the eyes of Frederika Bremer, when she thought she detected in American
usages the elements of progress and liberty. It is, indeed, with too
light a touch that she glides by the more regrettable defects of the
American character, so fascinated, so dazzled is she by the brilliant
mirage of independence--independence of thought and action, often
verging upon or passing into licence--which the United States presented
to her. She reminds one of that Western patriot who, from the banks of
the Mississippi, watching the explosion of a steamship, exclaimed,
"Heavens! the Americans are a great people!" This exclamation she does
not repeat in so many words, but the idea which it embodies is present
in every page of her book.
But, in truth, she travelled under conditions which made it almost
impossible for her to form an impartial judgment of men and things. She
was everywhere received with so much enthusiastic hospitality, even by
Quakers, Shakers, Plungers, and other of those strange sects described
with so much unction by the late Mr. Hepworth Dixon, that her usual
keen powers of observation were necessarily obscured. She saw everything
through rose-coloured glasses. On the question of slavery, for example,
she, the ardent champion of the emancipation of humanity, who started
with the firm resolution to launch her heaviest thunderbolts at the
slave-owners, was led to give forth an uncertain sound. For the astute
Southerners got hold of her, feted her, complimented her, read her
works; how could she retain her impartiality when brought under such
powerful influences? Can any author inveigh against the men who read his
books? So it has not inaptly been said that she denounces the
slave-holders only when she is in Yankee territory, and criticises the
Yankees only when she is in the Southern States. Allowing herself to
believe that the condition of the negroes was not so deplorable as she
had supposed, she even began to extenuate the institution of slavery by
arguments too transparently feeble to call for detailed confutation. It
is true, she says, that slavery is an evil to-day, but to-morrow it will
be a boon to humanity, and a boon to the negro world. Why? Because the
American negro, enlightened by the teachings of Christianity through his
contact with the white man, will, at some future time, return to Africa,
the home of his ancestors, a missionary of civilization, charged with
the glorious task of redeeming and regenerating it.
This was a new reading of the old falsehood, doing evil that good may
come. What could the negro think of a Christianity that justified his
subjugation by oppression? Or how could a race, kept in the bonds and
fetters of an accursed degradation, be fitted to play the part of
apostles and missionaries? Happily it is unnecessary to discuss the
subject, since slavery no longer exists in America.
* * * * *
Of those beautiful descriptions of nature which lend so great a charm to
Miss Bremer's fiction we find but few examples in her work on the United
States. Unfortunately she travelled as a philosopher, not as an observer
of nature; engaged in the study of social questions, she seems to have
had neither the leisure nor the inclination to survey the magnificent
scenery through which she passed. The area she traversed was very
considerable; from New York she crossed the continent to New Orleans;
she visited Canada, the lakes, the valley of the Mississippi, and made
an excursion to Cuba; but of all the landscapes, sublime, beautiful, and
picturesque that met her gaze, she says little or nothing. Even the
mighty Niagara has scarcely power to move her; the rolling prairies make
no impression on her imagination. From her book, therefore, we can offer
no quotations. In a country like America social questions change their
aspects with so much rapidity that Miss Bremer's opinions upon them are
already antiquated. It is Nature only that preserves her character. The
relations of the North to the South, of the slave-holder to the negro,
or of the Democratic party to the Republican, may undergo, in twenty or
thirty years a complete transformation; but Niagara still pours its
flood of waters into the St. Lawrence, and leagues upon leagues of
grassy savannahs are still untrodden by the foot of man.
