Various - Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 64, No. 397, November 1848

The King of Man was a powerful potentate in comparison with some of these autocrats; and if there had been a royal house of Benbecula, the crown-prince of that insular Eden would have been a proper match for the daughter of their sublime Highnesses of Fugger-Kirchberg-Weisenborn, or Salm-Reifferscheid-Krautheim. The French invasion blew away a crowd of these little sovereigns, like mites from the surface of a cheese; but, very unfortunately, a tithe of them were permitted to clamber back. Some of the larger German states thought to fortify their position, and to obtain an ascendency in the Diet, by maintaining several of the minor principalities intact, and, in return, commanding their votes. Hence the retention as sovereign princedoms of the three Anhalts, the two Schwartzbergs, the two Hohenzollerns, the two houses of Reuss, the two Lippes, Waldeck, Lichtenstein, and Homburg – territories, the outlines of which you can hardly discover on an ordinary map of Europe, or even on one of Germany. These are the instances which we think the most objectionable and absurd, but the case of several others is not much better. For example, there are four sovereign Saxe Duchies, besides the kingdom of Saxony proper.

Thirty-eight, then, were preserved by the Congress of Vienna, whereas, for the sake of stability, there should not have been more than five. The remaining German states might have been absorbed, as were many more, into Austria, Prussia, Saxony, Bavaria, and Hanover; and, in this way, power would have been consolidated, a balance preserved, and entire centralisation avoided. Instead of which, for more than thirty years there has been a constellation of princes and of petty courts throughout Germany, to its infinite detriment and discredit. Magnificent Lichtenstein, with a territory of two square miles, and about five thousand subjects, takes rank with imperial Austria; and Henry, styling himself the twenty-second of Reuss-Lobenstein and Ebersdorf, has as good a patrimonial sceptre as Frederick-William of Prussia. Out of all this, what could arise save endless wrangling and confusion?

The smaller states, especially those which border on the Rhine, gradually became the acknowledged hotbeds of sedition. It was there that the expatriated journalists and crack-brained patriotic poets sought refuge, when their articles, pamphlets, and ditties, became too strong for the stomach of the legitimate censor; and there they have been for years hatching treason upon unaddled eggs. The old influence exercised by France over the Rhenish Confederation has never utterly decayed. Each fresh insurrectionary leap in Paris has been followed by a convulsive movement in the western Germanic princedoms; and no pains have been spared for the dissemination of the republican propaganda. Even this evil might have been checked, had Austria and Prussia acted in unison and good faith towards each other; but, unfortunately for Europe, the policy of the latter power has always been of the most tortuous and deceptive kind. Prussia, raised to and maintained in the first class of European states, solely on the strength of her military armament, and jealous of the superior strength of her southern rival, has for many years been engaged in intrigues with the minor states, for the purpose of securing to herself an independent position, in the event of the dissolution of the great German confederation. Unable to obtain her object through a legitimate supremacy in the Diet, Prussia has gradually withdrawn from the proceedings of the Federal Congress, and apparently surrendered to Austria the command of that feeble body. But by means of the Zollverein, or Commercial League – a scheme which she maturely prepared and perseveringly pursued – Prussia had contrived to secure the adhesion of fully three-fourths of the Germanic states – thus expecting to constitute herself a protectorate in reality, if not in name, and to set the authority of the Diet at absolute defiance.

In England, where very little is known of the secret springs of continental diplomacy, the Zollverein was regarded as a mere commercial measure. It was, in reality, nothing more than a preparation for the coming crisis, in the course of which, as Prussia fondly hoped, Germany might be rent asunder, and the larger portion of the spoil accrue naturally to her share. As if to make the distinction between herself and Austria more apparent, Prussia began to affect liberalism in a remarkable degree. Her talk was of constitutions on the broadest basis; and her king was, in words at least, a Quixote in the cause of freedom. But words, however skilfully uttered, cannot, in the total absence of action, deceive a people long. The king of Prussia's promises were not a whit more fruitful than the prophecies of the free-traders, who told us of an immediate millennium. The censorship of the press was maintained as stringently as ever, and no concession was made to the popular demands, naturally stimulated to excess by this show of liberality on the part of the sovereign.

At the commencement of the present year, the affairs of Germany were thus singularly complicated. Austria stood alone on the basis of her old position, as an absolute and paternal monarchy, refusing all innovation. Prussia appeared to favour liberal institutions, but delayed to grant them – professed her willingness to take the lead in a new era of Germany, but gave no guarantee for her faith. In consequence, she was not trusted by the revolutionist party in the south and west, who, having altogether got the better of their princes, were determined, on the very first opportunity, to try their hands at the task of regenerating the whole of Germany. Central authority there was none, for the Diet, deserted and disregarded by Prussia, had sunk into utter insignificance, and hardly knew what function it was still entitled to perform.

At the tocsin of the French revolution, the south-west of Germany arose. The princes bordering on the Rhine had long been aware that they were quite powerless in the event of any general insurrectionary movement, and, accordingly, they were prepared, without any hesitation, to grant constitutions by the score, whenever their bearded subjects thought fit, in earnest, to demand them. A constitution is a cheap thing, and, to a princely proprietor of limited means, who needed no seven-league boots to traverse the circle of his dominions, must be infinitely better than forfeiture. Baden began the dance. The Grand-duke made no difficulty in granting to his loving liegemen whatever they were pleased to require. The last of the Electors – he of Hesse-Cassel – was equally accommodating; and, in such circumstances, it would have been madness for the King of Wurtemberg to refuse. In Bavaria, the government attempted to make a stand; but it was of no use. The late king, one of the most accomplished of dilettantes, worst of poets, and silliest of created men, had latterly put the coping-stone to a life of folly, by engaging, though a prospective saint of the Romish calendar, in a most barefaced intrigue with the notorious Lola Montes. The indecency and infatuation of this last liaison , far more openly conducted than any of his former numerous amours, had given intense umbrage, not only to the people, but to the nobility, whom he had insulted by elevating the ci-devant opera-dancer to their ranks. Other causes of offence were not wanting; so that poor Ludwig, though the best judge of pictures in Europe, was forced to give in, and surrender his dignity to his son. Then rose Nassau and Frankfort, Saxony and Saxe Weimar, and what other small states we wot not.

Constitutions became as plenty in the market as blackberries; indeed, rather too much so, for at last there was a sort of glut. If the Germans had merely desired freedom of the press, trial by jury, burgher-guards, and the repeal of exceptional laws, the gift was ready for them; but they wanted something more, which the separate sovereigns could not give. In the midst of the haze of revolution, the popular eye was fixed upon a dim phantom of German unity – upon the eidolon of old Germania, once more compact and reunited. True, the old lady had been laid in her grave long before any of the present generation were born, not in the fulness of her strength, but after a gradual decay of atrophy. This, however, was a sort of political resurrection; for there she, or her image, stood, comely as in her best days, and clothed in mediæval attire. The dreams of the students seemed to be in the fair way of accomplishment, and a loud shout of " Germania soll leben! " arose from the banks of the Rhine.

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