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was some hours before we got across it, frequently losing our way in the innumerable paths that intersect each other. At last the shade of the forest grew deeper and darker, till a sudden and steep descent seemed to carry us into another world. It was a total eclipse; but, like the valley of the shadow of death, it was the path to paradise. Suddenly the scene expanded into a broad grassy glen; lighted from above by a full and beautiful moon, it united all the wildness of a Scotch glen with the verdure of an English garden. The steep hills on either side of our green pathway were covered with a luxuriant growth of trees, where millions of fire-flies flew like stars among the branches. Such enchantment could not be surpassed in Tempé itself. I would travel to the walls of China, to feel again the wonder and delight that elevated my spirits when I first surveyed this enchanting scene. An incident apparently slight certainly heightened the effect produced by external beauty. While we gazed up to the ruined fortifications, that stretched in bold, broken piles across the ridge of the mountain, military music sounded at a distance. Five thousand Austrians, on their march to Bohemia (where the French were expected to penetrate), passed our carriage in a long broad line, and encamped in a wide plain, at one extremity of the valley. As we proceeded on our way, the rear of their army, composed of Redcloaks and Pandours, exhibited strange and picturesque groups, sleeping on the bare ground, with their horses tied to trees; whilst the sound of the Austrian trumpets died faintly away among the echoes of the hills.
"It was a sudden transition from the beauties of an interesting journey to the horrors of war and confusion that prevailed at Ratisbon. The richest fields of Europe desolated by contending troops. Peasants driven from their homes to starve and beg in the streets; horses dying of hunger, and men dying of their wounds, were the dreadful novelties at this time. A few more agreeable circumstances tended to lessen the effect of these disagreeable scenes. The novelty of everything around me, the splendor and sublimity of the Catholic service, and the hospitality of the good monks [of the Benedictine Scotch College of St. James] in their old marble hall, amused me into peace of mind, as far as tranquillity could be enjoyed in such perilous times. The music of our high church cathedral is beyond conception. On the morning before the French entered Ratisbon, a
solemn ceremony was held. One passage in the Latin service was singularly àpropos to the fears of the inhabitants for siege and bombardment. The dreadful prophecy, 'O, Jerusalem, Jerusalem! thou shalt be made desolate!' was chanted by a loud, single voice, from one end of the long echoing cathedral. A pause, more expressive than any sound, succeeded; and then the whole thunder of the organs, trumpets and drums, broke in. I never conceived that the terrific in music could be carried to such a pitch.
"Within two hours an alarm was given for the Hungarian infantry to march from the camp, and support their retreating countrymen. Their music, though less sacred, was perfect in its kind. The effect of this military exhibition, the most impressive that could be witnessed, was heightened by the sound of distant artillery, and the flashing of carbines in the neighboring wood, where the French and Austrian Roth-mantels skirmished in small parties. The appearance of dead and wounded men carrying past gave a serious aspect to the scene, and convinced the spectator that he was not witnessing the scene of a holiday parade.”
Here was Campbell "fairly caged," the French in Ratisbon and the Austrians in the village of Haddamhoff on the other side. Now and then he went to the Scottish convent; but his republican politics were not suited to that meridian; and he denounces the monks as lazy, greasy and ignorant. The French officers were more after his own heart, and, in general, " famous fellows." Of his mode of life at this time, and his views of pedestrian travel, we find an account, in a letter to his "dear and much-wished-for friend," Richardson, which, in style and substance, seems to us Goldsmith over again.
"Ratisbon is a place of much note in the history of Germany. We must learn all the striking events connected with its legends. You may judge what we could live upon, by the rate of my expenses here; and I believe, upon an average, you cannot live much cheaper in any other city. My room costs two florins — four shillings- per week. Ilodge with a surgeon, called Deisch, a very genteel and agreeable man. He sends me dinner and a glass of good beer from his own table, for eighteen kreuzers, or sevenpence a day, to my own room. This is fully as cheap as the most reasonable eating-house would demand; and the victuals are always clean and wholesome. The wood for my winter-stove, Father Boniface tells me, will cost about thirty
shillings for a half-year. Tea and sugar are high; but of these we might have a sufficient quantum from home, without possibility of detection. The room is large enough to hold two beds; and, if our stocks were joined, we might live for half nothing. We might keep sufficient company at a tenth of the expense we could at Edinburgh; for the only treat is a dish of coffee, or a glass of beer, at twopence a bottle.
