The Cathedral of Cologne.--The eleven thousand Virgins.--The Skulls Of
the Magi--House in which Rubens was born.--Want of Cleanliness in
Cologne.--Journey resumed.--The Drachenfels.--Romantic Legend.--A
Convent converted into an Inn.--Its Solitude.--A Night in it.--A
Storm.--A Nocturnal Adventure.--Grim Figures.--An Apparition.--The
Mystery dissolved.--Palace of the Kings of Australia.--Banks of the
Rhine.--Coblentz.--Floating Bridges.--Departure from Coblentz.--Castle
of the Ritterstein.--Visit to it.--Its Furniture,--The Ritter
Saal--Tower of the Castle.--Anachronisms.
Dear ----,
I do not know by what dignitary of the ancient electorate the hotel in
which we lodged was erected, but it was a spacious building, with fine
lofty rooms and a respectable garden. As the language of a country is
influenced by its habits, and in America everything is so much reduced
to the standard of the useful that little of the graceful has yet been
produced, it may be well to remind you that this word "garden,"
signifies pleasure-grounds in Europe. It way even be questioned if the
garden of Eden was merely a _potager_.
After breakfasting we began to deliberate as to our future movements.
Here we were at Cologne, in Prussia, with the wide world before us,
uncertain whither to proceed. It was soon decided, however, that a first
duty was to look again at the unfinished cathedral, that wonder of
Gothic architecture; to make a pilgrimage to the house in which Rubens
was born; to pay a visit to the eleven thousand virgins, and to buy some
Cologne water: after which it would be time enough to determine where we
should sleep.
The first visit was to the bones. These relics are let into the walls of
the church that contains them, and are visible through a sort of
pigeon-holes which are glazed. There is one chapel in particular, that
is altogether decorated with the bones arranged in this manner, the
effect being very much like that of an apothecary's shop. Some of the
virgins are honoured with hollow wooden or silver busts, lids in the
tops of which being opened, the true skull is seen within. These relics
are not as formidable, therefore, as one would be apt to infer the bones
of eleven thousand virgins might be, the grinning portion of the skulls
being uniformly veiled for propriety's sake. I thought it a miracle in
itself to behold the bones of all these virgins, but, as if they were
insufficient, the cicerone very coolly pointed out to us the jar that
had held the water which was converted into wine by the Saviour at the
marriage of Cana! It was Asiatic in form, and may have held both water
and wine in its day.
The cathedral is an extraordinary structure. Five hundred years have
gone by, and there it is less than half finished. One of the towers is
not forty feet high, while the other may be two hundred. The crane,
which is renewed from time to time, though a stone has not been raised
in years, is on the latter. The choir, or rather the end chapel that
usually stands in rear of the choir, is perfect, and a most beautiful
thing it is. The long narrow windows, that are near a hundred feet in
height, are exquisitely painted, creating the peculiar cathedral
atmosphere, that ingenious invention of some poet to render solemn
architecture imaginative and glorious. We could not dispense with
looking at the skulls of the Magi, which are kept in an exceedingly rich
reliquary or shrine. They are all three crowned, as well as being masked
like the virgins. There is much jewellery, though the crowns had a
strong glow of tinsel about them, instead of the mild lustre of the true
things. Rubens, as you know, was of gentle birth, and the house in which
he was born is just such a habitation as you would suppose might have
been inhabited by a better sort of burgher. It is said that Mary of
Medicis, the wife of Henry IV, died in this building, and tradition,
which is usually a little ambitious of effect, has it that she died in
the very room in which Rubens was born. The building is now a
public-house.
I do not know that there is a necessary connection between foul smells
and Cologne water, but this place is the dirtiest and most offensive we
have yet seen, or rather smelt, in Europe. It would really seem that
people wish to drive their visitors into the purchase of their great
antidote. Disagreeable as it was, we continued to _flaner_ through the
streets until near noon, visiting, among other things, the floating
bridge, where we once more enjoyed the sight of the blue waters of the
Rhine glancing beneath our feet.
Like true _flaneurs_, we permitted chance to direct our steps, and at
twelve, tired with foul smells and heat, we entered the carriage,
threaded the half-moons, abbatis and grassy mounds again, and issued
into the pure air of the unfenced fields, on the broad plain that
stretches for miles towards the east, or in the direction of Bonn. The
day was sultry, and we fully enjoyed the transition. In this part of
Germany the postilions are no laggards, and we trotted merrily across
the wide plain, reaching Bonn long before it was time to refresh
ourselves. The horses were changed, and we proceeded immediately. As we
left the town I thought the students, who were gasping at the windows of
their lodgings, envied us the pleasure of motion Having so lately
accompanied me over this road; I shall merely touch upon such points as
were omitted before, and keep you acquainted with our movements.
The afternoon was lovely, when, passing the conical and castle-crowned
steep of Godisberg, we approached the hills, where the road for the
first time runs on the immediate borders of the stream. Opposite to us
were the Seven mountains, topped by the ruins of the Drachenfels, crag
and masonry wearing the appearance of having mouldered together under
the slow action of centuries; and, a little in advance, the castle of
Rolandseck peered above the wooded rocks on our own side of the river.
