66 "My ochondriac which he had already rehearsed at Nimeguen. Accordingly, to the request for the document, he quietly answered that there was no need. 66 But, sare, you shall go to Cologne," said the conducteur. "Sir, I shall do no such thing," retorted my uncle with some asperity, as if arguing the point with old Truby himself. Sare, as you please," returned the conducteur, with the national shrug and grimace, "bot you must not go by de Preussich frontière wizzout de visé." good fellow," said my uncle, smiling gravely, "I am going beyond the great frontier of all, and where your King of Prussia can't stop me, with all his police, and his army to boot." "Teufel! vere is dat?" exclaimed the German, astounded by this apparent denial of the power of an absolute monarch. "It's another and a better world," said my uncle, solemnly, and with a shake of the head that, like Lord Burleigh's, was a homily in itself; "and, mark my words, sir, I shall be there before night." It was now time to interfere; and, by dint of expostulation, I obtained the paper. Well, Frank, there it is, — but, mind, it's a dead letter. Do what you like with it, only don't let me be troubled with any such worldly formalities again." 66 Apropos de bottes, our conducteur, a shrewd fellow, with a taste for humor, told me he had seen a passport the day before wherein the bearer described himself as a 66 man of property," and, by way of giving weight to the document, it was indorsed by the Right Honorable the Lord Mayor of London, and one or two of the aldermen. What a characteristic trait of a moneyed Cit on his travels ! Whilst our papers were under the inspection of the police, the familiars of another inquisition boarded the vessel, and commenced their function. They conducted themselves very civilly; but it would be bad policy, indeed, at the threshold of a grand and profitable exhibition, and such is the Rhine,to allow visitors to be disgusted by any official rudeness at the threshold. The search, therefore, was politely strict; but nothing objectionable was discovered, except a certain bale of Dutch linen, at which the officers made a dead set. I was about to interpose on behalf of the owner, when her maid resolutely undertook the defence. The holland, she said, was honestly come by and paid for, and belonged to her mistress. "Bot it is goods for a tax," said the officer. "It's no such thing," said Martha, positively, and becoming unconsciously an advocate for free-trade; "the Dutch charged no taxes on it, and it stands to reason it can't be taxed in Germany." "You shall see de boke," said the officer; “ you know vat is a tariff?" "It's a fiddlestick," retorted Martha, waxing angry. “It is de Yarman Commercial Leg," said the douanier. 66 Leg or no leg," replied the championess, "it's not going to walk off with my missis's property.' Why for, den, you not declare it?" asked the officer; whereupon the maid declared she knew nothing about declarations. "If you seize the linen, you shall seize me," said she, and suiting the action to the word, she seated herself on the bale with the dignity of a Lord Chancellor, the fountain of all equity, on his woolsack. The officers looked puzzled and undecided how to act, when they were fortunately relieved from the dilemma by a personage who had hitherto taken no more notice of the matter than if he had literally done with the things of this world. “Martha, ask my sister to step here." Up jumped the unconscious maid to perform this errand; but her back was no sooner turned, than, pointing to the linen, my uncle addressed the douaniers: "Take it, gentlemen, and welcome. It is heartily at your service, to make into shirts or towelling, or whatever you or your wives think proper." The officers stared and seemed to doubt the purport of this speech, till I translated it into the best German I could muster. Then they stared still more, as if thinking, not without reason, that Englishmen are very droll people; but suddenly recollecting themselves, they made a low bow, first to my uncle, then another to me, and then, without a word, handed the bale over the side, and took their departure. "I'll tell you what it is, Frank," said my uncle," many persons in such a case would have stood out; but, in the first place, we have got rid of a great encumbrance, and, in the second place, before it got to Woodlands, the Dutch linen would have cost more than double its worth. Above all, its being seized will be a comfort to your aunt. Yes, you may laugh; but there's nothing in life so good for a fretful person as a real vexation. That's my remark; and take my word for it, for a week to come, Kate will be far more angry with the King of Prussia than troubled about poor George.' But, however right in his theory, my uncle found himself mistaken as to the conductor that was to carry off the shock. The moment Martha returned, and discovered that she had been robbed, like a hen off her eggs, she set up a clamor that could only be silenced by her master's acknowledgment of his own share in the transaction. Big with this fact, she ran back to her mistress, and when we afterwards dined in the pavilion, for my aunt declined appearing at the table-d'hôte, she did not fail to bring her Dutch cloth on the table. "It