ter from Menzel, placed the reader thoroughly within the walls of Vienna; and he will not fail to observe that the motley panorama which is unfolded, bears traits too characteristic to admit of its being easily confounded with any other of a kindred nature. London it could not be; for no man can mistake business and smoke for pleasure and sunshine. Not Paris, because of the Gothic and Oriental elements that you find here, but seek for in vain in the most tho roughly civilized and modernized city of Europe. Not Petersburg, because Petersburg is dull. Not Naples, be cause in Naples you see only Italians. To our feeling, Menzel has put the different elements of this picture to gether in a short compass with no small skill. That dark Bohemian, frowning through the Carnival, with the memory of Huss and a whole thirty years' war upon his brow, is significant enough; and yet more admirable the Hungarian damsel, boasting her flaunting tri-color in the very face of Metternich. Hungary is to Austria what Circassia would be to Russia, should Circassia now successfully maintain her independence, and some hundred years after this, by a free and voluntary pact, choose the Czar of Russia for her king. He would not be czar there; he would only be king; and that only so far and so long as the free Circassians found it convenient to allow the union of the crowns. Hungary has been Austrian now for more than three centuries, (from 1527;) but it is Hungary still; and its nationality, so far from having humbled itself beneath the levelling rule of German centralization, has of late years been shooting out with new vigour; and the Magyar language, by the successful efforts of the famous diet of four years, 1832-6, now claims a place in the public legislation of Europe. But of the Hungarians again: Meanwhile we cannot fail to remark with pleasure what a content ed and happy air this Viennese despotism wears: and how scarcely a shadow of the Spielberg seems to disturb the flickering sunshine in which these holiday children (Sonntagskinder) live. This is the working of the fa

mous PATERNAL system-a word for which Mr Turnbull requires to make no apology; for it expresses the relation between prince and people in this government accurately-more accurately, perhaps, when the comparison is consistently followed out, than those who invented it imagine. Let us consider for a moment to what it amounts. If the sovereign is a father, then the subjects are children, as the Czar says to his soldiers, riding by the ranks gallantly-" How are you, my children?" while they reply in deafening response

"We thank you, my father."* It is a relation not confined to Austria, but belonging in a manner to all despotic governments; and there is no inconsistency between the two designations father and despot, but rather a perfect congruity—a father being at once the most absolute and the most merciful of masters, (dir.) He may, how ever, also be the most stern castigator when occasion requires; and of this the Marquis of Londonderry gives us a notable example in the person of the same Russian Czar:-" There was a cholera- mob in St Petersburg: 'What are you doing, impious and criminal men?' said he, with a voice of thunder. You DARE to oppose the orders of your superiors, the care of your physicians, and the paternal solici tude of your sovereign! Kneel, rebels, and beg God's forgiveness! Make yourselves worthy of the clemency with which I will act if your repentance is sincere!' On hearing these words," continues the Marquis," the numberless multitude prostrated themselves, and nothing but sobs and sighs were heard. The clergy of the adjacent church, St Sauveur, arrived, and chanted the Te Deum; and, as soon as it was finished, the air resounded with acclamations of Long live the Emperor!' The people surrounded him: kissed his clothes and his horse, and escorted him to the palace." Here we have a very characteristic picture of the sterner phasis of the paternal system in Russia, and a more favour able specimen of how it works practi cally could not be conceived. this example will serve to illustrate the Austrian idea of paternity only by way of contrast; for the Peters and Pauls of the savage north, as we know well,

But

are generally murdered by their rebellious children; whereas a Franz or Ferdinand of the Kaisersburg at Vienna, would scarcely seem to deserve the name, if he did not die quietly, like a good Christian, in his bed. It is a mighty difference. Here it is the obedience of love, there it is the obedience of fear. And, accordingly, Mr Raikes tells us that there is a feeling of constraint about Petersburg, altogether opposed to the free and easy jovialty of Vienna-a constraint to a free-born Englishman, Whig, Tory, or Radical, altogether intolerable." Whence this difference may arise we shall not endeavour dogmatically to determine; perhaps from the inferior grade of civilisation attained by the Russians; perhaps from the character more decidedly military of every thing in Russia; perhaps from the lack of kindliness and amiability in the Russian, as compared with the German character. But the fact seems undeniable. "Russia," says Sir John Sinclair somewhere, " for offensive or defensive military operations, is the happiest of all political situations geogra phically;" but the happiest of all absolute governments morally, according to the unvarying testimony of a host of the most competent witnesses, is Austria. Hear what Herr Weber

says on the subject:

