Dino Dorothée - Memoirs of the Duchesse De Dino (Afterwards Duchesse de Talleyrand et de Sagan), 1841-1850

Gotha, May 12, 1841. – I had proposed to arrive here yesterday evening but the outskirts of Fulda and Eisenach are so complicated that I had to sleep at Eisenach, where I naturally dreamt of St. Elizabeth. I am staying here for a few hours to see the Dowager Duchess who was a great favourite of my mother and was quite vexed with me last year because I left Germany without paying her a visit here. Apart from this, my monotonous travels are proceeding without incident and in fairly fine weather.

Wittenberg, May 13, 1841. – The Dowager Duchess of Gotha received me with the utmost kindness, asked me to dinner and hurriedly invited five or six people from the town who had known me in my youth. She dines at three o'clock and at six o'clock I asked leave to continue my journey. I would have stayed longer if the poor duchess had not grown so deaf that the honour of replying to her questions was literally exhausting. I preferred to spend the night in my carriage, for if I had slept at Gotha, I should certainly have had to spend the evening at the Castle. I am therefore going to take my rest here that I may not reach Berlin entirely exhausted. I have borne the journey very well so far and my little halt at Mannheim was a pleasant interruption to the monotony of my life on wheels.

For the last two days I have been reading a life of Queen Blanche of Castile by a certain lady whose work was well reviewed; the facts are interesting but the style is poor and the tone of the work is very anti-Catholic. While I am reading I cannot help conducting a silent course of refutation against the author; silence is very appropriate here at Wittenberg, the old cradle of the Reformation. From the convent of the Augustine monks, the ruins of which are now before my eyes, Luther launched his first firebrand, and he was buried in the church by the side of the inn.

Berlin, May 15, 1841. – I arrived here yesterday evening but have seen no one yet except my business man, Herr von Wolff. At midday I called upon the Countess of Reede, the Queen's chief lady and an old friend of my mother, and then upon the chief lady of the Princess of Prussia, to deliver the numerous parcels which the Duchesse d'Orléans had asked me to take to this Princess. I then went to the Werthers, to Countess Pauline Neale and Madame de Perponcher and I found no one at home.

Berlin, May 16, 1841. – No one would guess who gave me his arm to the mass from which I have just come. It was Peter von Arenberg who has come to ask that his property on the right bank of the Rhine should be made an hereditary fief for one of his sons.

Berlin, May 17, 1841. – To-day is a day of sad and grievous memories, being the third anniversary of the death of our dear M. de Talleyrand. It is a day which always arouses many recollections and I am sure that these will not be without their influence upon others. I wish I could spend it in quiet thought, but that is impossible here.

Yesterday was an unusually busy day for me and I am quite wearied. Mass was followed by the necessary calls upon the great ladies of the country; dinner with the Wolffs; tea with Princess William, the King's aunt; a prima sera with the Radziwills; while I spent the latter part of the evening with the old Prince of Wittgenstein. Besides all this I had a long call from Humboldt who is starting for Paris in a few days. It was impossible to breathe. The worst part of it is that everything here begins so early and that the day is divided in an unusual and very disagreeable manner.

Berlin, May 18, 1841. – Yesterday I dined with the King and Queen who had come to spend a few hours in town. They were both most kind and pleasant. I saw Prince Frederick arrive from Dusseldorf, who is also one of the old acquaintances of my youth. He still looks surprisingly young. His wife is expected here; she seems to have become totally insane.

I heard yesterday, while dining with the King, that one of the unfortunate Infantas of Spain whom their mother so cruelly placed in a convent, had escaped with a Polish refugee, but had been caught at Brussels; a fine escapade for a princess! It seems impossible to repress Spanish blood at the age of twenty. The King also said that Espartero had been proclaimed sole regent and dictator in Spain.

Berlin, May 20, 1841 (Ascension Day). – Yesterday I went from Berlin to Potsdam by the first train. The King had asked me to be present at a great parade. It was a fine spectacle. The weather was propitious, the troops splendid, and the music magnificent, but the day was somewhat fatiguing.

The day before yesterday I dined with the Princess of Prussia and in the evening I went to a rout given by Countess Nostitz, the sister of Count Hatzfeldt. All that I have to do is to go about, to show good temper, kindliness and gratitude for my many kind receptions; at the same time, when I can return to my idle life I shall be delighted.

Berlin, May 21, 1841. – There is a great monotony about life here; dinners with princes, etc. Yesterday I dined with Princess Charles, after spending an hour with the Princess of Prussia, whose conversation is lofty and serious. In the evening I spent some time by the arm-chair of the old Countess of Reede and with her daughter Perponcher. I was then obliged to show myself at the Werthers, who are at home on Thursdays.

Berlin, May 22, 1841. – Yesterday evening I went to the Wolffs to meet various learned men, artists and literary people. At Berlin the upper-middle-class society provides the pleasantest opportunities for conversation.

The present King has great ideas for adorning his capital, and is giving a remarkable stimulus to Art.

Life proceeds much as usual. Yesterday I dined with Princess William the aunt, and spent the first part of the evening with the Princess of Prussia and the latter part of it with Madame de Perponcher, where a distinguished artist, Hensel, showed us his sketch-book, which was full of strange portraits. The heat was unusual.

Princess Frederick of Dusseldorf, who is not quite right in her head at times, was dining with Princess William. She must have been rather pretty, and there is nothing unusual about her.

Pauline writes from Paris that she is going to Geneva for change of air and to try her strength, and that if she feels better, she will travel through Bavaria and meet me at Vienna.

I am returning this morning to Potsdam, where I have promised to spend the day, and shall come back to-morrow. How pleasant it would be to find myself once more in my little manor house at Touraine.

Berlin, May 24, 1841. – As the evening party at Potsdam was over at ten o'clock, I was able to return here in the evening by the last train, after spending the day with the Queen. She improves greatly upon close acquaintance, as is usually the case with persons who are simple and somewhat reserved. We had a pleasant drive in the evening, and an interesting conversation at tea-time under the portico of the Charlottenhof, when the King talked much upon the state of Art in Germany.

Berlin, May 25, 1841. – Yesterday I went to the manœuvres with the Princess of Prussia, her young son and Princess Charles. The King's staff was most brilliant, our position was excellent, the weather was perfect, and the sight of the troops, of the spectators who had come from the town in crowds, of the ladies' carriages, and in short of the whole gathering, made the subject worthy of the brush of Horace Vernet; nor did the business last long, an hour and not more. The Princess of Prussia took me back to lunch with her and kept me talking almost until dinner-time. Madame Perponcher came to fetch me to dine near her mother's chair, as her gout still keeps her somewhat of a prisoner. I then went to the Radziwills to the jubilee festival of the Academy of Singing. The Academy is composed of four hundred and fifty members, amateurs of every class: by their rules they are not allowed to use any instrument but a piano and may perform only sacred music. The institution thus resembles the Ancient Music at London, but the performance here was infinitely better, and was marked by a unity, an accuracy and a majesty truly remarkable. None but Germans could thus sing the most complicated fugues without the help of an orchestra and with such tremendous tone.