The Initials. Baroness Jemima Montgomery Tautphoeus

The Initials - Baroness Jemima Montgomery Tautphoeus


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Walk of no Common Description45V.An Alp61VI.Secularised Cloisters71VII.An Excursion and Return to the Secularised Cloisters89VIII.An Alpine Party108IX.Salzburg129X.The Return to Munich139XI.The Betrothal143XII.Domestic Details160XIII.A Truce176XIV.A New Way to Learn German187XV.The October Fête, and a Lesson on Propriety of Conduct195XVI.The Au Fair, and the Supper at the Brewery220XVII.Lovers’ Quarrels235XVIII.The Churchyard247XIX.German Soup251XX.The Warning263XXI.The Struggle268XXII.The Departure281XXIII.The Long Day286XXIV.The Christmas-Tree, and Midnight Mass292XXV.The Garret310XXVI.The Discussion318XXVII.The Sledge323XXVIII.A Ball at the Museum Club339XXIX.A Day of Freedom353XXX.The Masquerade362XXXI.Where is the Bridegroom?374XXXII.The Wedding au Troisième381XXXIII.A Change388XXXIV.The Arrangement395XXXV.The Difficulty Removed403XXXVI.The Iron Works407XXXVII.An Unexpected Meeting and its Consequences414XXXVIII.The Experiment423XXXIX.The Recall436XL.Hohenfels442XLI.The Scheiben-Schiessen (Target Shooting Match)450XLII.A Discourse459XLIII.Another Kind of Discourse464XLIV.The Journey Home Commences468XLV.What Occurred at the Hotel d’Angleterre in Frankfort474XLVI.Halt!481XLVII.Conclusion495

      THE INITIALS.

       THE LETTER.

       Table of Contents

      About twelve years ago (before the building of the Bayrischen Hof), the Golden Stag, kept by an old and very corpulent Frenchman, of the name of Havard, was considered the very best hotel in Munich. It was there that all crowned heads and royal personages took up their abode; and many and bitter were the complaints of English families obliged to turn out of their apartments to admit of the turning in of an emperor, king, or archduke! In the month of August, however, such guests were unusual; and, accordingly, a young English traveller had remained for a week in undisturbed possession of one of the most comfortable rooms in the house. He seemed, however, thoroughly dissatisfied with it or with himself, walked impatiently up and down, looked long and listlessly out of the window, and then, with evident effort and stifled yawn, concluded a letter which he had previously been writing. A few lines of this letter I shall transcribe.

      “I have continued to take notes most carefully of everything I have seen or heard since I left you; but I fear, my dear sister, the travels or wanderings, or sketches with which I intended to astonish the world on my return home, must be given up; for in the present day one can travel from London to Jericho without a chance of seeing anything not already succinctly described in the guide-books! I thought I had discovered why my brother John never met with any amusing adventures when my father sent him abroad. He spoke wretched French, and no German. Poor fellow; I did him great injustice. For even I, who, from not being the first-born, have a sort of natural claim to intellect—even I, who have studied German for six years, and can speak French fluently—even I must write stupid, commonplace letters, and acknowledge that composing a book is not so easy as I thought. I left home three weeks ago, and, excepting that lucky explosion of the steam-engine after we left Cologne, nothing has occurred worthy of notice. I must endeavour to get among these Germans; for travelling through a country without becoming intimate with some of the inhabitants, though it may enable me to judge


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