Part 14

Seated on the exalted pinnacle which he has most fairly and honourably attained, if not by general acclamation, at least by the applauding voice of the majority, he must, of course, stand against the intellectual tempest which has unnaturally brought a person of his age to the surface. Accordingly, by the main strength of his youthful genius, by his admitted superiority of talent, this beardless pilot would probably triumphantly maintain his place at the helm--requiring, however, support from those of his admirers most approaching in eloquence to himself. To obtain the services of some great orator, he would (copying the system of his opponents) be induced to appoint a man, for instance, Secretary for the Colonies, who on this earth had never reached the limits even of its temperate zone; another, who had not heard a shot fired, or even seen a shell in the air, would, perhaps, be created Master-General of our Ordnance; in short, talent being the weapon or single-stick of Parliament, he would, like others before him, arm himself with it at any cost, and thus reign triumphant.

However, without supposing such an extreme case, let us fearlessly recall to mind a miserable fact almost of yesterday. In the fatal year 1825, the British government conceived the purely classical and highly poetical idea of "bringing a new world into existence!" Most people will remember with what flowery eloquence the elegant project was laid before Parliament, and how loudly and generally it was cheered--the blind were led by the blind--all our senators being equally charmed at the splendid possibility of their thus politically dabbling in creation. The truth or moral, however, came upon us at last, like the simmoon upon the traveller who ignorantly ventures on the deserts of Africa. The country almost foundered, and though she has, to a certain degree, recovered from the shock, yet thousands of widows, orphans, and people of small incomes, are to this day, in indigence and sorrow, secretly lamenting the hour in which the high-flown parliamentary project was disseminated.

The charity, pater-noster system of education pursued to this day at our universities and public schools has produced other historical facts, which it is now equally out of our power to obliterate, atone for, or deny. For instance, we all know that in five years Charles II. touched 23,601 of his subjects for the evil;--that our bishops invented (just as Ovid wrote his "Metamorphoses") a sort of heathen service for the occasion;--that the unchristianlike, superstitious ceremony was performed in public; and that as soon as prayers were ended, we are told, "_The Duke of Buckingham brought a towel, and the Earl of Pembroke a basin and ewer, who, after they had made obeisance to his Majesty, kneeled down till his Majesty had washed._"

Again, everybody knows that Amy Drury and her daughter, eleven years of age, were tried before "the great and good Sir Matthew Hale," then Lord Chief Baron, for witchcraft, and were convicted and executed at Bury St. Edmund's, principally on the evidence of Sir Thomas Brown, one of the first physicians and scholars of his day: also that Dr. Wiseman, an eminent surgeon of that period, in writing on scrofula, says--"_However, I must needs profess that His Majesty (Charles II.) cureth more in any one year than all the chirurgeons of London have done in an age._"

The above degrading facts are moral tragedies, which were not acted in a dark corner, by a few obscure strolling individuals--not even by any great political faction,--but the audience was the British nation--the performers the King on his throne, the bishops, the nobility, the judges, the physicians, the philosophers of the day. In short, theory and practice, hand in hand, both prove to the whole world the double error in our system of education. Says theory--if young people, instead of being taught to look at the ground under their feet, at the heavens above their head, or at creation around them, are forced by the rod to study events that never happened, speeches that never were made, metamorphoses that never took place, forms of worship and creeds ridiculous and impious, such a nation must inevitably grow up narrow-minded, ignorant, superstitious, and cruel. Says practice--this prophecy has been most fatally fulfilled; and accordingly, in England, people _have_ believed in witchcraft--_have_ put savage faith in the King's touch,--and, under the name of a mild and merciful religion, they _have_ burnt each other to ashes at the stake!

The mute steadiness of British troops under fire,--the total want of bluster or bravado in our naval actions, where, as we all know,

"There is silence deep as death, And the boldest holds his breath For a time,"--

the laconic manner in which business all over England is transacted (millions being exchanged with little more than a nod of assent); in short, our national respect for silent conduct, form a most extraordinary contrast with the flatulent eloquence of our Parliamentary debates.

But to return to our houses of Parliament: shall we now proceed to calculate what would be the expense of such a system of government or misgovernment as that which has just been shown to have proceeded, not from the imbecility of individuals, but from the system of false education maintained by our public schools and universities? No! no! for the history of our country has already solved this great problem, and, at this moment, does it record to our posterity, as well as to the whole world, that the expense of a great mercantile nation, looking behind it instead of before it--the price of its statesmen studying ancient poets instead of modern discoveries--of mistaking the "orbis veteribus cognitus" for the figure of the earth, amounts to neither more nor less than a national debt of EIGHT HUNDRED MILLIONS of English pounds sterling! In short, economy having fatally been classed at our universities among the vulgar arts, the current expenses of our statesmen have naturally enough been ordered to be put down to their children, just as their college bills were carelessly ordered to be forwarded to their fathers.

