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Letters dated 19 Dec. 1864 and 19 July 1865.

C/o Fräulein Kretschmer, 8 Räcknitz Strasse, Dresden.—Is sorry to hear of her ill health. His party are suffering from the heat. Gives an account of his friends' visit to Prague and the battlefield of Sadowa.—(Some days later.) Describes his various activities and excursions, and refers to other English visitors at Dresden. When he returns to England he will have to go straight to Cambridge for his fellowship examination.

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Fraülein† Kretschmer, 8 Räcknitz Strasse[,] Dresden.

Dearest Mama

I was very glad indeed to get your letter this morning, and to hear that you have so much enjoyed the visit of Susan & Aunt Smythe. But I don’t like to hear of your weakness and headaches. I hope it is only the effect of the hot weather. We have all been suffering from it more or less—chiefly in the form of indigestion and incapability to do anything whatever except sit on the Terrasse in the evening and sip iced coffee followed by Kemel {1} or Vermuth. Iced coffee is the most magnificent institution conceivable; you merely let your coffee get cold and then put an ordinary vanilla ice into it. Kemel is a liqueur made of carraway seeds; much the cleanest-tasted of any liqueur I have ever known. It comes from Russia. Vermuth is a bitter, supposed to have some of the invigorating effects of quinines: but I suspect it plays the deuce with the coats of your stomach if you take it too often. Pryor and Forrest made an excursion to Prague and Sadowa. They liked Prague exceedingly, and say it is a most interesting town—especially the old bridge from which S. John Nepomucen was thrown for refusing to disclose the Queen’s confession. They saw at Prague a hospital-convent, where the nuns are very able physicians and surgeons, but do all their work for nothing. Forrest says it is a better plan than the blanket societies for tea and flirtation that one finds at home. Then they went to see the battlefield of Sadowa {2}. It is made of very ordinary cornfields and pine wood, perhaps rather more fertile since the fight. After studying the ground and several histories of the war they have come to the conclusion that the needle-gun had very little to do with the business. It appears that people bayonetted each other for three hours in a pine-wood, and one Prussian regiment which went into the wood consisting of 3000 men and 90 officers, came out with just 100 men and 2 officers. The Saxon soldiers were exposed by the Austrians to cover their reserve, and were much exasperated in consequence: which paved the way for the Prussian operations here very considerably.

So far I got on the day I received your letter—I dare not think how long ago. I have been trying daily to finish this, but something always prevented me—either Walter rushed in with some Statics to be explained, or Mrs Watt’s† started her piano in the next room, or Dr Schier came to give a German lesson. I don’t know why, but the time seems to pass very quickly and to leave no results. I have not known the day of the week for a long time till Pryor took me to Church on Sunday. I like Kitto the English Chaplain very much. There was a great fair here called the Vogelwiese (bird-meadow). It is chiefly to celebrate the contest of shooting at popinjays with crossbows, a very ancient institution now degenerated. I had the happiness of riding in a merry-go-round with great glee, holding a wand-teufel {3}, a drum with one end open tied to the end of a stick, which makes a ghastly row when you swing it round. Then we went again to Saxon Switzerland and slept at Schandau. We arrived at Schandau in the middle of the night, having decided quite late in the day to try to reach it. Moss the master of Shrewsbury has been here, and now there are two Oxford men, one a fellow of Baliol†. At length I have found the Spottiswoodes, having met them at Church on Sunday—must go and call. The hot weather has given me a bad habit of working all day and only going out in the evening, when one is too tired to get much good; and now that the cold weather has come it is difficult to get right again. Here your second letter arrives: no wonder you don’t know what’s the matter. But I will be more good in future. Gordon Wigan has come; he will stay on with Forrest when the rest of us are away. We went to Freiberg the day before yesterday, and investigated a lead-mine. It was necessary to go up and down by ladders, which was very fatiguing, though I think climbing about at the bottom was even worse. People were casually blasting to a small extent all about. After doing the mine we saw the smelting works which are also interesting. Altogether one came home very tired. Wigan has bought a small snake in the marketplace for 9d. It is a kind of coronella, quite harmless, and very amusing. He wouldn’t be quiet on the bell rope, so I have had him here on the table—about two feet long. I took him down today to frighten everybody.

