modes of attaining to public honours and ministerial office in France
and in Germany. "Most delightful to me was the acquaintance of
Chevalier. Delightful and afflicting. Afflicting when I contrasted the
treatment of talent in Germany with that which it meets in France.
Michel Chevalier, the accomplished writer who knows how to handle so
well and agreeably the dry topics of national economy, of railways and
public works, ten years ago was a St Simonian. When the association of
Menilmontant was prosecuted by the French government, he was condemned
to a year's imprisonment. But those who persecuted him for his
principles, prized him for his talents. Instead of letting him undergo
his punishment, as would have been the case in Germany, they gave him
money and sent him to North America, commissioned to make observations
upon that country. Chevalier published, in the _Journal des Debats_, his
able letters from the United States, returned to France, became
professor at the University, and, a year ago, was made counsellor of
state." In opposition to this example, Mr Gutzkow traces the progress of
the German candidate for his office; pipes, beer, and dogs at the
university, plucked in his examination, a place in an administration,
counsellor, knight of several orders, vice-president of a province,
president of a province, minister.
Although there are in Paris more Germans than foreigners of any other
nation, little is seen and heard of them. They do not hang together, and
form a society of their own, as do the English, and even the Spaniards
and Italians. They may be classed under the heads of political refugees,
artisans, men of science and letters, merchants and bankers. Few of them
are of sufficient rank and importance to represent their nation with
dignity, or sufficiently wealthy to make themselves talked of for their
lavish expenditure and magnificent establishments. They have not, like
the English, colonized and appropriated to themselves one of the best
quarters of Paris. Mr Gutzkow complains of the scanty kindness and
attention shown to his countrymen by the richer class of German
residents. "I was in a drawing-room," he says, "whose owner was indebted
for his fortune to a marriage with a German lady. Yet the Germans there
present were neglected both by host and hostess. The German artist or
scholar must not reckon on a Schickler or a Rothschild to introduce him
into the higher circles of Parisian life. These rich bankers are of the
same breed as the German waiters in Switzerland and Alsace, who, even
when waiting upon Germans, pretend to understand only French. Music is
the German's best passport to French society. You may be a great
scientific genius, and find no admission at the renowned soirA(C)es of the
Countess Merlin. Do but offer to take a part in one of the musical
choruses, to strengthen the bass or the tenor, and you are welcome
without name or fame, and even without varnished boots."
We have been diffuse upon the lighter texts afforded us by Mr Gutzkow's
work, and must abstain from touching upon its graver portions. They will
repay perusal. A vein of satire, sometimes verging on bitterness, is
here and there perceptible in his pages. It forms no unpleasant
seasoning to a very palatable book.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] _Briefe aus Paris_, 1842. _Pariser EindrA1/4cke_, 1846. Von KARL
GUTZKOW. Frankfurt am Main, 1846.
VISIT TO THE VLADIKA OF MONTENEGRO.
THE people of the old Illyricum have shown a marvellous consistency of
character through all the changes that have affected the other nations
of the Roman empire. They exist now as they did of old, a hardy race of
borderers, not quite civilised, and not quite barbarous--Christian in
fact, and Turkish to a great extent in appearance. Living on the borders
of the two empires, they exhibit the national characteristics of each
_in transitu_ towards the other. Of all civilised Europe, it is perhaps
here only that the practice of carrying arms universally and commonly
prevails--a custom which we have very old historical authority for
considering as the characteristic mark of unsettled, predatory, and
barbarous manners--an opinion which will be abundantly confirmed by a
glance at the neighbouring Albanians. Any thing original is possessed of
one element of interest, especially when it has been so sturdily
preserved; and sturdy, indeed, have the Illyrians been. In spite of the
polished condition of the empire of which they form a constituent part,
and of the constant steamers up and down the Adriatic promoting
intercourse with the world, they remain much as they used to be, and so
do they seem likely to remain indefinitely.