However, so long as a nation is _willing_ to purchase at the above enormous, or at any still greater price, the luxury of reading Greek and Latin poetry, the misfortune at first appears to be only pecuniary; and it might almost further be argued, that a nation, like an individual, ought to be allowed to spend its money according to its own whim or fancy; but, though this may or may not be true so far as our money be concerned, yet there is an event which must arrive, and in England this event HAS JUST ARRIVED, when a continuance of such a mode of education must inevitably destroy our church, aristocracy, funds; in short, every thing which a well-disposed mind loves, venerates, and is desirous to uphold.

The fearful event to which I allude, is that of the lower classes of people becoming enlightened.

In spite of all that party spirit angrily asserts to the contrary, most firmly do I believe that there does not exist, in England, any revolutionary spirit worth being afraid of. In a rich commercial country, the idle, the profligate, and the worthless will always be anxious to level the well-earned honours, as well as plunder the wealth amassed by the brave, intelligent, and industrious; but every respectable member of society, with the coolness of judgment natural to our country, must feel that he possesses a stake, and enjoys advantages which I firmly believe he is desirous to maintain; in fact, not only the good feeling, but the good sense of the country, support the fabric of our society, which we all know, like the army, derives its spirit from possessing various honours (never mind whether they be of intrinsic value or not) which we are all more or less desirous to obtain.

But if those who wear these honours degrade themselves--if our upper classes culpably desert their own standards--if they shall continue to insist on giving to their children an elegant, useless education, while the tradesman is filling his son with steady useful knowledge--if our aristocracy, with the Goule's horrid taste, _will_ obstinately feed itself on dead languages, while the lower classes are healthily digesting fresh wholesome food--if writing, arithmetic, modern geography, arts, sciences, and discoveries of all sorts are to continue (as they hitherto have been) to be most barbarously disregarded at our public schools and universities, while they are carefully attended to and studied by the poor--the moment must arrive when the dense population of our country will declare that they can no longer afford to be governed by classical statesmen; and, with an equally honest feeling, they will further declare, they begin to find it difficult to look up to people who have ceased to be morally their superiors. That the lower orders of people in England are rising not only in their own estimation, but in the honest opinion of the world, is proved by the singular fact, that the wood-cuts of our _Penny Magazine_ (so rapidly printed by one of Clowes's great steam-presses) are sent, in stereotype, to Germany, France, and Belgium, where they are published, as with us, for the instruction of the lower classes. The same Magazine is also sent to America (page for page) stereotyped. The common people of England are thus proudly disseminating their knowledge over the surface of the globe, while our upper classes, by an infatuation which, without any exception, is the greatest phenomenon in the civilized world, are still sentencing their children to heathen, obscene, and useless instruction; and, though it has beneficently been decreed "LET THERE BE LIGHT!" our universities seriously maintain that the religious as well as moral welfare of this noble country depends upon its continuing in intellectual darkness.

It is now much too late in the day to argue whether the education of the lower classes be a political advantage or not. One might as well stand on the Manchester rail-road to stop its train, as to endeavour to prevent that. The people, whether we like it or not, WILL be enlightened; and, therefore, without bewailing the disorder, our simple and only remedy is, by resolutely breaking up the system of our public schools and universities, to show the people that we have nobly determined to become enlightened too.

The English gentleman (a name which, in the army, navy, hunting-field, or in any other strife or contention, has always shown itself able to beat men of low birth) will then hold his ground in the estimation of his tenants, and continue to inhabit his estate. The English nobleman, and the noble Englishman, will continue to be synonymous--a well-educated clergy will continue to be revered--the throne, as it hitherto has been, will be loyally supported--our mercantile honour will be saved--THE HOPES OF THE RADICAL WILL BE IRRETRIEVABLY RUINED--and when the misty danger at which we now tremble has brightened into intellectual sunshine, remaining, as we must do (as long as we continue to be the most industrious), the wealthiest and first commercial nation on the globe, we shall remember, and history will transmit to our children, that old-fashioned prophecy of Faulconbridge, which so truly says,

"Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true."