* * * * *
The defect which we have indicated in Miss Bremer's "Homes of the New
World" does not appear in the later work, "Two Years in Switzerland and
Italy." Here we find that warm sympathy with Nature, that vivid
appreciation of the beautiful, which we might reasonably expect from one
who had the poet's feeling and fancy, though not endowed with the poet's
faculty of expression.[12] In the opening chapter or "station," as she
prefers to call it, we come upon a picture full of power and colour, in
which the artist uses her pencil with equal grace and freedom. It is the
valley of Lauterbrunnen, or "Laughing Waters":--
"From Steinbock the valley becomes ever narrower, between ever higher
mountain walls; louder and louder roar the becks and the streams, which,
now swollen by the rains, are hurled from the glaciers down towards the
valley and the river. Here falls the Staubbach, thrown like silver rain,
driven hither and thither by the wind over the field which it keeps
green below; here rushes down the strong Trummelsbach, foaming from the
embrace of the cliffs; there the still stronger Rosenbach, which the
Jungfrau pours out of her silver horn. On all sides, near and afar off,
there is a rushing and roaring and foaming, on the right hand and on the
left, above me, below me, and before, out of a hundred hidden fountains,
and even wilder beside me rushes on the Lutschine, with still increasing
waters. It is too much, I cannot bear even my own thoughts. I am in the
bosom of a wild Undine, who drowns her admirers while she embraces
them--and the Titans are growing ever loftier and broader, and the
valley ever narrower, gloomier, and more desolate. I felt depressed, and
as it were, overwhelmed, but, nevertheless, I went forward. It is
melancholy scenery, but, at the same time, grand and powerful. And
scenery of this character exercises a strong attractive power, even when
it astonishes. The shades of evening fell darkly over the valley, where
I saw before me, in its gloomy depth, a broad, grey-white, immense wall
of water, like dust hurled thundering down from a lofty mountain. It
seemed to shut up the valley. That is enough. I salute the giantess, the
great Schmadribach, the mother of the Lutschine river, and return. No,
it is not good to be here, and the society of the Titans is more
agreeable for a simple mortal at a greater distance!...
"On my return to Interlachen the Titans presented me with a glorious
spectacle, and it was not without joyful admiration that I parted from
their immediate neighbourhood. The great spirits which terrify can also
enchant. In the light of the descending sun the white peaks and fields
of the Alps stood out in the most brilliant colouring; the lofty
Jungfrau clothed herself in rose-tint, the blue glaciers shone
transparently, and the lower the sun sank the higher and clearer gleamed
the Alpine pinnacles....
"Later still, new astonishment awaited me from the camp of the giants.
The head of the Jungfrau was surrounded with a soft glory of light,
which increased in beauty and brightness, till at length the moon,
shining in full splendour, slowly advancing above, crowned the Titaness
with beauty."[13]
Apart from its picturesque descriptions, however, Miss Bremer's book on
Switzerland and Italy is hardly a success. She had not the
qualifications of a Madame de Stael, and her observations, therefore,
are frequently superficial. Moreover, she seems to have suffered in
self-appreciation. In Sweden she shone as a great star in the literary
firmament; and she appears to have been under an impression that her
fame would have preceded her into other countries, and ensured her a
triumphal reception in any town she entered; but Germany showed her very
little attention, and hence she sees it in a very unfavourable light. So
in Switzerland: she was caught up in the stream of tourists; her name,
inscribed in the visitors' books of the hotels, received but a fugitive
notice; and she who had created in her fancy an ideal Switzerland,
prepared to welcome with open arms the champion of freedom generally,
and the freedom of women in particular--discovered only a nation of
good housekeepers, who were thinking of everything in the world but
emancipation.
Miss Bremer visited the valleys of the High Alps and the Forest Cantons;
spent a Sunday on the Righi; journeyed to Basle; passed into Belgium and
Flanders, surveying the antiquities of the old historic cities of Ghent,
Bruges, and Antwerp; proceeded to Paris; returning to Switzerland, spent
the winter at Lausanne; in the following year crossed the Alps into
Italy, and through Piedmont travelled to the Eternal City; thence to
Naples, where she saw an eruption of Vesuvius and the buried city of
Pompeii; and, finally, explored the fair landscapes of Sicily. This vast
variety of scenes she sketches always with a quick and dexterous pencil.
