Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

DISPUTATION.

Fierce and more fierce the wordy contest grows,

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

same facts, the same topics,, the same

Taunts, gibes and sneers, and everything hopes and fears, rise up before me, like

but blows;

Each to a lonely couch in rage retires,
Whence sleep is banished by vexatious

fires.

DESPERATION.

some pursuing ghost that will not be laid. It is pain to hope for respite if I remain in the South, so I make up my mind to leave.

[ocr errors]

for awhile the cares and excitements of this eventful period, go back some eight years and start on "a journey due North." Breakfast renews the quarrel of my fable-Don't be alarmed, dear reader, I'm not She spoils the tea, and he upsets the table;

All patience lost, no power can peace im

part,

Only in one thing they agree-to part,

going to run the blockade; I haven't contributed my mite to damn our currency by paying exorbitant rates for gold or greenbacks; 1 am not going to sneak across the Potomac with my pockets full of maps and charts, showing all the vulnerable points in the South; you'll not have cause to Loud she proclaims the thousands that she curse my double dealing, nor will you enjoy the rather doubtful pleasure of reading He cool replies 'twas only that which several columns of a Yankee journal filled

DETESTATION.

brought him;

caught him: with misrepresentation and abuse, and "The world shall know your conduct, headed in large capitals, "Experience of

brute," she cries;

a Refugee in the South;" in fine, I'm not "Sooner the better, sweet," the youth re- going to Yankee land, but farther North, plies.

SEPARATION.

to that land over which there ever hangs a deep, and, to me, a dreadful gloom-to the Egypt of the civilization of the nine

Equipped for starting see these quandam teenth century-in plain English, I am

turtles;

Dead are Love's roses, withered are his myrtles;

going to Russia, and I want you to go with

me.

I am not going alone, and can offer you Such are the ups and downs of Love's excellent company. My fellow traveller

short story,

will not fail to please you. He is a capi

For better or for worse "'tis death or tal companion. His wit is excellent; his glory!

A TRIP TO ST. PETERSBURG.*

satire keen and refined; his good humor astonishing and universal, and his heart as warm and as generous as you could wish. He has queer notions, but that is nothing. All of us have our hobbies, and we ride I am heartily tired of hearing of war them unmercifully. He is an Englishman, and rumors of war, and I long for the time but is dark and foreign looking, with a good when I shall hear of it no more. I try to face, a gentlemanly air, and is somewhere read, but I cannot fix my thoughts upon in the neighborhood of thirty. His name my book, and when I take up my pen, I is George Augustus Sala, journalist and aufind myself wandering off into the all ab- thor. You know him well, I am sure, and sorbing topic-the coming spring cam-you have, like your humble servant, enjoypaign. I am content to await with pa-ed many a happy moment in poring over tience the results of the plans of our lead- his delightful stories and sketches; and I ers, but I am not willing to spend all my would not be surprised if yon, in your blissful ignorance, have frequently thanked Dickens for your pleasure, when really your gratitude was due to Sala. Having

"A Journey Due North, in the Summer of 1856. By George Augustus Sala."

Atlantic is crossed, and the shores of the We are ready and away we go-the old world are reached. We pause not a moment in our rapid flight, until we come to Erquelines on the Belgian frontier, where we find Sala awaiting us, and devoutly thanking Heaven that he is done, for awhile at least, with the ordinary hum drum of European civilization, and about to enter a comparatively barbarous region, where everything will be new. He is delighted to have us accompany him, and from the first proves a most agreeable companion.

