SAXON SWYTZ.
A model guide--The Bastei--Banditti of old--A cataract to order--Scaling a
Rampart--Konigstein--the Kuhstall--the Great Winterberg--Prebisch
Thor--Looking Back.
In a corner of Saxony is a miniature Switzerland. They call it Saxon
Switzerland; perhaps the name is not well chosen, for it has one feature
only of Swiss scenery--exceeding beauty. Only three days are required to
see it, and two will give a good traveller all the more prominent
points, in a series of views, the romantic loveliness of which will
linger a lifetime in the memory of one who has seen them. The Elbe is
now navigated by little steamboats, which English enterprise introduced,
but a better way to reach Saxon Swytz, if you are pressed for time, is
to go with us by rail to Rathen, and there strike off into the
mountains. A local guide must be had at once, before you take a step. It
was now the height of the travelling season, and on a fine morning in
July we found ourselves at a small tavern on the banks of the Elbe, with
half a dozen men about us pressing their claims to be employed as guides
among the mountains. "Do you speak English?" we inquired of one: to
which he answered "Yes," and this with the frequent exclamation "look
here" proved to be the Alpha and Omega of our German's knowledge of
English. He had a book of certificates which former travellers had given
him, and as they were sure he could not read one of them, they had very
freely commended him as ignorant, stupid, temperate and faithful,
acquainted with the country, and probably no worse a guide than the
rest. He was our man. We could get out of him all that was necessary,
and as he pleaded hard for employment, and knew three words of English
more than the rest, we took him, and in five minutes he took us into a
small boat to pull us over the Elbe. Instantly the bewitching scenery
began to surround us. The river was here so winding that we could see a
little way only, either up or down, but the lofty banks rose so abruptly
from the water and the rocks, in the midst of which evergreens were
growing, hung so fearfully above us, that we seemed to be suddenly borne
into a land of enchantment. We landed on the other side, a "house of
refreshment," where German ladies and gentlemen were recruiting
themselves with beer, which like an overflowing stream appears to come
from some exhaustless fountain. Now we are to decide between a
pedestrian tour and mules. We were not long in making up our minds, and
soon we were off on the beasts; sorry beasts they were; better men than
Balaam might have wished for a sword, or some more fitting weapon to
make them go. They were indifferent to all minor arguments, such as
words and kicks, and only conscious of the _a posteriori_ mode of
reasoning, to which the muleteer in the rear continually resorted. We
left the common road, and by a narrow path commenced the ascent to one
of the most celebrated and splendid points of observation, the Bastei.
On either side of us as we are ascending, huge precipices frown and deep
grottoes in which the fairy spirits of these forests may be supposed to
dwell, invite us to rest as weary of the upward way. Now a waterfall,
beautiful as water in motion always is, and picturesque as a cascade in
the green woods must be, tempts us to linger and take the spray on our
heated brows. Through dense shades of evergreen forests, by a path so
steep, at times, that it is difficult to keep your seat in the saddle,
we toil on, and in the course of an hour have triumphed over the
hardships of the hill, and have reached the summit of the loftiest
bastion in the world. It is as perpendicular as a wall that has been
reared for defence. The rock on which we were standing projects from the
front of the precipice, and we are hanging six hundred feet above the
Elbe. The river winds round the base of the mountain, and both up and
down the stream for many miles the eye rests on similar heights on the
same side that we are standing. Behind us, Ossa upon Pelion seems to be
piled. Giant rocks stand up there in solemn and solitary grandeur, as if
by some great convulsion of nature the earth had been torn from their
sides, and they were left to brave earthquakes and thunderbolts with
their naked heads and sides exposed to perpetual storms. Yet the bravery
of man has bridged the horrid chasms that yawn between these separated
cliffs, and they have in times past, been the hiding places of banditti,
who from these heights could watch the Elbe, and make their descent upon
the hapless navigator of the peaceful stream. On one of the rocks is a
huge boulder so evenly balanced on the very pinnacle that it has been
called "Napoleon's Crown," and another from a fancied resemblance, "the
Turk's head," and all of them have titles more or less fitting. Across
the river, and in front of us, the plain spreads wide and rises as it
recedes from the shore till it meets a range of wooded mountains. From
the midst of this plain there rise immense cones, suddenly and
remarkably, strange formations, a study for the geologist, probably left
there when all the surrounding masses were worn away by the Elbe in
making its way through this mountainous region. The country is full of
legends connected with each and all of these strange columns, the
summits of which are sometimes crowned with castles, and one of them,
the Lilienstein, is so perpendicular and lofty, that the Elector of
Saxony and King of Poland, when he had scaled its heights, left a record
of his memorable exploit. In the hiding places of this wild and rugged
rock, the spirits of the woods are supposed to hover over concealed
treasures. "A holy nun miraculously transported from the irregularities
of her convent to the summit of the Normenstein, that she might spend
her days in prayer and purity in its caverns, is commemorated in the
name of the rock, and the '_Jungfernsprung_,' or leap of the Virgin,
perpetuates the memory of the Saxon maid who when pursued by a brutal
lustling threw herself from the brink of its hideous precipice to die
unpolluted."--Russell.