Two low islands divided the stream, and on one of them stood the
capacious buildings of a convent. Every one at all familiar with the
traditions of the Rhine, has heard the story of the crusader, who,
returning from the wars, found his betrothed a nun in this asylum. It
would seem that lies were as rife before the art of printing had been
pressed into their service, or newspapers known, as they are to-day, for
she had been taught to think him dead or inconstant; it was much the
same to her. The castle which overlooked the island was built for his
abode, and here the legend is prudently silent. Although one is not
bound to believe all he hears; we are all charmed with the images which
such tales create, especially when, as in this case, they are aided by
visible and tangible objects in the shape of good stone walls. As we
trotted along under the brow of the mountain that upholds the ruins of
the castle of Charlemagne's nephew, my eye rested musingly on the silent
pile of the convent. "That convent," I called out to the postilion, "is
still inhabited?" "_Ja, mein Herr, es ist ein gasthaus_." An inn!--the
thing was soon explained. The convent, a community of Benedictines, had
been suppressed some fifteen or twenty years, and the buildings had been
converted into one of your sentimental taverns. With the closest
scrutiny I could not detect a soul near the spot, for junketing in a
ruin is my special aversion. A hamlet stood on the bank at no great
distance above the island; the postilion grinned when I asked if it
would be possible to get horses to this place in the morning, for it
saved him a trot all the way to Oberwinter. He promised to send word in
the course of the night to the relay above, and the whole affair was
arranged in live minutes. The carriage was housed and left under the
care of François on the main land, a night sack thrown into a skiff, and
in ten minutes we were afloat on the Rhine. Our little bark whirled
about in the eddies, and soon touched the upper point of the island.
We found convent, _gasthaus_, and sentiment, without any pre-occupants.
There was not a soul on the island, but the innkeeper, his wife, a
child, a cook, a crone who did all sorts of work, and three Prussian
soldiers, who were billeted on the house, part of a detachment that we
had seen scattered along the road, all the way from Bonn. I do not know
which were the most gladdened by the meeting, ourselves or the good
people of the place; we at finding anything like retirement in Europe,
and they at seeing anything like guests. The man regretted that we had
come so late, for a large party had just left him; and we felicitated
ourselves that we had not come any sooner, for precisely the same
reason. As soon as he comprehended our tastes, he very frankly admitted
that every room in the convent was empty. "There is no one, but these,
on the island. Not a living being, _herr graf_" for these people have
made a count of me, whether or not. Here then were near two hundred
acres, environed by the Rhine, prettily disposed in wood and meadow,
absolutely at our mercy. You can readily imagine, with what avidity a
party of young Parisiennes profited by their liberty, while I proceeded
forthwith to inspect the ladder, and then to inspect the cloisters.
Sooth to say, sentiment had a good deal to do with two of the courses of
a dinner at Nonnenswerth, for so is the island called. The buildings
were spacious, and far from mean; and it was a pleasant thing to
promenade in cloisters that had so lately been trodden by holy nuns, and
see your dinner preparing in a convent kitchen. I could do no less than
open a bottle of "Liebfraumilch" in such a place, but it proved to be a
near neighbour to bonny-clabber.
As the evening closed we took possession of our rooms. Our parlour had
been that of the lady abbess, and A---- had her bed-chamber. These were
spacious rooms and well furnished. The girls were put into the cells,
where girls ought never to be put. Jetty had another near them, and,
these dispositions made, I sallied forth alone, in quest of a sensation.
The intense heat of the day had engendered a gust. The thunder was
muttering among the "seven mountains," and occasionally a flash of
lightning illumined the pitchy darkness of the night. I walked out into
the grounds, where the wind was fiercely howling through the trees. A
new flash illumined the hills, and I distinctly saw the naked rock of
the Drachenfels, with the broken tower tottering on the half-ruined
crag, looked fearful and supernatural. By watching a minute, another
flash exposed Rolandseck, looking down upon me with melancholy
solicitude. Big drops began to patter on the leaves, and, still bent on
sensations, I entered the buildings.
The cloisters were gloomy, but I looked into the vast, smoked, and
cavern-like kitchen, where the household were consuming the fragments of
our dinner. A light shone from the door of a low cell, in a remote
corner of the cloisters, and I stole silently to it, secretly hoping it
would prove to be a supernatural glimmering above some grave. The three
Prussians were eating their cheese-parings and bread, by the light of a
tallow candle, seated on a stone floor. It was short work to squeeze all
the poetry out of this group.
The storm thickened, and I mounted to the gallery, or the corridor above
the cloisters, which communicated with our own rooms. Here I paced back
and forth, a moment, in obscurity, until, by means of a flash, I
discovered a door, at one extremity of the passage. Bent on adventure, I
pushed and it opened. As there were only moments when anything could be
seen, I proceeded in utter darkness, using great caution not to fall
through a trap. Had it been my happy fortune to be a foundling, who had
got his reading and writing "by nature," I should have expected to
return from the adventure a Herzog,[25] at least, if not an
Erz-Herzog[26] Perhaps, by some inexplicable miracle of romance, I might
have come forth the lawful issue of Roland and the nun!
[Footnote 25: Duke.]
[Footnote 26: Arch-Duke.]
