In somewhat less than a fortnight’s time I had made a bowing
acquaintance with some half-dozen good subjects of Hesse, and formed a
chatting intimacy with some three or four frequenters of the table
d’hôte, with whom I occasionally strolled out of an afternoon into the
Park, to drink coffee, and listen to the military band that played there
every evening. The quiet uniformity of the life pleased and never
wearied me; for happily--or unhappily, as some would deem it--mine is
one of those tame and commonplace natures which need not costly
amusements nor expensive tastes to occupy it. I enjoyed the society of
agreeable people with a gusto few possess; I can also put up with the
association with those of a different stamp, feeling sensibly how much
more I am on a level with them, and how little pretension I have to find
myself among the others. Fortunately, too, I have no sympathy with the
pleasures which wealth alone commands--it was a taste denied me. I
neither affect to undervalue their importance, nor sneer at their
object; I simply confess that the faculty which renders them desirable
was by some accident omitted from my nature, and I never yet felt the
smallness of my fortune a source of regret.
There is no such happiness, to my notion, as that which enables a man to
be above the dependence on others for his pleasures and amusements, to
have the sources of enjoyment in his own mind, and to feel that his own
thoughts and his own reflections are his best wealth. There is no
selfishness in this; far from it. The stores thus laid by make a man a
better member of society, more ready to assist, more able to advise his
fellow-men. By standing aloof from the game of life, you can better
estimate the chances of success and the skill of the players; and as you
have no stake in the issue, the odds are that your opinion is a correct
one. But, better than all, how many enjoyments which to the glitter of
wealth or the grandeur of a high position would seem insignificant and
valueless, are to the humble man sources of hourly delight! And is our
happiness anything but an aggregate of these grains of pleasure? There
is as much philosophy in the child’s toy as in the nobleman’s coronet;
all the better for him who can limit his desires to the attainable, and
be satisfied with what lies within his reach. I have practised the
system for a life long, and feel that if I now enjoy much of the
buoyancy and the spirit of more youthful days, it is because I have
never taxed my strength beyond its ability, nor striven for more than I
could justly pretend to. There is something of indolence in all this--I
know there is; but I was born under a lazy star, and I cannot say I
regret my destiny.
From this little _exposé_ of my tastes and habits it may be gathered
that Cassel suited me perfectly. The air of repose which rests on these
little secluded capitals has something--to me at least--inexpressibly
pleasurable. The quaint old-fashioned equipages, drawn along at a gentle
amble; the obsolete dress of the men in livery; the studious ceremony of
the passers to each other; the absence of all bustle; the primitive
objects of sale exposed in the various shops--all contrasting so
powerfully with the wealth-seeking tumult of richer communities--suggest
thoughts of tranquillity and contentment. They are the bourgeoisie of
the great political world. Debarred from the great game which empires
and kingdoms are playing, they retire within the limits of their own
narrow but safe enjoyments, with ample means for every appliance of
comfort; they seek not to astonish the world by any display, but content
themselves with the homely happiness within their reach.
Every day I lingered here I felt this conviction the stronger. The small
interests which occupied the public mind originated no violent passions,
no exaggerated party spirit. The journals--those indices of a nation’s
mind--contained less politics than criticism; an amicable little
contention about the site of a new fountain or the position of an
elector’s statue was the extent of any discussion; while at every
opportunity crept out some little congratulating expression on the
goodness of the harvest, the abundance of the vintage, or, what was
scarcely less valued, the admirable operatic company which had just
arrived. These may seem very petty incidents for men to pass their lives
amongst, thought I, but still they all seem very happy; there is much
comfort, there is no poverty. Like the court whist-table, where the
points are only for silver groschen, the amusement is just as great, and
no one is ruined by high play.
I am not sure but I should have made an excellent Hessian, thought I, as
I deposited two little silver pieces, about the size of a spangle, on
the table, in payment for a very appetising little supper, and an ink-
bottleful of Rhine wine. And now for the coffee.
I was seated beneath a great chestnut-tree, whose spreading branches
shaded me from the rays of the setting sun that came slanting to my very
feet. At a short distance off sat a little family party--grandfather,
grandchildren, and all--there was no mistaking them; they were eating
their supper in the Park, possibly in honour of some domestic fête. Yes,
there could be no doubt of it; it was the birthday of that pretty, dark-
eyed little girl, of some ten years of age, who wore a wreath of roses
in her hair, and sat at the top of the table, beside the Greis. A peal
of delighted laughter broke from them all as I looked. And now I could
see a little boy of scarce five years old, whose long yellow locks hung
midway down his back; he was standing beside his sister’s chair, and I
could hear his infant voice reciting a little verse he had learned in
honour of the day. The little man, whose gravity contrasted so
ludicrously with the merry looks about, went through his task as
steadily as a court preacher holding forth before royalty; an occasional
breach of memory would make him now and then turn his head to one side,
where an elder sister knelt, and then he would go on again as before. I
wished much to catch the words, but could only hear the refrain of each
verse, which he always repeated louder than the rest--
‘Da sind die Tage lang genuch, Da sind die Nachte mild.’
Scarcely had he finished when his mother caught him to her arms and
kissed him a hundred times; while the others struggled to take him, the
little fellow clung to her neck with all his strength.
