In a very short time this spot will be empty.
But all hail to thee, Colossus of glass! thou most moral production of these latter days; iron-ribbed, many-eyed, with thy many-coloured flags, which would make believe that all the nations are united by the bonds of brotherhood; and that peace, universal peace, shall henceforth reign among the sons of men.
The flags flutter gaily through the cool of the evening. There the Prussian colours are all but entwined with those of Austria. Here the Papal States touch upon Sardinia. And down there! O sancta Simplicitas! the Russian eagle stretches his wings, and flutters as if impelled by a desire to fraternise with the stars and stripes of North America!
Our enthusiasm is cooled down by a loud laugh and a shrill voice, which hails us from a distance. It is Dr. Keif who indulges, and not for the first time either, in the questionable amusement of mimicking the mode and manner of speech of a distinguished member of the great Sclavonian family.
“By St. Nicolas!” said the Doctor; “why, you Chop-fallen, look out! Look you at flags, Silly, to find colours your own black, red, gold? Blockheads! Croat is brother likewise; and Czech himself speaks quite good German, ours, when likes, and Emperor permits. Magyar have shall German blows and Italian likewise. Piff! Paff! shot through heart by command German! Is now everything good German, all, Welchland, Poland, and Serbonia likewise, as they would at Frankfort have it! Capital times these!”
“But, my dear Doctor, you are in capital spirits to-night. Some intrigue, eh! Indeed, you look quite smart! Green coat, waistcoat, and cravat, and dirty boots. Why you are dressed after the image of a Russian cavalier. Did you happen to see the Queen, and has that sight made you so very loyal!”
“A truce to all logic!” cried the Doctor; “And don’t make any bad jokes about the Queen, if you love me. I respect her; on my soul, I do! But since you will talk of the Queen, I will tell you of the first of May, the day Her Majesty opened this place! You must have read, when it once became known, that the Lady Victoria in her own little person intended to open that great Exhibition, that a rush was made on the season tickets, expensive though they were. The Wicked on the continent smiled at this ‘pedantic, antiquated, and unseasonable loyalty of the British people.’ These were the very words the miscreants printed in their papers. I trust they won’t do so again, and I protest against such language. I am free to confess there is much childish harmlessness and practical calculation in this same loyalty. But if it were innate in the English as some ninnies have had the simplicity to believe—if it were a gift of nature, such as fine eyes, or a humped back, or a free native country—then I say, it would be void of all moral meaning. But it is not the result of thoughtless stupidity; for the Anglo Saxon race is not by any means a race of idiots. And the history of England shews that this British loyalty is not the creature of habit and education; nor is it perpetuated by climatic causes, as Cretinism is in Styria. English loyalty is the expression of conscious respect for the principles of monarchy, when worthily represented. Queen Victoria has neither the energy of Catharine of Russia, nor has she the genius of Maria Theresa. But in her principles of government she has always been just to the voice of the majority. She is a constitutional Queen, such as the Queen of England should be. Let no man tell me that she must be so; that she cannot be otherwise even if she would. She cannot, indeed, send her ministers and the members of the opposition to Botany Bay; nor can she stifle the radical press, or overthrow the constitution as others did in other places. But a Queen, who may select her ministers, dissolve the parliament, and create peers, has a deal of power to do evil. English royalty is not altogether such a farce as the Germans generally believe. That Queen Victoria uses her power for good is her merit; and, because she does so, her’s is the most fortunate head of all the heads whom fate has burdened with a golden crown. She is worshipped, adored, and idolised, by millions, who think it the greatest happiness to look at her face. I wish you had been here on that memorable first of May! I wish you had seen this park and the people—and well-dressed people too—thronging Rotten Row to see the Queen go by. The park was literally black with them. You saw nothing but heads to the very tree-tops. They risked their lives for the Queen, for all the world as if they were the most accomplished of courtiers. The whole of the public were mad, excepting myself and her Majesty.”
“My dear Doctor, what a splendid opportunity for you to make a revolutionary speech to so large an assembly.”
“Yes, indeed!” said the Doctor. “A capital opening for a martyr to the cause. How quickly the populace would have torn me to pieces! But, in sober seriousness, I am not the man I used to be. On this island you doff the revolutionary garment, as snakes do their enamelled skin. When fresh from Germany, I was red and shaggy, as Esau of old; for on the other side of the Channel, affairs were really too lamentable and disgraceful. But, after my first four weeks among these smooth-shaved and really-constitutionally-governed barbarians, I, too, became smooth and mannerly, as Jacob the Patriarch. Another year will make me a constitutional monarchist, and a score of years or so will convert me into an absolutist of Montalembert’s stamp. Isn’t it disgusting! This impertinently, carefully-observed constitution of the English tears my republican toga into shreds, as day follows day. Only think,” continued the Doctor, “of addressing revolutionary observations to these contented Englishmen! It’s the most insane idea that I ever heard of! Are revolutions to be stamped out of the soil? Can they thrive without sunlight and rain, without provocation from the higher regions? The mob of our stamp have never yet made a revolution: kings make them. Of course they know not what they do.”
There is no stopping the Doctor when he once begins to speak. In his conversations with his German friends, he is eloquent on the merits of England; but at Sir John’s tea-table he fights tooth and nail for his beloved Germany. Quite a psychological phenomenon, which may be observed in the majority of the better class of German residents in England.