As it was, I looked for no more than sensations, of which the hour
promised to be fruitful. I had not been a minute in the unknown region,
before I found that, if it were not the abode of troubled spirits, it at
least was worthy to be so. You will remember that I am not now dealing
in fiction, but truth, and that, unlike those who "read when they sing,
and sing when they read," I endeavour to be imaginative in poetry and
literal in my facts. I am now dealing strictly with the latter, which I
expect will greatly enhance the interest of this adventure.
After taking half-a-dozen steps with extreme caution, I paused a moment,
for the whole air appeared to be filled by a clatter, as if ten thousand
bats' wings were striking against glass. This was evidently within the
convent, while, without, the wind howled even louder than ever. My hand
rested on something, I knew not what. At first I did not even know
whether I was in the open air, or not, for I felt the wind, saw large
spaces of dim light, and yet could distinguish that something like a
vault impended over my head. Presently a vivid flash of lightning
removed all doubt. It flickered, seemed extinguished, and flared up
again, in a way to let me get some distinct ideas of the _locus in quo_.
I had clearly blundered into the convent chapel; not upon its pavement,
which was on a level with the cloisters below, but into an open gallery,
that communicated with the apartments of the nuns, and my hand was on
the chair of the lady abbess, the only one that remained. The dim light
came from the high arched windows, and the bats' wings were small broken
panes rattling in the gale. But I was not alone. By the transient light
I saw several grim figures, some kneeling, others with outstretched
arms, bloody and seared, and one appeared to be in the confessional. At
the sight of these infernal spectres, for they came and went with the
successive flashes of the lightning, by a droll chain of ideas, I caught
myself shouting, rather than singing--"Ship ahoy! ship ahoy!--what
cheer, what cheer?" in a voice loud as the winds. At last, here was a
sensation! Half-a-dozen flashes rendered me familiar with the
diabolical-looking forms, and as I now knew where to look for them, even
their grim countenances were getting to be familiar. At this moment,
when I was about to address them in prose, the door by which I had
entered the gallery opened slowly, and the withered face of an old woman
appeared in a flash. The thunder came next, and the face vanished--"Ship
ahoy! ship ahoy!--what cheer, what cheer?" There was another pause--the
door once more opened, and the face re-appeared. I gave a deep and loud
groan; if you ask me why, I can only say, because it seemed to be
wanting to the general effect of the scene and place. The door slammed,
the face vanished, and I was alone again with the demons. By this time
the gust was over I groped my way out of the gallery, stole through the
corridor into my own room, and went to bed. I ought to have had exciting
dreams, especially after the _Liebfraumilch_, but, contrary to all
rule, I slept like a postilion in a cock-loft, or a midshipman in the
middle watch.
The next morning at breakfast, A---- had a melancholy tale to relate;
how the poor old crone, who has already been mentioned, had been
frightened by the gust--how she stole to the chapel to mutter a
prayer--how she opened the door of the gallery--how she heard strange
sounds, and particularly certain groans--how she had dropped the
candle--how the door had blown to, and she, miserable woman, had stolen
to the bed of her (A----'s) maid, whom she had implored to give her
shelter and protection for the night! We went in a body to look at the
chapel, after breakfast, and it was admitted all round, that it was well
suited to produce a sensation, in a thunder-storm, of a dark night, and
that it was no wonder Jetty's bed-fellow had been frightened. But now
everything was calm and peaceful. The glass hung in fragments about the
leaden sashes; the chair and _prière-dieu_ of the lady abbess had
altogether an innocent and comfortable air, and the images, of which
there were several, as horrible as a bungling workman and a bloody
imagination could produce, though of a suffering appearance, were really
insensible to pain. While we were making this reconnoissance a bugle
sounded on the main, and looking out, we saw the Oberwinter postilion
coming round the nearest bend in the river. On this hint, we took our
leave of the island, not forgetting to apply a little of the universal
salve to the bruised spirit of the old woman whose dread of thunder had
caused her to pass so comfortless a night.
The day was before us, and we went leisurely up the stream, determined
to profit by events. The old castles crowned every height, as you know,
and as we had the carriage filled with maps and books, we enjoyed every
foot of this remarkable road. At Andernach we stopped to examine the
ruins of the palace of the Kings of Austrasia, of whom you have heard
before. The remains are considerable, and some parts of the walls would
still admit of being restored. The palace has outlasted not only the
kingdom, but almost its history. This edifice was partly built of a
reddish freestone, very like that which is so much used in New York, a
material that abounds on the Rhine.
Between Andernach and Coblentz the road passes over a broad plain, at
some little distance from the river, though the latter is usually in
sight. It may give you some idea of its breadth, if I tell you that as
we approached Neuwied, it became a disputed point in the carriage,
whether the stream flowed between us and the town, or not. Still the
Rhine is a mighty river, and even imposing, when one contemplates its
steady flow, and remembers its great length. It is particularly low at
present, and is less beautiful than last year, the colours of the water
being more common-place than usual.
It was still early, though we had loitered a good deal by the way, to
study views and examine ruins, when we drew near the fort-environed town
of Coblentz. The bridge across the Moselle was soon passed, and we again
found ourselves in this important station. The territory opposite the
city belongs to the duchy of Nassau, but enough has been ceded to the
King of Prussia to enable him to erect the celebrated Ehrenbreitstein,
which is one of the strongest forts in the world, occupying the summit
of a rocky height, whose base is washed by the Rhine, and whose outworks
are pushed to all the neighbouring eminences. The position of Coblentz,
at the junction of the Rhine and the Moselle, the latter of which
penetrates into the ancient electorate of Treves, now belonging to
Prussia, may render it an important station to that power, but it does
not strike me as military. The enemy that can seize any one of its
numerous outworks, or forts, must essentially command the place. As at
Genoa, it seems to me that too much has been attempted to succeed.