was hard enough," she said, "to be disappointed, in what she did for the best, without the pain of owing it to her own brother's cruel connivance." Her own brother looked a little foolish at this remark, and had she been content with her advantage, would have probably been worsted, but when she went on to charge him with ingratitude, seeing that the beautiful Dutch linen was intended for a new set of shirts for himself, his constitutional infirmity supplied him with a defence. "Well, well, Kate, let bygones be bygones. What is done is done, and it's no use taking it to heart. And besides, Kate," he added, quite seriously, "you have one comfort, and that is, if the Dutch linen was to be made into shirts for me, I should never, you know, have lived to wear 'em." To borrow a phrase that fell from the Cockney, “the steamboat passes a night on board between Nimeguen and Cologne, and in the interim the passengers sleep as they may or can, without any accommodation for the purpose. In default of a berth, a corner is the best restingplace; but to obtain such a nook I had to dispossess a score of German pipes. Here I dozed, sitting, till towards morning, when methought a bell began to ring, the paddles stopped, and the vessel brought up with a jolt against something hard. Some dozen of outlandish figures, in fancy caps, immediately roused up, and, each selecting a pipe, groped their way out of the dingy atmosphere of the cabin, where as many other shapes, some still more foreign, and every one armed with a meerschaum, as speedily filled their places. The bell rang a second time, the paddles revolved, the vibration recommenced, my eyes closed again, and when they opened to the daylight, I was told that we had stopped and exchanged some of our live stock at Düsseldorf. A few of the bipeds we had obtained by this transaction were, as to costume, extremely grotesque. One of them, a short, squat, vulgar-looking personage, particularly attracted my uncle's notice. "In the name of wonder, Frank, what can that long-haired fellow be? the one yonder in the black velvet cap, with a notch cut out of the brim, like a barber's basin." "I suspect," said I, "he is a painter, or would-be painter, from Düsseldorf; that cap is an imitation of Raffael's, and the great hat near it is a copy of Rubens's." My uncle received this intelligence with a "Humph." All kinds of foppery are his especial aversion, and he did not conceal his disgust. "Painters, indeed! Take my word for it, Frank, they are rank daubers. It's my notion that people who are so full of themselves are always empty of everything else. As for their Raffael and Rubens hats, I'd back a common London house-painter agin them in his paper cap. No, no, Frank; a man that makes such an exhibition of himself will never cut a figure at Somerset House." In the mean time, these young masters strutted about as complacently as if they had really rivalled the old ones by an "Assumption" and a "Transfiguration." The Raffaelesque hero, in particular, had arranged his chevelure so elaborately after that of Sanzio, as to prove that, if not otherwise skilful, he could handle a hair-brush. But the thing was a profanation; and I could not help favoring the brace of Burschen with a mental apostrophe. "Gentlemen, instead of dressing after Rubens and Raffael, you ought to have gone naked long before them, in the savage ages, gentlemen, when you might at once have exercised your art, and gratified your personal vanity, by painting your own bodies." That vented me; and now, Gerard, for fear of mistakes, please to turn to the noble work on Modern German Art, by the Count Athanasius Raczynski, and there you will find that Düsseldorf can turn out painters, and good ones too, as well as lay figures. Now, then, methinks you cry, for Cologne; but my hand is tired, and my pen is worn out, and I must reserve that ancient city (it smells high, but it will keep) for another letter. All love to Emily, from dear Gerard, yours very truly, FRANK SOMERVILLE. P. S. You remember Grundy, not the celebrated old lady of that name, but our schoolfellow at Harrow. He has just put up at our hotel in his way homewards, full of grumbling and grievances, and anathematizing the Rhinelanders for having "extorted" him. Right or wrong, his indignation has turned his complaint into verse, and here follows a copy of what Mr. Grundy says of the natives:— Ye Tourists and Travellers, bound to the Rhine, Take care of your pocket! take care of your pocket! Don't wash or be shaved, go like hairy wild men, Play dominoes, smoke, wear a cap, and smock-frock it, But if you speak English, or look it, why then Take care of your pocket! take care of your pocket! You'll sleep at great inns, in the smallest of beds, Take care of your pocket! take care of your pocket! You'll see old Cologne, not the sweetest of towns, Wherever you follow your nose you will shock it And you'll pay your three dollars to look at three crowns, Take care of your pocket! take care of your pocket! You'll count seven Mountains, and see Roland's Eck, But oh! to the tone of romance what a check, Take care of your pocket! take care of your pocket! Old Castles you'll see on the vine-covered hill, You'll stop at Coblence, with its beautiful views, |