The day at last arrived for my departure from the green, happy little
valley of Schlangenbad. Whether or not its viper baths really possess
the effect ascribed to them, of tranquillizing the nerves, I will not
presume to declare; but that the loneliness and loveliness of the place
can fascinate, as well as tranquillize, the mind, I believe as firmly,
as I know that the Schlangenbad water rubs from the body the red rust
of Langen-Schwalbach.
Those who, on the tiny surface of this little world, please themselves
with playing what they call "the great game of life," would of course
abhor a spot in which they could neither be envied nor admired; but to
any grovelling-minded person, who thinks himself happy when he is quiet
and clean, I can humbly recommend this valley, as a retreat exquisitely
suited to his taste.
After casting a farewell glance round apartments to which I felt myself
most unaccountably attached, descending the long staircase of the New
Bad-Haus, I walked across the shrubbery to my carriage, around which
had assembled a few people, who, I was very much surprised to find,
were witnessing my departure with regret!
Luy, who had followed my (I mean Katherinchen's) footsteps so many a
weary hour, strange as it may sound (and so contrary to what the ass
must have felt), was evidently sorry I was going. The old "Bad" man's
countenance looked as serious and as wrinkled on the subject as the
throat of his toad--his wan, sallow-faced Jezebel of a wife stood
before the carriage steps waving her lean hand in sorrow, and the
young maid of the Bad-Haus, who had made my bed, merely because I had
troubled her for a longer period than any other visiter, actually began
to shed some tears. The whole group begged permission to kiss my hand;
and there was so much kind feeling evinced, that I felt quite relieved
when I found that the postilion and his horses had spoiled the picture,
in short, that we were trotting and trumpeting along the broad road
which leads to Wiesbaden.
As I had determined on visiting the Duke of Nassau's hunting-seat "Die
Platte" in my way to Wiesbaden, after proceeding about four miles,
I left the carriage in the high road, and walking through the woods
towards my object, I passed several very large plantations of fir-trees
which had been so unusually thick that they were completely impervious,
even to a wild boar; for, not only were the trees themselves merely
a few inches asunder, but their branches, which feathered to the
ground, interlaced one with another until they formed altogether an
impenetrable jungle. Through this mass of vegetation, narrow paths
about three feet broad were cut in various directions to enable the
deer to traverse the country.
In passing through the beech forest, I observed that the roads or cuts
were often as much as forty or fifty feet in breadth, and every here
and there the boughs and foliage were artificially entwined in a very
ingenious manner, leaving small loop-holes through which the Duke,
his visiters, or his huntsmen, might shoot at the game as they wildly
darted by. A single one of these verdant batteries might possibly be
observed and avoided by the cautious, deep-searching eye of the deer,
but they exist all over the woods in such numbers, that the animals,
accustomed to them from their birth, can fear nothing from them, until
the fatal moment arrives, when their experience, so dearly bought,
arrives too late.
After advancing for about an hour through these green streets, I came
suddenly upon the Duke's hunting-seat, the Platte, a plain white
stone, cubic building, which, as if disdaining gardens, flowerbeds,
or any artificial embellishment, stands alone, on a prominent edge
of the Taunus hills, looking down upon Wiesbaden, Mainz, Frankfort,
and over the immense flat, continental-looking country which I have
already described. Its situation is very striking, and though of course
it is dreadfully exposed to the winter's blast, yet, as a sporting
residence, during the summer or autumn months, nothing I think can
surpass the beauty and unrestrained magnificence of its view.
Before the entrance door, in attitudes of great freedom, there are
two immense bronze statues of stags, most beautifully executed, and
on entering the apartments, which are lofty and grand, every article
of furniture, as well as every ornament, is ingeniously composed of
pieces, larger or smaller, of buck-horn. Immense antlers, one above
another, are ranged in the hall, as well as on the walls of the great
staircase; and certainly when a sportsman comes to the Platte on a
visit to the Duke of Nassau, everything his eyes can rest on, not only
reminds him of his favourite pursuit, but seems also to promise him
as much of it as the keenest hunter can desire: in short, without the
slightest pretension, the Platte is nobly adapted to its purpose, and
with great liberality it is open at almost all times to the inspection
of "gentlemen sportsmen" and travellers from all quarters of the globe.
