Vienna, March 17, 1864.
Dear Lady William: A thousand thanks for your letter, which
gave us inexpressible delight, not alone for its wit and its wisdom, which
would have made it charming to read even if it had been addressed to any one
else, but because it brings a fresh assurance that we are not quite forgotten
yet by one of whom we think and speak every day. I should write oftener, dear
Lady William, but for two reasons: one, that I am grown such a dull and dismal
eremite, although always in a crowd, that I consider it polizeiwidrig to
expose any one to the contagion of such complaints; secondly, because yours is
an answer to my last, after the interval of a year, and I never venture to
write a second letter till the first one has been completed by its answer. It
is an old superstition of mine that a correspondence can't go on one leg. I
always think of letters in pairs, like scissors, inexpressibles, lovers, what
you will. This is a serious statement, not an excuse, for I have often wished
to write, and have been repelled by the thought. It was most charitable of you,
therefore, to send me one of your green leaves fluttering out of the bowers of
Mayfair as the first welcome harbinger of spring after this very fierce winter:
Frigora mitescunt
zephyris: ver proterit restas.
How well I remember that sequestered village of Mayfair, and
the charming simplicity of its unsophisticated population! “Auch ich war in
Arcadien geboren.” I, too, once hired a house in Hertford Street, as you will
observe. Would that I could walk out of it to No. 2 Audley Square, as it was
once my privilege to do! I infer from what you say, and from what I hear others
say, that you are on the whole better in regard to the consequences of that
horrible accident in Rome, and I rejoice in the thought that you are enjoying
so much, notwithstanding, for a most brilliant planetary system is plainly
revolving around you, as the center of light and warmth. I am so glad you see
so much of the Hugheses. They are among our eternal regrets. I echo everything
you say about both, and am alternately jealous of them that they can see you every
day, and almost envious of you for having so much of them. So you see that I am
full of evil passions. Nevertheless, I shall ever love perfidious Albion for
the sake of such friends as these, notwithstanding her high crimes and
misdemeanors toward a certain republic in difficulties which shall be nameless.
What can I say to you that can possibly amuse you from this place?
Perhaps I had better go into the haute politique. We live,
of course, in an atmosphere of Schleswig-Holsteinismus, which is as good
as a London fog in this dry climate. I don't attribute so much influence as you
do to the “early associations with Hamlet on the British mind.” Rather do I
think it an ancient instinct of the British mind to prefer a small power in
that important little peninsula, that it may be perpetually under the British
thumb. For myself, I take great comfort in being comparatively indifferent to
the results of the contest. As to its being decided on the merits, that is of
course out of the question. A war about Poland was saved, after a most heroic
effusion of ink in all the chanceries of Europe, by knocking Poland on the
head. And a war about Denmark may be saved by knocking Denmark on the head. As
to the merits of Schleswig-Holstein, are there any? Considered as private
property, these eligible little estates may be proved to belong to almost
anybody. Early in the ninth century the sand-banks of the Elbe were
incorporated in the Germanic empires, while those beyond the Eider were under
the suzerainty of Denmark. In the first half of the eleventh century all
Schleswig was Danish, and at the beginning of the thirteenth Holstein,
including Lübeck and Dithmarschen, was incorporated in the kingdom of Denmark.
Then there were revolutions, shindies of all kinds, republics, que sais-je? Then
came 1460, the election of King Christian I. of Denmark as Duke of
Schleswig-Holstein. There is much virtue in the hyphen. The patent of that
excellent monarch is extant, written in choice Plattdeutsch, by which he
declares the hyphen eternal. The provinces shall remain eternally together,
undivided, says the patent. What a pity the king, too, couldn't have been
eternal! The bon Roi d'Yvetot himself could n't have settled matters in
his domain more comfortably for all future times.
But I forbear. Who can help approving the pluck with which
little Denmark stands up to her two gigantic antagonists? But I am afraid there
has been too much judicious bottle-holding. Anyhow, it is amusing to watch the
chaos in the councils at Frankfort. The Diet is at its last gasp. Everybody has
a different proposition of' “combination” to make every day; everybody is
defeated, and yet there are no conquerors. The Bund means mischief, and
wriggles about, full of the most insane excitement, to the thirty-fourth joint
of its tail, but can do no harm to any one. Decidedly the poor old Bund is
moribund. What do you think of your young friend Maximilian, Montezuma I.? I
was never a great admirer of the much-admired sagacity of Louis Napoleon. But I
have been forced to give in at last. The way in which he has bamboozled that
poor young man is one of the neatest pieces of escamotage ever
performed. If he does succeed in getting the archduke in, and his own troops
out, and the costs of his expedition paid, certainly it will be a Kunststiick.
The priest party, who called in the French, are now most furiously denouncing
them, and swear that they have been more cruelly despoiled by them than by
Juarez and his friends. So poor Maximilian will put his foot in a hornets' nest
as soon as he gets there. Such a swarm of black, venomous insects haven't been
seen since the good old days of the Inquisition. Now, irritare crabrones is
a good rule, and so Max is to have the Pope's blessing before he goes. But if
the priests are against him, and the Liberals are for a republic, who is for
the empire?
Meantime he has had smart new liveries made at Brussels, to
amaze the Mexican heart. Likewise he has been seen trying on an imperial crown
of gilt pasteboard, to see in the glass if it is becoming. This I believe to be
authentic. But I am told he hasn't got a penny. Louis Napoleon is squeezing
everything out of him that he may have in prospect. In one of the collections
of curiosities in Vienna there is a staff or scepter of Montezuma, but I
believe his successor is not even to have that, which is, I think, unjust. The
celebrated bed of roses is, however, airing for him, I doubt not. I put into
this envelop a wedding-card of Rechberg and Bismarck,1 which has
been thought rather a good joke here, so much so as to be suppressed by the
police. It has occurred to me, too, that it might amuse you to look over a few
of the Vienna “Punches.” “Figaro” is the name of the chief Witzblatt here,
and sometimes the fooling is good enough. The caricatures of Rechberg are very
like; those of Bismarck less so.
Julian Fane has been shut up a good while, but, I am happy
to say, is almost himself again. I saw him a few days ago, and he bid fair to
be soon perfectly well, and he is as handsome and fascinating as ever. Dear
Lady William, can't you send me your photograph? You promised it me many times.
We have no picture of you of any kind. We should like much to have your three
sons. We have one of Odo, however. Likewise we should exceedingly like to have
one of Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, if you think you could get it for us, with
his autograph written below. He once promised it. Will you remember us most
sincerely and respectfully to him, and prefer this request? I shall venture
also to ask you sometimes to give our earnest remembrances to Lord and Lady
Palmerston. We never forget all their kindness to us. But if I begin to recall
myself to the memory of those I never forget, I should fill another sheet, so I
shall trust to you to do this to all who remember us. And pray do not forget
us.
Most sincerely yours,
J. L. M.
_______________
1 Caricature of the time.
SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The
Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley, Volume III, p. 9-14