Perhaps the secret of their stability may be, that visitors pass all
around them, but seldom come among them. People visit the coast to look
at Spalatro for Diocletian's sake, at Pola for its magnificent
amphitheatre, and for the memory of Constantine's unhappy son, and
perhaps at Ragusa. But this is pretty well all they could do
conveniently, which is the same thing as to say, it is all that nineteen
travellers out of twenty would do. In those places where visits are paid
by prescription, the traveller would find, as is likely, nothing of
distinct nationality. Such places are like well-frequented inns, where
any body and every body is at home, and where every body influences the
manners for the time being--there will be found cafA(C)s, carriages, and
ciceroni.
But the case is far different in the more abstruse parts of this
region--in those districts of which some have subsided into the domain
of the Turks, some remain independent, and a narrow strip only is
reserved--the wreck of the old Empire. All are defaulters in the march
of civilisation. But the independent Montenegrini retain in full force
the odour of barbaric romance. They occupy a small territory, not
noticed in many maps, shut in by the Turks on all sides, except where,
for a narrow space, they border on Austria. But they pay no sort of
subjection to either of these mighty powers. With Austria they maintain
friendly intelligence on the footing of the proudest sovereignty, and an
unqualified assertion of the right of nations. With the Turks their
relations are of a ruder and more interesting kind.
The Montenegrini alone of Europe follow the political model of modern
Rome. Their political head is their ecclesiastical superior. The regal
and episcopal offices, conjointly held, are hereditary in collateral
succession, since the reigning prince is bound to celibacy. In the
consecration of their bishops, they pay no regard to canonical age, and
the authorities of the Greek church seem to bend to the peculiar
exigencies of the case. The reigning Vladika was consecrated at the age
of eighteen. His power is, in fact, supreme, though formally qualified
by the assessorship of a senate, who, though entitled to advise, would
outstep their bounds did they attempt to direct. Indeed, legal authority
among such a clan of barbarians can only subsist by despotism. Where
every hand is armed, and violent death a familiar object, the power that
rules must be enabled to act immediately and without appeal. To graduate
authority among them, except in the case of military command, exercised
by immediate delegation from the chief, would be to render it
contemptible.
And such a bishop as now occupies this throne has not been seen since
the martial days of the fighting Pope Julius. The old stories of
prelates clad in armour, and fighting at the head of their troops,
astonish us, but are regarded as altogether antiquated. Yet among those
hills is exhibited a scene that may realise the wildest descriptions of
romance or history. That the people are a people of warriors, is not so
surprising when we consider their locality, their ancestry, and the
circumstances of their life. If they were merely marauders, we should be
no more struck with the singularity of their state than we are with the
vagabondism of the Albanians. A wild country, a wandering population,
and distance from executive restraints, may, in any case, bring natural
ferocity to a harvest of violence and rapine. But the Montenegrini
disclaim the name of robbers and the practice of evil. They consider
themselves to be engaged in a warfare, not only justifiable, but
meritorious, and over bloodshed they cast the veil of religious zeal.
It seems to be a fact that their violence is for the Turks only. So far
as we could gain intelligence, they do not molest Christians; and
experience enables us to speak with pleasure of our own hospitable
reception. But against the Turks their hatred is intense, their valour
and rage unquenchable. It is not to be supposed that any Turk would be
so foolish as to attempt the passage of their territory, except under
express assurance of safe conduct; but should one do so, he would find
ineffectual the strongest escort with which the Sultan could furnish
him. The savage nature of the district must prevent the combined action
of regular troops, or of any troops unacquainted with the localities;
and from behind the crags an unseen enemy would wither the ranks of the
invader. Indeed, it would appear that the passage is not safe for a Turk
even under the assurance of a truce. A tragical _accident_ was the
subject of conversation at the time of our visit. A body of the enemy
had been surprised and cut off, notwithstanding the subsistence of a
truce. Ignorance on the part of the assaulters was the ready plea; and a
message had been dispatched to make such reparation as could be found in
apologies and restitution of effects. But the thing looked ill. A truce
must soon become notorious throughout so confined a region, and among a
people of whom, if not every one engaged personally in the field, every
one had his heart and soul there. It is to be feared that the
obligations of good faith are qualified in the case of a Mahomedan; and
however we may lament, we can hardly view with astonishment so natural a
consequence of their bloody education. "Hates any man the thing he would
not kill?"--and hatred to the Turks is the dawning idea of the
Montenegrino child, and the master-passion of the dying warrior.
