ladies studying the works of Pope, Gray, Byron, or Scott, as it is to hear them enquiring in the shops for English needles or English pelisses. French poetry is in all respects, so diametrically opposed to German taste, that it is impossible it should meet with much popularity. The lovers of Faust and of Werter are not very likely to admire the cold canons of Boileau; and the satirical persiflage of Voltaire and Diderot, is death to the romance and sentiment of German readers. The difference is about as wide as that between the German and the Frenchman, whom Coleridge* met at Rome examining Michael Angelo's Moses, or as that between another pair of the two nations, whom some English visitors met at the tomb of Heloise and Abelard, in the burial-ground of Pere la Chaise. The stout built German was weeping with Pope's Epistle in his hand; while the elegant Frenchman was tripping about the tomb, humming tol lol de rol la, and inflicting smart raps on the stone pillars with his cane. -Schiller used to say "tolerate every

• Vide his Biographia Literaria.

THEIR DISLIKE OF FRENCH POETRY.

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thing, but the French taste never tolerate.” Goethe, whose tastes appear sometimes as capricious and universal as his powers, and who bee-like, has extracted sweets from the whole range of nature and of art, has sometimes taken the French Drama into great favour. He translated and produced on the Weimar stage Voltaire's Mahomet, and several other pieces: but Schiller, like a true German, reproached him in an indignant poetical address, with this infidelity to the German muse; and even Goëthe did not succeed in rendering the French scenes popular. French poetry is thus even less read in Germany than in England. We are a sort of veterans in the belles lettres, and both ladies and gentlemen in London of the most moderate literary pretensions, read and compose, and criticize books of all languages, all principles, and all styles. But in Germany, where poetry and art are comparatively in their infancy, people read more from unlettered sentiment, from a simple admiration of the beautiful: they therefore seek out instinctively those works which are most congenial to the fresh simplicity

of their feelings and mental habits. The adorers of Goëthe and Schiller and Körner turn with delight to the deep and kindred Teutonic genius of our bard of chivalry, and our bard of heart-searching power; but they relish even less than ourselves the cold generalities, and heartless elegance of the French school.

Among other great and little grandees— I met at Darmstadt, a Prince of Hesse Homburg, a distinguished officer in the Austrian service, and son of the Landgrave of Homburg, vor der hohe, (before the height) -a less than duodecimo territory, at the foot of the Taunus Mountains, near Frankfort. Homburg was, before the late system of making and unmaking Sovereigns, an appanage of a younger branch of the family of Hesse Darmstadt, under the suzeraineté of the Grand Duke, with a territory literally not much exceeding, in size, that of Lilliput, "twelve miles in circumference." It contained, then, about 6000 inhabitants. Now the little state is swelled into an absolute monarchy. A patch of territory is given to it on the other side of the Rhine; it musters from 18,000 to 20,000 subjects,

7

HOMBURG ONCE A FIEF OF ENGLAND. 65

and contains 10 square German (about 250 square English) miles. This enormous aggrandizement is probably in some degree owing to the influence at Vienna of the sons of the late Sovereign, distinguished and meritorious officers in the service of the Emperor of Austria. The Prince Gustavus whom I met at Darmstadt, is a pleasant middle-aged man, of simple unaffected manners. His elder brother, the present Landgrave, the husband of our Princess Elizabeth, is generally praised and esteemed as a brave honest soldier; and though the alliance is not distinguished by much territorial dignity, yet honourable character and military distinction are, perhaps, all which an English Princess need demand, in the individual whom she honours with her hand. One of the brothers is married to a Princess of Prussia. Homburg is a pretty little place, situated in a beautiful country at the foot of noble mountains. The revenue of the state I believe about 15,0007. a year.

It is a curious fact, of which I am apprised by a German friend, that this marriage is not the first connection of little

F

Hesse Homburg with England. As far back as the year 1294, Homburg became, by a singular bargain, a fief of our Edward I. The Emperor Adolphus (of Nassau) was involved in a dispute with Philip of France, with whom our Edward being also disposed to quarrel, entered into a close alliance with the Emperor, and engaged him to declare war against Philip. The chief agent between the two Sovereigns, and the great promoter of the alliance, was Adolphus's favourite, Eberhard Count of Katzenellenbogen (anglicè Cat's Elbow) and Lord of Homburg. The King of England, in his anxiety to secure this Ambassador to his interest, persuaded him to become his vassal, seconding his proposal by 5001. of good English gold, which it appears possessed not less attraction to little Princes in those days than in these. The Count could not resist the offer, and actually took the oath of allegiance, before an English Ambassador, to the English King, for the castle and town of Homburg.