"Why should it, in a country where three-fourths of the population, thanks to metaphysics, are rationalists?"
"I do not know. There is a proposal to construct a pantheon, somewhat on the principle of the Valhalla, in which men of all sects may worship; but I am strongly impressed with the propriety of a unity of creed as well as a unity of race."
"And this creed you would make compulsive?"
"To be sure. We expect obedience to the laws—that is, to our laws, when we shall have made them; and I cannot see why a law of worship should be less imperative than a law which binds mankind to the observance of social institutions."
Shade of Doctor Martin Luther!—this in thy native land!
"Well, professor," said I, "you have given me enough to think on for one night at least. Perhaps to-morrow you will be kind enough to take me to the parliament, and point out some of the distinguished men who are about to regenerate the world."
"Willingly, my dear boy," said the professor; "it is your parliament as well as mine, for you are clearly of the Saxon race."
"Which," interrupted I, "I intend to repudiate as soon as the partition begins; for, whatever may be doing elsewhere, there are at least no symptoms of barricades in the Highlands."
Although it exceeded the bounds of human credulity to suppose that a majority, or even a considerable section of the German parliament, entertained such preposterous ideas as those which I had just heard from Klingemann, it was obvious that the supreme authority had fallen into the hands of men utterly incapable of discharging the duty of legislators to the country. A movement, commenced by the universities, and eagerly seconded by the journalists, had resulted in the abrupt recognition of universal suffrage as the basis of popular representation. There had been no intermediate stage between total absence of political privilege and the surrender of absolute power, without check or discipline, to the many. What wonder, then, if the revolution, so rashly accomplished, so weakly acquiesced in by the majority of the princes of Germany, should already be giving token of its disastrous fruit? What wonder if the representatives of an excited and turbulent people should carry with them, to the grave deliberations of the senate, the same wild and crude ideas which were uppermost in the minds of their constituency? It needed but a glance at the parliamentary list to discover that, among the men assembled in the church of St Paul, there were hardly any fitted, from previous experience, to undertake the delicate task of reconstructing the constitutions of Germany. There were plenty of professors—men who had dreamed away the best part of their lives in abstract contemplation, but who never had mingled with the world, and who formed their sole estimate of modern society from the books and traditions of the past. The recluse scholar is proverbially a man unfit to manage his own affairs, much less to direct the destinies of nations; and all experience has shown that the popular estimate has, in this instance, been strictly true. There were poets of name and note, whose strains are familiar throughout Europe; but, alas! it is in vain to expect that the power of Orpheus still accompanies his art, and that the world can be governed by a song. There were political writers of the Heine school, enthusiastic advocates of systems which they could neither defend nor explain—worshippers of Mirabeau and of the heroes of the French Revolution—and most of them imbued with such religions and social tenets as were promulgated by Thomas Paine. There were burghers and merchants from the far cities, who, since the days of their studentism, had fattened on tobacco and beer; gained small local reputations by resisting the petty tyranny of some obnoxious burgo-master; and who now, in consequence of the total bouleversement of society, find themselves suddenly exalted to a position of which they do not understand the duties, or comprehend the enormous responsibility. Political adventurers there were of every description, but few members of that class which truly represents the intelligence and property of the country. In the preliminary assembly, the names of five or six mediatised princes—particularly those of the house of Hohenlohe—and of several of the higher nobility, were to be found. Few such names occur in the present roll,—the only mediatised member is the prince of Waldburg-Zeil-Trauchburg. This is ominous of the tendency of the parliament, and of its pure democratic condition.
So much I had learned from a perusal of the debates, which are now regularly published at Frankfort, and which hereafter may be considered as valuable documents, illustrating the rise and progress of revolution. But I was curious to see, with my own eyes, the aspect of the German parliament, and not a little pleased to find that my old friend, the professor, was punctual in keeping his appointment.