"The greatest eulogy of Austria lies in the fact, that the Austrian peasant is comparatively wealthy and contented; that is to say, the great majority of the nation is wealthy and happy. In Austria most people can boast not merely esse but bene esse, whereas in other countries the financiers are happy enough if they can bring about such a state of things as shall prevent total starvation in any limb of the body politic. We could name states which, compared with Austria, are really little better than work-houses. In no country do we find so many blue Mondays, green Thursdays, and golden Thursdays; and a Treuga Dei is re

alized here much more perfectly than ever it was in the middle ages. The great forced fêtes of the Grande Republique appear almost comical to me, when set against those natural feasts of the Austrian monarchy. Montesquieu talks wisely about all kinds of monarchies: but it is certain that the vertu, or love of fatherland, which he assumes as characteristic of republican states, flourishes here more lustily than it ever did in republican France, or in any of the ancient little republics of Germany."

This is comfortable. We have no Shah of Persia here, delighting in decimation; no political Blue-Beard, as some simple-minded people may picture the despot of an absolute government, but a real and veritable PATER PATRIE, living not in marble and brass only, but in the hearts of a happy and contented people. "The name of the Kaiser," continues our author, "works like magic; and many a time have I laughed at an honest old reigning Graf, before the days of mediatizing, who was not content to say Der Kaiser' simply, as the Viennese do so kindly, but with a full mouth rolled out the designation, Kaiserliche majestät unser allergnädigstes Reichs-oberhaupt."" And in another passage, discoursing on what we in England call public spirit, Herr Weber eulogizes the Imperial Government in a strain that makes the iron yoke of the censorship appear, even to our British fancy, for the moment like the happy constraint of an artificial channel, cut by an irrigator, distributing the waters of an unruly river wisely over the thirsty plain. We extract the whole passage:

"Of public spirit, I confess, a phrase with which undoubtedly much that is great and noble in social man is connected, the Austrians through the whole monarchy know nothing; and the newest political, or even lite rary notorieties, are not hunted after with that eager curiosity which is found in so many other countries. As little does the Austrian concern

himself, in general, about the censorship of the press, and the political index purgatorius, which is well known to be pretty voluminous in the empire; but many a famous book in this register, the censor inserts doubtless with a smile, acting on the great Austrian principle of safety, but knowing all the while very well, that any body who chooses to give himself a little trouble, may have any book he pleases to ask for. Since the RevoÎution, it has been the fashion in Austria to institute a regular chase after political heresy; and, for my part, I do not object to making a bonfire of most of our political pamphlets, for their only tendency is to teach foolish heads to reason conceitedly on all subjects which they do not understand, or to turn good subjects into bad patriots. "Etwas lustiges da für." Give me rather something merry-cries the Austrian. The spirit for constitutionalism, which has seized on all Europe in these latter times, appears in Austria almost comical; these people can afford to make a farce of the great world- Epos, of the age; and yet they are not mere buf. foons; they have an Epos of their own, and a public spirit too, or something that serves the same purposethe public spirit of the Austrians is their LOVE to the Imperial family. In Austria, one may read every where in large letters, (notwithstanding the principle of secrecy,) the great specific which this government employs to waken and keep alive the patriotism of the people-the administration is in the main such, that the people feel themselves happy in Fatherland. Their love to the Kaiser-the best proof of good government-goes so far, that their familiar discourse and daily language receive a peculiar tint from it. Thus a certain kind of blue, like Joseph's eyes, they called kaisersblau; the cab in which he used to ride they called kaiserswagen; a sweet pear of which they are very fond, they called kaisersbirne; a kind of sweet cake they call kaiserskuchen; and the short tender flesh on the ribs they call haisersfleisch. Let no man tell me that there is not more of the philosophy of the Austrian government in these

chance phrases, than in many books written by learned publicists.'