thus introduced to you my compagnon du many journeys in their company, and by voyage, and having gotten you ready to be-way of cheering myself in these dark and gin the "journey," I must beg you to re- trying days, I propose to undertake "a jourmember that we are starting out in the ney due North," and I repeat to you the Spring of 1856, and that if you derive any invitation to accompany me. You will see pleasure, as I hope you will, from this trip, and hear many strange things, and I hope your thanks will be due to George Augustus you will come home a wiser man, and with Sala, and not to me. I have no opinions a firm determination to do all in your powof my own, I simply give you the views er to prevent your country from becoming and experience of my companion. such a land as that to which I ask you to "Who are you?" you turn to me sud-repair-for it is precisely to such a condidenly and ask. I thought this question tion that your enemies seek to reduce your would come before long. It makes very glorious South. little difference, dear reader, who I am. Were I to tell you, you would scarcely remember my name. You will not find it on the scrolls of fame, nor even in the Biographical Index," where you can see Sala's. Neither is it in the books of the civil or military authorities with a black mark attached to it, and above all, thank Heaven! it cannot be seen in any of the police reports that disfigure our morning papers. I am still "a youth to fortune and to fame unknown," and the only places where you will find my name stamped indelibly, are the sides of my shirts, and the watch-pocket of my-my-well-my Passing Erquelines, we enter the kingbreeches. I am perfectly honest, and you dom of Belgium. Hurrying on, we see a need not fear me because I refuse to give curious sentry box, which Sala tells us reyou my name. To you I must be, I—Mr. minds him of the Belgian lion sitting on 1-1 Esq'r, or plain I—just as you please. his hind legs, and which lion he affirms is I am a great traveller, and I can tell you more like a sheep than the king of stories more wonderful and more truthful beasts. This sentry box tells us that the .than you can find in romance-stories that frontier is crossed and that our journey would make Old Sinbad the Sailor, die is fairly begun. It would be pleasant with envy. It takes me but a few mo- to linger awhile in the Royaume de Belments to go from Richmond to any part of gique, and visit the plains of Waterloo, the world, and above all, I possess that with its Mountain of the Lion, and the wonderful art, which enables me to travel almost bare spot called the Forrest of Soiin any period or in any conveyance. It is gues-the Flemish galleries-the city of just as easy for me to float lazily along in Brussels and the quaint old town of Antthe ark, as to steam merrily over the sea in werp-but we cannot pause. Sala declares the Great Eastern. I can make a pilgrim that the livery stable keepers would swinage on foot and with as little inconveni- dle one out of a fortune, and the beggars ence as I can travel in a first class railway would steal the remainder, and with a carriage. All periods, all customs are shudder affirms that the low Dutch of the within my reach. I have only to choose Flemmings would drive one mad in a short between them. Ah! I see I've excited while-and, besides, he is in a hurry to your curiosity. You want to know the reach Russia. So we hasten on towards secret of this art? It is, dear reader, Liege, watching with eager eyes the wonwithin your grasp. My power is furnished me by those dear, delightful, never chan ging Genii that we call books. I make

drous panorama that stretches out before us, as we sweep down the slopes into the valley of the Meuse. Extending for miles

[ocr errors]

we see the beauteous valley, with little crossing the bridge of boats over the Rhine. hamlets scattered here and there, with the We carry away from the city the next bright and silvery line of the Meuse wind- morning anything but pleasant reminising through it, and in the distance the cences of the Hotel, the landlord of which spires and domes of the city of Liege-all | charged poor Sala for a night's lodging and made more beautiful by the soft light of some trifling refreshments, the enormous the declining sun. We watch the scene sum of five Prussian dollars-(about three with the most intense interest until the dollars and fifty cents in our currency.) twilight settles gently over it, and before As for you and me, my friend, we have we have cast off the spell it has thrown nothing to complain of. This Shylock of over us, the train stops and we are in a landlord is powerless to cheat us. Liege. We pause here for a short time At six o'clock in the morning, we are off and then push on. Settling ourselves com- for Berlin. Our travelling companions are fortably we fall asleep, and dream of home a bright eyed, rosy cheeked, warm-hearted until a vigorous shake and a gruff voice young girl, a native of the region through asking Sala for his passport, arouses us which we are passing, a shrivelled up, also, and tells us we are on the frontier of asthmatic old gentleman, who is paid to be Prussia. Soon we halt at Aix-la-Chapelle, a prince, with his coat covered with the and leaving the Belgian cars, with their heavy, cheerless compartments, their sheep skin rugs and zinc hot water boxes, we enter the spruce, glistening, coquettish carriages, so daintily furbished with morocco leather, and plate glass, and varnished mahogany, which, together with the dress, manners and language of our fellow-travellers, and the heavy clouds of tobacco smoke that fill the carriage, tell us we are in Germany, and are travelling in a first class railway carriage. The natives, under the rank of Baron, or Count, or General, rarely travel in these first class carriages, preferring the slower and less comfortable second and third classes, because they are cheaper. Indeed the

ribbons of the order to which he belonged, (Sala thinks a little soap and water would not hurt them,) an Englisman, and, (to keep up the maxim.) a fool—a good-natured, honest-hearted, hair-brained fool, a per. fect French numskull, ignorant and careless of everything, rattling on incessantly with his nonsense and keeping every one in a good humor. With these companions, and Sala's ready wit, the time passes pleasantly enough.

coins of all the insignificant States of Germany. These you get in change for your Napoleons or five-franc pieces, and if you succeed in getting rid of them again, except at a heavy discount, you are a wise man indeed.

