Before putting foot on Danish ground, Mr Kohl is careful to make a kind of solemn protest touching Germanic patriotism, lest, we presume, he should be suspected of taking a heretical view of the question at issue at the present moment between the Sleswig-Holstein provinces and the mother-country Denmark. It is not for us to enter into any political discussions here, concerning matters of internal government which are no more business of ours than of his Majesty Muda Hassim, of the island of Borneo; but we must confess our inability to understand why such a terrific storm of patriotic ardour has so suddenly burst forth in Germany, respecting provinces which, until recently, certainly up to the time when the late king gave his people the unasked-for boon of a constitution, were perfectly happy and contented under the Danish rule, to which they had been accustomed some five or six hundred years.[2] It is only since the assembly of the states was constituted, that the Sleswig Holsteiners have been seized with the Germanic furor—a malady not a little increased by the inflammatory harangues of needy demagogues, and the pedantic outpourings of a handful of professors stark-mad on the subject of German liberty. If there is one thing more absurd than another, upon this globe of absurdity, it is the cant of "nationality," "freedom," "fatherland," "brotherhood," &c. &c., which is dinned into your ears from one end of Germany to the other; but which, like all other cants, is nothing but so much wind and froth, utterly without reason, stamina, or foundation. We should like to ask any mustached and bearded youth of Heidelberg or Bonn, at any one sober moment of his existence, to point out to us any single spot where this boasted "nationality" is to be seen and scanned. Will the red-capped, long-haired Bursch tell us when and where we may behold that "vaterland" of which he is eternally dreaming, singing, and drinking? Why, is it not a fact that, to a Prussian, an Austrian or a Swabian is an alien? Does not a Saxe-Coburger, a Hessian, and any other subject of any small duchy or principality, insist, in his intense hatred of Prussia, that the Prussians are no Germans at all; that they have interests of their own, opposed to those of the true German people; and that they are as distinct as they are selfish? You cannot travel over the various countries and districts included under the name of Germany, without learning the thorough insulation of the component parts. The fact is forced upon you at every step. Mr Kohl himself belongs to none of the states mentioned. He is a native of Bremen—one of the cities of that proud Hanseatic League which certainly has never shown an enlarged or patriotic spirit with reference to this same universal "vaterland." Arrogant and lordly republics care little for abstractions. They have a keen instinct for their own material interests, but a small appreciation of the glorious ideal. We ask, again, where is this all pervading German patriotism?
We have said that Mr Kohl is a great traveller. We withdraw the accusation. He has written forty odd volumes, but they have been composed, every one of them, in his snug stube, at Bremen, or wheresoever else he puts up, under the influence of German stoves, German pipes, and German beer. A great traveller is a great catholic. His mind grows more capacious, his heart more generous, as he makes his pilgrimages along this troubled earth, and learns the mightiness of Heaven, the mutability and smallness of things temporal. Prejudice cannot stand up against the knowledge that pours in upon him; bigotry cannot exist in the wide temple he explores. The wanderer "feels himself new-born," as he learns, with his eyes, the living history of every new people, and compares, in his judgment, the lessons of his ripe manhood with the instruction imparted in his confined and straitened youth. If it may be said that to learn a new language is to acquire a new mind, what is it to become acquainted, intimately and face to face, with a new people, new institutions, new faiths, new habits of thought and feeling? There never existed a great traveller who, at the end of his wanderings, did not find himself, as if by magic, released of all the rust of prejudice, vanity, self-conceit, and pride, which a narrow experience engenders, and a small field of action so fatally heaps up. We will venture to assert that there is not a monkey now caged up in the zoological gardens, who would not—if permitted by the honourable Society—return to his native woods a better and a wiser beast for the one long journey he has made. Should Mr Kohl, we ask, behave worse than an imprisoned monkey? We pardon M. Michelet when he rants about la belle France, because we know that the excited gentleman—eloquent and scholarly as he is—is reposing eternally in Paris, under the drapeau, which fans nothing but glory into his smiling and complacent visage. When John Bull, sitting in the parlour of the "Queen's Head," smoking his clay and swallowing his heavy, with Bob Yokel from the country, manfully exclaims, striking Bob heartily and jollily on the shoulder, "D—n it, Bob, an Englishman will whop three Frenchmen any day!" we smile, but we are not angry. We feel it is the beer, and that, like the valiant Michelet, the good man knows no better. Send the two on their travels, and talk to them when they come back. Well, Mr Kohl has travelled, and has come back; and he tells us, in the year of grace 1846, that the crown-jewel in the diadem of France is Alsace, and that the Alsatians are the pearls amongst her provincialists—the Alsatians, be it understood, being a German people, and, as far as report goes, the heaviest and stupidest that "vaterland" can claim. The only true gems in the Autocrat's crown are, according to the enlightened Kohl, the German provinces of Liefland, Esthonia, and Courland. All the industry and enterprise of the Belgians come simply from their Teutonic blood; the treasures of the Danish king must be looked for in the German provinces of Sleswig and Holstein. This is not all. German literature and the German tongue enjoy advantages possessed by no other literature and language. English universities are "Stockenglisch," downright English; the French are quite Frenchy; the Spanish are solely Spanish; but German schools have taken root in every part of the earth. At Dorpat, says Mr Kohl, German is taught, written, and printed; and therefore the German spirit is diffused throughout all the Russias. At Kiel the same process is going forward on behalf of Scandinavia. The Slavonians, the Italians, and Greeks, are likewise submitting, nolens volens, to the same irresistible influence. The very same words may be found in M. Michelet's book of "The People,"—only for German spirit, read French.