We agree entirely with Herr Weber; the men who set out with the fixed idea that in an absolute monarchy every thing must be bad, and in a limited monarchy, or a republic, every thing must be good, are the most shallow reasoners in the worldmere pedants and formalists-very boys in capacity. And yet, it is only the other day that we read in a respectable publication a denunciation of the good old Kaiser, now, God rest him! in his grave, as a "base, brutal, and bloody wretch," because he had not treated "a charming young man," named Alexander Andryane,* very politely in the Spielberg. We do not mean to defend the Spielberg, or take under our patronage all the details of prison discipline used there. Even Mrs Trollope, notwithstanding that flaunting breadth of indiscriminate eulogy wherewith she contrives to make the best things in Austria appear most ridiculous, makes a very awkward apology for the Spielberg. She says, it is not true that the comforts of the unfortunate prisoner are withdrawn from him, by little and little, with studied, lingering barbarity, because-mark the logic-(surely this galliard female has Irish blood in her veins)—because all means of recreation and amusement are withdrawn before the prisoner enters the room allotted to him. If Mrs Trollope's book had ever been meant to be, or could ever be mistaken for, any thing else than a loose bundle of pleasant, sale- · able gossip, it might be edifying (while we are on this theme) to compare her bold and authoritative statements in vol. ii. p. 202, with respect to Austrian prison discipline, line by line, against some little facts mentioned by Andryane and others, who speak not from hearsay, but from personal experience. But this shall pass. We are only concerned to observe that the treatment of state prisoners in Austria may be as harsh, in principle and practice, as the English criminal laws are, or till very lately have been, notoriously and proverbially bloody-and no argument in the one case can be drawn

NO. CCC. VOL. XLVIII.

21

from the facts against the Austrian system of paternal despotism; or in the other, against the English system of a representative constitution. We must remember also, that, according to the principle of paternity, the peace and quiet of the family is one of the great ends of domestic government; the family, indeed, cannot exist without it for a moment; and the boy who is eternally rioting and ramping, and making noise, deserves not to be laid upon a sofa, but to be put into a black-hole. And what shall not be said or done to the man who curses and blasphemes, and even beats his PARENT? Let these considerations excuse any severities of poor Franz towards his political prisoners; for his prisoners emphatically they were "meine gefangenen," as he used to phrase it. He was an old man before he died, and a little given to be peevish and anxious no doubt, especially after the July revolution in 1830; but still, to his own good children, he was Kaiser Franz to the end, or “ Franzel," as the kindly Viennese diminutive has it. Would it not appear almost high treason in this country, if a man were to talk of the Queen familiarly as "our dear little Vick?" And yet such is the tone of Austrian loyalty; not a solemn architectural hymn, built with large square stones of massive melody, like our "God save the King;" but a gentlycradling, sweetly-swaying thing, in Haydn's kindest manner, where reverence, which Mr Turnbull says is the principle of the Austrian despotism, is lost in love, and the subject taps the sovereign on the shoulder with a friendly familiarity-

"Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser,

Unsern guten Kaiser Franz !" Thus the Viennese sing their gentle hymn; and Kaiser Franz himself, look how quietly and without observance, how almost like a Methodist parson he treads along! "I was on the Bastey, one day," says Herr Weber," and a man in a grey greatcoat was walking before me, whom I should never have thought of noticing, had it not been that many people, as they passed him, touched their hats with great respect. It was Kaiser Franz;