With certain saving clauses, we may compare the position of the
Montenegrini to that of the old knights of Malta. Rhodes and Malta are
hardly more isolated, and are more accessible than this mountain region.
If there be a wide difference between the gentle blood and European
dignities of the knights, and the rude estate of the mountaineers, there
is between them a brotherhood of courage, inflexibility, and devoted
opposition to Mahomet. Each company may stand forth as having discharged
a like office, distinguished by the characteristic differences of the
two branches of the church. The knights, noble, polished, and temporally
influential, defended the weak point of Western Christendom--the sea;
the Montenegrini, unpolished, ignorant, of little worldly account, but
great zeal, have done their part for Eastern Christendom, in opposing
the continental power of the Turks. The unpolished nature of their life
and actions has been in the spirit of the church to which they belong.
They have been rude but steady, and stand alone in their strength. They
have resisted not only the power of Mahomedanism on the one side, but
have also refrained from amalgamation with the western Christians,
remaining firm in that allegiance to the sec of Constantinople, which
the Sclavonians derived from their first missionaries.[3]
There is one point of superiority in the case of these barbarians as
compared with that of the military knights. They have never been
conquered, never driven from their fastnesses. The knights defended
Rhodes with valour such as never has been surpassed; and to this day the
recollection moves the apathetic spirit of the Turks; and the monstrous
burying-grounds in the suburbs are witnesses of the slaughter of the
assailants. Yet Rhodes was evacuated, and the Order obliged to seek
another settlement. But the Montenegrini have never been conquered. They
have withstood the whole power of the mightiest sultans, in whose
territories they have been as an ever-present nest of hornets, always
ready to sally forth, losing no opportunity of destruction. These
Osmanlis, who so lately were the proudest of nations, have been
themselves baffled and defied by a handful of Christians. Their
enthusiasm, their numbers, their artillery, their commanding possession
of the lake of Scutari, all have failed to bring under their power a
handful of some hundred and fifty thousand men. The cross, once planted
in this rugged soil, has taken effectual root, and continues still to
flash confusion on the followers of Islam. It is the symbol of our faith
that is carried before the mountaineers when they go forth to battle;
and it still inspirits them, as it did those legions of the faithful who
first learned to reverence its virtue.
We must not carry things too far. It would be absurd to claim for these
people the general merit of devotion; to suppose that as a general rule
they are actuated by the love of religion. Alas! they are undoubtedly
very ignorant of the religion for which they fight. Yet, so far as
knowledge serves them, they are religious; where error is the
consequence of ignorance, we may grieve, but should be slow to condemn.
Some are probably led to heroism by liberal devotion to the person of
the Bishop; some because they have been nursed in the idea that Turks
are their natural enemies, whom to destroy is a work of merit. But,
nevertheless, they exhibit the spectacle of a people who, proceeding on
a principle of religion, however that principle be obscured, have
instituted, and long have maintained, a crusade against the religious
fanatics who once made Europe tremble. Their spirit at least contains
the commendable elements of constancy, simplicity, and heroism.
It was my fortune to pay a visit to this extraordinary people under
favourable circumstances. Visits to them are very rare. Sometimes a
stray soldier's yacht, from Corfu, finds its way to Cattaro; but
generally only in its course up the Adriatic. These military visitants
are commonly more intent on woodcocks than the picturesque, and game
does not particularly enrich these regions. For very many years there
has been an account of only one English visiting-party besides
ourselves. We were led thither by the happy favour of circumstance. Our
party was numerous, and certainly must have been the most distinguished
that the Vladika has had the opportunity of entertaining. It consisted
of the captain and several officers of an English man-of-war, reinforced
by the accession of a couple of volunteers from the officers of the
Austrian garrison of Cattaro.