On our way we halt to obtain something with which to strengthen the inner man, at one of the numerous German refreshment rooms. They have a plenty and a great variety of excellent fare, which is very cheap, but Sala declares they are Germans have a maxim, which says-receptacles for all the lame, halt and blind" "None but princes, Englishmen and fools travel by the first class." Sala laughs at this, and says, having no objection to the society of princes, and feeling sure that he may fall into worse company than that of fools, he usually travels by the first class. This mode of travelling has its comfortsthe carriages are seldom more than half full, and you have a plenty of room for yourself and bundles, and if you are inclined to flirt, you will find ample opportunity for the exercise of your powers among the many bright eyed German damsels you will meet on your route.

We pass through Mindens, Hanover and Brunswick, and keep on in our course to wards Berlin. Brunswick sets Sala to talking of "that valiant chieftain of the Black Brunswickers that sate in the windowed niche of the high hall, alone, cheerless, brooding, thinking only of the bloody bier of his father and of revenge ;-and who We reach the city of Cologne at half left the Duchess of Richmond's ball to die past eleven at night, and in the midst of a at Quatre Bras"-and while he is in the heavy rain. We enter a cab and accom- midst of his reflections, he hears some one pany our friend to the "Hotel Doopeepel," give the name its native pronunciation as he calls it, in the suburbs of Dentz, Braunschweig. Ugh!" he cries, "what a

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]

back to Stettin. We enjoy Sala's troubles with the old German about his passport, and rejoice with him when he receives it. We watch with interest the movements of our steamer, the "Preussischer Adler," (the Prussian Eagle,) and are ready to shout for joy when, at noon, on the seventeenth of May, 1856, we stand on the quarter deck of that vessel and watch the shores of the Oder, as we glide by them. Three times three! we are really en route for St. Petersburg the great.

Her

in Northern Europe. Her passengers are usually the very best in the world-Princes, Dukes, Counts-in fine, all who have wealth and influence enough to obtain the Czar's permission to travel. We are travelling in style, and we must pay for it.

Magdebourg is reached and left behind, with its memories of Baron Trenck, and about eleven o'clock at night, we arrived at Berlin. After satisfying the Police, we A fine ship is the "Preussischer Adler," go to the Hotel de Russie, where we are and at present is commanded by Captain forced to stop for some time. It is the Steffens of the Prussian Navy (!). 27th of April, and we hope to proceed at crew, from the first mate down to the sculonce to Stettin in Pomerania, and take the lions, are decked out in the finest and most first steamer for St. Petersburg. But, alas! brilliant costumes. Everything is magwe find grave doubts expressed in Berlin, nificent on the "Preussischer Adler”—even as to the possibility of such a scheme. The to the amount of passage money one has Baltic and the Gulf of Finland are full of to pay. For a sixty hours' passage you ice, and we will have to wait until some pay nearly fifty dollars. The steamer on time in May, before we can sail. We wait which we are embarked is the very best patiently, or rather, with patience and grumbling combined. We spend two weeks in Berlin. We visit Charlottenbourg, the Thier Garten, the Sans Souci palace, Pottsdam, Krotts, the Touhalle and Monbijou, and stroll for hours Unter den Linden; we wander through the glorious museums, and feast our eyes on the treasures of soience, art and history, we go to the opera and applaud, we listen to that wondrous Oberon of Weber, until we are fairly drunk with its almost supernatural melody, and at the theatre we see that miracle of a play the Faust, and although we don't understand a word of it, come away with the firm conviction that the play and the performance are miracles of art, and all night we dream of that wierd Mephistopheles, with his quaint hood, singular gait, his mocking gestures, his devil's grin, his vibrating voice, the red cock's feather, the long peaked shoes, and the sardonically turned up moustache.

At last we are out of the Oder and are ploughing the blue waters of the Baltic. We see for a while the distant coast of the Swedish islands, and continue steadily on our course towards Cronstadt.

