To my amazement, nobody, not even the gens-d'armes on the platform, appeared to be the least surprised at this formidable apparition, who commenced filling his pipe with the calmness of an ordinary Christian. For my own part, I could not take my eyes off him, but sate speechlessly staring at this splendid specimen of the Empire. Nor was it long before he thought fit to favour us with his peculiar sentiments. Some sort of masonic sign was interchanged between the new comer and Barabbas, and the former instantly burst forth into a lecture upon the political prospects of his country. It has been my fortune to hear various harangues, from the hustings and elsewhere – and I have even solaced my soul with the outpourings of civic eloquence – but never was it my fortune to hear such a discourse upon constitutions as that pronounced by this interesting stranger. The total demolishment of thrones, the levelling of all ranks, the abolition of all religions, and the partition of property, were the themes in which he revelled; and, to my considerable surprise and infinite disgust, the punchy Viennese assented to one and all of his propositions. Some remark which I was rash enough to hazard, impugning the purity of the doctrines professed by the respectable Louis Blanc, drew upon me the ire of both; and I was courteously informed, in almost as many words, that freedom, as understood in Britain, was utterly effete and worn out, – that Germany was fifty years in advance of the wretched island, – and that, when the German fleet was fairly launched upon the ocean, satisfaction would be taken for divers insults which it did not seem convenient to specify.
It is, of course, utterly out of the question to reason with maniacs, else I should have been very glad to know why these new republicans entertained such a decided hatred of England. One can perfectly well understand the existence of a similar feeling among the French, – indeed, abuse of our nation is the surest topic to win applause from a Parisian audience, and it has been, and will be, employed as the last resource of detected patriots and impostors. But why Young Germany should hate us, as it clearly does, is to me a profound enigma. During the Revolutionary wars, we allowed ourselves to be plundered and subsidised in support of the freedom which the Germans could not maintain. Prussia, after taking our money, most infamously went over to France, and laid her clutches upon Hanover. We forgave the aggression and the treachery, and still continued to lavish our gold and our blood in their defence, performing, up to the close of the struggle, the part of a faithful and by far too generous ally. Notwithstanding all this, which is clearly written in history, the fact is certain, that every one of these revolutionists devoutly longs for the downfall of Britain, and would gladly lend a helping hand to assist. Cobden was fêted on the Continent, not because he was a commercial reformer, but because he was known to be a determined enemy to the British aristocracy, and a virulent and successful demagogue. It was for that reason, and for that alone, that he was greeted on his progress by the rising rascaldom of Europe: he was to them the mere type of a coming democracy, and they cared not a copper for his calico.
It is comfortable, however, to know that Young Germany has other enemies, whom she regards with even more jaundiced eyes. There is not one republican rogue on the Rhine but feels a pang of terror at the mere mention of the name of Russia. They are perfectly well aware that Great Britain has no intention of meddling with them, and that they may cut and carve at their own constitutions without the slightest risk of exciting an active interference. But they are not so sure of the permanent neutrality of Nicholas; and an unwholesome suspicion is constantly present to their minds, that, in the progress of events, Russia may combine with the constitutional party in Austria and Bavaria, and restore order by sweeping from the face of the earth the whole revolutionary gang. And it is not at all impossible that such may be the result, when the government of Prussia awakes to a sense of its duty, and their king becomes thoroughly ashamed of the unworthy part he has acted. At present, he has the merit of having stirred up a conflagration which he is not permitted to direct, and the misfortune of finding that, besides his neighbour's house, his own is threatened with the flames. He has thrown himself into the arms of the ultra-democratic party, without the slightest symptom of recognition on their part. His name is in every mouth a by-word. He is cursed by the constitutionalists for his treachery and fickleness, and laughed at by the movement party, whose aim is a pure republic.
I took the earliest possible opportunity of treating both of the admirers of freedom to beer at a station, and, in consequence, rose somewhat in their good graces. He in the garb of the middle ages had evidently been refreshing himself already in the course of the forenoon, and proceeded to vary the monotony of the journey by chanting a hymn of Freiligrath's, which, it struck me, might have been improved by the omission of considerable bloodthirstiness. I was not sorry when we arrived at Cologne, and had to submit our baggage for inspection to the custom-house officers – an operation which they performed with much civility; nevertheless I thought it incumbent upon me, before parting, to point out this remnant of feudal tyranny to my companions, and to request that, when Germany had become a republic, and kings and kaisers were no more, the grievance might be redressed. Though neither of them were burdened with goods, they were kind enough to assure me that my recommendation should be attended to – a promise which they sealed with oaths; whereupon we shook hands, and parted, I sincerely trust, for ever.
Not having the slightest wish to renew my acquaintance with the skulls of Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar, or with the interesting relics of Saint Ursula and her plurality of virgins, I set off early next morning on the customary passage up the Rhine. Judging from the diminished numbers and appearance of the passengers, the hand of revolution has already weighed heavily upon the industry of this district. There were none of the English travelling carriages on board – none of the merry groups that used to congregate under the awning, and spread the echoes of their laughter and merriment over the bosom of Father Rhine. Even the artists, that ubiquitous class, were unrepresented. The quarter-deck was sparsely