About twelve hundred feet beneath it, in a comparatively flat country,
bounded on two sides by the Rhine and the Main, lies WIESBADEN, the
capital of the duchy of Nassau, the present seat of its government, and
the spot by far the most numerously attended as a watering-place.
Looking down upon it from the Platte, this town or city is apparently
about three-quarters of an English mile square, one quarter of this
area being covered with a rubbishy old, the remainder with a staring
formal new town, composed of streets of white stone houses, running at
right angles to each other. As I first approached it, it appeared to me
to be as hot, as formal, and as uninteresting a place as I ever beheld:
however, as soon as I entered it, I very soon found out that its
inhabitants and indeed its visiters entertain a very different opinion
of the place, they pronouncing it to be one of the most fashionable,
and consequently most agreeable, watering-places in all Germany.
In searching for a lodging, I at once went to most of the principal
hotels, several of which I found to be grievously afflicted with
smells, which (though I most politely bowed to every person I met in
the passage) it did not at all suit me to encounter. At one place, as
an excuse for not taking the unsavoury suite of apartments which were
offered to me, I ventured quietly to remark, that they were very much
dearer than those I had just left. The master at once admitted the
fact, but craning himself up into the proudest attitude his large
stomach would admit of, he observed--"_Mais--Monsieur! savez-vous
que vous aurez à Wiesbaden plus d'amusement dans une heure, que vous
n'auriez à Schlangenbad dans un an?..._"
In the horrid atmosphere in which I stood, I had no inclination to
argue on happiness or any subject; so hastening into the open air, I
continued my search, until finding, the landlord at the Englischen Hof
civil, and exceedingly anxious to humour all my old-fashioned English
whims and oddities, I accepted the rooms he offered me, and thus for a
few days dropped my anchor in the capital of the duchy of Nassau.
About twelve thousand strangers are supposed annually to visit this
gay watering-place, and consequently, to pen up all this fashionable
flock within the limits of so small a town, requires no little ramming,
cramming, and good arrangement. The dinner hour, or time of the
tables-d'hôte, as at Langen Schwalbach, Schlangenbad, and indeed all
other places in Germany, was one o'clock, and the crowds of hungry
people who at that hour, following their appetites, were in different
directions seen slowly but resolutely advancing to their food, was very
remarkable. Voluntarily enlisting into one of these marching regiments,
I allowed myself to be carried along with it, I knew not where, until I
found myself, with an empty stomach and a napkin on my knees, quietly
seated at one of three immense long tables, in a room with above 250
people, all secretly as hungry as myself.
The quantity of food and attention bestowed upon me for one florin
filled me with astonishment; "and certainly," said I to myself, "a man
may travel very far indeed, before he will find provisions and civility
cheaper than in the duchy of Nassau!" The meat alone which was offered
to me, if it had been thrown at my head raw, would have been not only
a most excellent bargain, but much more than any one could possibly
have expected for the money; but when it was presented to me, cooked
up with sauces of various flavours, attended with omelettes, fruits,
tarts, puddings, preserves, fish, &c. &c., and served with a quantity
of politeness and civility which seemed to be infinite, I own I felt
that in the scene around me there existed quite as much refreshment and
food for the mind as for the body.
It is seldom or ever that I pay the slightest attention to dinner
conversation, the dishes, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, being,
in my opinion, so very much better; however, much against my will, I
overheard some people talking of a duel, which I will mention, hoping
it may tend to show by what disgusting, fiend-like sentiments this
practice can be disgraced.