Mr Kohl proceeds in the same easy style to announce the rapid giving way of the Danish language in Denmark and the eager substitution of his own. He asserts this in the teeth of all those Danish writers who have started up within the last fifty years, and who have boldly and wisely discarded the pernicious practice (originating in the German character of the reigning family) of expressing Danish notions in a foreign tongue. He asserts it in the teeth of Mrs Howitt and of the German translators, whom this lady calls to her aid, but who have very feebly represented that rich diction and flexible style so remarkable in the Danish compositions referred to, and so much surpassing the power of any other northern tongue. We should do Mr Kohl injustice if we did not give his reason for regarding the Danish language as a thing doomed. He was credibly informed that many fathers of families were in the habit of promising rewards to their children if they would converse in German and not in Danish! Hear this, Lord Palmerston! and if, on hearing it, you still allow the rising generation, at our seminaries, to ask for du pang and du bur, and to receive them with, it may be, a silver medal for proficiency, the consequences be on your devoted head!
Denmark has been comparatively but little visited by the stranger. She offers, nevertheless, to the antiquary, the poet, and the artist, materials of interest which cannot be exceeded in any other district of the same extent. Every wood, lake, heath, and down, is rich in historical legends or mythical sagas; every copse and hill, every cave and mound, has been peopled by past superstition with the elf and the sprite, the ellefolk and nissen. Her history, blending with that of her Scandinavian sisters, Norway and Sweden, is romantic in the extreme—whether she is traced to the days of her fabulous sea-kings, or is read of in the records of those who have chronicled the lives of her sovereigns in the middle ages. The country itself, although flat, is picturesque, being thickly interspersed with lakes, skirted by, and embosomed in, luxuriant beech woods; whilst ever and anon the traveller lights upon some ancient ruin of church or tower, palace or hermitage, affecting, if only by reason of the associations it awakens with an age far more prosperous than the present. The existence of the Danish people, as a nation, has been pronounced a miracle. It is hardly less. Small and feeble, and surrounded by the foreigner on every side, Denmark has never been ruled by a conqueror. Amid the rise and fall of other states, she has maintained her independence—now powerful and victorious, now depressed and poor, but never succumbing, never submitting to the stranger's yoke. Her present dynasty is the oldest reigning European family. It dates back to Christian I.—himself descended in a direct female line from the old kings of Scandinavia—who, as Duke of Oldenburg, was chosen king by the states in 1448.
A good account of Denmark and the Danes is yet wanting. It may be collected by any honest writer, moderately conversant with the language and history of the country. We fear that Mr. Kohl will not supply the literary void, if we are to judge from the one volume before us. Others are, however, to follow; and as our author is immethodical, he may haply return to make good imperfections, and to fill up his hasty sketches. We cannot but regret that he should have passed so rapidly through the Duchy of Holstein. Had he followed the highways and byways of the province, instead of flitting like a swallow—to use his own words—over the ground by means of the newly-opened railroad through Kiel, his "Travels" would surely have been the better for his trouble. Instead of pausing where the most volatile would have been detained, our author satisfies himself with simply expressing his unfeigned regret at being obliged to pursue his journey, consoling his readers and himself with the very paradoxical assertion that we are most struck by the places of which we see least; since, being all of us more or less poetically disposed, we permit the imagination to supply the deficiencies of experience;—an argument which, we need scarcely say, if carried to its fullest limits, brings us to the conviction, that he who stays at home is best fitted to describe the countries the furthest distant from his fireside. Surely, Mr Kohl, you do not speak from knowledge of the fact!
