_Translated from a German Work, in the Foreign Review, No. 8._
Pope Ganganelli compared the Italians with the fire, the French with the
air, the English with the water, and us Germans with the earth, _omne
simile claudicat_. The German is not so nimble, brisk, and witty as the
Frenchman; the latter gallops _ventre à terre_, whilst the German at the
utmost trots, but holds out longer. The German is not so proud,
humoursome, and dry as the Englishman; not so indolent, bigoted, and
niggardly as the Italian; but a plain, faithful, modest fellow,
indefatigable, staid, quiet, intelligent and brave, yet almost always
misknown, purely from his constitution. The words of Tacitus still are
true: "_nullos mortalium armis aut fide ante Germanos_." Should you
class the four most cultivated nations of Europe, according to the
temperaments, the German would be Phlegma; and as such, I, a German, in
German modesty, which foreign countries should duly acknowledge, can
assign it only the fourth rank. Among the English, whims are mixed in
every thing; amongst the French, gallantry; among the Spaniards,
bigotry; among the Germans, when things can go halfway, _eating_,
_drinking_, and _smoking_; and the last is the true support of Phlegma.
Genius with the Germans, tends to the root, with the French to the
blossom, with the British to the fruit. The Italians are imagination;
the French, wit; the English, understanding; the Germans, memory. In
colonies, Spaniards commence by building a church and cloister;
Englishmen a tavern; Frenchmen a fort, where, however, the dancing-floor
must not be wanting; the Germans by grubbing the field. A riding-master
distinguished them even by their modes of riding; the English hop, the
French ride like tailors, the Italian sits on his steed like a frog in
the air-pump, the Spaniards sleep there, the Russians wind the upper
part of their bodies like puppets, and the German alone sits still like
a man--man and horse are one as with the Hungarians.
The royal oak, the favourite tree of our fathers, requires centuries for
its full developement, and so long do we also require. The oak is a
fairer symbol of the German nation than the German postboy, from which
original most foreigners appear to judge of us. A postilion in the
north, however, is the true representative of Phlegma. Bad or good
roads, bad or good weather, bad or good horses and coach, curses or
flattery from the traveller--nothing moves him if his pipe-stump be but
smoking, and his schnaps paid.
The hereditary enemy of our neighbours is levity, ours heaviness. In the
ancient bass-fiddle, Europe, the thickest string is the German, with
deep tone and heavy vibration; but once in vibration, it hums as if it
would go on humming for an eternity. Our primitive ancestors deliberated
on every thing twice--in drunkenness, and in sobriety; and then they
acted. But we, with the most honest and slowest spirit of order--which
might, without danger, be spared many _reglemens_--we lost all
elasticity, and sank dismembered into a stupid spirit of slavery, which
originated in our passion for imitation, our faintheartedness, and our
uncommonly low opinion of ourselves, which often looks like true dog
humility. This humility the French have in view, when if naughtily
treated by their superiors, by the police, &c., they cry out "Est ce
qu'on me prend pour un Allemand?" The Englishman is fond of being
represented as a John Bull, but John Bull pushes about him. We, however,
are personified by the German _Michel_, who puts up with a touch on the
posterior, and still asks, "What's your pleasure?"