_Konigstein_, nearly a thousand feet high, with its impregnable
fortress, we shall attempt this afternoon, and enter it with a flag of
truce, as it was never taken by force. We came up here for the sake of
view, and fully repaid for the toil of the ride, we are now prepared to
descend by another route, when we are told for the first time that the
mules are not for us to ride down, we must foot it, and the mules be
driven by the same road they came up. Through the wildest of all wild
gorges our winding way led us, at the base of jagged rocks of fearful
height, out of the broken breasts of which huge trees were growing,
threatening to fall, yet clinging for life to the crevices in which
their roots were fastened. Now and then a scared eagle would scream and
soar away from his nest, but rarely did a sound except the murmur of
water, and the sighing of the air through the narrow defile disturb the
deep stillness of that solitude. That projecting rock, with its adjacent
pillars of stone, is called the Devil's Pulpit, and that, the Throne,
and so other points of peculiar configuration have names more or less
fanciful, which a lively imagination has given them. Suddenly, we came
upon a family of peasants, who have a hut under the shelter of the
rocks, and a few articles of refreshment for weary travellers; sweet
milk, and bread and cheese, and a bottle or two of liquor--but they are
chiefly and decidedly in the cold water line; they are in the cataract
business! The little stream that takes this gorge in its way to the
Elbe, at this point would make a leap of some twenty feet among the
rocks. With an economy that would do honor to American foresight, these
people have made a dam across the rivulet before it falls, and thus
accumulating the waters, have them ready for a grand splurge, when a
party come along who are willing to pay a few pence for the pleasure of
seeing the performance. One of our people gave the word of command in
German, of which a free translation would be "Let her slide," and down
came the young Niagara. But for the ludicrous idea of an artificial
cataract in the mountains, the sight would have been very pretty. The
gorge hitherto had been so narrow and deep, that the sun never shines to
the bottom, and no flowers ever cheer its gloom; but now the sun lighted
up the falling drops, making them like great diamonds, as we from behind
the sheet looked out upon the extempore waterfall. It was a walk of four
or five miles, through such scenes, to the place from which we had
started, and here we awaited the coming of a little steamer which was
creeping along the banks to pick up passengers. It picked us up, and
dropped us in a few minutes at Konigstein, or the _King's Stone_. The
little town with a thousand people in it, would not deserve a call, but
it is in our way to the fortress on the summit of the rocky height
behind. The road is paved all the way with large square stones, making a
carriage path, up which enormous guns are dragged for its defence. To
this day it boasts of never having fallen into the hands of the enemy.