* * * * *

I had retired to rest much pleased with Schlangenbad and all that belonged to it, when about midnight I was awakened by a general slamming of doors, windows, and shutters, occasioned by a most violent gale of wind, and on opening my eyes, the bright moonlight scene, which, without even moving my head, I beheld, was mysteriously grand and imposing. Although the moon, which had just risen, was as I lay not discernible through my windows, yet its silvery light beamed so strongly that the two little white-washed mill-cottages in the valley seemed to be even brighter than I had observed them during the day. But what particularly attracted my attention was the apparent writhing of those great hills which, as if they had only just been rent asunder, hemmed me in. Every tree on them was bending and waving from the violence of the squall, and as cloud after cloud rapidly hurried across the moon, sometimes, obscuring and then suddenly restoring to my view the strange prospect, the uncertainty of this undulating movement gave a supernatural appearance to the scene, which more resembled the fiction of a dream, or of a romance, than any possible effect of wind on trees. The clean, glistening foliage seemed scarcely able to stand against the gale, which still continued to increase, until a loud peal of thunder, followed by a few heavy drops, announced a calm, which was no sooner established, than the light of the moon appeared to be converted by Nature into a heavy deluge of rain. For some few moments, I listened, I believe, to the refreshing sound, and to the rushing of the stream beneath me; but as the darkness around me increased, my eyes closed, and I again dropped off to sleep.

The little society of Schlangenbad, like that of most of the towns and villages in this part of Germany, is composed of Lutherans, Catholics, and Jews. The two former sects have each a place of worship allotted to them in the Old Bad-Haus or Nassauer-Hof, and their two chambers, standing nearly opposite to each other, remind me very strongly of those twin-roads which in England often lead from one little country town to another.

On each is the stranger invited to travel--one boasts that it is the nearest by half a quarter of a mile, the other brags that "it avoids the hill." Such is the distinction between the two Christian sects at Schlangenbad;--both start from the same point--both strain for the same goal, and yet they querulously refuse to travel together.

After having spent two or three days in rambling up and down the valley, searching for and admiring its sequestered beauties, like Rasselas, I felt anxious to scale the mountains which surrounded me, and accordingly inquired for a path, which, I was told, would extricate me from my happy valley; however, after I had continued on it some way, fancying I could attain the summit by a shorter cut, I attempted to ascend the mountain by a straight course. For some time I appeared to succeed pretty well, feeling every moment encouraged at observing how high I had risen above the grassy valley beneath; however, the mountain grew steeper, and the trees thicker and larger, until I began to find that I had a much heavier job on my hands than I had bargained for; nevertheless, upwards I proceeded, winding my way through some magnificent oak timber, until at last I attained actually the top of the mountain: yet so surrounded was I by trees, that, very much to my disappointment, I found it impossible to see ten yards before me. For a considerable distance I walked along the ridge, hoping to find some gap or open spot which would enable me to get a glimpse of the country beneath me, but in vain,--for, go where I would, I was like a reptile crawling through a field of standing corn; in short, nothing could I see but trees, and even they appeared to be of no value, as a great number of stately oaks were in every direction rotting just as if they were beyond the reach and ken of mankind. As I was winding between these timber trees, hoping, at least, to see deer or wild game of some sort, it began to rain, and though I had no disposition, on that account, to abandon my object, yet absolutely not knowing where to seek it, I was almost in despair, when it occurred to me to climb one of the trees; and the idea had no sooner entered my head, than I felt quite angry with myself for not having thought of it before: however, I was some little time before I could find one to suit, for to swarm up the huge body of any of the great oaks would have been quite impossible. As soon as I found a tree adapted to my purpose and my age, I climbed it in spite of the rain, and I was no sooner in the position of King Charles the Second, than I witnessed one of the most splendid views that can be well conceived.

Beneath me was the Rhine, glistening and meandering in its course, while nearly opposite and beneath me lay Bingen, which appeared to be basking on the banks of a lake. Almost every one who has travelled on the Rhine speaks in raptures of this part of it, yet the view I enjoyed, seated on the limb of my tree, was altogether superior to what they could have witnessed, because at one view I beheld the beauties which they had only successively admired. The hills on which I was placed were clothed to their summits with foliage, feathering down to the very water's edge; and instead of the little portion of the river, which, as one niggles along, is seen bit by bit from the steam-boat, its whole course seemed to be displaying itself to my view. The opposite shore was comparatively flat, and as far as I could see, a boundless fertile wine country appeared to extend there. The shower, which was still falling in heavy drops upon my tree, only belonged to the mountain on which it stood, for the whole country and river beneath were basking in sunshine. It was really delightful to enjoy at once the sight of so many beautiful objects, and I hardly knew whether to admire most the lovely little islands which seemed floating at anchor in the Rhine, or the vast expanse of continent which was prostrate before me; but without continuing the description, any one who will only look in his map for Bingen, and then imagine an old man seated in the clouds above it, will perceive what a salient angle I occupied, and what a magnificent prospect I enjoyed.