Last night we had a convent that was a parallelogram of six hundred
feet by three hundred, all to ourselves; while this night we were
crowded into a small and uncomfortable inn that was overflowing with
people. The house was noisy and echoish, and not inappropriately called
the "Three Swiss."
We crossed the river by the bridge of boats, and ascended the opposite
hill to enjoy the view. There was another island up the stream, with a
ruined convent, but unhappily it was not an inn. The Rhine is a frontier
for much of its course, washing the shores of France, Darmstadt,
Bavaria, Baden, Nassau, Prussia, &c., &c., for a long distance, and
permanent bridges are avoided in most places. The floating bridges,
being constructed of platforms laid on boats, that are united by clamps,
can be taken apart, and withdrawn, to either shore, in an hour or two.
We quitted Coblentz at ten, and now began in truth to enter the fine
scenery of the Rhine. The mountains, or rather hills, for they scarcely
deserve the former name, close upon the river, a short distance below
the town, and from that moment, with very immaterial exceptions, the
road follows the windings of the stream, keeping generally within a few
yards of the water. The departures from this rule are not more than
sufficient to break the monotony of a perfectly uniform scene. I have
nothing new to tell you of the ruined castles--the villages and towns
that crowd the narrow strand--the even and well-kept roads--the
vine-covered hills--and the beautiful sinuosities of this great artery
of Europe. To write any thing new or interesting of this well-beaten
path, one must linger days among the ruins, explore the valleys, and
dive into the local traditions. We enjoyed the passage, as a matter of
course, but it was little varied, until we drew near the frontier of
Prussia, when a castle, that stood beetling on a crag, immediately above
the road, caught my eye. The building, unlike most of its sister
edifices, appeared to be in good order; smoke actually arose from a
beacon-grate that thrust itself out from an advanced tower, which was
nearly in a perpendicular line above us, and the glazed windows and
other appliances denoted a perfect and actual residence. As usual, the
postilion was questioned. I understood him to say that the place was
called the Ritterstein, but the name is of little moment. It was a
castle of the middle ages, a real hold of the Rhine, which had been
purchased by a brother of the King of Prussia, who is now the governor
of the Rhenish provinces. This prince had caused the building to be
restored, rigidly adhering to the ancient style of architecture, and to
be furnished according to the usages of the middle ages, and baronial
comfort; what was more, if the prince were not in his hold, as probably
would prove not to be the case, strangers were permitted to visit it!
Here was an unexpected pleasure, and we hastened to alight, admiring the
governor of Rhenish provinces, his taste, and his liberality, with all
our hearts.
If you remember the satisfaction with which we visited the little
hunting-tower of the poor Prince de Condé in 1827, a building whose
chief merit was its outward form and the fact that it had been built by
the Queen Blanche, you can form some notion of the zeal with which we
toiled up the steep ascent, on the present occasion. The path was good,
tasteful, and sinuous; but the buildings stood on crags that were almost
perpendicular on three of their sides, and at an elevation of near, or
perhaps quite, two hundred feet above the road.
We were greeted, on reaching the gate, not by a warder, but by the growl
and bark of a ferocious mastiff, who would have been more in keeping at
his post near a henroost, than at the portal of a princely castle. One
"half-groom, half-seneschal," and who was withal a little drunk,
however, soon came forth to receive us, and, after an exhortation to the
dog in a Dutch that was not quite as sonorous as the growl of the
animal, he very civilly offered to do the honours of the place.
We entered by a small drawbridge, but the buildings stand so near the
brow of an impending rock, as to induce me to think this bridge has
been made for effect, rather than to renew the original design. A good
deal of the old wall remains, especially in the towers, which are mostly
round, and all that has been done with the exterior, has been to fill
the gaps, and to re-attach the balconies and the external staircases,
which are of iron. I can no more give you a clear idea of the irregular
form of this edifice with the pen, than you would obtain of the
intricate tracery of Gothic architecture, having never seen a Gothic
edifice, or studied a treatise on the style, by the same means. You will
understand the difficulty when you are told that this castle is built on
crags, whose broken summits are its foundations, and give it its form.
The court is narrow and inconvenient, carriages never approaching it,
but several pretty little terraces in front answer most of the purposes
of courts, and command lovely glimpses of the Rhine, in both directions.
These terraces, like the towers and walls, were placed just where there
was room, and the total absence of regularity forms one of the charms of
the place.
In the interior, the ancient arrangement has been studiously respected.
The furniture is more than imitation, for we were told that much of it
had been taken from the royal collections of Berlin. By royal, you are
not to suppose, however, that there are any attempts at royal state, but
merely that the old castles of the barons and counts, whose diminutive
territories have contributed to rear the modern state of Prussia, have
been ransacked for this end.