Napoleon, with incredible toil, carried some of his heaviest pieces of
ordnance to the top of _Lilienstein_, but could not reach it with his
balls. Much of the distance up which we toiled, the road is cut through
a living rock, which rises a solid wall on either side, and winds around
the hill, till we come to a wooden bridge over an awful chasm, which
separates the passage from the cliff on which the fortress stands, on a
platform two miles in circuit, inaccessible except to friends, or to
foes with wings. One portcullis passed, and we have only come to the
gate. Iron spikes projecting from the stonework threaten us as we
approach. At the gate, soldiers are looking through the port-holes, and
challenge us to stand. They take our cards and passports to the
commander, and soon return with permission for us to enter. But once
admitted within the massive gate, we have still a long bridge across the
moat to pass, and then by a covered passage at an angle of forty-five
degrees, over a stone road, up which cannon are drawn by a windlass, we
come out on the summit of the hill to a scene of transcendent beauty,
and of the richest historic interest. The ground is neatly laid out in
walks and gardens; there are fields of pasture for herds of cattle and
of grain raised for the support of the garrison. Their unfailing supply
of water is drawn from a well _eighteen hundred feet deep_! We held a
mirror to the sun, and sent the reflected light away down into that
mysterious depth, and watched it sporting on the waters. Then we poured
a glass of water into the well, and in _thirty seconds_ by the watch,
the sound returned to our listening ears. Sound travels eleven hundred
and forty-two feet in a second, and would therefore be less than two
seconds in coming up; so that if our measure of time was correct, it
must have taken the water nearly half a minute to travel down to the
surface from which it had been drawn. We drank of that well and found
the water cool and delightful. Standing on the ramparts, which are
defended by enormous guns, we overlooked the plains on one hand, the
river and the romantic hills of Saxon Switzerland on the other. Again
the columnal rocks arrested our attention, more peculiar now that we are
nearer. Far, very far higher than the loftiest cathedral spire, and not
broader at the base, they rise in solitary grandeur, where the Great
Architect of the earth first placed them, and where they will stand till
all the cathedrals and fortresses and pyramids of man's building have
crumbled into dust.
We bought a few pieces of Bohemian glass ware as souvenirs of this
visit, and then reluctantly turning away from the scene, which seemed
more beautiful the longer we dwelt upon it--so it is with beauty
ever--we reluctantly came down.
A German full of humor, a rare sort of German, for they are not addicted
to the humorous at home or abroad, had joined us in our pedestrian tour
to Konigstein; and having just come down the river as we were going up,
he gave us the information we asked for of the upper country. He spoke a
"leetel English," and that made his answers more amusing.
"Which is the best hotel for us in Ichandau?" we inquired.
"They is dree hotels, one is so bad as de toder," said he.
"And what shall we find at Winterberg?"
"Noding but gray sand-stone and sheating strangers."
With this very unpromising prospect, we waited for the steamer to come
along to take us to Ichandau and Winterberg.
Steaming on the Elbe is a very small affair; a narrow boat with a long
nose, moves on at the rate of four or five miles an hour, and stops at
the end of a plank or two put out from the shore for a wharf. One of
these filled with pleasure travellers in the aft and the long bows
covered with peasantry, touched at Konigstein, and received us. It was
near sunset. We were often in the deep shadows of the mountains, and
then through the openings, or as the circuitous river brought us into
the day again, the declining sun streamed upon us with exceeding beauty.
Tired with the hard day's work, having mounted the Bastei on one side of
the Elbe, and Konigstein on the other, I was glad to lie off upon a
bench and enjoy the luxury of this cool delicious hour. Ichandau
charmingly dropped down among the mountains, is an old town, but only
remarkable as the point from which to set off on exploring expeditions
into the interior of Saxon Switzerland. The three hotels were filled
with company, who were spending their evening in eating and drinking at
small tables on the piazzas, or under the shade trees, a practice of
which the Germans are more fond than any other people I have met. We
found beds in a great ball-room, with low partitions running between
them, so that when the room was needed for dancing, these could be
readily removed. I was in want of some refreshments after the fatigues
of the day, and when the various drinks that I called for were not to be
had, the waiter asked me if I would have "Yahmah Kah rhoom," which I
declined after finding that he meant Jamaica rum. Without any night-cap
of the sort, and spite of more noise than would have been agreeable if
we had not been so weary, we had a good night of it, and rose with the
sun to continue our pilgrimage. A carriage was ready for us, to convey
us six miles from Ichandau, through a romantic glen, wide enough to
afford beautiful meadows on both sides of a stream, by the side of which
a good road was leading us into the mountains. The women were at work
making hay, scores of them, and not a man to be seen. The brightest of
Cole's landscapes among the Kaatskill mountains came to my mind as we
rode on, and admired the green hill sides; then, as we advanced, gnarled
trees stood out upon the rocks, immense piles, jagged, riven, blasted
and heaped one upon another in such orderly confusion, that it seemed as
if architecture had done its worst to make towers for giants here.
Our ride terminated at _Peishll Swarl_, where we were surrounded by a
troop of men who had horses to let, and in their German tongue, they
clamored most importunately for us to engage them. Our friend, the Rev.
