As we approached the picturesque effect was further heightened when through the intervals between the trees on the mountain-side some party might be observed slowly toiling their way upwards, the ladies mounted upon mules whose gay scarlet trappings gave all the appearance of some gorgeous pageant: and ever and anon the deep tones of the students joining in Schiller’s Bobber song, or the still more beautiful Rhein-am-Rhein, completed the illusion, and made this one of the most delightful scenes I ever observed.
We spent the entire day upon the mountains; and as we descended we observed a small figure standing motionless upon a rock at some distance beneath us. On coming nearer we discovered this to be a little girl of eight or ten years old, who, seeing us coming, had waited there patiently to present us with a garland of vine-leaves and Rhine lilies ere we crossed the river, as a charm against every possible mishap.
On our return we made the acquaintance of a professor whose name I no longer recollect—but he was a most agreeable and entertaining companion, and he gave us a clear insight into the policy of the University. When speaking of the custom of duelling, he surprised us by the admission that such practices were winked at by the heads of colleges, hoping, as he said, that the students being thus employed and having their minds occupied about their own domestic broils, would have less both of leisure and inclination to join in the quarrels and disagreements of their princes and rulers: in the same manner and with the same intention as “the Powers that were” are said to have encouraged the disturbances and riots at fairs in Ireland, hoping that the more broken heads the fewer burnings of farms or insurrectionary plots. And now that I am on the subject of Irish illustration, let me give you a better one.
A friend of mine once on his way from Dublin to Dunleary* had the misfortune to find himself on a car drawn by an animal so wretched as to excite his deepest compassion, for in addition to a large surface of the back being perfectly denuded of skin and flesh, one end of a stick had been twisted on the creature’s ear, the other end firmly fastened to the harness so as to keep the animal’s head in the position of certain would-be dandies who deem it indispensable to walk tête-à-l’air. Not comprehending the aim of such apparently wanton cruelty, my friend asked the driver for an explanation of the ear torture. The fellow turned towards him with a look of half compassion for his ignorance struggling with the low waggery of his caste. “Troth an’ yer honour,” said he, “that’s to divart his attinshion from the raw on his back.”
* Dunleary changed its name to Kingstown in 1821 in honour
of George the Fourth’s visit.—E. D.
And I really doubt not but that by “divarting their attinshion” the rulers of German universities have the best chance of success in managing the rude and indomitable spirits.
After a week spent in rambling through the glens and mountains of their delightful country, we set out for Andernach on our way to Coblentz. Here we arrived late in the evening, and went supperless to bed, as the Duke of Clarence, who had just arrived, had ordered everything eatable in the town for himself and his suite. On learning this, we had the good fortune to meet with an English family whom we had previously seen in Holland, and we journeyed together now like old acquaintances. I shall not attempt to delay you by any description of the scenery as we voyaged up the Rhine. The prospect continues to be beautiful until you approach Mayence; then the country becomes open, the mountains degenerate into sloping hills, and the course of the river is less winding.
At last we arrived in Frankfort, but there was little inducement to remain here, as we had no introduction to the Baron von Rothschild, the greatest entertainer and bon vivant in Europe. We merely waited to hear the opera (in which we were much disappointed), and set off for Cassel. I pass over all account of Daneker’s statue of Ariadne and the still greater lion, Professor Soemmering, for every one who has made the petit tour has described both; and I’ll wager my dukedom there is not a young lady’s album in Great Britain which does not contain some lines “On seeing” the beautiful figure I allude to. Ere I depart, however, let me mention a short but striking inscription which I read on the sun-dial in the town—“Sol me—vos—umbra regit.” You may conceive that the German “schnell wagen” is admirably translated by the English words “snail waggon,” when I tell you that we were three days travelling from Frankfort to Cassel, a distance of about 150 English miles.
A German diligence reminds one wonderfully of some huge old family mansion to which various unseemly and incongruous additions have been made, according to the fancy or necessity of its successive proprietors for ages. Conceive a large, black, heavy-looking coach to the front of which is placed a chariot, a covered car to the back, and on the roof a cabriolet; and imagine this, in addition to twelve phlegmatic Germans (who deem it indispensable to drink “schnaps” or “gutes bier” whenever there is a house to sell either), loaded with as much luggage as an ordinary canal boat in the country could carry—the whole leviathan drawn by nine wretched-looking ponies scarcely able to drag along their preposterously long tails,—and you will readily believe that we did not fly.
When we reached Cassel it was night, and the streets were in perfect darkness—not a lamp shone out,—and we saw absolutely nothing till we drew up at the door of Der Kônig von Preussen. On asking the following day the reason of the remarkable want of illumination, we were informed that when the almanac announced moonlight, it was not customary to light the lamps of the town,*—and the moon not being properly aware of this dependence upon her, was not a whit more punctual in Cassel than elsewhere.