modes of thinking. In short, we did not feel ourselves the least compromised by the queen of Sicily's attack upon the gods — nor the least more disposed to quarrel with our fate.
"The chorus is, as in duty bound, versöhnend (concilatory). The amount of the comfort, it is true, often is, 'It can't be helped; but even this is so nobly and beautifully expressed that one is satisfied. The chorus has every imaginable claim to be a bore. They deal in good advice, moral reflections, and consolation of the new and satisfactory kind above mentioned. Yet so great is the majestic, harmonious, composed beauty of Schiller's verse, so much greater the eternal beauty of truth and virtue, that the old men's words fall on one's heart like drops of balm, and one feels calmed and invigorated for the struggle with life. The chorus spoken, and in parts by all the voices at once, can never have a good effect — but somehow or other cela allait. Such are the triumphs of the true poet and artist."
The following anecdote dates from before the Russian emancipation: —
"The Archbishop of Erlau told me that at the time the Russian troops were stationed in Hungary, he and another gentleman were walking in the streets of ———— and suddenly heard a woman cry Out. In a moment she ran into the street exclaiming that a Russian soldier had robbed; or was about to rob her. Such complaints were very frequent and sometimes unfounded. The soldiers could not make themselves understood, and took up things without meaning to rob. Be that as it may, two Russian officers were passing and heard the woman's story. They instantly collared the man, threw him down on the pavement, and, without making the smallest inquiry into the facts, they then and there spurred him to death. This, said the archbishop, I saw, with infinite horror and disgust."
Here we have a story which, though not absolutely new, is too good to be omitted: —
"Dr. F——— told me the following story of Voltaire, which I never met with before. Voltaire had for some reason or other taken a grudge against the prophet Habakkuk, and affected to find in him things he never wrote. Somebody took the Bible, and began to demonstrate to him that he was mistaken. 'Cest égal,' said he, with an air of impatience, 'Habakkuk était capable de tout!'
"Two days before we left Dresden, as I was dressing to go out, Nannie, my maid, came into my room and said two ladies wanted to see me. She said she had never seen them — they said I did not know them. I sent to say that I was sorry but I could not receive them, as Madame de S——— was already waiting for me. Nannie came back with the answer that they would wait in the anteroom — they only wanted to speak to me for a moment. Annoyed at being forced to commit a rudeness, I hurried on my gown and went out. In the anteroom were a middle-aged lady and a young one. I broke out into apologies, etc., upon which the elder lady said, in German, 'Pardon me for being so pressing. I only wished to give my daughter strength for the battle of life.' I was literally confounded at the oddness of this address, and remained dumb. It seemed her daughter wished to translate from the English. After a short explanation she turned to her daughter, and pointing to me, said, 'Now, my dear, you have seen the mistress, so we will not keep her any longer.' And so they went. I threw myself into a chair, and, alone as I was, burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. This is as good a piece of Germanism as is to be found in any novel. Even my Dresden friends thought it quite amazing.
"Dr. Waagen and I were talking of the danger of disputing the authenticity of pictures. I said I had rather tell a man he's a rascal than that his pictures are copies. 'Yes,' said Waagen, 'I always compare a man, the genuineness of whose pictures are attacked, to a lioness defending her young.'
"We afterwards came upon intercourse with princes. Waagen said, Wilhelm von Humboldt, who was a great friend and patron of his when a young, man, once said to him: 'My dear friend, your position will probably bring you into frequent contact with royalty. Take one piece of advice from me; always regard them as wild beasts in cages, and the courtiers as keepers. You see how noble and gentle and beautiful they look. But if you begin to put your hand through the bars and play with them, then you'll feel their claws ana fangs. Always ask the keepers first what sort of humor they are in.'
Countess H———, wife of the Mecklenburg minister, a Rubens beauty, and a very good-natured woman, told me she was invited to a grand dinner party at V——— to meet an English great lady. The hour was five. After everybody waiting till six, the hosts determined to sit
