had the credit nevertheless of being politely attentive to visiters, without distinction of nation or religion. Among the company at this time at Dresden, we were so fortunate as to fall in with an English family, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Greatheed, and their only son, Mr. Bertie Greatheed, who had resided for some time at Göttingen, and were most hearty in renewing their acquaintance with their old friends from Göttingen, I coming in for my share of attention through their introduction. The only part of their establishment which they had brought with them from England, consisted of a jolly butler and a lady'smaid, and these, with a due addition of tributary Germans, enabled them to live in great ease and comfort. With them we dined almost daily, and at their table met with whatever was most agreeable to us. For whether on or around the hospitable board, there was enough of Germany to mark the country in which we were residing, whilst the staple appertained to old England. Mr. Bertie Greatheed, who was then about twenty years of age, was an amateur artist, and spent great part of his mornings in the picture gallery, studying the admirable works, chiefly of the Italian masters. We likewise saw a good deal of a clever English artist of the name of Artaud; but I am not able to say whether his success in his profession has eventually fulfilled the expectations which were then formed respecting him. By a letter written by me at this time, in the possession of my sister, I am reminded of a gay and merry supper party, at the residence of Mr. Elliot, then the British minister at the court of Saxony. It was a fête altogether à l'Anglaise; for although the scene was laid in Germany, the action, as well as the dramatis persona, appertained almost exclusively to old England. After supper gentlemen and ladies were called upon to sing. This, luckily for some present, was an unconditional appeal to their vocal powers, for it was too late to say "no song no supper;" still we were all so far under the inspiration of the hour, as to be able to join in chorus; and willing to bear the best vocal testimony in our power to the soul-stirring influence of our unrivalled national anthems; but the songs were by no means all equally lyrical, and I believe, the good humour with which— "What shall we have for supper, Mrs. Bond" was sung by a gentleman of the party, contributed as much as any thing to the merriment of the evening. The songs, in short, were deemed " very good songs, and very well sung ;" and the festivities of our AngloSaxon evening closed with the unanimous plaudits of the assembled guests. I have often heard it said by Germans, with reference to the division and subdivision of what geographers call Germany, into so great a number of separate states, too often warring one against the other "Wir haben kein vaterland"-We Germans have no country whilst an Englishman, witness the above relation, seeks to be at home every where, and seems to consider the whole world his country, and the land of his birth as constituting the title of his inheritance. "To thee belongs the rural reign; Thy cities shall with commerce shine; Prior to our taking leave of Dresden, we made a pleasant day's excursion to Königstein, a small town in Upper Saxony, about twenty English miles from Dresden. From the summit of its celebrated fortress, situated on a stupendous mass of rocks, impending on the Elbe, and said to be the strongest by nature and art in the world, we enjoyed a vast and beautiful prospect of the Bohemian mountains, of parts of the dominions of Prussia, and of the cities of Dresden and Meissen. This fortress, besides being the depôt of warlike stores and arms of all descriptions, is provided, in case of a protracted siege, with a vast cask, or reservoir, capable of containing between two and three thousand pipes of wine. It is said to have been three years in building, under the direction of General Kyaw-a jolly old toper, no doubt-and is of such ample dimensions that on its top is a dancing-room, capable of accommodating fifty couple, with an orchestra and seats for one hundred spectators. There is also here a well eight hundred feet deep, sunk by blasting with gunpowder through the solid rock, which it took forty years to complete, no water having made its appearance until the labourers had sunk beneath the bed of the Elbe, whose waters, it is supposed, filtering through the crevices of the rocks, at last furnished an abundant supply. Thirty-six years have elapsed since this visit to Königstein, and whilst I well recollect our dropping pebbles into the well, and affecting to calculate its depth, by the return of sound from the splash made by them in the water, most of the really important features of this impregnable fortress have past from my memory: On the road to Königstein is the Palace of Pilnitz, where, in August, 1791, a convention is said to have been signed between the Emperor of Germany and the King of Prussia, the principal object of which was to attack France, and to complete the dismemberment of Poland-ominous events preceding and precipitating the ingress of the French Revolution. Mr. Greatheed was a stanch Foxite, who had fought more than one election battle, and severely bled, in pocket, in the anti-ministerial interest. and myself were equally stanch Pittites; but, prepared as we thus were to take opposite sides, our discussions were in perfect good-humour, and we talked of the rival senators in somewhat the same spirit in which Sir Walter Scott has dedicated to their memories some of the happiest lines for which we are indebted to that immortal bard. From Dresden, the Greatheeds went to Berlin, where they were honoured by the marked attentions of the King and Queen of Prussia; and the last time I had the pleasure of seeing them was on the road between Magdeburg and Berlin, where we met accidentally, and enjoyed half an hour's conversation together en passant. They subsequently succeeded to large property on the death of the last Duke of Ancaster, but their great wealth sufficed not to protect them from the heavy calamity which awaited them in the loss of their only son, and only child, who died in Italy in the prime of life and hope, adorned with every accomplishment which could impart the charm of elegance to rank and wealth, or give poignancy to the grief of his afflicted parents. in The removal of the body to England for interment, with the permission of Buonaparte, the adoption of a supposed natural daughter, and other singular circumstances, private and political, connected with his memory and that of his father, would form a very teresting and romantic episode, for the writing of which, I regret to say, that I am not in possession of sufficiently accurate materials. I will therefore pursue the thread of my story, on our return to Göttingen, from this pleasant little excursion into Saxony. D |