In his present volumes, Mr Kohl refers only passingly to the subject of education in Denmark. He remarks that the national schools far surpassed his expectations. He might have said more. For the last thirty or forty years, we believe, it has been rare to meet with the commonest peasant who could not read and write; a fact proving, at least, that Denmark is rather in advance than otherwise of her richer neighbours in carrying out the educational measures which, of late years, have so largely occupied the attention of the various governments of Europe. No one in Denmark can enter the army or navy who has not previously received his education at one or other of the military academies of the country. The course of study is well arranged. It embraces, besides the classics, modern languages, drawing, and exercises both equestrian and gymnastic. The academies themselves are under the immediate direction of the best military and naval officers in the service. For the education of the people, two or three schools are provided in every village, the masters receiving a small salary, with a house and certain perquisites. In 1822 the system of Bell was introduced in the elementary public schools, and since that period it has been generally adhered to.
Our author speaks with natural surprise of the small number of Roman Catholics he encountered in the Danish States. The Papists have no church or chapel throughout the kingdom; indeed, with the exception of the private chapel of the Austrian minister, no place of worship. We were aware that such was the fact a few years ago; we were scarcely prepared to find that Rome, who has been so busy in planting new shoots of her faith in every nook of the known world, is still content to have no recognition in Denmark. Heavy penalties are incurred by all who secede to the Romish church. In Sweden a change to Roman Catholicism is followed by banishment. This severity, we presume, must be ascribed to state policy rather than to a spirit of intolerance, for Jews and Christians of every denomination are permitted the freest exercise of their faith. Since the year 1521, the era of the Reformation in Denmark, the religion of the country has been Lutheran. The Danish church is divided into five dioceses, of which the bishop of Zealand is the metropolitan. His income is about a thousand a-year, whilst that of the other prelates varies from four to six hundred. The funds of the clergy are derived principally from tithes; but the parish ministers receive part of their stipend in the form of offerings at the three great annual festivals. Until lately, there existed much lukewarmness on all religious questions. Within the last ten or fifteen years, however, a new impulse has been given to the spiritual mind by the writing and preaching of several Calvinistic ministers, who have migrated from Switzerland and established themselves in Copenhagen. Their object has been to stop the recreations which, until their arrival, enlivened the Sabbath-day. They have met with more success in the higher classes than amongst the people, who now, as formerly, assemble on the green in front of the village church at the close of service, and pursue their several pastimes.
Mention is made in Mr Kohl's volume, of the churchyards and cemetries he visited in his hasty progress. Compared with those of his own northern Germany, the Scandinavian places of burial are indeed very beautiful. The government has long since forbidden any new interments to be made within the churches, and many picturesque spots have, in consequence, been converted into cemetries. In the immediate vicinity of Copenhagen there are several; but the essence of Mr Kohl's plan being want of arrangement, he makes no mention of them for the present. One of these cemetries, the Assistenskirkegaard, outside the city, has an unusual number of fine monuments, with no exhibitions of that glaring want of taste so frequently met with elsewhere. The village churchyards are bright, happy-looking spots, which, by their cheerful aspect, seem to rob the homes of the dead of all their natural gloom and desolation. Every peasant's grave is a bed of flowers, planted, watched, and cherished by a sorrowing friend. At either end of the seven or eight feet of mound rises a wooden cross, on which fresh wreaths of flowers appear throughout the summer, giving place only to the "eternals" which adorn the grave when snow mantles its surface. A narrow walk, marked by a line of box, incloses every mound; or, not unfrequently, a trellis-work, tastefully entwined of twigs and boughs. The resting-places of the middle classes are surmounted by a tablet, not, as in our churchyards, rigidly inclosed within impassable palisades, but standing in a little garden, where the fresh-blown flowers, the neatly trimmed beds, and generally the garden-bench, mark that the spot is visited and tended by the friends of those who sleep below. Hither widowed mothers lead their children, on the anniversary of their father's death, to strew flowers on his grave, to hang up the wreaths which they have wound; but, above all, to collect the choicest flowers that have bloomed around him, which must henceforth deck, until they perish, the portrait of the departed, or some relic dear for his sake. We have watched the rough work-worn peasant, leading by the hand his little grandchild, laden with flowers and green twigs to freshen the grave of a long-absent helpmate; and as we have remarked, we confess not without emotion, feeble infancy and feeble age uniting their weak efforts to preserve, in cleanliness and beauty, the one sacred patch of earth—we have believed, undoubtingly, that whilst customs such as these prevail, happiness and morality must be the people's lot; and that very fearful must be the responsibility of those who shall sow the first seeds of discord and dissension amongst the simple peasantry of so fair a land!