Dr. K., being of German origin, and better skilled in the language than
the rest of us, we left to make the bargain, while we selected the best
horses for ourselves with that beautiful selfishness so common to the
human species. As we deserved, and as he deserved, we got the worst of
the lot, and he was soon mounted on a handsome pony, that easily led the
party, the whole day. Now it may be known to some who read this, that
Dr. K. is not a very tall divine, but what he lacks of being gigantic in
height, he makes up in breadth, so that seated upon this little animal
about four feet high, and riding up a steep mountain pass, when seen
from before, he looked like a horse with a man's head, but when we gazed
upward at him from behind, we saw a man with a horse's tail. I had
selected a good looking beast, but it had a lady's saddle to which I
objected, as it was "Fur damen," for women: but the owner promptly met
the objection by pulling away the _rest_, and crying out with a laugh
"Fur herren," for men. Immediately on mounting we struck into the woods,
and soon into a narrow pass where the rocks had been cleft asunder just
far enough for a path for a single horseman; a hundred steps lead up to
the summit of a lofty hill whence a fine view is had of the columnal
rocks and numerous peaks of mountains, whose hard names would not be
remembered if we were to repeat them. On this height is the famous
_Kuhstall_, or in English _Cow-stall_, a cave in the rock, to which in
the Thirty Years' war, the peasants in the plains below were in the
habit of driving their cattle for safety, and in these all but
inaccessible solitudes, the Protestant Christians fled from persecution,
and hid themselves as their primitive brethren did, in dens and caves of
the earth. One of these recesses, more retired and better sheltered than
the rest, had the name of the "Woman's bed." Who can tell the
sufferings, who can tell the joys that the people of God have known in
these high places? No cathedral service could be more sublime than
prayer and praise on the mountain tops, and in the grottoes of these
rocky heights, where now the weary traveller from a land on the other
side of the sea, sits down and recalls the story of those times that
"tried men's souls." Through a narrow fissure in the rock we ascended to
a platform that makes the roof of the Kuhstall. Before us was a valley
surrounded by mighty rocks and pine-covered hills, an amphitheatre in
which the present population of the earth could stand, and it required
but little stretch of the imagination to believe that a strong voice
could be heard by the multitude so assembled. My servant led my horse to
the edge of the precipice, many hundred feet high, and he planted his
feet firmly on the edge, as if he were accustomed to the spot, and there
stood for me to enjoy the glorious scene. On this lofty and far away
height, some women had a stand for the sale of strawberries and cream,
the taste of which did not interfere with the beauties of the prospect,
as I sat on my horse eating, and gazing, and making these notes. But we
cannot be on the mount always. We crossed the valley, and on the narrow
road met parties of German travellers smoking as they trudged along,
women and some children, making the tour of the mountains on foot, and
in the course of a couple of hours we commenced the ascent of the Great
Winterberg, and climbed it to the summit.
Here at the height of one thousand seven hundred feet above the sea we
found a good hotel, with every comfort for the entertainment of
travellers and a fine lookout from which may be had the grandest sight
in Saxon Switzerland. I wrote the names of sixteen noble peaks that
stood up around me, with their thick green foliage, the intervening
valleys dense with forest, the beautiful Elbe silently circling the base
of the mountains, and the pillars of stone rising like sentinels away
off in the plains beyond. Our way lay through the thick forest, as we
came down to the _Prebisch Thor_ or Gate, a mighty arch, a hundred feet
broad, and sixty-five feet high, a wonderful freak of nature, not so
lofty as the Natural Bridge of Virginia, but more impressive from the
position it occupies, away up in these mountains, more than a thousand
feet above the river. It might be the gate of the world! How mean the
splendid arches of Conquerors, compared with this which the King of
Kings had reared. I exclaimed with reverence as I saw it, "Lift up your
heads, O ye gates, and be ye lifted up ye everlasting doors, and the
King of glory shall come in." A score of visitors were here before us. A
row of romantic cottages, clinging like eagles' nests, to the ledges of
the rocks, furnish rest and refreshment to the pilgrims, and we sat down
in sight of this stupendous wonder of nature, and dined, while we sought
to take in at the same time, an image of it which we should never lose.
Underneath the arch ambitious travellers have vied with each other in
seeing how high they could inscribe their names, and some have made the
records so as to resemble tombstones, rows of which are cut into the
solid rock. Visitors from many different lands, have in their several
languages left their impressions in the book which is kept here for the
purpose, and we added our names and a faint transcript of our feelings
to the records of the Prebisch Thor. The descent was by several hundred
steps, sometimes of wood, then of stone, and again of earth, which we
made on foot, while the horses were led by a longer road around. As we
came down into the valley, we met--for we were now in Bohemia, under
Austrian rule--numerous beggars with various claims upon our charity.
