Wednesday night2
My dear Tom
As I came along I thought I would dot down the impressions and incidents of the journey, and had this thought not occurred to me thus it would not occur to me now. Every man has his hours of strength and clearness and he ought to know how to carry out the resolves then made through hours of weakness and muddiness. During the latter he ought to ask no questions, suggest no doubts, entertain no fears, as the obedient serving man of himself in higher moments. He may thus preserve his life from extreme and ridiculous oscillations, at one moment crying like Dean Swift3
Here I go up, up, up!
and at the next
here I go down, down, downy!4
I hate this undulatory life – its general level must be cast high for otherwise every Wellenberg5 is infallibly compensated by a Wellenthal6 the average height of existence being uninfluenced by either. I should like to have seen you before leaving London – the thing would have been more human though perhaps less firm. On the whole I think I prefer the latter to the former; but no I am an egotist I like to be firm myself but to see others human. I rose on monday with the intention of leaving that day, a little bird whispered me that I should succeed. I went to the Prussian Consul but could get no pass, to Mr Taylor’s bankers7 but could get no letter. I went to the Royal Institution wrote a letter stating who I was, took it to the foreign office in Downing St,8 but the attendants assured me that no notice would be taken of it. The Board of Trade9 was at hand I went in to enquire for Capt. Wynne and found that he was in Dublin. The thought occurred to me of going straight to the President of the Board mr Cardwell.10 I went, saw him, told him my perplexity.11 Well said he I’ll tell you how you perplex me. As a man of science I know Mr Tyndall’s standing, but how am I to know that you are Mr Tyndall. You must be introduced to me. I went to Marlborough House,12 saw Playfair got a note certifying that I was really myself, went back with it, found all doors open for me, and got my passport. On leaving Mr Cardwell he said to me “I hope when you come back that you will let me know you better” Started from London bridge at 6.10: reached Dover, walked about and dropped into a cosy little coffee room where I built a brick into my mortal edifice and smoked a cigar, at 12 oC[lock] loosed from the quay. travelled 2nd class and 2nd cabin – I stooped over into the latter but the smell created a million associations of sea sickness and I retreated. Spread my rug on deck and lay down upon it – my cat skin coat13 being on. Slept there with the gray clouds for my curtains, during part of the time it rained upon me. From Ostende14 the following morning. had to travel first class for which I swore, internally, if not audibly. There was no second class and I had to pay 16 francs supplement. At 6 in the evening got a view of the Rhine, stretching up and down under the calm sunset like a long memory. at 8 oC[lock] started from Cologne. the twilight advanced and the landscape darkened duller and duller, more and more monotonous, the eye wandered over it and at length for want of variety got numbed and listless, a dreamy dull consciousness crept over me. The lamps however were lighted and on the opposite seat was a lady,15 to look at whom I turned from the leaden landscape outside. She at length became sleepy, endeavoured to put herself in a comfortable position, spread a little cushion on the seat, laid her white handkerchief upon the cushion, and her glossy black hair upon the white handkerchief as poor John Keats16 has it, it resembled
“the feathers of crow
falling on a wreath of snow”17
Her face was beautiful as she lay there, the curves were drawn very tenderly; over her countenance there was a freshness, not a rose pink tint laid merely upon the surface, but a flush coming from a depth underneath and resembling the eastern sky before day-dawn – By the way Tom Clausius has proved that this morning–red is due to the transmission of the light through the steam bladders in the atmosphere18 – I thought I should like to kiss her and then I analysed this thought and endeavoured to get a clear view of where the angelic ends in these matters and the demonic commences. I compared the desire of kissing her with that of kissing a sweet little boy and I think I noticed the following distinction I should like to kiss the sweet little boy’s cheek, but to kiss her lips! – perhaps the sole reason of this is that little boys are not over careful to preserve their lips clean and dry. I said that the lady was beautiful. I dont think she was divine – I wish we could get a divine girl – I wish we could get something to worship – out of pure selfish motives I wish it – I like to worship but it is so much more easy when the object of your worship takes an incarnate form, is it not possible among these millions of women to find one divine one? hang the baggages19 I believe not. There is something of the pig in them all, and we must not cast the pearl of worship before a pig.20 I will make an abstraction from them take all their good qualities, project them against yonder heaven and worship the image thus made. But the image at best is second hand – would that we could get one first hand. It would be splendid to have the soul interpreted by the beauty of a woman’s face. But the pigs snout shews itself in the long run on the most beautiful that I have seen. The day dawned upon my weary eyes; the sun ascended [early] and I leaned out of the carriage window to let the wind enter through my hyacinthine locks21 and cool the very skin of my head. On we went wearily wearily – a handsome lady in the carriage but all mere clay well moulded22 – her voice rather hurts my tympanum.23 Some of these women have very sweet voices, some of them set one’s teeth on edge. I like the low musical voice whose syllables explode like my bubbles – softly and melodiously. At 2 o’c[lock] we reached Berlin the time between Cologne and Berlin being 18 hours – I am now well, sitting at Topfers24 in 6 minutes I shall be in bed & I hope the gods intend to grant me a sound sleep.
