow vain without perceiving it, and get accustomed to the tribune as to a toilet-table, by means of which they exhibit themselves to the public. Forgive this political avalanche.
Berlin, 3d May, 1852.
I am really tired of being here, and long for the day of departure. Chamber intrigues I find terribly shallow and undignified; if one lives always amongst them, one deceives one’s self, and they seem wonders. When I come straightforwardly from Frankfurt I feel like a sober man who has suddenly fallen amongst tipplers, I wish they would send me to Constantinople; it would not be necessary to be returning here every minute.
Vienna, 11th June, 1852.
“’S g’fällt mer hier gar net” (I don’t like this place at all) as Schrenck says, although it was so pleasant with you, anno ’47; but I not only miss you, but I find myself not wanted, and that is worse than I can make plain to your unpolitical mind. If I were here, as I was there, for amusement, I could not grumble: all those whom I have become acquainted with are remarkably charming people, and the town is rather hot with narrow streets, but still a splendid town. In business, however, there prevails great nonchalance; either the people don’t want to arrange with us, or they think we look upon it as more important than appears to them. I fear that the opportunity of coming to an understanding is gone, which will prove a bad result for us; for it was thought that a very great step towards reconciliation was taken in sending me, and they will not soon send another here so desirous of coming to an understanding, and who at the time can deal so freely. Forgive me for writing polities to you, but when the heart is full, etc. I am really drying up in this mishmash, and I am afraid I shall begin to take an interest in it. I have just come from the opera with old Westmoreland; Don Giovanni, played by a good Italian Opera troop, in hearing which I felt the wretchedness of the Frankfurt theatre doubly. Yesterday I went to Schönbrunn, and thought of our romantic moonlight expedition, as I looked at the tall hedges and the white statues in the green thickets, peeped also at the private garden which we first got into—quite forbidden ground—so, that the Jäger sentinel, who was at his post, would not allow its even being looked into.
Ofen, 23d June, ’52.