The Ritter Saal, or Knight's Hall, though not large, is a curious room;
indeed it is the only one in the entire edifice that can be called a
good room, at all. The fire-place is huge,--so much so, that I walked
into it with ease, and altogether in the ancient style. There is a good
deal of curious armour hung up in this room, and it has many other
quaint and rare objects. The chandelier was a circle formed by uniting
buck's horns, which were fitted with lamps. There was almost too much
good taste about this for feudal times, and I suspect it of being one of
our modern embellishments; a material picture of the past, like a poem
by Scott. There may have been some anachronisms in the furniture, but we
all use furniture of different ages, when we are not reduced to the
fidgety condition of mere gentility.
In one corner of the Bitter Saal there stood an ancient vessel to hold
water, and beneath it was a porcelain trough to catch the drippings. The
water was obtained by turning a cock. The chairs, tables, settees, &c.
were all of oak. The coverings of the chairs, _i. e_. backs and bottoms,
were richly embroidered in golden thread, the work of different royal
personages. The designs were armorial bearings.
All the stairs were quaint and remarkable, and, in one instance, we
encircled the exterior of a tower, by one of them, at a giddy elevation
of near three hundred feet above the river, the tower itself being
placed on the uttermost verge of the precipice. From this tower the
grate of the beacon thrust itself forward, and as it still smoked, I
inquired the reason. We were told that the wad of a small piece of
artillery, that had been fired as a signal to the steam-boat, had lodged
in the grate, where it was still burning. The signal had been given to
enable the Prince and his family to embark, for they had not left the
place an hour when we arrived. _Tempora mutantur_ since the inhabitants
of such a hold can go from Bingen to Coblentz to dine in a steamer.
We saw the bed-rooms. The Prince slept on an inner camp bedstead, but
the ladies occupied bunks let into the walls, as in the olden time. The
rooms were small, the Bitter Saal excepted, and low, though there were a
good many of them. One or two were a little too much modernized,
perhaps, though, on the whole, the keeping was surprisingly good. A
severe critic might possibly have objected to a few anachronisms in
this _romaunt_, but this in a fault that Prince Frederic shares in
common with Shakspeare and Sir Walter Scott.
I cannot recall a more delightful hour than that we passed in examining
this curiosity, which was like handling and feeding, and playing with a
living cameleopard, after having seen a dozen that were stuffed.
* * * * *
In reference to the controversy touching the expenses of the American
Government alluded to in page 37, of this volume, the following
particulars may not be uninteresting.
Early in the day, the party who conducted the controversy for the other
side began to make frequent allusions to certain Americans--"_plusieurs
honorables Américains_" was the favourite expression--who, he alleged,
had furnished him with information that went to corroborate the truth of
his positions, and, as a matter of course, to invalidate the truth of
ours. Secret information reached me, also, that a part, at least, of our
own legation was busy for the other side. At one period, M. Perier, the
Premier of France, publicly cited the name of the minister, himself, at
the tribune, as having given an opinion against those who conducted the
controversy on the side of the American system, and in favour of our
opponents. I understand Mr. Rives declares that M. Perier had no
authority either for using his name, or for attributing such sentiments
to him; although the statement, as yet, stands uncontradicted before the
world. You will probably be startled, when I tell you, that this is the
third instance, within a few months, in which the public agents of
America have been openly quoted as giving evidence against the action of
the American system. The two other cases occurred in the British
parliament, and, in one of them, as in this of Mr. Rives, the agent was
quoted by name! It is not in my power to say whether these gentlemen
have or have not been wrongfully quoted; but all cannot be right, when
they are quoted at all. Figure to yourself, for a moment, what would be
the effect of a member of congress quoting the minister of a foreign
government, at Washington, as giving an opinion against a material
feature of the polity he represented, and the disclaimers and
discussions, not to say quarrels, that would succeed. How is it, that
the representatives of exclusion are so much more faithful to the
interests of their principals, than the representatives of liberal
institutions?
Some will tell you that the condition of Europe is critical; that our
own relations with certain countries are delicate, and that it is
expedient to temporize. In the first place, judging from my own
observations, I do not believe there is any of the much-talked-of
temporizing spirit about all this compliance, but that in most of the
cases in which the agents of the government disown the distinguishing
principles of the institutions (and these cases have got to be so
numerous as to attract general attention, and to become the subject of
sneering newspaper comments) it is "out of the fulness of the heart that
the mouth speaketh." But, allowing that the first position is true, and
that these gentlemen actually acquiesce for the sake of quiet, and with
a view to advance what they conceive to be the interests of America, I
shall maintain that the course is to the last degree impolitic and
unworthy. Our motto is to "ask nothing but what is right, and to submit
to nothing that is wrong." Apart from the sound morality of this
sentiment, the wisdom of Solomon could not better express the true
policy of a nation situated like our own. It can hardly be pretended,
that the "right" for which we ask ought to be purchased at the
disgraceful price of abandoning the truth. This would be truly
bargaining away a better right for another of less value. These
gentlemen of expedients may beat their brains as much as they please,
they will never invent any means so simple, and so sure of attaining the
great ends included in the political maxim just quoted, as by adhering
to the plain, direct dictates of common honesty. Each trifling temporary
advantage they may gain, will certainly and speedily be met by some
contingent disadvantage, that will render them losers by the
exchange.[27]
[Footnote 27: As respects France, the result has shown the impolicy of
the temporizing system. The French Government, finding such a
disposition to compliance in the agents that were placed near it, by
America, has quite reasonably inferred that the mass at home acted on
the same temporizing and selfish policy, and has treated a solemn
compact, that contains a tardy and very insufficient reparation, for
some of the greatest outrages that were ever committed by one civilized
nation on the rights of another, as a matter quite within its own
control. This consequence was foreseen by the writer, and foretold, in a
letter that was written in 1832, and published as far back as the year
1833. It was only necessary to be on the spot, and to witness the
contempt and indifference engendered by this miserable policy, to
predict the events which have since occurred. The accidental situation
of Europe has favoured us, and we owe the tardy reparation that has been
received more to Russia than to ourselves.]
