CIV.

Hanover.

Hanover lies on the small river Liene, and is the royal residence. It contains the city palace, the summer palaces and grounds; among the number is the Herren Hausen, with fountains, orange and botanical gardens. In the latter is a palm house, of iron and glass, a crystal palace in miniature—which is unique of its kind. It is kept at an oriental temperature, and almost all the varieties of palm and date trees familiar to me in the East and West Indies, are to be found there. The mausoleum, at the extremity of the ground, is a snug edifice, containing the royal remains of the late king and queen. The beautiful, full length figure of the deceased queen, in white Carrara marble, is a fine specimen of art, and is very like the much-admired reposing statue of the queen of Prussia. The wilds and forests of the king, extending for miles in the suburbs, give the citizens a variety of walks and drives in different directions.

It is evident that the Germans, unlike the English, never paid for light and air in the shape of a window tax. The old part of the city is literally a town of windows; many are beautified with plants and flowers, fancy screens and porcelain views, which give it an enlivening appearance, in contrast with the gable-ended, projecting, overhanging houses.

The Konigliche Hoftheatre is a pretty monument to the memory of the late king, Ernest Augustus, standing upon a beautiful site, two hundred and eighty feet front, and one hundred and ninety deep; the front portico is surmounted by life-size statues of twelve celebrated writers and composers, among whom are Goethe, Schiller, Mozart, Beethoven, Shakespeare, Molière, and others. The interior decorations are luxurious for Germany. In the middle of the front range of boxes, is the king’s loge, the inside of which is white and gold, covered with the royal arms; outside are velvet curtains.

The theatre is regarded as instructive and moral, and is unlike what it is in many countries. I was accompanied thither by a very worthy minister and his wife, and the daughter of another divine, whom I had travelled with up the Rhine, and who accidentally visited the city.

The officers of the army, nearly a hundred in number, are obliged to subscribe monthly; their uniform gives the theatre a stiff, military air, unlike that of the Thalia Club, which has fifteen hundred members, or annual subscribers, with reading rooms, billiard rooms, refreshment saloons, and a theatre four times per week, which is fully attended by the respectable middle classes of ladies and gentlemen, and looks quite democratic.

The Museum Club, of which I am a member, is composed of three hundred, a large proportion of whom are active or retired civil and military officers.

Here all is marked out by rule. So many branches of trade of each description are allowed by royal authority. Application must be made for permission to engage in an occupation; if it is considered that there are already sufficient of that branch, the applicant is refused.

Such is the fondness for title or rank, which pervades most classes, that the smith, shoemaker, tinman, or tailor, is delighted when he attains the privilege of putting up the royal arms on his sign, to signify that he is employed by his Majesty.