Tour in England, Ireland, and France, in the years 1826, 1827, 1828 and 1829.: with remarks on the manners and customs of the inhabitants, and anecdotes of distiguished public characters. In a series of letters by a German Prince.Pückler-Muskau, Hermann, Fürst von
History
Tour in England, Ireland, and France, in the years 1826, 1827, 1828 and 1829.: with remarks on the manners and customs of the inhabitants, and anecdotes of distiguished public characters. In a series of letters by a German Prince.
Pückler-Muskau, Hermann, Fürst von
Great Britain -- Description and travel; Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 19th century
A visit from Count F----, one of the most agreeable and respectable
representatives of Napoleon's time, who carried into the Imperial Court
'les souvenirs de l'ancien regime,' and into the present one the
reputation of spotless integrity and fidelity, (a most rare
instance!)--here interrupted me. He came to invite me to dinner
to-morrow. This has detained me:--it is too late to ride; I am not in
the humour to seek Club society: I shall put on a second dressing-gown,
dream about you and M----, read over your letters, and patiently freeze
in my room,--for more than eight degrees of heat I find it impossible to
procure by means of an open fire in my airy and many-windowed room.--'Au
revoir,' then.
_February 10th._
It was fair that I should indemnify myself to-day for my confinement to
my room, so I wandered about in the neighbourhood for many hours. I
enjoyed my freedom the more, as I was to execute myself in the evening
at a great subscription ball.
The country all around is certainly very remarkable; for in a four hours
ride I did not see a single full-grown tree. Yet the numerous hills, the
large town in the distance, several smaller ones scattered about, the
sea and ships--all under rapidly changing lights, sufficiently
diversified the landscape; and even the contrast with the generally
well-wooded character of England was not without its charms. The sun at
length retired to rest incognito, the sky cleared, and the moon rose
cloudless and brilliant over the waters. I now turned my horse's head
from the hills down to the sea, and rode five or six miles, about the
distance to Brighton, hard on the edge of the waves along the sandy
shore. The tide was coming in, and my horse sometimes shyed when a
wave, crowned with snowy foam, rolled under his feet and quickly
retreated as if in sport.
I love nothing better than to ride alone by moonlight on the wide
shore,--alone with the plashing and roaring and murmuring of the
waves;--so near to the mysterious deep, that my horse can only be kept
within reach of its rolling waters by force, and as soon as his rein is
loosened darts away with redoubled speed towards the firm land.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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