To return to France and the controversy on finance, our opponents had at
length the indiscretion to publish a document that they said had been
furnished them by some of their "_honorables Américains_" and by which
they attempted to prove some one of their various positions; for by this
time they had taken a great many, scarcely any two of which agreed. I
have no doubt that this document, in the present instance, did come from
"Americans," though it originally came from Captain Basil Hall. This
gentleman had appended to his travels, a table, which purported to
contain an arranged statement of the cost of the state governments. You
will form some idea of the value of this table, as a political and
statistical document, by an exposure of one or two of its more prominent
errors. Taking, for instance, our own state; the receipts from the
_property_ of the state, such as its canal, common school, literature,
and other funds, necessarily passing through the treasury, the sum total
is made to figure against us, as the annual charge of government; which,
by these means, is swelled to five times the real amount. Every one
knows that the receipts of the canals alone, the moment that the
conditions of the loans effected to construct them shall admit of their
application, will be more than sufficient to meet the entire charges of
the state government twice over; but, by this mystified statement, we
are made to appear the poorer for every dollar of properly we possess!
And yet this is the nature of the evidence that some of our people
furnished to the writers on the French side of this question; a side
that, by their own showing, was the side of monarchy?
But this is not all. A citizen has been found willing, under his own
name, to espouse the argument of the French writers. Of the validity of
the statements presented by this gentleman (Mr. Leavitt Harris, of New
Jersey), or of the force of his reasoning, I shall say nothing here, for
his letter and our answers will sufficiently speak for themselves. The
administration party, however, have thought the statements of Mr. Harris
of sufficient importance to be published in a separate number of their
literary organ, _La Revue Britannique_, and to dwell upon it in all
their political organs, as the production of an American who has been
intrusted by his government with high diplomatic missions, and who,
consequently, is better authority than an unhonoured citizen like
myself, who have no claims to attention beyond those I can assemble in
my argument.[28] The odds, as you will perceive, are greatly against me;
for, in these countries, the public know little of the details of
government, and it gives a high sanction to testimony of this nature to
be able to say it comes from one, who is, or has been, connected with an
administration. Standing as I do, therefore, contradicted by the alleged
opinion (true or false) of Mr. Rives, and by this statement of Mr.
Harris, you will readily conceive that my situation here is not of the
most pleasant nature. Unsalaried and untrusted by my own Government,
opposed, in appearance at least, by its agents, I am thrown, for the
vindication of truth, completely on my own resources, so far as any
American succour has been furnished; and am reduced to the narrow
consolation of making this simple record of the facts, which, possibly,
at some future day, may answer the purpose of an humble protest in
favour of the right.
[Footnote 28: The French writers, to make the most of their witness,
exaggerated a little; for, at that time, Mr. Harris had never filled any
higher diplomatic station than that of one left _chargé des affaires_ of
the legation at St. Petersburg, during the absence of Mr. Adams at
Ghent. Shortly after the publication of this letter, however, he was
appointed by the President and the Senate of the United States of
America to represent it at the King of the French, as if _expressly to
give value to his testimony_.]
This controversy has, at least, served to remove the mask from this
Government, on the subject of its disposition towards America and her
institutions. To that pretended feeling I have never been even
momentarily a dupe; but, failing of arguments--for no talents or
ingenuity, after all, can make the wrong the right--most of the writers
on the other side of the question have endeavoured to enliven their
logic with abuse. I do not remember anything, in the palmy days of the
Quarterly Review, that more completely descended to low and childish
vituperation than some of the recent attacks on America. Much of what
has been written is unmitigated fraud, that has been meant to produce an
impression on the public mind, careless of any other object than the
end; but much also, I think, has really been imagined to be true, while
it is, in fact, the offspring of the prejudices that studied
misrepresentation has so deeply implanted in the opinions of Europe. As
we are not immaculate, of course, a greater portion of their charges is
true than one could wish. Some of the allegations are so absurd, that it
may amuse you to hear them. The French consider the Sabbath as a day of
recreation, and after going to mass (a duty, by the way, that few
besides women discharge in Paris), the rest of the time is devoted to
dancing and other amusements. With a view to act on the rooted opinions
of the nation, on this subject, the American practice of running a chain
across the street in front of the churches, to prevent the rattling of
the carriages from disturbing the worship (a practice, by the way, that
is quite as much European as it is American, and which has never even
been very general among us), has been so represented as to induce the
French to believe that our streets are in chains, and that even walking,
or using a horse, or any vehicle of a Sunday, is a prohibited thing. In
addition to a variety of similar absurdities, we are boldly charged with
most of the grosser vices, and, in some instances, intimations have been
given that our moral condition is the natural consequence of our descent
from convicted felons!