It was a picture of such happiness, that to look on it were alone a
blessing. I have that night’s looks and cheerful voices fresh in my
memory, and have thought of them many a long mile away from where I then
heard them.
A slight noise beside me made me turn round, and I saw the Black
Colonel, as the waiter called him, and whom I had not met for several
days past. He was seated on a bench near, but with his back towards me,
and I could perceive he was evidently unaware of my presence. I had, I
must confess it, felt somewhat piqued at his avoidance of me, for such
the distant recognition with which he saluted me seemed to imply. He had
made the first advances himself, and it was scarcely fair that he should
have thus abruptly stopped short, after inviting acquaintance. While I
was meditating a retreat, he turned suddenly about, and then, taking off
his hat, saluted me with a courtly politeness quite different from his
ordinary manner.
‘I see, sir,’ said he with a very sweet smile, as he looked towards the
little group--‘I see, sir, you are indeed an admirer of pretty
prospects.’
Few and simple as the words were, they were enough to reconcile me to
the speaker; his expression, as he spoke them, had a depth of feeling in
it which showed that his heart was touched.
After some commonplace remark of mine on the simplicity of German
domestic habits and the happy immunity they enjoyed from that rage of
fashion which in other countries involved so many in rivalry with others
wealthier than themselves, the colonel assented to the observation, but
expressed his sorrow that the period of primitive tastes and pleasures
was rapidly passing away. The French Revolution first, and subsequently
the wars of the Empire, had done much to destroy the native simplicity
of German character; while in latter days the tide of travel had brought
a host of vulgar rich people, whose gold corrupted the once happy
peasantry, suggesting wants and tastes they never knew nor need to know.
‘As for the great cities of Germany,’ continued he, ‘they have scarcely
a trace left of their ancient nationality. Vienna and Berlin, Dresden,
and Munich, are but poor imitations of Paris; it is only in the old and
less visited towns, such as Nuremberg, or Augsburg, that the Alt Deutsch
habits still survive. Some few of the Grand-Ducal States--Weimar, for
instance--preserve the primitive simplicity of former days even in
courtly etiquette; and there, really, the government is paternal, in the
fullest sense of the term. You would think it strange, would you not, to
dine at court at four o’clock, and see the grand-ducal ministers and
their ladies--the élite of a little world of their own--proceeding, many
of them on foot, in court-dress, to dinner with their sovereign?
Strange, too, would you deem it--dinner over--to join a promenade with
the party in the Park, where all the bourgeoisie of the town are
strolling about with their families, taking their coffee and their tea,
and only interrupting their conversation or their pleasure to salute the
Grand-Duke or Grand-Duchess, and respectfully bid them a “good-e’en”;
and then, as it grew later, to return to the palace, for a little whist
or a game of chess, or, better still, to make one of that delightful
circle in the drawing-room where Goethe was sitting? Yes, such is the
life of Weimar. The luxury of your great capitals, the gorgeous salons
of London and Paris, the voluptuous pleasures which unbounded wealth and
all its train of passions beget, are utterly unknown there; but there is
a world of pure enjoyment and of intercourse with high and gifted minds
which more than repay you for their absence. A few years more, and all
this will be but “matter for an old man’s memory.” Increased facilities
of travel and greater knowledge of language erase nationality most
rapidly. The venerable habits transmitted from father to son for
centuries--the traditional customs of a people--cannot survive a
caricature nor a satire. The _esprit moqueur_ of France and the insolent
wealth of England have left us scarce a vestige of our Fatherland. Our
literature is at this instant a thing of shreds and patches--bad
translations of bad books; the deep wisdom and the racy humour of Jean
Paul are unknown, while the vapid wit of a modern French novel is
extolled. They prefer the false glitter of Dumas and Balzac to the
sterling gold of Schiller and Herder; and even Leipsic and Waterloo have
not freed us from the slavish adulation of the conquered to the
conqueror.’
‘What would you have?’ said I.
‘I would have Germany a nation once more--a nation whose limits should
reach from the Baltic to the Tyrol. Her language, her people, her
institutions entitle her to be such; and it is only when parcelled into
kingdoms and petty States, divided by the artful policy of foreign
powers, that our nationality pines and withers.’
‘I can easily conceive,’ said I, ‘that the Confederation of the Rhine
must have destroyed in a great measure the patriotic feeling of Western
Germany. The peasantry were sold as mercenaries; the nobles, little
better, took arms in a cause many of them hated and detested----’
‘I must stop you here,’ said he, with a smile; ‘not that you would or
could say that which should wound my feelings, but you might hurt your
own when you came to know that he to whom you are speaking served in
that army. Yes, sir, I was a soldier of Napoleon.’
Although nothing could be more unaffectedly easy than his manner as he
spoke, I feared I might already have said too much; indeed, I knew not
the exact expressions I had used, and there was a pause of some minutes,
broken at length by the colonel saying--
‘Let us walk towards the town; for if I mistake not they close the gates
of the Park at midnight, and I believe we are the only persons remaining
here now.’
Chattering of indifferent matters, we arrived at the hotel; and after
accepting an invitation to accompany the baron the next day to Wilhelms
Höhe, I wished him good-night and retired.