I shall get back to England I hope in ten days or a fortnight from now. I am afraid it will be necessary to go on to Cambridge at once, because my fellowship examination comes on the end of September. Still one will get away all the earlier at Christmas. Very best love to all: believe me to be

your most affectionate son
+W. K. Clifford.

Glad to see that Exeter is to have the Brit. Assoc. next year.

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{1} Kümmel.

{2} A village in Bohemia (now Sadová in the Czech Republic), near which the battle of Königgratz, or Sadowa, the decisive battle of the Austro-Prussian War, took place on 3 July 1866.

{3} A mistake for Waldteufel, a kind of friction drum.

† Sic.

C/o Fräulein Kretschmer, 8 Räcknitz Strasse, Dresden.—The weather is hot. His party have been to the opera with relatives of Emerson and have put on an ‘entertainment’. Tomorrow they are going to Saxon Switzerland. Describes their usual activities on Sundays and other days.

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Fraülein† Kretschmer, 8 Räcknitz Str.
Dresden, Friday July 24/68

Dear Papa and Mama

The chief thing to be noticed is that it is awfully hot. Today, indeed, there is a slight improvement: one can sit in one’s bath to read without absolutely getting boiled. We never dream of wearing any clothes after tea, but even so it is too hot. By all accounts you seem to suffer in the same way in England. In the morning we wear Alpaca coats without waistcoats—if I can get a decently small front I shall leave off shirts also. The opera is of course quite insupportable. On Tuesday we went to Masaniello {1} with some Yankees who have been staying here. They are called Emerson, are relatives of the great philosopher, and come from Boston. After the opera, Kitty Emerson and I contrived to lose ourselves in the Grosse Garten, and did not come back till everybody had been out to look for us. Next morning, Mr Emerson wanted to speak to me privately after breakfast. Conceive my dismay, and the ill-concealed exultation of the rest! He only wanted to pay for the tickets, however. On Wednesday evening we had everybody up here to see a grand entertainment, conjuring, a German charade, and electro-biology, concluded with God save the Queen on two combs and an opera-hat. Yesterday the Emersons went away. There are plenty of nice people left, though; a Mr & Mrs Watts, and the Skrines, an English family living in the town to whom we have been introduced; besides the people belonging to the house, fr. Anna von Zschüschen and Clärchen von something else. Our own party consists of the two Pollocks, {2} Pryor, Forrest, and I. Pryor keeps going into the country to see some naturalistic friends of his: comes back suddenly with two edible frogs five lizards and a green snake. Forrest is the son of that Indian officer Colonel Forrest who fastened the bags of powder to the gate of Delhi and was shot down but not killed. {3} The only thing against him is that he writes for the Daily Telegraph. Tomorrow we make an excursion to the Saxon Switzerland, so called because it is the least mountanous† part of Bohemia. The Emersons went there about a week ago, and brought back glowing accounts. Fraülein† Kretschmer’s part of the house consists of two flats; we are located on the upper one. We go to the Hof-Kirche (Court-Church; where the King goes when he is at home) to hear high mass on Sunday morning, then stroll through the Picture-gallery till dinner-time, which is 2 on Sundays: sleep till six: keep an open-air concert till tea-time, and after that go to look at the dancing at one of the saloons. No one has yet ventured to join in, though we have been getting dancing lessons, which are great fun. The Vienna waltz is a deux-temps at just double the ordinary pace! It would send everybody spinning if one tried it in England. On other days we read in the morning, German or Gymnastics in the afternoon, dance, concert, or theatre in the evening. So glad all the little ones are well. With very best love to them believe me to remain

Your most affectionate son
W. K. Clifford.

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{1} La Muette de Portici, ou Masaniello (1828), an opera by Daniel Auber.

{2} Fred and Walter.

{3} Captain (sic) George Forrest (1803/4-59), of the Bengal artillery, was one of three surviving officers awarded the Victoria Cross for the defence of the Delhi magazine on 11 May 1857. He died of his injuries two years later.

† Sic.

26 Colville Road, Bayswater, W.—Sketches the seating arrangement for a proposed dinner-party, and sends greetings from his wife.