As soon as I had imbibed a sufficient dose of it, I commenced my descent, which was of course easy enough when compared with the fatigue I had suffered in attaining the object. The trees were dripping, and the mossy surface of the ground made my feet equally wet; however, rapidly descending, I soon got first a glimpse of my own window in the New Bad-Haus, then a peep of the little quiet mills whose wheels I saw slowly turning under the clear bright water that sparkled above them; and really when I at last got down to the green secluded valley of Schlangenbad, I felt that I would not exchange its peaceful tranquillity for the possession of all the splendid objects I had just witnessed.

Yet in viewing this humble scene, as well as in revelling over that magnificent prospect where space and wood seemed to be infinite, the very air smelling of health and freedom, there was a small feature in the picture which gave me very painful reflections. There are perhaps many who will say, that two or three peasants' roofs are specks, which (whatever sad secrets may lie hidden beneath them) ought not to disturb the mind of the spectator, being objects much too insignificant to be worthy of his notice; yet the more I observed the splendour of the mountain scenery,--the more the verdant valley seemed to rejoice,--the more the wild deer, dashing by me, appeared to enjoy the gifts of creation,--the more difficult did I find it to forget the abject poverty of the two or three poor families which were inhabiting this smiling valley; and (on the principle of not muzzling the ox that treadeth out the corn) it certainly did seem to me hard, that, surrounded as these poor people are by an almost boundless forest of timber trees, quantities of which, stag-headed, are actually returning to the dust from which they sprung, they should by the laws of their country be rigidly forbidden to collect fuel to cheer the inclemency of the winter, or even with their fingers to tear up a little wild grass beneath the trees for their cow.

Considering that the storm, like the wind, cometh where it listeth, afflicting the poor man even more than the well-sheltered rich one, it seems hard, in districts so nearly uninhabited, that when the oak tree is levelled with the ground, the mountain peasant who has weathered the gale should be prevented from plundering this wreck of the desolate forest in which he has been born. Nevertheless, that such is the case, will be but too evident from the following short extracts from a very long list of forest penalties, rigidly enforced by the Duke of Nassau:--

FOREST PENALTIES.

Fine.

For a load of sear wood { a child 34 kreuzers. { grown-up person 54 do.

If it be green wood, the fine is doubled.

For a load of dead leaves { a child 26 to 28 kreuzers. { grown-up person 46 to 48.

For a load of green grass torn {a child 30 do. up by the hand {grown-up person 50 do.

Should a sickle or scythe be used, the fine then becomes doubled; likewise for a second trespass: for a third, imprisonment ensues.

It is against the Duke's laws to take birds' nests; even those of birds of prey cannot be taken without the permission of the keeper of the forests.

For a nest taken of common singing-birds, 5 florins.

For nightingales 15 do.

Should the nest be taken out of a pleasure-ground, the fine then becomes doubled.

It may appear to many people quite impossible that these penalties can be enforced in desolate districts so nearly uninhabited: nevertheless, by a sort of diamond-cut-diamond system, the Duke's forest officers have various cunning ways of detecting those who infringe them, and the fact is that fuel and wild grass are very often wanting in a solitary hovel absolutely environed by both. I myself was one day told that I had become liable to be fined eighteen kreuzers, because in a reverie I had allowed a rough pony I was riding to bend his head down and eat a few mouthfuls of grass; and another day, seeing a man who was driving the ass I was riding rub with mud the end of a switch he had just cut, I was told by him, in answer to my inquiry, that he did so in order that it might not be proved he had _cut_ it. However, lest these trifling data should not be deemed sufficient proof, I will at once add, that I have myself seen the peasants lying in the Duke's prison for having offended against these petty laws.

I took some pains to inquire what possible objection there could be to the poor people collecting a few dead leaves, or the rank wild grass which grows here and there all over the forest, and I was told that both of these by rotting are supposed to manure the trees, yet, as I have already stated, quantities of the largest timber are to be seen decaying in every direction.

In a crowded, populous country, all descriptions of property must be clearly distinguished and most sternly protected; but in a state of nature, or in districts so nearly approaching to it as many parts of Nassau, the same rule is not applicable--the same necessity does not exist; and under such circumstances, the punishment inflicted upon a child for tearing up wild grass with his hands most certainly is (and who can deny it?) greater than the offence.