THE TOMB OF THK QUEEN OF 1’BL'SSI A. |
An interesting volume has lately been published
n England, entitled “Notes and Reflections dur- \
mg a Ramble in Germany,” by the author of the |
“ Recollections of the Peninsula,” he. The wri- I
ter’s visit to the tomb of the Queen of Prussia is
There is a woman's grave near Berlin, which all
trav ellers do fondly and reverently visit. No one i
needs to be informed of the life, the fortunes, and |
tlic fate of the late beloved Queen of Prussia—be- j
loved, not only bv a devoted husband, but by an .
entire people, who respected her pure example, as !
a wife and a mother, and adored her patriot spirit
as their queen. The subject of indignities, which [
ever have been, and never will be, forgiven :
to the iron Napoleon ; and the witness of public ca- '
lamities, which, although they could not subdue '
her generous and royal mind, corroded the inward '
principle of life, stole the bloom from her youthful
check, the light from her fair eyes, bowed down
her beautiful form, broke her young heart, and laid
her in the tomb.
This tomb is in the garden of Charlottenburgh. ;
Acquainted with it by no previous description, I
1ft the palace of Charlottenburgh, and walked
-own the garden alone, the person in attendance
having pointed out the direction, and promising to
1 allow with the key. It was not without surpiise
that 1 came suddenly among trees, upon a fair white
Done temple. I might, and should have deemed
■: a mere adornment of the grounds—a spot sacred
to silence, or the soft breathed song: but the cy
press and the willow declared it us a habitation ol
the dead. There was an aged invalid busih occu
pied about the portal, in sweeping away the dead
and yellow leaves which gathered there, and which
‘.he November blast, in mockery of his vain labour,
drove back upon it, in larger anil louder eddies.— j
He shook bis gray bead at me, and not seeing any ;
body with me, warned me petulantly away. Nay, !
w hen the guardian came, it might be fancy, but be
seemed ill pleased that the sanctuary should be vio
Upon a sarcophagus of white marble lay a sheet; |
and the outline of a human form was plainly \isible j
beneath its folds. It seemed 3S though he remov- '
ed a winding sheet, to show a beloved corpse, when 1
the person with me reverently turned it back and j
displayed the statue of his queen. It is a portrait i
statue recumbent, 6aid to be a perfect resemblance!
not as in death, but when she lived to bless and be
;dossed. Nothing can be more calm and kind than
the expression of her features. The hands are
■'olded on the bosom ; the limbs are sufficiently
.rossed to show the repose of life. She does but
deep—she scarce sleeps ; her mind and heart are j
on her sweet lips. It is the work of Hauch, and j
’.he sculptor may, indeed, be proud. He has given
10 the widowed king a solace for his life. Here !
me King often comes, and passes long hours alone;
here he brings her children annually, to offer gar- !
'ands at her grave. These hang in withered j
mournfulness above this living image of their de
parted mother : ar.d each year seer them renewed
Kven a stranger might sit soothed for hours by
the side of' tills marble form ; it breathes such puri
ty, such peace. 1 wish it was more the custom in
these days to place the portrait-statue, recumbent,
on the monument of the dead. It is the finest kind
ot memorial; nor less so, 1 think, even where, as
in the middle ages, it is allow ed to approach to the
appearance of the corpse, provided the features
be preserved, and the general execution, nature :
the fillet round the temples, the cheeks slightly
collapsed, and the limbs stretched out in-the stony
rigidity ot death, have a most affecting and sub
Certainly going front France into Switzerland
is like passing through Purgatory to Paradise.
