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

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 ease. Neither in the towns nor in the country is there discernible the slightest trace of disaffection or turbulence. Citizens and peasantry are pursuing their usual avocations in peace, and the contentment which reigns throughout bears testimony to the blessings of a firm and prudent government. But the instant the boundary is passed, you are immediately and painfully reminded that you have left a land of order, and entered into one of anarchy. Instead of the quiet civil Belgian traders and negociants , the carriages on the railway – especially the third class, which I invariably preferred for the sake of enjoying the full flavour of democratic society – are crowded with every imaginable species of pongo pertaining to the liberal creed. Your ears are filled with a gush of guttural jargon, in which the words einigkeit , despotismus , and unabhängigkeit prodigiously preponderate; and ever and anon some canorous votary of freedom shouts out a stave of a song, constructed upon any thing but constitutional principles. The first feature which strikes you in the male portion of the population is, the preposterous length of their beards. Formerly the Germans used to shave; at least they kept their chins reasonably clean, and if they cultivated any extra capillary growth, reserved their care for their mustache. Now every one of them has a beard like a rabbi, and to use razors is considered the sure and infallible sign of a loyalist and an aristocrat. At Juliers I had the pleasure of encountering the first specimen of Young Germany that crossed my path, and a precious object he was. I had been sitting for some time vis-a-vis with a little punchy fellow from Vienna, with a beard as red as that which the old masters have assigned to Barabbas; and as he spoke little, but smoked a great deal, I was inclined to think him rather a companionable sort of individual than otherwise. But, at the station, in stepped a youth apparelled precisely after the fashion of an assassin in a melodrama. His broad beaver hat, with a conical crown, was looped up at one side, garnished with an immense cockade of red, black, and gold, and surmounted by a couple of dingy ostrich feathers. I lament, for the sake of our home manufactures, to state that he exhibited no symptom of shirt-collar; nor, so far as I could observe, had he invested any portion of his capital in the purchase of interior linen. Over his bare neck there descended a pointed Maximilian beard. A green blouse, curiously puckered and slashed on the sleeves, was secured round his person by a glazed black belt and buckle, and his legs were cased in a pair of rusty Hessians. In short, he needed but a dagger and a brace of pistols to render him theatrically complete; and had Fitzball been in the carriage, the heart of that amiable dramatist would assuredly have yearned within him at the sight of this living personification of his own most romantic conceptions. I had forgotten to state that the patriot had slung by his side a wallet, of the sort which is familiar to the students of Retzsch, in which he carried his tobacco.

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.