The remains of the late Mrs. Richard Trench

by Melesina Chenevix St. George Trench

Nov. 4, Ham, near Hamburg.—Arrived at the Stadt Petersburg on the 29th; a pleasant inn, as it looks upon a public walk. Here you have a regular dinner of several dishes for the same price that a chicken costs at a London hotel; but the beds and attendants are nearly as expensive as in Pall Mall. Baron Breteuil[9] called next morning, and overcame all my objections to making him a visit by proving it was as much the wish of his daughter as himself. She also called and reiterated the invitation. The Baron is rich as an émigré, having near 4000l. a-year. He has a delightful house, and entertains in a very comfortable way, without any pretension to keeping up his ancient style of magnificence. He sees not only his friends, but a various and extensive acquaintance. His daughter, Mad. de Matignon, has a certain share of wit, great pleasantry, the best manners possible, and unalterable cheerfulness, amounting indeed to what may be called uncommon high spirits. His grand-daughter, the Duchess of Montmorenci, is pleasing, lively, and well-bred, less clever than her mother in conversation, and excessively occupied with her toilette, but in so unaffected a way it rather diverts than fatigues you. The whole time of my visit she has employed herself in taking patterns of everything I possessed, and making up similar dresses with the ingenuity of a milliner or mantua-maker. The whole family vie with each other in proofs of civility to me, and in solicitations that I would prolong my stay. Last evening they accompanied me to the play, and in spite of the law which commands the gates of Hamburg to be closed at half-past five, we returned to Ham at ten. This is done by a little manœuvre, and crossing the river where it is shallow and narrow, an operation of about fifteen minutes. I saw it was an expedition which did not delight the Baron, though he undertook it on my account; and I am not surprised at his repugnance, as certainly in the month of November it was a party only suited to five and twenty. I met at his house Lady Edward Fitzgerald and her lovely little daughter, whose eyes and eyelashes are celestial.

Nov. 6, Soltau.—Left Ham yesterday, penetrated with Baron Breteuil’s unaltered friendship, which time and absence have had no power to diminish. Travelled but one post, crossed the Elbe, and slept in a small inn on its banks. You are not to expect any luxuries on a German road; small rooms, with sanded floors, no carpet or curtains, dark little beds in corners, and wooden chairs, were all I found here. I supped well on eggs and milk. “I must give you an idea of this day’s journey, not by way of complaint, but of narrative. Without delay, dispute, accident, or ever quitting the carriage, I have travelled from Hopen here, exactly at the rate of two English miles an hour, in a post chaise, but moderately loaded, and drawn by four horses. It is two posts, one of four, the other of three German miles, each of which you know is some four English. The roads are dreadfully bad, but from the flatness of the country, and the absence of either wall or ditch, not dangerous. Going so slow, in an occasional journey, does not signify, but I should be sorry to live where the difficulty of communication is so great. It would be a sad thing to think that if your child or best friend was in the most urgent distress at a hundred miles’ distance, you would be fifty hours getting to them even if you travelled night and day, which on these roads few constitutions could bear. The sterility and uninhabited appearance of the country is melancholy to excess. Imagine a dead flat, either absolutely naked, or slightly covered with a little starved heath, and sometimes extending three or four miles without an appearance of life, or trace of the hand of man. After driving for a couple of hours through a desert of this sort, you cannot imagine the pleasure with which I saw and heard three or four geese, which formed in my eye a most interesting group.”[10]

