Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 64, No. 397, November 1848. Various
wearing the national cockade, who were evidently on their way to Frankfort; one or two Frenchmen, who, having nothing to do in Paris, were killing time by a short summer ramble, and a single enterprising Cockney and his bride. Every one seemed dull and dispirited, and utterly without that store of enthusiasm which used to be expended as a sort of necessary tribute to the glorious scenery of the river. I made acquaintance with a young Parisian banker, a gay good-humoured fellow of Herculean proportions, who had fought on the side of order in the bloody affair of June. He was a decided Orleanist in his politics, and had no faith whatever in the ultimate stability of the Republic.
"I turned out," he said, "with the national guard, and a hard time we had of it at the barricades. The canaille fought like devils. But what would you have? – it was neck or nothing with us. Property is worth little in France, thanks to Lamartine and the rest; but there is a worse thing than the loss of property —le pillage et le viol! So I fought for the Republic, bad as it is, being the only barrier between us and absolute ruin. For myself, I am heartily tired of the whole concern. I have come away with fifty louis in my purse, to amuse myself for a month; and then I shall return to Paris, in the full expectation of being shot before the month of February."
His disgust at the present aspect of Germany was excessive.
"The fools! the imbeciles! What possible good can they expect to receive from their revolution? My countrymen were foolish enough – but we laboured under the curse of centralisation in Paris, and, heaven knows! we are paying the penalty. The departments of France did not want a change; but here the infection appears to be universal. Look at that fat fool with the absurd cockade! – I take him to be a substantial merchant in one of their towns – he may not have felt the pressure as yet, but before six months are over his stock will be lying useless on his hands, and his affairs utterly bankrupt. That is the price he must pay for national unity, and the privilege of wearing in his hat a badge about the size of a soup-plate!"
Presently we were favoured with a specimen of the warlike preparations of the assembly at Frankfort. That body had, a few days before, refused their consent to the armistice which the regent had been empowered to conclude with the king of Denmark; and steamer after steamer dashed past us, conveying Prussian, Nassau, and Darmstadt troops from Mayence to the scene of action. With the new gaudy colours of the Empire trailing at the stern, these vessels came down the stream, the troops cheering as they went by, and apparently in high spirits.
"Very well, gentlemen!" thought I, "go on. The attack on little Denmark by a great bully of a power may seem a very creditable thing at present, but we shall see how it will end. Take care you don't run your heads against a certain individual to the northward, who is popularly supposed to subsist principally upon spermaceti, and who would ask no better amusement than that of extracting a little of your extra democracy with the knout. There would be some grimacing in Cologne at the sight of a pulk of Cossacks!"
Coblentz, that pretty little town which reposed so quietly under the huge shadow of Ehrenbreitstein, was crowded with troops, waiting for the opportunity of transport. I had scarcely stepped upon the quay when I found myself enveloped in the embrace of a gentleman in military accoutrements, who exclaimed with Teutonic fervour —
"Du lieber himmel! Er ist's! August Reignold von Dunshunner, wie geht's?"
I looked up, and presently recognised an old acquaintance in the person of one Ernest Herrmann, formerly fahntrager or ensign in a regiment of Wurtemberg infantry, and now a captain in the same distinguished service. Years before, I had seen a good deal of him at Stuttgardt, and still remembered with pleasure his accomplishments in the ball-room and the skittle-ground.
"Herrmann, my dear fellow!" said I, "is it possible that I meet you here? Have you changed service, or what brings you here from Stuttgardt?"
"Not I," replied Herrmann. "Still true to the old colours; but you see we have added another since you were last here. The fact is, that our regiment is on its way for a brush with the Danes, and we expect to take up our winter-quarters at Copenhagen."
"Indeed!"
"Will you not join us? I have no doubt it will be the rarest fun – and I am sure the colonel would not have the least objection to your being of our party."
"Thank you!" said I drily, "I am afraid I should be rather in the way. And how are our old friends Krauss and Bartenstein, and the rest?"
"All well and all here! Come along with me, we are just going to dinner, and you positively must spend an hour with us. Not that way!" said my friend, as I was making for one of the larger hotels, at the door of which two waiters were waving napkins, as if to allure the unwary passenger – "not that way! We have a quiet gast-haus of our own, and I think I can promise you a tolerable spread."
I yielded to the suggestion, and accompanied Herrmann down a back street until we reached a tavern, which, certainly, I would not have been inclined to select as my own peculiar domicile. Several Wurtemberg soldiers were smoking their pipes in the passage, and the aroma which issued from the Stuben was far more pungent than pleasant. We ascended a wooden stair leading to an upper apartment, in which a number of officers were already seated at table.
"Whom do you think I have here?" cried Herrmann. "Krauss, Offenbach, Bartenstein – have you forgot our old friend the Freyherr von Dunshunner?"
In an instant I was pounced upon by Krauss, who, after a hug of German fraternity, passed me to his nearest comrade; and in this way I made the round of the table, until I emerged from the arms of an aged major, as odorous as Cadwallader when mounted on his goat after a liberal luncheon upon leeks.
I used to like the German officers. They were a frank, good-humoured, rough-and-ready sort of fellows, decently educated, as times go, and easily and innocently amused. I would rather, however, not mess with them, for they are extremely national and economical in their diet; and I never throve much upon the bread soup, sauer kraut, and pork, which constitute the staple of their entertainments. But I was gratified at meeting once more with old companions, though under circumstances singularly changed. The senior officers, I could see, were not very sanguine as to the results of their expedition, and it was only among the younger portion that any enthusiasm was exhibited. So we talked a great deal, and consumed a considerable quantity of indifferent Moselle, until a messenger announced that time was up, and the steamer ready to depart. I accompanied my friends to the quay, and bade them farewell, with a strong conviction that, from the present state of European affairs, it was highly improbable that we should ever meet again.
Two days afterwards I arrived at Frankfort, every hour upon the road having afforded farther evidence of the entire disorganisation which is prevalent throughout Germany. In Mayence, that strong garrison town, any thing but a friendly feeling subsists between the military and the populace. The latter, long accustomed to strict rule, have become turbulent and insolent, never omitting any opportunity of displaying their ill-will, especially to the Austrians, who have as yet received such demonstrations with the phlegm peculiar to their nation. But it is very evident that the Austrian soldiery are sick of this order of things, and that, whenever an opportunity of action may occur, they will not be slow in taking a summary vengeance on the blouses. In the mean time discipline is relaxed, and men seem hardly to know who is their legitimate master. France never yet had so good an opportunity of achieving that old object of her ambition – the boundary of the Rhine; and, in the event of a European war, it is almost certain that the attempt will be made.
Frankfort, to outward appearance, is, or at least was when I entered it, as brisk and bustling as ever. The tradesmen, with the exception of the publishers, to whom the Revolution has been a godsend, may not be driving so profitable a business, but the influx of strangers since the Assembly met has been remarkable. Here Young Germany flourishes in full unwashed and uncontrolled luxuriance. Every kind of costume which idiocy can devise is to be met with in the streets, and the conical parliamentary hat confronts you at every turn. The bustle of politics has superseded that of commerce, and the conversation relates far more to democracy than to dollars. The hotels are still crowded, it being the fashion for members of the same political views to dine together at the tables-d'hôte– so that the traveller who is not aware of this arrangement may, by going to one house, find himself a participator in a red republican banquet; whereas, had he merely