And Switzerland is an earthly Paradise. The
majeetic trees, the verdant fields, the blooming
enclosure', the deep blue waters of the wide
expanded lake , its richly cultivated shores, with
picturesque cottages, cheerful country houses,
sweet villages and hamlets reposing on its
banks; the woods, the rocks, the half seen
opening valleys; the lofty mountains; the Alps
in all the majesty of nature; the hoary summit
of Mount lilane, crowned with its eternal snows
No! vainly should 1 seek to give you an idea
of this land of surpassing beauty! All that is
lovely, romantic, glorious, and sublime in the
works of nature, are combined in these scenes
of varied enchantment! Nothing can he more
animated than the scenery of Switzerland. The
whole countrv is overspread with rural habita
lions. Hero you sec the wealthy substantial
farm-house, compactly built of wood, with its
steep projecting roof, covered with wooden
shingles, secured withlpoles and stones, unpaint
ed, but well varnished with its own native
brown coat of exuded rosin; perchance carved
over with quaint texts of scripture, and always
sheltered under venerable umbrageous walnut
trees, from the fruits of which the peasants ex
tract their oil. Turn aside and there, in a deep
pastoral valley, at the base of some beetling
mountain, which seems to threaten its humble
rool with the terrible avalanche, stands a sweet
lowlv cottage, tilled with busy inmates, and
surrounded with every appearance of rural la
bor and contentment. High above,perched on
some aerial summit, acccssuble only to the shep
herds and the chamois, you behold the Alpine,
(-halet, or mountain dairy, tenanted only in
summer, while the cows are grazing on the
fields.—[ Coni. ,Adventures.
The Edinburgh papers mention the singular
(act that Waverly, the first and probably the
best of Sir Walter Scott’s prose w orks, remained
unpublished for nearly ten years after it was
written. In ls(ij i’allantync offered it for pub
lication, but, for want ol encouragement, deem
ed it prudent to defer it. Sir Walter himself
did not appear to place much confidence in this
effort of ln» genius, and is said at one time to
have been on the point of giving the mannscript
to some sportsmen, who applied to L ;u for wad
ding for their g*i ■
“ The patriotic boast where’er we roam,
Our first best county ever is at home.”
There is no trait, perhaps, more common or more
amiable in the human character, than the attach
tnent which each individual feels for his native
place. — With what resistless, tender, and soul-silt
duing influence does the remembrance of pas'
scenes and pleasures frequently rush upon on
mind ‘ Our native hills and vatlies, the murmuring
rills, the groves, the meadows, and the field.,
which w itnessed the innocence and sportings of on
youthful years, arise before the imagination, arm
ed in all their beauty. We, lonely, look hack with
tender affection to the sacred spot where repos,
the slumbering asU^s of our departed kindred ar. '■
friends. In the cliaste and picus meditatwe
feel a pleasurable melancholy steal ever cur s-n...
which we would net exchange for all the spark liny,
joys of transient and unsubstantial amusements.
Hut awakening from the pleasant reverie, we fin.'
that w e are in a distant land surrounded with stran
gers. In vain do we look around for the friend
and companions of youth ; but all is sad, lone!-,
and disconsolate, fell us not that the gales whic'
fan us arc perfumed with odours ; that the gentle
zephyr brings he-ith and halm on its wings; that
roses and jessamines fill the soft air with fragrance,
and Uiat the verdant mantle ot nature is spanglcc
with flutters of the richest eyes, ior neither tie.
spicy gales, the balmy breath of the gentle zephyr
nor the roses, nor jessamines, nor nature’s fairest
livery, e.ptal the air, the beauty, ami enchantment
of our native laud. 1 > us the whispers of paternal
love, tenderness and affection, would be more
grateful and soothing than the gentle tannings of
the south wind, ur the spicy breeze. To us, more
pleasing would he the sight of our parental man
sion, though hung with icicles, and surrounded with
the desolate emblems of winter, than the beauty
and verdure attached to a distant land.
“ E’en the loud torrent and the whirlw ind’s roar.
But bind us to our native mountains more.-’
CHAT TEUTON’S MAUSOLEUM.
IN car Hath, is a rude, but substantial gothic
arch raised between (he bosom of two bills, over
which is placed.
“ With a look, that's fastened to the ground,
A longue chain’d up without a sound,”
the profile, in relief, of the unfortunate bard,
and under it, the following inscription, parth
taken from a sentiment writer in the new aum:
UNTOIHT\ATE BOV !
Short mill trial I.’1 rt tin/ dal/ s,
hut the vigor of tho ge/iiu ••
Shall immortalize thee
U,\fOUTUNATE BOV 1
hj ovtut thou arronirnotlulrd during //, -
short stno among us.
Thou livedst unnotieed :
hut thy lame shall never die.
Rebind the head appears part of a much ;<i„
ken lyre, and the young laurel, planted i v his
side, seems disposed to entangle itself an.id •
(he broken chord , or <o adorn bis Lu o
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