and so I saw him again in the Prater, where he was taking the air in a plain two-horse coach, with his daughters; and had it not been for the frequent taking off of the hat that accompanied the progress of the vehicle, I should not have recognised my old friend, that simple grey man, the Kaiser of Oestreich. How is it that this mighty emperor has retained so little of the usefullore which the French emigrants taught in all our German courts, that the Revolution was caused by neglect of court etiquette; and that, in order to preserve the peace of Europe, a bold front of Spanish dignity and French brilliancy in these matters is absolutely necessary? No Vive l'Empereur deafens the quiet ears of good Kaiser Franz; but all look on him with eyes of love and reverence, and there is loyalty in every gesture." So lived Kaiser Franz. Madame Trollope was not so fortunate as Herr Weber. Kaiser Franz was dead before she reached Vienna, otherwise, after a reasonable flourish of trumpets in her best style, she would no doubt have given a similar account of this simple grey man. But she was in the convent of the Capuchins-where is the imperial vault-on All Souls' Day, in the month of November; and she witnessed a scene of affectionate loyalty on that occasion, which, fresh as it must be in the memories of many of our readers, we cannot permit ourselves to pass over. "The old and the young, the rich and the poor," says she," pressed on together to the tomb of their common father; neither sex, age, nor condition, were observed in this unparalleled melée of general emotion; and I believe truly that of all the multitude who thronged that dismal vault, we alone profited by the light of the torches, which made its gloom visible, for the purpose of looking on as mere spectators of the scene. We watched tears stealing down many a manly cheek, from eyes that seemed little used to weeping, and listened to sobs that spoke of hearts bursting with sorrow and remembered love, beside the tomb of one who had already lain there above two years, and that one-an Emperor!"* With these words-genuine gold, we believe, and not mere lacker-let the curtain drop

on Kaiser Franz, and the virtues of the paternal system in Austria.

Our excellent bachelor, Herr Weber, (worth a whole host of modern critics and modern travel-writers, by your leave, good friends,) is, as we have said, peculiarly at home in Vienna. He lives with the people, he feels with them, he thinks with them, he talks with them, he enjoys them thoroughly. He is a true philosopher. Not indeed that, because the steeple of St Stephen's and the Vienna morality decline a little from the perpendicular, our strict British reason is to decline along with them; but simply that a man must keep an open eye and an open heart for whatsoever is good and beautiful in this multiform world, and not allow himself to be deceived by formulas. So Herr Weber, though with strong British and constitutional leanings, is not slack to rejoice with them that do rejoice at Vienna, under a system of unlimited despotism, and to know the soul of good in things evil. For evil, after all, or at least imperfection, as free-born Britons we must say, notwithstanding the magniloquencies of Mrs Trollope, the paternal system is. Does it not, in fact, imply that we are all children politically, and to remain children for ever? But there is also another evil on the opposite side, and that not a small one -imagining, like the Abbe Siêyes, that one has perfected political science upon paper, and telling all children straightway, at the word of command, to stand on the legs of political manhood, when they have none to stand on. Herr Weber is aware, as we must all be, that the Austrian government does not pretend to have taught human nature that drunken boor, according to Martin Luther-to ride upright upon his horse; but, giving up self-government in any shape as an altogether hopeless essay in social economy, it arranges matters so that the rider, in spite of himself, shall not break his neck, and, though not sitting in the most graceful way imaginable, nevertheless, by aid of cords and packthreads, and thongs of various kinds,

wisely applied, does not tumble. And do you not hear that clown, or cavalier, as it may chance to be-riding joyously along, despite of Metternich and espionage, drinking tokay bountifully, and blessing the gods? Are not these men happy? and not only happy, but kind hearted and amiable, and virtuous in their own way? Take a few familiar traits from Herr Weber, and if you do not love these Viennese, you may be a strict saint, and a good Whig, but you are not a man. What genuine-not modern French-but true Christian urbanity, for instance, is in the following!

"I do not think that an areopagus here would have occasion to make a law against the man who should kill a sparrow flying from the persecution of a hawk, or against boys who should put out the eyes of singing birds. During the war, the employés of Government felt the press of the dearth and the paper money more even than the common citizen; but here also the natural kindness of the Austrian character showed itself. A shopman and a government official were chaffering with considerable warmth, and interchanging some hard words about unchristian prices: Wos? Sie seyn a beomte? Worum hobens, dos nit glei gsogt? So hatt's parlament nit braucht; sie zahl'n halt, statt n' gulden acht groschen.' What? You are an official! Why did you not tell me that before?-so we might have spared our prattle. I take only eight groschen in the florin from you!

"The Austrians have a certain air of calm coldness (Eine Eigene ruhige Kälte,) which, after a time, pleased me 'tis almost Turkish. But as to rudeness, with which I have heard them charged, they are substantially a most polite people; and what your superficial sketchers call rude, is only an honest plumpness of phrase, such as the Bavarians and Suabians also have, to which an honest man soon gets accustomed. I was a great frequenter of the imperial library. One day I had left some important notes in one of the volumes of a very volu