We were all glad to have the opportunity of satisfying our eyes on the
subject of the marvellous tales whose confused rumour had reached us. We
were not young travellers, and it was not a little that would astonish
us--but we felt that if the reality in this case were at all like the
report, we might all afford to be astonished. It was a singular thing
that so little should be known about these people almost in their
neighbourhood--for Corfu is not two hundred miles distant. But perhaps
the reason may be, that they are not to be seen beyond their own
confined region, and are easily confounded with the irregular tribes of
Albanians.
The wonders of our visit opened upon us before reaching the land of
romance--a wonder of beauty in the nature of the entrance to Cattaro.
The Bocca di Cattaro is of the same kind as, and not much inferior to,
the Bosphorus. The man who has seen neither the one nor the other of
these fairy streams must be content to rest without the idea. The
nearest things to them, probably, would be found in the passages of the
Eastern Archipelago. The entrance from the sea is by a narrow mouth,
which seems to be nothing but a small indentation of the coast, till you
are pretty well arrived at the inner extremity. You then pass into
another canal, whose tortuous course shuts out the sight of the sea, and
puts you in the most landlocked position in which it is possible to see
a ship of war. High hills rise on either side, beautifully planted, and
verdant to the waters edge. Villages are not wanting to complete the
effect; and here and there single houses peep out beautiful in
isolation. Another turn brings into view a point of divergence in the
stream, where, on a little island, stands a simple devout-looking
chapel. It looks as though intended to call forth the pious gratitude of
the returning sailor, and help him to the expression of his thanks. The
whole length of the channel is something more than twenty miles--and all
of the same beautiful description--not seen at once, but opening
gradually as the successive bends of the stream are passed. The wind
failed us, and for a considerable distance we had to track ship, which
we were easily able to do, as there is plenty of water close to the very
edge. At the bottom of all lies Cattaro--occupying a narrow level, with
the sea before, and the frowning mountains behind.
Our arrival set the little place quite in a commotion. Indeed, this was
but the second time that a ship of war had carried our flag up these
waters--the other visitant was, I believe, from the squadron of Sir W.
Hoste. The whole place turned out to see us, and the harbour was covered
with boat-loads of the nobility and gentry. They were like all Austrians
that I have met, exceedingly kind, and well-disposed to the English
name. We soon made acquaintances, and exchanged invitations. Their
musical souls were charmed with the performances of our really fine
band, and we were equally charmed with their pleasing hospitality. The
couple of days occupied in the interchange of agreeable civilities were
useful in the promotion of our scheme. From our friends we learned the
prescriptions of Montenegrino etiquette. An unannounced visit, in
general cases, is by them regarded as neither friendly nor courteous: an
evidence of habitual caution that we should expect among a people
against whom open violence is ineffectual, and only treachery dangerous.
Our friends provided a messenger, and we awaited his return amidst the
amenities of Cattaro. These combined so much good taste with good will,
that it was difficult to credit the stories of barbarism subsisting
within a short day's journey: stories that here, in the immediate
neighbourhood of the scene of action, became more vivid in character.
The appearance of the country was in keeping with tales of romance.
Almost immediately behind the town rises the mountain district, very
abruptly, and affording at first view an appearance of inaccessibility.
It is not till the eye has become somewhat habituated to the search that
one perceives a means of ascent. A narrow road of marvellous
construction has been cut up the almost perpendicular mountain. But the
word _road_ would give a wrong idea of its nature. It is rather a giant
staircase, and like a staircase it appears from the anchorage. The lines
are so many, and contain such small angles, that when considered with
the height of the work, they may aptly be compared to the steps of a
ladder. It is of recent construction, and how the people used to manage
before this means of communication existed, it is difficult to say.