The cathedrals of Denmark are of great antiquity. Those of Ribe, of Viboig in Jutland, of Lard, Ringsted, and Roeskilde, in Zealand, all date from the end of the eleventh, or the beginning of the twelfth century; since which remote period, in fact, no churches of any magnitude have been erected. Roeskilde is one of the oldest cities in the kingdom. In the tenth century it was the capital. Canute the Great may be considered as the originator and founder of its existing cathedral, which was completed in the year 1054. It has occasionally undergone slight repairs, but never any material alteration. The edifice is full of monuments of the queens and kings of the ancient race of Valdemar, as well as of those of the present dynasty. Some of the earliest sovereigns are inclosed within the shafts of the pillars, or in the walls themselves; a mode of sepulture, it would appear, as honourable as it is singular, since we find amongst the immured the great Svend Etridsen, and other renowned and pious benefactors of the church. In front of the altar is the simple sarcophagus of Margaret, the great queen of Scandinavia, erected by her successor, Eric the Pomeranian. The queen is represented lying at full length, with her hands devoutly folded on her breast. At this sarcophagus our author lingers for a moment to express sentiments which would have brought down upon him the anathemas of the good John Knox, could that pious queen-hater but have heard them. Mr Kohl defies you to produce, from the number of royal ladies who have held supreme power in the world, one instance of inadequacy and feebleness. Every where, he insists, examples of female nobility and strength of character are found linked with the destinies of kings who have earned for themselves no better titles than those of the fainéant and the simple. The style of Roeskilde cathedral is pure Gothic; but in consequence of the additions which the interior has received from time to time from kings and prelates, that portion of the edifice is more remarkable for historical interest than for purity of style or architectural beauty. One incident in connexion with this building must not be omitted. When Mr Kohl quitted the cathedral, he offered his cicerone a gratuity. The man respectfully declined accepting even the customary fees. The reason being asked of a Danish gentleman, the latter answered, that the man was a patriot, and proud of the historical monuments of his country; it would be degradation to take reward from a stranger who seemed so deeply interested in them. One would almost suspect that this honest fellow was a verger of Westminster Abbey!
The church of St Kund, at Odense, was erected in honour of King Kund, murdered in the year 1100 in the church of St Alben, at Odense. The bones of the canonised were immured in the wall over the altar. Many sovereigns have been interred here. Indeed, it is a singular fact that the respective burial-places of every Christian king of Denmark, from the earliest times up to the present day, are traced without the slightest difficulty; whilst every heathen sovereign, of whom any historical record remains, lies buried beneath a mound within sight of Seire, the old heathen capital of the country. St Kund's church is of Gothic architecture. Amongst the many paintings that decorate its walls is one of a female, known as Dandserinden, or "The Dancer." She is the heroine of a tradition, met with under slightly modified forms in various parts of Denmark. It is to the following effect:—A young lady, of noble family, went accompanied by her mother to a ball; and being an indefatigable dancer, she declared to her parent, who bade her take rest, that she would not refuse to dance even though a certain gentleman himself should ask her as a partner. The words were scarcely uttered before a finely dressed youth made his appearance, held out his hand, and, with a profound obeisance, said, "Fair maiden, let us not tarry." The enthusiastic dancer accepted the proffered hand, and in an instant was with the moving throng. The music, at that moment, seemed inspired by some invisible power—the dancers whiled round and round, on and on, one after the other, whilst the standing guests looked upon all with dread horror. At length, the young lady grew pale—blood gushed from her mouth—she fell on the floor a corpse. But her partner, (we need not say who he was,) first with a ghastly smile, then with a ringing laugh, seized her in his arms, and vanished with her through the floor. From that time she has been doomed to dance through the midnight hours, until she can find a knight bold enough to tread a measure with her. Regarding the sequel, however, there are a number of versions.