"I'd as soon become a field preacher, and hold forth on an inverted tub! But the matter is really very serious. In his present mood of mind, Uncle Peter will disinherit me to a certainty if I remain in the army."
"Does he usually adhere long to any particular crotchet?" said I.
"Why, no; and therein lies my hope. Judging from past experience, I should say that this fit is not likely to last above a month or two; still you see there may be danger in treating the matter too lightly: besides, there is no saying when such another opportunity of getting a step may occur. What would you advise under the circumstances?"
"If I were in your place," said I, "I think I should go over to Hesse Homberg at once. You need not identify yourself entirely with the Peace gentry; you will be near your uncle, and ready to act as circumstances may suggest."
"That is just my own notion; and I think I can obtain leave of absence. I say—could you not manage to go along with me? It would be a real act of friendship; for, to say the truth, I don't think I could trust any of our fellows in the company of the Quakers."
"Well—I believe they can spare me for a little longer from my official duties; and as the weather is fine, I don't mind if I go."
"That's a good fellow! I shall make my arrangements this evening; for the sooner we are off the better."
Two days afterwards we were steaming up the Rhine, a river which, I trust, may persevere in its attempt to redeem its ancient character. In 1848, when I visited Germany last, you might just as well have navigated the Phlegethon in so far as pleasure was concerned. Those were the days of barricades and of Frankfort murders—of the obscene German Parliament, as the junta of rogues, fanatics, and imbeciles, who were assembled in St Paul's Church, denominated themselves; and of every phase and form of political quackery and insurrection. Now, however, matters were somewhat mended. The star of Gagern had waned. The popularity of the Archduke John had exhaled like the fume of a farthing candle. Hecker and Struve were hanged, shot, or expatriated; and the peaceably disposed traveller could once more retire to rest in his hotel, without being haunted by a horrid suspicion that ere morning some truculent waiter might experiment upon the toughness of his larynx. I was glad to observe that the Frankforters appeared a good deal humbled. They were always a pestilent set; but during the revolutionary year their insolence rose to such a pitch that it was hardly safe for a man of warm temperament to enter a shop, lest he should be provoked by the airs and impertinence of the owner to commit an assault upon Freedom in the person of her democratic votary. I suspect the Frankforters are now tolerably aware that revolutions are the reverse of profitable. They escaped sack and pillage by a sheer miracle, and probably they will not again exert themselves, at least for a considerable number of years, to hasten the approach of a similar crisis.
Everybody knows Homberg. On one pretext or another—whether the mineral springs, the baths, the gaiety, or the gambling—the integral portions of that tide of voyagers which annually fluctuates through the Rheingau, find their way to that pleasant little pandemonium, and contribute, I have no doubt, very largely to the revenues of that high and puissant monarch who rules over a population not quite so large as that comprehended within the boundaries of Clackmannan. But various as its visitors always are, and diverse in language, habits, and morals, I question whether Homberg ever exhibited on any previous occasion so queer and incongruous a mixture. Doubtful counts, apocryphal barons, and chevaliers of the extremest industry, mingled with sleek Quakers, Manchester reformers, and clerical agitators of every imaginable species of dissent. Then there were women, for the most part of a middle age, who, although their complexions would certainly have been improved by a course of the medicinal waters, had evidently come to Homberg on a higher and holier mission. There was also a sprinkling of French deputies—Red Republicans by principle, who, if not the most ardent friends of pacification, are at least the loudest in their denunciation of standing armies—a fair proportion of political exiles, who found their own countries too hot to hold them in consequence of the caloric which they had been the means of evoking—and one or two of those unhappy personages, whose itch for notoriety is greater than their modicum of sense. We were not long in finding Mr Peter Pettigrew. He was solacing himself in the gardens, previous to the table-d'hôte, by listening to the exhilarating strains of the brass band which was performing a military march; and by his side was a lady attired, not in the usual costume of her sex, but in a polka jacket and wide trousers, which gave her all the appearance of a veteran duenna of a seraglio. Uncle Peter, however, beamed upon her as tenderly as though she were a Circassian captive. To this lady, by name Miss Lavinia Latchley, an American authoress of much renown, and a decided champion of the rights of woman, we were presented in due form. After the first greetings were over, Mr Pettigrew opened the trenches.
"So Jack, my boy, you have come to Homberg to see how we carry on the war, eh? No—Lord forgive me—that's not what I mean. We don't intend to carry on any kind of war: we mean to put it down—clap the extinguisher upon it, you know; and have done with all kinds of cannons. Bad thing, gunpowder! I once sustained a heavy loss by sending out a cargo of it to Sierra Leone."