Tomorrow or next day Schneider will send off your box. I have altered the direction putting Dunbridge25 instead of Stockbridge.
I hope you won’t forget to send the £15 to Mrs Stewart.
Stewart Lodge | Leighlin Bridge26 | Ireland
Send it by halves and let the last be a few days after the first.
RI MS JT/1/T/907
RI MS JT/1/HTYP/248–49
[13 July 1853]: Tyndall left London on the evening of Monday, 11 July and recounted journeying for two days in his journal; he arrived in Berlin at 2pm on 13 July (Journal, 11–13 July, JT/2/13b/610–11).
Berlin Wednesday night: in his journal entry for 13 July Tyndall wrote that he ‘Reached Berlin at 2 o’clock and drove straight to Toepfer’s’ (JT/2/13b/611).
Dean Swift: Jonathan Swift (1667–1745) was an Irish writer famous for his book Gulliver’s Travels. He was also dean of St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin, 1713–45.
Here I go…downy!: a line from The Nurses Song, a poem sometimes attributed to Swift (‘The Nurses Song’, in J. Struthers [ed.], The Harp of Caledonia: A Collection of Songs, Ancient and Modern, (Cheifly Scottish.) with An Essay on Scottish Song Writers, 2 vols [Glasgow: Khull, Blackie, & Co., 1821], vol. 1, pp. 354–5).
Wellenberg: German for ‘wave mountain’.
Wellenthal: German for ‘wave valley’.
Mr Taylor’s bankers: likely the bank used by Richard Taylor.
foreign office in Downing St.: located, in 1853, at 12 Downing Street in London, the Foreign Office is a governmental department involved in worldwide affairs, including consular affairs.
Board of Trade: the Lords Commissioners of Trade and Plantations, commonly referred to as the ‘Board of Trade’ until it was formalized in 1861, was located in Whitehall, London.
President … Mr Cardwell: Edward Cardwell (1813–86), First Viscount Cardwell, a prominent politician, was president of the Board of Trade 1852–5.
my perplexity: in 1853, English citizens required either a passport issued by the Prussian minister in London or a referral from a Prussian consular official for passage into Prussia (‘Prussian Passport’, Handbook for Travellers on the Continent; Being a Guide to Holland, Belgium, Prussia, Northern Germany, and the Rhine from Holland to Switzerland, 9th edn [London: John Murray, 1853], p. xx).
Marlborough House: located in The Mall, London, it was the new location of the Metropolitan School of Practical Art (‘First Report of the Department of Practical Art’, The Sessional Papers Printed by Order of The House of Lords, or Presented by Royal Comman, in the Session 1852–53. Arranged in Volumes [London: George E. Eyre and William Spottiswoode, 1853], vol. 79, Reports, Papers, &c., pp. 1–45).
cat skin coat: cat skin, a soft and light material usually taken from Lynx and Fitch (German pole-cats). In 1851, 55,000 Lynx skins and 65,091 Fitch skins were imported to Britain (‘Fur’, in J. Smith Homans [ed.], Cyclopedia of Commerce and Commercial Navigation [New York: Harper & Brothers, 1858], pp. 764–74, esp. table on p. 767).
Ostende: a coastal city in Belgium with a direct ferry connection to Dover, England, as well as a train station.
a lady: not identified.
John Keats: John Keats (1795–1821), an English Romantic poet.
‘the feathers … snow’: line from Keats’s poem, ‘To –’ (11–12).
Clausius … atmosphere: see R. Clausius, ‘On the Colours of a Jet Stream and of the Atmosphere’, The Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal 54 (October 1853), pp. 166–8.
hang the baggages: ‘a worthless good-for nothing woman’ (OED); also a reference from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet (III.v.8).
cast the pearl … pig: an allusion to Matthew 7:6, ‘Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you’.
hyacinthine lockes: line from John Milton’s (1608–1674) Paradise Lost (IV.ii.301–2).
clay well moulded: a reference to the myth of Pandora from Ancient Greek mythology. Pandora, the first woman, was molded out of clay by Hephaestus on Zeus’s order and sent to humans as a punishment for Prometheus’s theft of fire.
tympanum: the eardrum (OED).
Topfers: Töpfer’s was a hotel in Berlin (see letter 0479).
Dunbridge: the railway station close to Queenwood.
Leighlin Bridge: Leighlin Bridge (now spelled Leighlinbridge), the small town in County Carlow, Ireland, where Tyndall was born (see Volume 1). See also letter 0953, which includes a description by Hirst during his visit there in July 1854.
Please cite as “Tyndall0784,” in Ɛpsilon: The John Tyndall Collection accessed on