“every one has green fields; I have drab-coloured fields.” I look over the parapet and try to imagine the river full to the brim; the lower piles of the beautiful bridge bathed and hidden by tumultuous waves; the domes and spires of the city rising silent above a turbid, tempestuous, sea-like river: that would be the scene which is the glory and boast of Dresden; now all is slothful and stagnant. The same is to be predicated of the company assembled; all the beau monde of all the towns of Germany is assembled at various baths, and so I must not wonder that I not only saw no beauty, but nothing either well-dressed or elegant in the promenades. We have driven to the Grosse Garten, a large park, filled with fine trees, and were the lawns laid out in verdant sward, instead of being an incult growth of the coarsest grass, very uninviting, especially in its present arid state, the shady walks and glades would be pleasant. I may say the same of all the other gardens of which this capital boasts. They would be very delightful, only just now they are deficient in freshness and verdure. Do not think I say this as a fault-finder, except that they ought to learn from us what grass when cultivated for ornamental uses ought to be. I consider the gardens and terraces and pleasure-grounds that adorn Dresden more beautiful than those of almost any other capital.