[ocr errors]

There are thirty passengers on board, including Mr. Sala-you and I are not counted among them. Several are curiosities in their way, and Sala affords us many a laugh in describing them. We listen, with difficulty restraining our laughter, to the comments of our fellow-passengers. Captain Smith, who is travelling, heaven only knows for what, and who entertains a great contempt for the Preussischer Adler," and all in charge of her, and we laugh, almost in his face, as we hear him speak Two weeks-dull weeks to Sala-but of the ship, grumble at the number of delightful to us-then we bid adieu and "dalers she gostet," and hear him gravely set off for Stettin, where we find our declare "de shib is not vort a tam." We steamer high and dry in the dock under- enjoy.ourselves hugely over the little skirgoing repairs. We have a plenty of time, mishes between Sala and that sharp, sour so we cross over to Denmark, take a look old maid, Miss Wapps. Poor Sala, the spiteat Copenhagen, visit Roskilde, with its ful woman keeps him in a continual fever. burial place of the Seakings, and then She seems to have taken up a dislike for crossing over to Malmoc in Sweden, go him from the first, and persecutes him on

[ocr errors]

66

all occasions. She sharply denies that he steamer, a sort of miniature man-of-war, is an Englishman, and charges him with glides along side of us, and makes fast to being a Jesuit and a spy. She doesn't be- our huge hull. We can see her clean lieve he is going to Russia, and when he decks, with her four little brass guns, which asks her to let him have the pleasure of look like toys beside the heavy ordnance helping her to some wine, she fairly over- of the forts. She is a home-built steamer, whelms him with the bitterness of her her machinery and entire equipment being refusal. At last he, polite as he is, is forced made in Russia. Her crew are tall, hearty to declare, in the language of our friend fellows, mostly Finns, and her captain sits Captain Smith, she "is not vort a tam." on the paddle bridge in a crimson-cushioned We have also a pretty little French actress, arm chair, in full uniform, and enjoying a who is going to Moscow to assist in the paper cigar." Scarcely has the little dramatic festival at the Coronation of the steamer made fast to us, when a plank is Emperor, and then there is a Russian noble-run up to the deck of our ship, and a handman, whose leave has expired, and who is rail placed along side of it. The upper going home. He and Sala are much to end of the rail is fastened to our ship, while gether, and the latter introduces him to us. the lower end is held by one of the man-oWe find him quite an agreeable travelling war's men. For three mortal hours he companion very polite, very gentlemanly, stands there and holds it, as immoveable very proud, very skeptical, very heartless, as a statue. Poor fellow! he dares not let and preferring the French to his native it go--he has been ordered to hold it, and tongue. Indeed, the Russian nobility rarely he must do so if it kills him. use their native language. French is spoken almost universally.

After waiting for more than three hours, we are summoned into the cabin and questioned by a government spy, (who has travelled with us from Stettin, mixing freely with all the passengers,) with regard to our motives in coming to Russia. Instead of our passports we receive, each, a

All goes well, and we are delighted with our voyage. A little after noon, on the 20th of May, we cast anchor in the harbor of Cronstadt. Scarcely has the vessel paused before we see appear above her bulwarks the helmets, and then the heavy gray surtouts, of a dozen of the dirtiest large card, bearing a double eagle stamp, human beings to be found on earth. These in coarse red wax, which is sufficient to are the Russian Police, come to take charge carry us to Peterslurg.

Since we have

been at anchor, our Russian friend has been very distant. It will not do for him to be friendly with foreigners now that he is under the eyes of the government of ficers.

of the "Preussischer Adler," and to see. that we don't blow up the harbor, or carry off one of the forts, or do something else equally dangerous. They quietly take possession of all the luggage on board the ship. and we may as well wait patiently until We take leave of the "Preussischer they are willing to let us go free, employ- Adler," go on board of the little steamer ing ourselves in the meantime in looking along side, and are off for St. Petersburg. around. As far as we can see, there are We have now an opportunity of examin forts and ships-- nothing but forts and ships.ing the steamer more closely. She is a The dark guns frown down upon us out of model of beauty, and fitted up with taste their scowling casemates, and the masts of and elegance. Having eaten nothing since the ships form almost a perfect forest. Far morning, we proceed immediately to the away up the harbor we can see the dis-retreshment room, and there our friend masted hulks of the Russian line of battle Sala is swindled into treating some burley ships, laying up in ordinary. The harbor Dutchman to a beefsteak. In return for is very gay, with small skiffs and swift nan o war's boats, moving to and fro; the sky is bright and the day balmy. Cron stadt. itself, we can see in the distance but not enough of it to satisfy our curiosity. While we are waiting, a fairy-like little

Vol. XXXVIII—23

this, the Dutchman recommends him to a hotel in Petersburg. Sala tries a drink of vodki, and spits it out with a not very proper exclamation. He tells us it tastes of birge water, vitriol, turpentine, copal-varnish, fire and castor oil." To take the taste

« ForrigeFortsæt »