A couple of Germans, having quarrelled about some beautiful lady, met
with sabres in their hands to fight a duel. The ugly one, who was of
course the most violent of the two, after many attempts to deprive his
hated adversary, of his life, at last aimed a desperate blow at his
head, which, though it missed its object, yet fell upon, and actually
cut off, the good-looking man's nose. It had scarcely reached the
ground, when its owner, feeling that his beauty was gone, instantly
threw away his sword, and with both arms extended, eagerly bent forward
with the intention to pick up his own property and replace it; but the
ugly German no sooner observed the intention, than, darting forwards
with the malice of the devil himself, he jumped upon the nose, and
before its master's face crushed it and ground it to atoms!
In strolling very slowly about the town, after dinner, the first object
which aroused my curiosity was a steam I observed rising through the
iron gratings, which at the corners of the streets, covered the main
drains or common sewers of the town. At first I thought it proceeded
from washerwomen, pig-scalders, or some such artificial cause; but I no
sooner reached the great Koch-brunnen (boiling spring), than I learnt
it was the natural temperature of the Wiesbaden waters that had thus
attracted my attention.
As I stood before this immense cauldron, with eyes staring at the
volume of steam which was arising from it, and with ears listening to
a civil person who was voluntarily explaining to me that there were
fifteen other springs in the town, their temperature being at all
times of the year about 140° of Fahrenheit, I could not help feeling a
sort of unpleasant sensation, similar to what I had experienced on the
edges of Etna and Vesuvius; in short, I had been so little accustomed
to live in a town heated by subterranean fire, that it just crossed
my mind, whether, in case the engineer below, from laziness, should
put on too many coals at once, or from carelessness should neglect
to keep open his proper valves, an explosion might not take place,
which would suddenly send me, Koch-brunnen, Wiesbaden, and Co., on a
shooting excursion to the Duke's lofty hunting-seat, the Platte. The
ground in the vicinity of these springs is so warm that in winter the
snow does not remain upon it; and formerly, when these waters used to
flow from the town into a small lake, from not freezing, it became in
hard weather the resort of birds of all descriptions: indeed, even now,
they say that that part of the Rhine into which the Wiesbaden waters
eventually flow, is observed to be always remarkably free from ice.
Wiesbaden, inhabited by people called Mattiaci, was not only known to
the Romans, but fortified by the twenty-second legion, who also built
baths, the remains of which exist to the present day. Even in such
remote ages, it was observed that these waters retained their heat
longer than common water, or salt water, of the same specific gravity,
heated to the same degree; indeed, Pliny remarked--"_Sunt et Mattiaci
in Germania fontes calidi, quorum haustus triduo fervet._"
The town of Wiesbaden is evidently one which does not appreciate the
luxury of "home, sweet home;" for it is built, not for itself, but
for strangers; and though most people loudly admire the size of the
buildings, yet, to my mind, there is something very melancholy in
seeing houses so much too fine for the style of inhabitants to whom
they belong. A city of lodging-houses, like an army of mercenaries,
may to each individual be a profitable speculation, but no brilliant
uniform, or external show, can secretly compensate for the want
of national self-pride which glows in the heart of a soldier,
standing under his country's colours, or in the mind of a man living
consistently in his own little home.
About twenty years ago, the inhabitants of Wiesbaden were pent up in
narrow, dirty streets, surrounded by swampy ditches and an old Roman
wall. A complete new town has since been erected, and accommodation
has thus been afforded for upwards of 12,000 strangers, the population
of the place, men, women, and children included, scarcely amounting to
8000 souls.
During the gay season, of course all is bustle and delight; but I can
conceive nothing less cheerful than such a place must become, when all
its motley visiters having flown away, winter begins to look it in the
face; however, certainly the inhabitants of Wiesbaden do not seem to
view the subject at all in this point of view, for they all talk with
great pride of their fine new town, and strut about their large houses
like children wearing men's shoes ten times too big for their feet.
The most striking object at Wiesbaden is a large square, bounded on one
side by a handsome theatre, on two others by a colonnade of shops, and
on a third by a very handsome building called the Cursaal, an edifice
430 feet in length, having, in front, a portico supported by six Ionic
columns, above which there is inscribed, in gold letters--