It certainly is to be regretted, for his own sake, that the King of Prussia, if he really had the above projects thoroughly at heart, did not announce them a little sooner. Had he done so, there could have been no mistake about the matter; and he can hardly plead want of opportunity. But to delay the annunciation of the above sweeping scheme until the French revolution had given an impulse to the turbulent population of the Rhenish states – until constitutions had been every where granted – until the foundations of a German National Assembly had been laid – until Austria was paralysed by domestic insurrection – and finally, until Berlin itself had been in temporary possession of the mob – does most certainly expose his Majesty of Prussia to divers grave insinuations affecting his probity and his honour. Sir Robert Peel, in like manner, told us that, for several years, he had been secretly preparing matters for the repeal of the corn-laws. We believe in the admitted treachery; but what shall we say to the occasion which caused it to be developed? Simply this, that in both cases there was an utter want of principle. The King of Prussia, like Peel, thought that he perceived an admirable opportunity of obtaining power and popularity, by not only yielding to, but anticipating, the democratic roar; and, in consequence, he has shared the fate which, even on this earth, is awarded to detected hypocrites. The south-west of Germany looked coldly on this new ally. The democratic leaders, however wild in their principles, were, after their own fashion, sincere; and they had no idea of intrusting the modelment of their new government to such exceeding slippery hands. Accordingly, the Frankfort Assembly met, discussed, and quarrelled, fixed upon a basis of universal suffrage, and summoned together, of their own authority, though not without recognition of the princes, the first German Parliament, of which more anon. In the mean time, valorous Hecker and sturdy Struve, choice republicans both, had hoisted the red banner in Baden, but were somewhat ignominiously routed. The Parliament finally met, annihilated the Diet, and resolved that the provisional central power of Germany should be vested in a Reichsverweser, or Administrator of the Empire, irresponsible himself, but with a responsible ministry; and – no doubt to the infinite disgust of Frederick-William of Prussia, who was not even named as a candidate – the choice of the Assembly fell upon Archduke John of Austria, who, as we have already seen, had embraced the popular side, and forced on, at Vienna, the deposition of the venerable Metternich.
The Reichsverweser was not summoned to occupy a bed of roses. Nominally, he was constituted the most powerful man in the whole German confederation, the sovereign of an emperor, and the controller of divers kings, princes, grand-dukes, electors, and landgraves. In reality he was nobody. Universal suffrage and empire are things which can hardly exist together; and it very soon appeared that the motive power, whatever that might be, was exclusively in the hands of the six hundred and eighty-four individuals who occupied the church of Saint Paul. To chronicle their doings is not the object of the present paper. It may be sufficient to remark that the first stumbling-block in the way of German unity was to discover the limits of what properly might be denominated Germany. On this point there were many strange and conflicting opinions. Some were for incorporating every possession which had fallen under the rule of any German house, – in which case, Hungary, Lombardy, and part of Poland, would have fallen under the protection of Frankfort. Some, with more classical tastes, were desirous of extending their claim to every country which at any time had been under Teutonic rule, – in which case, Palestine and Sicily, if not Italy, would fall to be annexed, and the shadow of the Empire be thrown as far as the Euxine, on the strength of the ancient tradition that Ovid, in his exile at Pontus, had studied the German language and composed German poetry. The map of Europe afforded no solution of the difficulty. There had been cessions, and clippings, and parings innumerable during the last century and a half. Limburg had been annexed to Holland, and Schleswig was clearly under the dominion of Denmark. In this position the Germans committed the enormous folly of adopting the cause of the Schleswig malcontents, and of plunging, before their own house was set in order, into the dangers of a European war.
Having proceeded thus far in the exposition of German affairs, we now cede the narrative to our excellent friend Dunshunner, who, with characteristic kindness, accompanied us in this expedition. Notwithstanding some few omissions, such as that of entirely forgetting to muniment himself with letters of credit, we found him a very agreeable companion. He was perfectly acquainted with Frankfort and elsewhere, and, we suspect, better known than trusted throughout the valley of the Rhine. On looking over his notes, we observe that, with his usual devotedness, he has entirely dispensed with any notice of our existence – a circumstance which we are the more ready to pardon, as it relieves us from the necessity of pledging ourselves to the minute accuracy of his statements. But whatever ingredient of fiction there may be in his dialogue, this at least is certain, that as a general picture it is true.
No man – says Dunshunner – who has this year visited Germany, could believe that it is the same country which he knew in the days of its tranquillity. In former times, the tourist, if his opinions happened to be extra liberal, or slightly savouring of republicanism, would have done well to abstain from proclaiming them over loudly in the streets. I have myself seen a dirty Frenchman, of the propaganda school, ceremoniously conducted from the hotel to the guard-house of Mayence, by a couple of armed police, in consequence of a tirade against royalty; and I recollect that, for some time afterwards, there was considerable speculation as to the place of his ultimate destination. Now, the danger lies the other way. The more radicalism you can muster up, the better you will be appreciated in such cities as Cologne and Frankfort, – the former of which places, if I had my will, should be deliberately devoted without mercy to the infernal gods. Always a nest of rascality and filth, Cologne now presents an appearance which is absolutely revolting. Its streets are swarming with scores of miscreants in blouses, belching out their unholy hymns of revolution in your face, and execrating aristocracy with a gusto that would be refreshing to the soul of Cuffey. The manners of the people even in the hotels, which I was glad to find nearly deserted, are rude and ruffianly in the extreme. The very waiters seem impressed with the idea that civility is a failing utterly inconsistent with the dignity of regenerated patriots; and they take such pains to show it that I could well understand the apprehensions of a timorous countryman, who confessed to me in the steam-boat that he had been so alarmed at the threatening aspect of a democratic kellner as to take the precaution of locking himself up in his bed-room, lest haply, in the course of the night, his weazand should be made an offering to Nemesis, and his watch and purse transferred upon the communist principle.
The traveller who, this year, passed for the first time from Belgium into Germany, must have been deeply impressed with the marked difference between the manners of the two people. In Belgium all is tranquillity, order, and apparent