In the course of her two years' travel she met with several illustrious
men--with some who have made, or helped to make, the history of our
time--and her record of their conversations is full of interest. As
might be expected, she excels in portraiture. This is her portrait of
the late Cardinal Antonelli:--
"Antonelli has a strongly marked countenance of the true Italian
character; handsome dark eyes, with a penetrative glance, gloomy or
bright according to the sentiment which they express; dangerous eyes, it
seems to me, they would be to those on whom their glance was directed in
love. The countenance is pale; the features are regular--even
handsome--all except the mouth, which is large, with large teeth, and
devoid of agreeable sentiment when speaking. In short, the countenance
has a commanding expression. An abundance of dark brown hair waves from
under the red cap, and falls in waving curls upon the pale cheeks. The
whole figure is picturesque--artistic in effect; to which also the
costume--the red cardinal stockings, the large silver buckles, the short
silk cloak, and the red cap--contribute in no small degree. In his
demeanour he has all the self-possession and ease of a perfect man of
the world."
* * * * *
The Roman Carnival has often been described, but never, we think, with
more lively appreciation of its humorous features than by Frederika
Bremer. In the following passage we recognize something of that
realistic power which makes the charm of her novels. The details are
touched as vividly and picturesquely as in her Swedish interiors:--
"At three o'clock in the afternoon the festival began. The Corso was
filled with people and gendarmes. Military, mounted and on foot, were
posted at the corners of all the streets, as well as in the square.
Crowds of ragged lads were loitering about the Corso, shouting as they
followed any laughably-attired mask. Windows and balconies were filling
with gentlemen and ladies in dominoes, some in costume. One saw many
lovely faces.... The whole Corso, from the Piazza di Venezia to the
Piazza del Popolo, looks like a festively-decorated arena. But, for the
first time during many weeks, the sky is grey, and the streets are wet
with rain which has fallen in the night; it even now looks threatening,
and already has rained a little, but the air is soft and calm. The north
wind has left Rome, and all windows are open. Some carriages, with masks
in costumes and dominoes, begin to drive up and down the Corso; the war
with comfits and bouquets has begun between pedestrians and those who
are in carriages--between the people in the streets and the people at
the windows and in the balconies. They seek either to powder one another
or to make a present. Extremely beautiful bouquets and fine bonbons come
amongst quantities of others which are less beautiful and not at all
splendid. One is obliged, in the meantime, to hold a fine wire gauze, in
the form of a little scoop, before the face, if one would escape
bruises. Our balcony is decorated with red and white, and along the
outside of the iron railing small boxes are hung for the bouquets and
comfits. Our agreeable hostess belongs to the ornaments of her balcony,
into which flowers are assiduously thrown by gentlemen in carriages and
on foot.
"At five o'clock a mounted troop of soldiers, in close rank, galloped at
full speed up the Corso, in order to clear the street, for now the
horse-race was to begin. The people gather themselves close together by
the walls of the houses; a pause succeeds, and then a loud exulting
shout, which runs like wildfire along the Corso; and from the Piazza
del Popolo speeds, in flying career, a little troop of small horses,
adorned with gold-paper wings or flags. Away they rush at full speed
along the Corso up to the Piazza di Venezia, where they are stopped, and
the judges of the race award the prizes which their owners shall
receive. Scarcely have the swift-footed steeds passed, when the throng
of people crowd after them like a swarming ant-hillock. This closes the
amusements of the day....
"On Monday the Corso was, nevertheless, more animated than on Saturday,
and the warfare of comfits and flowers was carried on very gaily. People
threw flowers at each other from balcony to balcony, from window to
window; and people amused themselves with grand comfits, strung upon
long threads fastened to long sticks, like fishing-lines, which they
enticed their acquaintance, from one story to another, to catch; or they
deceived the boys in the streets with these same tempting baits, which
the next moment were snatched up again. If any one wishes to be polite,
he fastens at the end of the string a beautiful flower, or some other
pretty little thing, and allows it to be caught by the lady for whom it
is intended. The street boys are in general, however, the greatest
winners by this polite warfare; for everything which misses its object
and falls into the street belongs to them, and that is not little....