To the American, who is a little prone to pride himself on being derived
from a stock of peculiar moral purity, this imputation on his origin
sounds extraordinary, and is apt to excite indignation. I dare say you
are not prepared to learn, that it was a common, perhaps the prevalent
opinion of Europe, that our states were settled by convicts. That this,
until very lately, was the prevalent opinion of Europe, I entertain no
doubt, though I think the few last years have produced some change in
this respect; more of the popular attention most probably having been
attracted to us, within this period, than during the two centuries that
preceded it. You will smile to hear, that the common works of fiction
have been the material agents in producing the change; information that
has been introduced through the medium of amusement, making its way
where the graver labours of the historian have never been able to
penetrate. Courier, the cleverest political writer France has produced,
perhaps in any age, and a staunch republican, says, it would be quite as
unjust to reproach the modern Romans with being descended from ravishers
and robbers, as it is to reproach the Americans with being descended
from convicts. He wishes to remove the stigma from his political
brethren, but the idea of denying the imputation does not appear to have
entered his mind. Jefferson, also, alludes to the subject in some of his
letters, apparently, in answer to a philosophical inquiry from one of
his friends. He estimates the whole number of persons transported to the
American colonies, under sentence from the courts, at about two
thousand; and, taking into consideration their habits, he was of
opinion, half a century ago, that their descendants did not probably
exceed the original stock. I do not know where Mr. Jefferson obtained
his data for this estimate, but he did not show his ordinary acuteness
in ascribing the reason why the convicts left few or no issue. Women
were by far too much in request in America, during the first century or
two of its political existence, to admit of the probability of men so
openly stamped with infamy from obtaining wives, and I think there
existed a physical inability for the propagation of the stock, since
very few women were transported at any time. Within the last few months,
two instances have occurred in the Chamber of Deputies, of members
quoting the example of America, in enforcing their arguments in favour
of the possibility of forming respectable communities by the
transportation of criminals!
I had no intention of quoting any part of the controversy on finance,
but, on reflection, it may serve a good purpose to give one or two
extracts from the letter of Mr. Harris. In order that this may be done
fairly, both as it respects the point at issue and the parties
concerned, it will be necessary to make a brief preliminary explanation.
M. Sauliner, the principal writer of the other side, had made it a
charge against our system, that nearly all the public money was derived
from the customs, which he assumed was a bad mode of obtaining revenue.
Let this be as it might, my answer, was, that, as between France and
America, there was no essential variance of system, the only difference
lying in the fact that the one got _all_ the revenue it _could_ in this
manner, and that the other got all it _wanted_. I added, a tax on
exports excepted, that all the usual means of raising revenue known to
other nations were available, at need, to the government of the
United-States. To this latter opinion Mr. Harris took exceptions,
saying, in effect, that the administration of Mr. Adams, the father,
had been broken down by resorting to excises, stamp-acts, and direct
taxation; and that since his unfortunate experiment, no administration
in America had dreamed, even in time of war, of resorting to a mode of
obtaining revenue which was so offensive as to produce the revolution of
1776! Of course Mr. Harris was reminded, that the stamp-act, of which
the colonists complained, was repealed many years before the epoch of
1776; that the revolution proceeded from a denial of the right in
parliament to tax the colonies at all, and not from any particular
imposition; and that excises and a stamp-act had all been resorted to,
in the war of 1812, without overturning the administration of Mr.
Madison, or weakening that of his successor. But of what avail was a
statement of this kind, in opposition to the allegations of one who
appeared before Europe in the character of an American diplomate? Mr.
Harris enjoyed the double advantage of giving his testimony as one in
the confidence of both the French and the American governments--an
advantage that a quotation from the statute-books themselves could not
overcome.
Mr. Harris disposed of one knotty point in this controversy with so much
ingenuity, that it deserves to be more generally known. Our adversaries
had brought the accusation of luxury against the American government,
inasmuch as it was said to furnish both a town and a country palace for
the President--a degree of magnificence little suspected in France. This
point was not treated as a matter of any importance by us, though
General Lafayette had slightly and playfully alluded to it, once or
twice. The words of Mr. Harris shall speak for themselves: "Le Général
Lafayette paraît surtout avoir été frappé de l'erreur dans laquelle est
tombé l'auteur de la Revue, à l'égard de la belle maison de campagne
dont il a doté la présidence; et c'est peut-être là ce qui l'a porté à
faire appel à M. le Général Bernard et à M. Cooper."
"L'erreur de l'auteur de la Revue, au sujet de la maison de campagne du
président, est de très peu d'importance. Personne ne sait mieux que le
Général Lafayette que la résidence affectée par la nation à son
president, dans le District de Columbia, est située de manière à jouir
des avantages de la ville et de la campagne."
Here you perceive the intellectual _finesse_ with which we have had to
contend. We are charged with the undue luxury of supporting a town and
country house for a public functionary; and, disproving the fact, our
opponents turn upon us, with a pernicious subtlety, and show, to such a
condensing point has the effeminate spirit reached among us, that we
have compressed the essence of two such establishments into one! Mr.
Harris might have carried out his argument, and shown also that to such
a pass of self-indulgence have we reached, that Washington itself is so
"situated as to enjoy the advantages of both town and country!"
