death of Louis XVI., and shed on the occasion several royal Prussian official tears. I have also read in a lady's almanac his History of the Hohenstaufen, and I also know his "Letters from Paris," in which he communicates to Madame Crelinger and her husband his views as to the theatres and public of this place. He is altogether a peaceable person, who falls quietly into line with the rest. He is the best among mediocre writers,[1] nor is he entirely devoid of salt, having a certain superficial erudition, resembling therein an old dried herring wrapped up in the waste-paper leaves of a learned book. I repeat it, he is the most peaceable, patient creature, who always lets himself be loaded by his betters, and trots obediently with his burden to the official mill, only stopping now and then where music is being played. To what a degree of baseness must the spirit of oppression in a Government have descended when even a Frederic von Raumer lost patience with it, and became restive and would trot no further, and even began to speak like a man! Did he perchance see the angel with the sword who stood in the way, and whom the blinded
- ↑ To which is added in the original—"And is not at all so dry and hidebound (nicht so ledern) as he looks." All of which sneering should be taken with much allowance. In the French version—"Ne s'arrêtant que là où l'on faisait de la musique de Sebastian Bach."—Translator.