"On Friday ... the Corso was crowded with all kinds of costumes and
masks in carriages and on foot; the windows and balconies and roofs
were thronged with dominoes and fantastic costumes; bouquets of flowers
and comfits showered down through the air.... Two rows of carriages
drive in close file along the Corso. They assaulted each other
incessantly; besides which, they threw their missiles up to the windows
and balconies, and received others in return. Sometimes a masquerading
gentleman designs to present you with an extremely beautiful bouquet;
but if you do not take great care it is quickly snatched away by some
lad, who jumps upon the step or wheel of the carriage.... Sometimes the
procession of carriages is stopped by the crush, and woe then to the
carriage or the ladies who happen to be stopped under a great balcony,
for they are then overwhelmed by such a shower of chalk and powder
comfits, which rain down upon them like hail, that the dominoes and
outer attire are spoiled! One is fortunate if one can keep one's eyes
uninjured; but a great many of the uneducated class amuse themselves by
throwing white powder into people's faces, and if this gets into the
eyes, it sometimes occasions long suffering; sometimes one receives a
great blow on the head from an immense bouquet; or a great piece of
confectionery, as hard as a stone; but any one who enters into the sport
must tolerate it--and, happen what may, people are only the more excited
and filled by the spirit of the time.... That which interested me most
was to see the handsome Roman women, in their holiday costume, standing
in open _loges_ in the lower story of the houses. They receive, with
stoical resignation, the showers of comfits and bouquets which are
incessantly aimed at their gold-adorned heads. Women of the peasant
class, dressed as if for a wedding festival, with bare heads, adorned
with red ribbon and grand ornaments, were also the principal figures in
many of the carriages....
"The streets swarmed with harlequins, punchinellos, and jesters, who
leaped about, talking to people in the carriages and on foot, inviting
to drink, pretending themselves to be intoxicated, and spilling the beer
or water on the right hand and left; crowds of castanet-players and
dancers, in every variety of laughable, grotesque, and most frequently
tatterdemalion costume, beating drums, and so on--making a horrible din.
Sometimes, in the midst of all this wild confusion, a kind of French
courtier would come mincing along, in old-fashioned costume, leading a
lady, also in antique attire, and, gazing on the right hand and the left
through an immense opera-glass, making, in the meantime, the most polite
bows. However much he might be pushed about, or powdered, it mattered
not; he only gazed through his opera-glass, and bowed all the more, and
never lost his self-possession. In the midst of all this whirl and
confusion comes a brilliant procession: it is the governor of the city
and the Roman senate, driving in a great number of grand carriages, with
splendid horses and servants; gold and silver shine out, and liveries
which appear to be covered with fire. The brilliant _cortege_ advances
with great dignity through the many-coloured mass of the Corso up to the
Capitol."
* * * * *
Not the least interesting pages in her book are those descriptive of an
interview which she enjoyed with the great founder of Italian unity,
Count Cavour--the statesman who successfully realized the dreams of the
theorist, and raised Italy to a place among the European Powers. When
Miss Bremer saw him, he was still the Minister of the King of Sardinia;
but in secret was unweariedly labouring to carry out the policy which
placed on the brow of the King of Sardinia the Italian crown.
Miss Bremer had been told that nothing in his exterior revealed the
astute statesman; that, on the contrary, he looked very much as one
might imagine Dickens's Mr. Pickwick to look; and she confesses that at
the first glance he reminded her more of an English red-complexioned
country squire, who rides and hunts, eats good dinners, and takes life
lightly, than of a profound and sagacious politician, who, with sure
glance and firm hand, steers the vessel of the State towards its
destined haven over the stormy waves of statecraft. But quickly that
countenance lighted up, and the more Miss Bremer studied, during their
long conversation, the more significant and agreeable she found it. They
who had painted the great Minister's portrait had not understood this
countenance nor the character of the head. There was in it a certain
squareness, but at the same time refinement. The complexion was fresh
and delicate, the forehead magnificent, open, with ample space for both
broad and elevated ideas; clear, lively, and penetrating was the glance
of the light blue eye; the nose and mouth, as well as the shape of the
face, not unlike those of the first Napoleon, having the same delicacy
and yet firmness of outline. An arch expression was visible in the play
of the muscles about the nose, and the graciousness of the sunny South
was in the smile. As to stature, he was not tall, but he was well-built,
and his figure was solid and robust, like that of a man who can hold his
footing firmly. The manners were easy, calm, and very agreeable, and
indicated no ordinary power of self-control.