I have reason to think Mr. Harris gained a great advantage over us by
this _tour de logique_. I had, however, a little better luck with
another paragraph of his letter. In pages 22 and 23 of this important
document, is the following; the state alluded to being Pennsylvania, and
the money mentioned the cost of the canals; which Mr. Harris includes in
the cost of government, charging, by the way, not only the interest on
the loans as an annual burden, but the loans themselves. I translate the
text, the letter having appeared in French:--"The greater part of this
sum, about twenty-two millions of dollars, has been expended during the
last twelve years--that is to say, while the population _was half or
two-thirds less than it is to-day_, offering an _average of not more
than_ 800,000 _souls_, (the present population of Pennsylvania being
1,350,161:) It follows, that each inhabitant has been _taxed_ about two
and a half dollars, annually, for internal improvements during this
period."
I think, under ordinary circumstances, and as against a logician who did
not appear supported by the confidence and favour of the government of
the United States of America, I might have got along with this
quotation, by showing, that 800,000 is neither the _half of_, nor
_two-thirds less_ than 1,350,161; that Pennsylvania, so far from
trebling, or even doubling her population in twelve years, had not
doubled it in twenty; that Pennsylvania, at the commencement of the
twelve years named, had actually a population more than twenty-five per
cent. greater than that which Mr. Harris gives as the average of a
period, during which he affirms that this population has, at least,
doubled; and by also showing that money borrowed and invested in public
works, which are expected to return an ample revenue, cannot be
presented as an annual charge against the citizen until he is called on
to pay it.
Having said so much about the part that Mr. Harris has had in this
controversy, I owe it to truth to add, that his course has, at least,
the merit of frankness, and that he is just so much the more to be
commended than that portion of our ex-agents and actual agents who have
taken the same side of the question, covertly.
I have dwelt on this subject at some length, because I think it is
connected, not only with the truth, but with the character, of America.
I have already told you the startling manner in which I was addressed by
one of the first men in England, on the subject of the tone of our
foreign agents; and since that time, occasions have multiplied, to learn
the mortifying extent to which this unfavourable opinion of their
sincerity has spread. If the United States has neither sufficient force
nor sufficient dignity to maintain its interests abroad, without making
these sacrifices of opinion and principle, we are in a worse condition
than I had believed; but you will require no logic from me, to
understand the effect that must be, and is produced, by this
contradiction between the language that is studiously used--used to
nauseous affectation--at home, and so much of the language that is used
by too many of the agents abroad.
I very well know that the government of the Union guarantees neither
the civil nor religious liberty of the citizen, except as against its
own action; that any state may create an establishment, or a close
hereditary aristocracy, to-morrow, if it please, the general provision
that its polity must be that of a republic, meaning no more than that
there should not be an hereditary monarchy; and that is quite within the
limits of constitutional possibilities, that the base of the national
representation should be either purely aristocratical, purely
democratical, or a mixture of both. But in leaving this option to the
states, the constitution has, in no manner, impaired the force of facts.
The states have made their election, and, apart from the anomaly of a
slave population, the fundamental feature of the general government is
democratic. Now, it is indisputably the privilege of the citizen to
express the opinions of government that he may happen to entertain. The
system supposes consultation and choice, and it would be mockery to
maintain that either can exist without entire freedom of thought and
speech. If any man prefer a monarchy to the present polity of the
nation, it is his indefeasible right to declare his opinion, and to be
exempt from persecution and reproach. He who meets such a declaration in
any other manner than by a free admission of the right, does not _feel_
the nature of the institutions under which he lives, for the
constitution, in its spirit, everywhere recognises the principle. But
One, greater than the constitution of America, in divine ordinances,
everywhere denies the right of a man to profess one thing and to mean
another. There is an implied pledge given by every public agent that he
will not misrepresent what he knows to be the popular sentiment at home,
and which popular sentiment, directly or indirectly, has clothed his
language with the authority it carries in foreign countries; and there
is every obligation of faith, fidelity, delicacy, and discretion, that
he should do no discredit to that which he knows to be a distinguishing
and vital principle with his constituents. As respects our agents in
Europe, I believe little is hazarded in saying, that too many have done
injury to the cause of liberty. I have heard this so often from various
quarters of the highest respectability,[29] it has been so frequently
affirmed in public here, and I have witnessed so much myself, that,
perhaps, the subject presents itself with more force to me, on the spot,
than it will to you, who can only look at it through the medium of
distance and testimony. I make no objection to a rigid neutrality in the
strife of opinions that is going on here, but I call for the self-denial
of concealing all predilections in favour of the government of one or of
the few; and should any minister of despotism, or political exclusion,
presume to cite an American agent as being of his way of thinking, all
motives of forbearance would seem to disappear, and, if really an
American in more than pretension, it appears to me the time would be
come to vindicate the truth with the frankness and energy of a freeman.
[Footnote 29: In 1833, the writer was in discourse with a person who had
filled one of the highest political situations in Europe, and he was
asked who represented the United States at the court of ----. On being
told, this person paused, and then resumed, "I am surprised that your
government should employ that man. He has always endeavoured to
ingratiate himself in my favour, by depreciating everything in his own
country." But why name a solitary instance? Deputies, members of
parliament, peers of France and of England, and public men of half the
nations of Europe, have substantially expressed to the writer the same
opinion, under one circumstance or another, in, perhaps, fifty different
instances.]