Among them was an old woman who stretched out a pair of naked arms dried
to the bone and the color of bronze, her feet and the lower part of her
legs, her head and breast were bare, and all so dried and dark, so
unlike a woman that it made me sick to look at her. "Can a woman come to
that?" I asked myself, as I gave my servant some money for the old
crone, and hurried on for fear she would get before me again to thank
me. In the stream which comes leaping down from the mountain, were women
and children wading, with hooks in their hands to catch the floating
bits of wood, and bring them ashore for fuel. The narrow defile through
which we passed was picturesque, and the great mountains behind us often
called us back to look at the heights where we had stood, and so now
looking back, and now plunging on and down, into the regions of human
dwellings, by little mills on the leaping stream, and by the side of
cottages where some taste appeared in vines and flowers, we arrived at
_Hirniskretchen_, on the Elbe. Here we crossed the river, and by the
railroad which comes along on the other side, we reached in a few
moments the station at _Bodenbach_ the frontier town of _Austria_. The
train is detained an hour, while the passports, and luggage of all the
passengers are examined with that minuteness which is always suffered in
small towns more inconveniently than in cities. Some of the ladies'
trunks made such revelations of articles of dress and jewelry, that no
protestations of their being designed only for personal use were of any
avail. It was impossible in the eyes of these simple officers, that
women could need so many gloves, and laces and bracelets, and they were
all examined even to the smallest boxes of "_bijouterie_" which could be
found. We had no difficulty whatever, being very slightly loaded with
baggage of any sort, especially of that sort which custom houses, those
pests of nations, are so apt to challenge. At last we were pronounced
all right, and the train set off, through a beautiful country, a massive
church standing on one side of the river, a towering castle on the
other; now rushing by Aussig, a precipice and gorge of frightful height,
where the road hugs the rock into the side of which it is cut, and so
through numerous pleasing villages, we are hurried on to the ancient
city of Prague.
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Symbolical Spelling Book. Part 2d, 265 Cuts, 10
J. L. Dagg, D.D.
Elements of Moral Science. 12mo. 1 00
Prof. Jean Gustave Keetels.
A New Method of Learning the French Language, 1 00
A Collegiate Course in the French Language, 1 00
Key to the New Method, 40
Key to the Collegiate Course (_in press_).
J. R. Loomis, D.D.
Elements of Anatomy, Physiology, and Hygiene, 75
Elements of Geology, 75
Oliver B. Goldsmith.
Copy Books in Five Numbers, each, 12
Gems of Penmanship, boards, 2 00
Double-Entry Book-keeping. 8vo., 75
--------------
Exhibition Speaker, Fitzgerald, 75
Normal School Song Book, 38
History of the United States, Peabody, 75
Nelson's Copy Books, 5 numbers, each, 10
United States Speller, Miles, 12
Fitch's Mapping Plates, 30
Parley's Geography, 30
The University Drawing Book, 3 50
HOUSEHOLD LIBRARY.
Life and Martyrdom of Joan of Arc. By Michelet, 50
Life of Robert Burns. By Thomas Carlyle, 50
Life and Teachings of Socrates. By George Grote, 50
Life of Columbus. By Alphonse de Lamartine, 50
Life of Frederick the Great. By Lord Macaulay, 50
Life of William Pitt. By Lord Macaulay, 50
Life of Mahomet. By Gibbon, 50
Life of Luther. By Chev. Bunsen, 50
Life of Oliver Cromwell. By A. de Lamartine, 50
Life of Torquato Tasso. By G. H. Wiffen, 50
Life of Peter the Great. Compiled by the Editor, 2 vols., 1 00
Life of Milton. By Prof. Masson, 50
Life of Thomas A'Becket. By H. H. Milman, D.D., 50
Life of Hannibal. By Dr. Arnold, 50
Life of Vittoria Colonna. By T. A. Trollope, 50
Life of Julius Cæsar. By Henry G. Liddell, D.D., 50
Life of Mary Stuart. By A. de Lamartine (_in press_), 50
End of Project Gutenberg's Letters from Switzerland, by Samuel Irenæus Prime