1816: the Grandest Tour

Switzerland: Chapter 10

George felt his heart leap. He did not often look for signs of destiny – but at this moment he almost believed.

"It strikes me you should say so," said George. "I've lately been considering a detour into Germany myself. Have you traveled in the country?"

"Has she traveled there, boy!" Byron said with a guffaw.

"Madame has written a most influential study of the German states and people," said an older, professorial man to George. "Its title in the original is De l'Allemagne, or in English On Germany."

George felt his face growing red. He wasn't used to feeling so out of his depth.

"Don't mind them my dear," said Germaine. "It's quite true, I did write that book a few years ago. But more importantly, I did so because I noticed a strange and wonderful new creativity in the German lands. They are a people like none other. Unlike the French, they're not afraid to embrace their sincerity, their pure emotions, and the beauty of nature. It is a weird and Gothic land, with many mysteries – nothing like Italy, especially the farther north you go. So by all means Mr. Hamilton, if you have the time I'm sure you would benefit from seeing the German states. I've had the pleasure to meet Goethe, their famous writer. Surely you've read his Werther?"

"The Sorrows of Young Werther? Oh yes!" George said, nodding warmly.

"Go visit him in Weimar if you're able. I'll write you an introduction."

George began to thank Germaine for such unlooked-for kindness, but a stray thought made the shadow of doubt cross his face. He tried to hide it, but not well enough.

"What's the matter?" she said.

He glanced around, but most were dozing or in small tête-à-têtes of their own.

"The truth is," he said, "my reason for visiting Germany has another, more personal motive. One which is perhaps a greater spur than even meeting such a man as Goethe." George dropped his eyes, fearing how this formidable woman of letters would react to the familiarity of such a confession.

"My dear Mr. Hamilton," Germaine said, with a sudden look of sympathy, "shall we speak in more privacy?"

Lost for words now, George gave a sort of weak-smiling shrug and nod.

"Come with me," said the hostess, and they removed to a small card table at the edge of the room. Once they'd sat down Germaine took his hand with a sincere expression.

"Do tell me everything," she said. "Consider me sworn to secrecy."

So George did. Unburdening himself to a compassionate ear, he felt a great weight he'd been carrying the whole journey begin to lighten somewhat. He told her of Susan, of their whole history together, their betrothal and his father's later rejection of it. He recounted their secret letters, their plans to meet in Europe, to marry and return home as man and wife.

"Originally we'd set on Rome as the place," George said, "but now that she's nearly in Germany, and I'm so near her, it would be unbearable to miss this chance and go months more without seeing her."

Once he'd finished Germaine sat quiet, mulling over the many aspects of George's tale.

"How old are you, George?" she said.

"Not yet three-and-twenty, ma'am."

"And you love this girl?"

"More than anything, more than my life!" George said, believing it.

"Are you sure she's worthy of such love?"

"Of course. We've known each other our whole lives – I can't imagine loving anyone else."