Probably this difficulty of intercourse has mainly tended to the
preservation of barbarism. Now, the route is open to horses, sure-footed
and carefully ridden. The highlanders occasionally resort to the town
for traffic in the coarse commodities of their manufacture. On these
occasions they have to leave their arms in a guard-house without the
gates, as indeed have all people entering the town; and a pretty
collection is to be seen in these depots, of the murderous long guns of
which the Albanians make such good use.
It was on the evening of the second day that we first saw an accredited
representative of the tribe. A party of us had strolled out towards the
foot of the mountain, and in the repose of its shadows were speculating
on the probable adventures of the morrow. A convenient bridge over a
mountain stream afforded a seat, whence we looked wistfully up to the
heights. The contrast between the neatness of the suburb, the hum of the
town, the noisy activity of the peasantry, and the black desolation of
the mountain, engaged our admiration. This desolation was presently
relieved by the emerging into view of a descending group. One figure was
on horseback, with several footmen attending his steps. The dress of the
cavalier would have served to distinguish him as of consequence, without
the distinction of position. His dress affected a style of barbaric
magnificence that disdained the notion of regularity. The original idea
perhaps was Hungarian, to which was added, according to the fancy of the
wearer, whatever went to make up the magnificent. His appearance was
very much, but not exactly, that of a Turk--not the modernised Turk in
frock-coat and trousers, but him of the old school, who despises, or
only partially adopts, sumptuary reform. This splendid individual was
attended by several "gillies," who were genuine specimens of the tribe.
They are almost, without exception, (an observation of after
experience,) of enormous stature, swarthy, and thin. Their dark locks
give an air of wildness to their face. Their long limbs afford token of
the personal activity induced and rendered necessary by the
circumstances of their life. Their garments are scanty, and such as very
slightly impede motion. The whole party were abundantly armed, and a
brave man might confess them to be formidable. We naturally stared at
these gentry, who, at length on level ground, approached rapidly. It is
not every thing uncommon that deserves a stare, and we were accustomed
to strangeness. But we had not met any thing so striking as the wild
figures of these barbarians, thrown into relief by the appropriate
background of the mountain. The horseman reciprocated our stare, as was
fit, on the unusual meeting with the British uniform. Presently he
pulled up his animal, and, dismounting, invited our approach. The
recognition was soon complete. He introduced himself as the aide-de-camp
of his highness the Vladika of the Montenegrini, who received with
pleasure our communication, and invited our visit. The party had been
sent down as guides and honourable escort into his territory; and a led
horse that they brought for the special convenience of the captain,
completed the assurance of the gracious hospitality of the prince. Now
this was a very propitious beginning of the enterprise. We had hit upon
a time when a short truce allowed him to do the honours of his
establishment. One might go, perhaps, fifty times that way without a
similar advantage. You would hear, probably, that he was out fighting on
one of the frontiers, or laying an ambuscade, or perhaps that he had
been shot the day before. The least likely thing of all for you to hear
would be, as we did, that he was at home, would be happy to see you, and
begged the pleasure of your company to dinner. We became at once great
friends with our new acquaintance, and carried him off to dine on board.
He proved not to be one of the indigenous, a fact we might have inferred
from his comparatively diminutive stature and fair complexion. He was a
Hungarian who had taken service under the Vladika. As it is not probable
that this paper will ever find its way into those remote fastnesses, it
may be permitted to say, that he exhibited in his person one of the
evils inseparable from the independent sovereign existence of
uncivilised borderers on civilisation. In such a position they afford an
ever-present refuge to civilised malefactors. Any person of Cattaro who
offends against the laws of Austria, has before him a secure refuge, if
he can manage to obtain half-an-hour's start of the police. The _pes
claudus_ of human retribution must halt at the foot of the mountain,
whence the fugitive may insult justice.