Cavour seemed well pleased to learn that even in remote Sweden the
affairs of Piedmont were a subject of general interest, and that his own
words and actions were attentively studied. From his expressions it was
evident to his visitor that he well understood the Swedish government
and constitution. Its mode of representation he pithily characterized as
"heavy machinery."
To Miss Bremer's numerous questions regarding Piedmont and his views as
to its future, he replied with kindly simplicity and absolute candour.
He concluded with a forecast abundantly justified by events, that he
would eventually conduct Piedmont, with complete security, into a path
whence it could not turn back, and she saw that he would not hesitate to
make pecuniary sacrifices for this cause.
"Piedmont," he said, "had long been like a vessel which, having run too
close to the rocks, was prevented by that means from having the wind in
her sails, and this impediment must be removed."
One of the means to this end mentioned by Cavour was the gigantic work
which has since been successfully accomplished, the tunnelling of Mont
Cenis; he was of opinion that this would facilitate communication
between the social culture and social life of the most developed of the
European cities.
When Miss Bremer expatiated on the brilliant hopes for the future of all
Italy which Piedmont's advance on the path of freedom had awakened, he
did not discourage them, but, with the prudence of the politician,
refrained from anything more than vague expressions.
To her observation that she had not seen any statesman who appeared to
bear so easily the burden of a statesman's life, he answered, with a
smile:--
"Ah! 'tis so only in appearance; for behind, in the depth, lie weary
cares, and it is not easy to keep alight the sacred fire."
In Miss Bremer's opinion the appearance was not deceptive. According to
what she heard from many of his friends, Cavour occupied his seat with
tolerable ease, and without undue strain discharged his duties as First
Minister of Piedmont, and the shaper of its destiny. The fact was, that
his nature was that of a statesman; he was born, not made, and performed
his work as Mozart executed his symphonies or Raphael painted his
pictures, without torturing his brains, without any special difficulty.
In his sphere of duty he was as much a genius and an artist as they
were.
At parting she earnestly urged him to give juster laws to the women of
Piedmont, who, in all that appertained to the right of inheritance, were
greatly inferior to men. M. de Cavour laughed, half cynically, as at an
expression called forth by a certain _esprit de corps_; but afterwards
he discoursed seriously on the difficulties which, particularly amongst
an agricultural population, stood in the way of an equal right of
inheritance. Miss Bremer listened with greater pleasure when he added,
with the accent of conviction, that in any case equal right of
inheritance would become law, sooner or later, amongst them. It existed
in the spirit and tendency of all their legislation, and, besides, it
was right.[14]
[Illustration: THE SIMPLON.]
It was in the spring of 1859 that Miss Bremer set out for the East. The
voyage, to one of so vivid an imagination and of such profound religious
impressions, was full of living interest. She spent long, solitary
hours on the deck of the vessel that conveyed her, and allowed her fancy
free course over that sea with a thousand historic memories--the
Mediterranean. With vigilant eye she watched the waves as they rolled
past with glittering crests of foam, and the lights and shadows which
chased one another in swift succession over the purple expanse, as
sunshine or cloud rested on the bosom of the sapphire sky.
"The heavens," she exclaims, "declare the glory of God, and the
firmament sheweth His handiwork. Words are powerless to describe the
beauty of the day, and the scene which developed before me. We were
sailing on the sea of Syria towards the East--the country of the
morning--and what a brightness shone around us! I think that never
before had I seen the sun so luminous, so instinct with flame, or the
sky and the sea so transparent. The latter is of a deep blue, lightly
rippled; here and there small wave-crests, white with foam, surge up,
like lilies, from the infinite depths. The air is soft and mild;
sometimes the clouds unite above our heads and slide downwards into the
west, while the eastern portion of the celestial vault is serene and
pure as a diamond of the finest water. Above and around us we see only
the sky and the sea, but they are calm and beautiful."