Our journey down was nearly as slow as that up the mountain; for the steep descent required the greatest caution, with heavily laden and jaded horses. It was, therefore, already dark when we reached the "Anglers' Rest." All that I could see of this "hostel," from the rain-streaked glasses of the carriage, was a small one-storied house, built over the stream of a small but rapid river. Mountains, half wrapped in mists, and seeming to smoke with the steam of hot rain, environed the spot on all sides, which probably, in fine weather, would have been picturesque and even pretty.
"We are destined to be unlucky to-day, Princess," said a young French marquis, approaching, our carriage. "This miserable 'guinguette,' it seems, is full of people, who are by no means disposed to yield the place to us."
"Who are they,—what are they?" asked she, in haughty astonishment at their contumacy.
"They are, I believe, some young tradesfolk, on what is called in Germany the 'Wander-Jahre,'—that travelling probation that municipal law dictates to native handicraft."
"But, surely, when they hear who we are—"
"Graf Adelberger has been eloquently explaining that to them the last ten minutes, and the Baron von Badenschwill has told them of his eighteen quarterings; but though they have consented to drink his health, they will not abdicate the territory."
Here was a pretty proof of what the years '48 and '49 had done for the Continent of Europe, and maybe Blum, Kossuth, Mazzini, and Co., didn't come in for their share! To think of creatures—shoemakers, who could assure us they were, might be tailors—daring to proclaim that they preferred their own ease and comfort to that of carriages full of unknown but titled individuals!
"It's impossible!" "Incredible!" "Fabulous!" "Infamous!" "Monstrous!" were expressions screamed from carriage to carriage, while telegraphic signs of horror and amazement were exchanged from window to window. "Did they know who we were?" "Do they know who I am?" were the questions incessantly pouring forth. Alas! they had heard it all. There was not a claim we could prefer to greatness that they had not before them, and, alas! they remained inexorable!
Deputations of various nations went in, and came back baffled and unsuccessful. The "Burschen," as they were called, were at that very moment impatiently waiting for their own supper, and seemed to verify the adage of the ill result of arguing with hungry men. Milder and more practicable counsels now began to prevail amongst us, and some even of the most conservative hinted at compromise and accommodation. What if we were to share with some of the vast abundance that we had with us? What if we tried bribery? The "Food Commissaries" assured us that even after the most liberal allowance for our wants we could feed a moderately sized village.
The proposal was therefore framed, and two Germans of high rank persuaded—sorely against their prejudices and inclination—to convey it to "Das Volk,"—the populace. It seemed as though the memorable years I have referred to had taught some curious lessons in popular force; for the demands of the masses indicated strength and power. They stipulated, first, that they should hold the kitchen; secondly, that the meats assigned them should be set before them uncut; and lastly, that none of our servants were to be quartered on the table. Here was the "Monarchy of the Middle Classes" proudly enunciated; and, I assure you, many excellent things were said by all of us,—not only upon the past and the present, but on "what we were coming to!"