(Dated Monday(?). The bride and bridegroom depicted in the sketch are probably Emma Pipon and Walter Pollock, who were married on Tuesday, 11 January 1876.)

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26 Colville Road | Bayswater. W.
Monday {1} Evening

Dear Sir Frederic†

[There follows a sketch-plan showing a seating arrangement round a dining-table, with various articles on the table. The sitters are labelled, clockwise, as ‘The fair young bride’, ‘The dear girl’, ‘Sir F. P.’, ‘Mrs W.K.C.’, ‘The dark young bridegroom’, ‘Miladi’, ‘W.K.C.’ Next to the last-named is ‘Smut’, the dog.]

There you are! Space has more dimensions than men quwhot of, but I have contrived to get on the free list. The thing in the middle is not, as you would of course suppose, the book of Genesis open at the account of the 6 days of creation, but a cruet-stand containing 6 varieties of condiment. I am instructed to send my wife’s love and to say that she would have written herself if I had not taken it in hand through observing that she is tired from going to Woolwich to say that she has got another finger-glass from her Aunt and everything is now quite as she (not her Aunt) could desire except Smut who has got the pip, poor beggar, and is getting bald—the Balder the Beautifuller, as the Eddas say. However, you must not now disappoint us, or what will the Dear Girl do? We can’t dine with two ghosts, and now that I have drawn the picture I perceive an a priori necessity for dining in the number of perfection. The Ding an Sich is a mere mistake for dine seven at seven.

Yours always
W. K. Clifford.

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{1} Reading uncertain.

† Sic.

9 Park Place, Hills Court, Exeter.—The Master (of Trinity?) has sent him a kind testimonial. Walter, who is off to Bodmin tomorrow, looks much better and seems to like being marshal. Relates an amusing story about a drunken servant.

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9 Park Place
Hills Court
Exeter, July 28/71

Dear Sir Frederic†

Many thanks for your kind note. I have been on the point of writing to you for some time to say that the master sent me a most kind testimonial and note, which pleased me immensely. Walter is off to Bodmin tomorrow; he looks much better and seems to like being marshal.

There is a gentleman living near here who drove into Exeter the other day and was just going back when one of his servants called Samson came to him dead drunk and asked to be taken home. On the way he talked seriously to him and said—Now, Samson, if I were to get into this state, just think what would happen.—Wellshire, Ishpo you’ld shay Shamson, drive me home; and Ishbe proudooit Shir, proudooit!

Believe me always
Yours most truly
W. K. Clifford.

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† Sic.

58 Montagu Square, London, W.—His health did not suffer by the journey. He got to the ‘diagram man’ just in time to prevent him spoiling them. The experiment will not ‘come off’, but he will repeat the lecture elsewhere in order to do it. ‘Miladi’ (Lady Pollock) has written to her.

(Dated Thursday. The reference to ‘Miladi’ (Lady Pollock) suggests that the letter was written after 23 August 1870, when her husband succeeded to the baronetcy. A reference to Cambridge suggests a date before September 1871, when Clifford moved to London.)

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59 Montagu Square, London, W. {1}

Dearest Mama

I am very much better and did not take any cold on the journey. Mitchell was a great brick and took all possible care of me, and I kept wrapped up all the way. Walter met me on the station and carried me off in a cab. I have been lying down a good deal, and only appeared for a short time last night. This morning I breakfasted in bed, but got to the diagram man only just in time; for he is very stupid and would have spoilt all the diagrams {2} in another day. The experiment I am afraid won’t come off; but I can’t be beaten in that way, and shall repeat the lecture somewhere else on purpose to do it—perhaps make a Sunday lecture of it at Cambridge. This afternoon I have been consulting authorities at the Royal institution, and am rather tired; but now I shall take a long rest. Miladi says she wrote to you this morning but is not sure that Walter has not made a mistake about posting it. I have got some more poppy-heads. How are Edie’s throat and Kitty’s tooth and your indigestion? Now I must stop and have some tea, and send the letter to post; so good-bye.

Your most loving son.
Willie.

Thursday afternoon.

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Black-edged paper.

{1} The home of (William) Frederick Pollock.

{2} Probably diagrams for a lecture. As the next sentence indicates, the lecture had originally been intended to include an experiment.