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Updated: June 9, 2025
I like best the Berlin that sings with the students in the undiscovered, untainted wein and bier stuben of the thitherward thoroughfares, the Berlin that dances in the Joachimstrasse, where the mädels, each to herself a Cecilie, shirtwaisted, poor, happy, kick up their German heels, drink up their German beer, assault the Schweizerkäse and bring back memories of that paradise of all paradises the Englischer Garten of Munich the Incomparable, the Divine.
It is the gathering place of the students. It consists of a hall and a garden, the one facing the street, the other walled in at the rear. The hall is made of common stone, bald and unadorned save by four dingy windows and a tarnished sign, "Garten," which hangs obliquely over the entrance.
Cyr, in prolongation of the line, was to operate from the Grosse Garten; while Ney and the Duke of Treviso, with four divisions of the Young Guard, were from the Pirna road to engage the enemy's right, and to give time to General Nansouty, with his cavalry corps, to effect the same manoeuvre on this flank which Murat had received instructions to accomplish on the other.
Billington told me that he had hardened himself to the demands of his office by killing rats with his teeth. During my engagement at the Winter Garten, Berlin, Captain Veitro, a performer that I had known for years in America, where he worked in side shows and museums, came to Berlin and made quite a stir by eating poisons.
"Dat it ish, miss," he said; "but I vorks pretty hard mineself, and my son Shakey, he gifs me von leetle lift ven he ton't pees too much in school." "Do you live here?" asked little Grace. "Here in dis garten? no, miss; I lifs oud boud t'ree mile in de country." "That's a long walk for you, isn't it?" said Lulu.
There are few houses of rank where strangers are received; the animation of former times is gone. The ambassadors live retired. The monarch's state of health makes him averse to society. Prince Metternich's house is the only one constantly open; "but while he remains at his Garten, to trudge there for a couple of hours' general conversation, is not very alluring."
This received fresh impetus from the afternoon concerts in the Grosser Garten at Dresden, where I often heard my favourite music played by Zillmann's Town Band, as I thought, exceedingly well. The mysterious joy I felt in hearing an orchestra play quite close to me still remains one of my most pleasant memories.
Their position indicated that something else was on the sign: the stronger diameters presently brought out "CARL ELZNERS"; the strongest I had were exhausted in bringing out "GARTEN UND GASTHAUS." When this, the utmost dimension, was reached, I photographed it. Then, taking ordinary magnifiers, I began upon that part of the sign where, if anything remained unevoked, it would be found.
That no particular route has yet been set aside for bald-headed men or "new women" has always struck me as an omission. In the Grosse Garten in Dresden I once came across an old lady, standing, helpless and bewildered, in the centre of seven tracks. Each was guarded by a threatening notice, warning everybody off it but the person for whom it was intended.
Wednesday morning, 21st November, 1769: it is Finck's fourth day on Maxen; his last in the Prussian Service. That same Wednesday Afternoon there were ranked in the GROSSE GARTEN at Dresden, of dejected Prussian Prisoners from Maxen, what exact number was never known: the Austrians said 15,000; but nobody well believed them; their last certain instalment being only, in correct numbers, 2,836.
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