am come into this world only on the condition that I should travel: such is the fatality of my nature. Shall I confess it ? I D 4
should perhaps never have undertaken this journey, had it not been for the steppes of Russia!
My carriage is already in the packet-boat : the Russians say it is one of the finest steamers in the world : they call it Nicholas the First. This same vessel was burnt last year crossing from Petersburg to Travemunde : it was refitted, and has since made two voyages.
Some superstitious minds fear that misfortune will yet attach itself to the boat. I, who am no sailor, do not sympathise with this poetic fear; but I respect all kinds of inoffensive superstition, as resulting from the noble pleasure of believing and of fearing, which are the foundation of all piety, and of which, even the abuse, classes man above all other beings in creation.
After a detailed account of the circumstances of the burning of the Nicholas I. had been made to the emperor, he cashiered the captain, who was a Russian, and who was quietly playing at cards in the cabin when the flames burst from the vessel. His friends however state in his excuse, or rather in his praise, that he was acquainted with the danger, and had given private orders to steer the vessel towards a sand-bank on the Mecklenburg coast, his object being to avoid alarming the passengers until the moment of absolute necessity arrrived. The flames burst out just as the vessel grounded ; most of the passengers were saved, owing chiefly to the heroic efforts of a young and unknown Frenchman. The Russian captain has been replaced by a Dutchman ; but he, it is said, does not possess authority over his crew. Foreign countries lend to Russia the men only whom they do not care
ROAD FROM SCHWERIN TO LUBECK.57
to keep themselves. I shall know to-morrow what to think of the individual in question. No one can judge so well of a commander as a sailor or a passenger. The love of life, that love so passionately rational, is a guide by which we can unerringly appreciate the men upon whom our existence depends.
Our noble vessel draws too much water to get up to Petersburg; we therefore change ship at Kronstadt, from whence the carriages will follow us, two days later, in a third vessel. This is tiresome, but curiosity triumphs over all: it is the chief requisite in a traveller.
jSIeeklenburg is improving. A magnificent road leads from Ludwigslust to Schwcrin, where the present Grand Duke has had the good taste to re-establish his residence. Schwerin is ancient and picturesque; a lake, lulls, woods, and an antique palace adorn the landscape, and with the city are connected historic associations. All these things are wanting at Ludwigslust.
If you would form some idea of the barbarism of the middle ages, get into a carriage in this old city, the capital of the grand duchy of jSIeeklenburg, and drive post to Lubeck. If it has rained for twenty-four hours, you must remain half-way on the road : perhaps plunged in deep ruts, which you cannot get out of without breaking or overturning the carriage : there is also danger of being lost in quagmires. This is called the
To travel safely in Germany it is necessary to know French, and not to forget the difference that
58GERMAN STATESMAN.
there is between a grande route* and a chaussee, Once leave the chaussee, and you go back three centuries.
This road had, however, been recommended to me
by the minister Dcat Berlin, and in a manner
that was rather amusing : — ' What road would yon advise me to take in coing to Lubcek?' I asked him.
' They are all bad,' replied the diplomatist; ' but I advise you to take that of Sehwerin.'
' My carriage,' I replied, ' is light, and if it should break down I shall miss the packet. If you know a bette*i· route I will take it, even if it be longer.'
' All I can say,' replied he in an official tone, ik is, that I have recommended the same to Monseig-neur — (the nephew of his sovereign); you cannot do better than follow him.'
' The carriages of princes,' I replied, ' are perhaps as privileged as their persons. Princes have iron frames, and I would not wish to live for one day as they live the whole year.'
No reply was deigned to these words, which I should have thought very innocent if they had not appeared seditious to the German man of office.
This grave and prudent person, distressed at the excess of my audacity, left me the moment he could without too palpable abruptness. There are certain Germans who arc born subjects; they are courtiers before they become men. I cannot help laughing at their obsequious politeness, though preferring it
* The ' grandes routes ' may be considered as meaning the old, wide, and unimproved roads of the country ; the chaussees are the more recently cut roads, which are generally raised, drained, and kept in good repair. —
BATH-WOMAN OF TRAVEMUNDE. 59
to the contrary disposition, which I blame in the French. But a sense of the ridiculous will always haye a strong sway oyer me, and I still laugh in spite of age and reflection. I should here add, that a road,
The lovely bathing woman of Travemunde, whom we call La Monna Lise, is married: she has three children. I have been to see her in her family, and it was not without a mixture of sadness and timidity that I passed the modest threshold of her new building. She expected me, and with that natural coquetry proper to the people of the north, who, though unimpassioned, are affectionate and sentimental, she had put on her neck a little present which I had given her just ten years before. This charming creature, only thirty-four years of age, has already the gout! One can see that she has been beautiful; and that is all. Beauty not appreciated passes quickly away; it is useless. Lise has a husband, horribly ugly, and three children, one of whom, a boy, almost lives in the sea. In contemplating this family, and calling to mind the memory of Lise ten years before, it appeared to me as though the enigma of human life was for the first time suggested to my mind. I could not breathe in her little cabin, clean and neat as it was. I went out to respire the fresh air, and repeated to myself, ' 'Where there are only the necessaries of life there is nothing. Happy the soul which seeks for a rest in religion.' But the religion of Protestants yields only the
Since this lovely creature has been tied down to a common lot she lives without trouble, but without D 6
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REFLECTIONS'.
pleasure, which appears to me the greatest trouble of all. I shall never see more, at least I hope not, La Monna Lise of Travemimcle.*
How is it that real life resembles so little the life of the imagination ? For what end then is this useless, nay