“Travelling is very cheap to those who know the coins, and the mode of procedure. Travelling even as 'Milord Anglais,' I could hardly spend a guinea a day. With economy, and on foot, we may visit all the corners of Germany, travel a space of three thousand miles, stop at convenient stages for a few days at a time, and be masters of all the geographical knowledge worth learning, for thirty pounds apiece. I reckon thus: We set out with a stick, fitted as an umbrella, a nice contrivance, very common here, with a fine Holland shirt in one pocket, our stockings and silk breeches in the other, and a few cravats, wrapt in clean paper, in the crowns of our hats. This, with a pocket-book, is all the baggage we require. Books for entertainment and assistance must be deferred till we stop at some considerable towns, where there are always good libraries, and where we ought to stop, with introductory letters, a few days at least. Of these I can get sufficient. At country inns a bed and supper are had for half-a-crown apiece. Refreshments of coffee for sixpence, and of bread and beer for twopence. On reaching towns, if we manage properly, and search for a cheap little berth in the suburbs, we may live with equal economy. This is the cheapest way of travelling; and, even should my literary schemes succeed this year beyond expectation, I am determined to put it in practice; for I have neglected economy too long; and, thank God, we are both philosophers enough to despise hardships for the sake of knowledge and expansion of mind. Travelling along with you, my dear friend, a crust of rye bread will be pleasanter than the finest fare in your absence." Campbell left Ratisbon late in October, and returned, by way of Leipsic, to Altona, where he resided until he embarked for England. Meanwhile, his situation had been, in many respects, difficult and painful. For several weeks he remained without news from home. He was solitary, dejected, anxious for the future, and in a state of uncertainty and suspense with regard to what “was saying or doing
in Britain." He was troubled about the yet unfinished Queen of the North. His letters to Richardson during this period express an earnest longing for his friend's presence. "O, how I shall leap," he says, "when I see you spring from the packet to the Danish shore! Then, my boy, for Buda! the Danube! the hills of Bavaria ! Vienna! Our tour shall delight the universe!" A fit of sickness confined him for many weeks, disabled and dispirited him, broke up his plans, and arrested all intellectual exertion. On the 25th of December, he wrote to his long-expected and still missing friend Richardson:
"By February-even by the middle of January―nay, even for certain by the 15th of January — I shall have sent to Perry twentyfour pieces of poetry; he could not insert more in a year's time, and by that period I shall be entitled surely to fifty pounds. This is all my resource. If you do not come by Yarmouth, write to him for my sake; and, on condition of twenty-four pieces being sent by that period, request, with dignified politeness, that amount; and offer twenty pieces to be sent next year for the like sum, all as highly polished as regard to my reputation can induce me to make. What could I not do, were you beside me! This is all hush-work; no sending through the drum, or talking of it in Mundell's shop. Fortified with fifty pounds, I defy fate! I know how to travel and live frugally. Judge of my economy when I tell you that I can at present content myself with two meals a day, of which dinner costs eightpence and supper sixpence.
"Let us plunge down to Hungary, and there we can live comfortably upon ten shillings a week, for all the expenses of each. From this to Munich — which is worthy of a whole volume in our travels— we can walk for four pounds apiece; and you may get by water down to Presburg or Ofen for a guinea, or less. Walking, I must repeat it, is our best plan; sure and independent. Let your luggage be little; but bring, for God's sake, Shakspeare, and a few British classics. These things will be sent to Ratisbon, and thence down the Danube at small expense. I forgot to mention Adams' Comparison of Ancient and Modern Geography; also, if you wish to keep me from cutting my throat, bring the materials detailed in my last. March, March! I will ever bless thy bleak, pale face, if thou givest me my friend!"
The materials referred to were scraps, hints and extracts, touching the history and tradition of Edinburgh, and some details in regard to the surrounding scenery, for his contemplated Queen of the North.
Of fourteen pieces communicated to Perry during Campbell's residence on the Danube and the Elbe, but a few have been admitted to a place in his collected poems. Of these, the first was The Exile of Erin, written immediately after his arrival at Altona, and suggested by the fortunes of Anthony M'Cann, a refugee Irishman, whose acquaintance Campbell had made at Hamburg. The song
is to an old Irish air, which had been often used as the medium of similar sentiments. The Lines on Revisiting a Scene in Argyleshire were first sketched in 1798, but were finished at Hamburg, and transmitted from Germany for the columns of the Morning Chronicle. The Beech-tree's Petition was written at the request of his sister Mary, and the venerable subject of the poem still stands in the garden of Ardwell, the seat of J. Murray M'Culloch, Esq., who relates the following anecdote: "On occasion of one of my happy visits to Abbotsford, my friend Sir Walter and I were taking a forenoon's walk over his fields. In our conversation, some allusion was made to The Pleasures of Hope, and to the celebrated author of that fine poem; when Sir Walter said, By the by, I was lately told that the Beechen Tree of Tom Campbell stands in your garden at Ardwell. This I took upon me to contradict, for I had never heard my friend Campbell say that he had been at Ardwell; nor did I ever hear you say that he had been there.' I answered, 'Indeed, my dear sir, you have unintentionally done us injustice for it stands in our garden, and we are very proud of our classic and celebrated Beech. We must not be deprived of our tree, especially by such authority as yours; so you must get the matter authenticated as soon as you have any opportunity of doing so."" Scott was satisfied by this explanation that the Campbell Beech really stood in Mr. M'Culloch's garden, and promised to rectify his error on every appropriate occasion.
The Ode to Winter and Ye Mariners of England were among the most finished and successful lyrics composed in Germany.
The latter was first suggested by hearing the air played at the house of a friend in Edinburgh, but was finished at Altona. It was