Nov. 8, Zell.—The second post of yesterday’s journey was more tolerable to the eye than any I have yet seen, as a river in one place, and here and there a few trees, broke the general appearance of sterility. Many of them were firs, whose deep green contrasted agreeably with the withered leaves of bright brown and yellow that were intermixed. This is a very small town, without trade or manufactures, and possesses no attractions of any kind; yet I remained here to-day, partly to rest, and partly to view at my leisure the castle where Matilda, Queen of Denmark, died in the bloom of her youth, after having expiated by three years’ confinement either her indiscretion or her crime, for history seems at a loss to decide whether she was guilty or only imprudent. It is a quadrangle surrounded by a moat, has once been whitewashed, but is now very dirty, and the outside has a gloomy appearance, increased perhaps by our associating with it ideas of banishment and a prison. The apartment once inhabited by Matilda is a suite of five rooms, terminating in her bed-chamber. They are all hung with tapestry, and her bed is of green damask. Though unsuitable to a youthful Queen, they are yet spacious, convenient, and have a certain air of dignity. Her mattrass and quilt, the one of white, the other of dark green satin, have been preserved untouched since her death. I also went to see the church, which is ornamented with painting and sculpture. A nervous person would have been startled at seeing in the floor of the chancel a large open space, discovering a flight of steps leading down to a vault, and on each side a man in black with a lighted taper. I was soon given to understand that the burying-place was here the chief object of curiosity. The coffin of the Queen of Denmark is the most ornamented, and not far from it stood that of Dorothea, wife of George the First. It was impossible to see their dust repose so near, and not reflect on the similarity of their fates. Both were accused of infidelity to their husbands; both ended their days in banishment and obscurity; no accusation was ever clearly proved of either; and the presumed lovers of each perished by a violent death.

Nov. 9, Hanover.—Another day of fatigue and two tedious posts have brought me here. The country has improved during this last day’s journey. There is a road edged with trees, instead of the miserable track, scarce discernible, through sand or heath; and here and there the eye is refreshed with a cultivated field and distant wood. I am not out of humour with German travelling, slow as it is. I have found all the people I employed, obliging, though not empressé, and there is a quietness in their manner that pleases. The postilions neither swear, nor beat their horses, and are satisfied with a very small gratuity, as are also the maids at the inns. Sixteen good groschen to the first, and eight or ten to the last, contents them. Two groschen is 3½d. of our money.

Nov. 11, 12.—So uneasy at not having received any letters either from my beloved Charles, or my other friends in England or Ireland, that these two days were a complete blank.

Nov. 13.—Received a visit from Mr. Tatler, one of Prince Adolphus’ household. Soon after he sent me a civil note and several books. He is about thirty; pleasing in his manners and appearance.

Nov. 15.—Prince Adolphus, who arrived last night, called on me this morning. His exterior is highly prepossessing. He is extremely handsome, tall, and finely formed. His complexion fair, yet manly; his features regular, yet expressive. His manners bear that stamp of real goodness, which no art can imitate, no other charm replace; and though he presents himself with suitable dignity, his address immediately inspires ease and confidence. His conversation is fluent, various, and entertaining.

Nov. 16.—Prince Adolphus called on me about twelve, introducing to me Mad. de Büssche, whose husband has a place at Court, and whom he has fixed on to accompany me in my round of visits. She is a beautiful grandmother, with irresistible manners. At six Mad. de Büssche called to take me to pay my visits; we only dropped tickets, and afterwards she introduced me, according to an arrangement of the Prince’s, at Mad. de Wallmöden’s. The Maréchal de Wallmöden is son to George the Second and the beautiful Lady Yarmouth. Our company only consisted of our host and hostess, the two Princes, an officer who played on the violin, some musicians, and Mr. Tatler, who educated the Princes Augustus and Adolphus, and now lives with the latter as a friend. It was a delightful evening, and Prince Adolphus sang with very good taste and a charming voice. He is extremely animated, and there is a frankness and goodness in his manner that pleases even more than his graces and his talents.

Nov. 18.—The Prince, who regularly sends me the newspapers, was so kind as to call on me at five in the evening with a French gazette; and afterwards Mr. Tatler, whose adoration of him is truly interesting, sat with me the rest of the evening. He enlarged much on his goodness, saying he never had done, and never would do, anything to give the King, his father, a moment’s uneasiness. He cannot speak of his father without tears in his eyes. He rises at six, and takes four lessons daily in different branches of study and science.