slightness and meagre proportions, occupy little space, and therefore do not intercept the rays of the sun. On this island are sheep of almost every race on the earth,-European, Asian, African, and American: I was in a philosophical mood, and was remarking how admirably each kind was adapted by its form and covering for its native land, when my gravity was overcome, and my philosophy sent to flight, by an exclamation from my companion, who begged of me to remark the shepherd of the flock; he was leaning on his crook at some distance, clad in the royal livery, with all its appurtenances of lapells, collars, ruffs, &c. and all its variety of colors: such an incongruity in dress and occupation is only to be met with in Prussia, where the rage for uniforms is carried to the greatest length every person in employment under government, military or civil, the clerks in the offices, the laborers on the public roads, and, as in the present instance, the shepherds in the royal parks, are classed in corps, and wear an uniform dress. The soil of the island is naturally very sandy, but labor and expense in many parts have rendered them congenial to almost every plant that can bear the severity of the climate, so that to a botanist, the excursion to the Fauen insel must have charms undiscoverable by the mere lovers of the picturesque beauties of nature. Having quitted the island, and regained our carriage, we soon passed a handsome villa, laid out in the English style, which formerly belonged to Prince Hardenberg, but is now the property of Prince Charles, the king's son. We then crossed one of the branches of the Havel, and in a short time entered Potsdam. As soon as we had descended from our vehicle, we hurried to Sans Souci: its position, as you approach from the gardens, crowning the topmost stage of a pile of terraces, decorated with a profusion of statues and orange trees, is extremely fine, and produces a noble effect: from this side of the palace is a rich and extensive view over the gardens and country beyond, but on the opposite side, at the front of the building close before it, is seen a bare hill, surmounted by a mill, a monument of the justice of Frederick, who, when its proprietor would not for any consideration sell the inheritance of his forefathers, respected his motives and prejudices; and although it materially interfered with his plans for the embellishment of this his favorite retreat, yet suffered him to remain free and unmolested: the prospect of this bare hill and bustling mill, gave him afterwards perhaps more pleasure than if the one had been changed to a picturesque ruin, the other covered with groves and gardens. The circular colonnade in front of the palace, is, I think, misplaced, and does not seem to belong to the building, but in itself is handsome; the rooms are rather small, and have a more comfortable appearance than those in most palaces. Frederick's bedroom is spacious; it remains in the same state as when he died there; the arm chair in which he breathed his last sigh, stands opposite to the table on which so many plans of victorious campaigns were drawn, and so many literary labors performed: This table even now retains the marks of the ink, which it was his habit to throw from his pen before he began to write. The little camp bed on which he always slept, is also shewn. The room is plainly furnished, the only decoration of the walls being a fine portrait of Gustavus Adolphus. In the library attached (a small circular room), you can find nothing but French and Italian books; such was his dislike to the German language, that he read the French translations of many German books, in preference to the original works. Amongst the translations and works relating to England, I remarked "La Vie d'Oliver Cromwell; les ouvrages et la vie de Sir William Temple; les œuvres de Pope; l'histoire d'Angleterre par Rapin;" besides others. In a detached building, is the famous collection of pictures: the finest are, a head of our Saviour by Raphael, equal, if not superior, to any I have seen in Italy; the expression is superb: next to this may be ranked the Vertumnus and Pomona, by Leonardo da Vinci; it is more fresh and vivid in color than most I have seen by this master; the chest of Pomona is of proper size and breadth, not narrow and contracted, like those of this artist's nymphs in general: we should, after this, place the Venus by Titian; then the Jupiter and Io, by Corregio (the expression in this picture is most voluptuous); next a Magdalen in the style of Guido, and Isaac blessing Jacob, by Vandyke; Bathsheba in the Garden, by Flink; different positions of the Laocoon, by Annibal Carracci, the drawing of which is magnificent; a fine large picture, by Rembrandt; St. Peter delivered from Prison, by Domenichino; Titian and his Mistress, by himself; St. John, by Andria del Sarto; a temptation of St. Antony, by Teniers, better finished than the generality of his pictures; and several small pieces by Vanderwerf, beautifully finished: the collection is not large, but is choice, and well taken care of. Leaving this fine gallery, with regret, we then walked through the gardens (passing the tombs raised by Frederick over the remains of his favorite dogs), to the new palace, erected in a florid style in the adjoining park. The gate and guard houses in front are handsome, but much neglected, and in bad order the stuccoed bas reliefs, and other ornaments, having in many places fallen off. The palace is very large; the design of its architecture is a bold cornice supported by pilasters, the intercolumniations of which are of bricks of a peculiar deep red colour; the contrast of these and the white pilasters is disadvantageous, and gives a mean and Dutch appearance to a building, the elevation of which is noble; the effect would have been corresponding, but from the bad taste shewn in the employment of the materials for its completion. I do not mean to say, that to produce a due effect in architecture, it is absolutely necessary that the materials of which a building is constructed, should be all of the same kind; it is often of service that they should be different, particularly when the line of building is of great extent, and the eye finds difficulty in seizing ai once the whole plan; the difference of shades and colors then assists in marking out the chief parts of the design, and embodies what otherwise would appear to resolve into parts; but this idea is to be acted upon with great caution; the colors of the materials should harmonize, and those of the lighter shade should be employed in the pillars, cornices, and other main points, the darker ought to fill up the intercolumniations. In the new palace, however, these rules have been violated, and hence the defects in the appearance of the building. We had delayed so long at Sans Souci, that we had only time to give a passing glance to several fine pictures, which ornament the walls of the elegant suite of rooms, in this the largest and most splendid of the royal residences. One picture I cannot pass over in silence; it is a small portrait of the late queen: so sweet and fair a form and face is met with so seldom, that he must be heartless indeed who would not pause and admire before he passed it by. The beauty and amiability of this queen must have been very endearing, for oftentimes, when people speak of her, tears stand in the eyes, even of those who have had no other interest or connexion with her, but that of being subjects to the throne she shared: the king at first was inconsolable for her loss, and when at Charlottenburg (in the gardens of which her tomb is raised), was accustomed to descend into the vault once each week to weep over her remains; whether he has relinquished this custom since his marriage with the Princess of Leignitz, I cannot tell, but in compliment to his gallantry and the charms of the latter lady, I suppose he has. The statue, by Ranch, ever this vault, is one of the most beautiful and affecting I have ever seen, and does him much credit; it represents the queen as she lay on her death bed, and is a very perfect likeness of her. The sculptor, being one of her household, happened to be in attendance at the time of her death, and then received the idea which he has since realized in marble. But let us return to the new palace: the hall of marble is superb; and another large saloon, whose walls, grotto like, are covered with polished shells and crystals, must be extremely brilliant when lighted up: in one of the rooms is a magnificent chandelier or lustre, presented to his majesty by our present king. We now returned to the town, and walked through its beautiful and regular streets. The buildings are certainly magnificent, but when you see one, you see all; there is but little originality in the architecture. Most of the forms and designs are copies or imitations of well-known buildings: a model of the portico of the Pantheon first meets your eye, then a copy of the Temple of Minerva at Athens, then the Chapel of Whitehall in miniature, then the Temple of Vesta, and then comes the portico again, and so on in succession. These designs, individually, are very beautiful; but their repetition disappoints and tires the observer, who, in street architecture, looks more for general effect, than for single examples of beauty and correct taste. For instance, these streets of Potsdam, with all their boasted chasteness and correctness of architecture, equal not, in picturesque effect, the main street of Inspruck, the Graben und Köhl Market at Vienna, or even the narrow and old-fashioned lanes (as I may call them) of Leipsig or Frankfort. The buildings erected here, and at Berlin, by Frederick, plainly shew with what design they were raised; he built them merely for himself and his own age; they were not intended for posterity. He wished to gratify his vanity by having a beautiful city ready for the reception of those who came from far and near to admire and flatter him. Instead, therefore, of employing his treasures in constructing sound substantial edifices, he desired a town to be built at once, and raised these shells of brick, which he afterwards covered without with a stucco or plaster made to resemble stone, and supported them with massy pillars; while within, perhaps, nothing is to be seen but bare walls. In some instances, they say, the wall next the street alone was built, and thus what appeared to be the entrance to some rich temple or magnificent palace, was a mere screen to shut out a dunghill or close a vista. In this cold climate, this stucco or cement frequently falls off, and exposes the poverty of the materials underneath; thus the ideas of grandeur and magnificence, formed at first sight, are lessened on examination of the buildings, and at last exceed but little those raised by an architectural picture or a theatrical scene. On the Parade, adjoining the Town Palace, a regiment of the Guards were going through their exercises; they were a fine body of men, and extremely well dressed. Their clothes are not made by contract; but in each regiment is a proportioned number of tailors, shoemakers, and other artizans, who supply their own corps: thus the uniform of each man fits him exactly, and none of those shapeless coats are to be seen which often disfigure some of the finest men in our service. The Prussians are, in general, a tall race of people, and as their choicest men are selected for the Guards, this corps has a very imposing appearance; the pantaloon they wear adds much also to their apparent height; the gaiter is joined to it, and, being of the same stuff and color, at a distance, a greater length of limb appears to belong to them than they really possess; add to this their tall caps and high shoulders, and the apparent height will be much increased. Near the Parade is the Cathedral, a small plain edifice, little worthy of the use to which it has been destined, for here rest the remains of Frederick the Great. Under the organ, which advances into the church from one of the longer side walls, is a small chapel of polished marble closed by a grated door, in which, raised a little from the ground, the coffins of Frederick and his father lie side by side; that of the former is of silver, the other of marble: no inscriptions, no ornaments, adorn the shrine dedicated to these relics, they lie alone with their glory." To such dead, inscriptions must have been either bombastical or mean; silence, on this occasion, speaks more solemnly and forcibly than the most labored eulogy. When the contemplation of an object is calculated to awaken ideas of noble and sublime character, the more these are left to the excitement of the imagination, the more imposing will be the effect produced; for those generated by the agency of others, are always less lively, less interesting to us, than the children of our own thoughts. Hence, when the subject is worthy of them, the majesty and beauty of the most simple epitaphs: that on Tasso, "Ossa Torquati Tasso," I had thought the most beautiful I had yet seen; but in the silence surrounding the tomb of Frederick, there is something more grand, more imposing, more affecting. The first act of Napoleon, on his arrival at Potsdam, was a pilgrimage to the shrine of Frederick, a saint worthy the homage of such a dovotee. His memory was one which, of all those handed down to us by history, Buonaparte most revered and admired. Whatever had belonged to the hero, he valued and kept as a talisman: in court or field, a sword of Frederick's hung by his side. It was Frederick's watch that marked his dying hour. Much pleased with our excursion, but not a little fatigued, it was late in the night before we found ourselves in our former quarters at Berlin. DER RITTER VON WEG, THE HUE AND CRY. IN Love's name you are charg'd hereby, Are ready marks to know the thief. Her hair, a net of beams, would prove Strong enough to captive Jove In his eagle shape; her brow Is a comely field of snow; Of flowers, both the king and queen; But from that voice, shall hear again--- T. CAREW. |