WINTER IN FRANKFORT--A FAIR, AN INUNDATION AND A FIRE.
After New Year, the Main, just above the city, and the lakes in the
promenades, were frozen over. The ice was tried by the police, and
having been found of sufficient thickness, to the great joy of the
schoolboys, permission was given to skate. The lakes were soon covered
with merry skaters, and every afternoon the banks were crowded with
spectators. It was a lively sight to see two or three hundred persons
darting about, turning and crossing like a flock of crows, while, by
means of arm-chairs mounted on runners, the ladies were enabled to join
in the sport, and whirl around among them. Some of the broad meadows
near the city, which were covered with water, were the resort of the
schools. I went there often in my walks, and always found two or three
schools, with the teachers, all skating together, and playing their
winter games on the ice. I have often seen them on the meadows along the
Main; the teachers generally made quite as much noise as the scholars in
their sports.
In the Art Institute I saw the picture of "Huss before the Council of
Constance," by the painter Lessing. It contains upwards of twenty
figures. The artist has shown the greatest skill in the expression and
grouping of these. Bishops and Cardinals in their splendid robes are
seated around a table, covered with parchment folios, and before them
stands Huss alone. His face, pale and thin with long imprisonment, he
has lain one hand on his breast, while with the other he has grasped one
of the volumes on the table; there is an air of majesty, of heavenly
serenity on his lofty forehead and calm eye. One feels instinctively
that he has truth on his side. There can be no deception, no falsehood
in those noble features. The three Italian cardinals before him appear
to be full of passionate rage; the bishop in front, who holds the
imperial pass given to Huss, looks on with an expression of scorn, and
the priests around have an air of mingled curiosity and hatred. There is
one, however, in whose mild features and tearful eye is expressed
sympathy and pity for the prisoner. It is said this picture has had a
great effect upon Catholics who have seen it, in softening the bigotry
with which they regarded the early reformers; and if so, it is a
triumphant proof how much art can effect in the cause of truth and
humanity. I was much interested in a cast of the statue of St. George,
by the old Italian sculptor Donatello. It is a figure full of youth and
energy, with a countenance that seems to breathe. Donatello was the
teacher of Michael Angelo, and when the young sculptor was about setting
off for Rome, he showed him the statue, his favorite work. Michael gazed
at it long and intensely, and at length, on parting, said to Donatello,
"It wants but one thing." The artist pondered long over this expression,
for he could not imagine in what could fail the matchless figure. At
length, after many years, Michael Angelo, in the noon of his renown,
visited the death-bed of his old master. Donatello begged to know,
before he died, what was wanting to his St. George. Angelo answered,
"_the gift of speech!_" and a smile of triumph lighted the old man's
face, as he closed his eyes forever.
The Eschernheim Tower, at the entrance of one of the city gates, is
universally admired by strangers, on account of its picturesque
appearance, overgrown with ivy and terminated by the little pointed
turrets, which one sees so often in Germany, on buildings three or four
centuries old. There are five other watch towers of similar form, which
stand on different sides of the city, at the distance of a mile or two,
and generally upon an eminence overlooking the country. They were
erected several centuries ago, to discern from afar the approach of an
enemy, and protect the caravans of merchants, which at that time
travelled from city to city, from the attacks of robbers. The
Eschernheim Tower is interesting from another circumstance, which,
whether true or not, is universally believed. When Frankfort was under
the sway of a prince, a Swiss hunter, for some civil offence, was
condemned to die. He begged his life from the prince, who granted it
only on condition that he should fire the figure 9 with his rifle
through the vane of this tower. He agreed, and did it; and at the
present lime, one can distinguish a rude 9 on the vane, as if cut with
bullets, while two or three marks at the side appear to be from shots
that failed.
The promise of spring which lately visited us, was not destined for
fulfilment. Shortly afterwards it grew cold again, with a succession of
snows and sharp northerly winds. Such weather at the commencement of
spring is not uncommon at home; but here they say there has not been
such a winter known for 150 years. In the north of Prussia many persons
have been starved to death on account of provisions becoming scarce.
Among the Hartz also, the suffering is very great. We saw something of
the misery even here. It was painful to walk through the streets and see
so many faces bearing plainly the marks of want, so many pale,
hollow-eyed creatures, with suffering written on every feature. We were
assailed with petitions for help which could not be relieved, though it
pained and saddened the heart to deny. The women, too, labor like
brutes, day after day. Many of them appear cheerful and contented, and
are no doubt, tolerably happy, for the Germans have all true, warm
hearts, and are faithful to one another, as far as poverty will permit;
but one cannot see old, gray-headed women, carrying loads on their heads
as heavy as themselves, exposed to all kinds of weather and working from
morning till night, without pity and indignation.
So unusually severe has been the weather, that the deer and hares in the
mountains near, came nearly starved and tamed down by hunger, into the
villages to hunt food. The people fed them everyday, and also carried
grain into the fields for the partridges and pheasants, who flew up to
them like domestic fowls. The poor ravens made me really sorry; some lay
dead in the fields and many came into the city perfectly tame, flying
along the Main with wings hardly strong enough to boar up their skeleton
bodies. The storks came at the usual time, but went back again. I hope
the year's blessing has not departed with them, according to the old
German superstition.
_March 26._--We have hopes of spring at last. Three days ago the rain
began and has continued with little intermission till now. The air is
warm, the snow goes fast, and every thing seems to announce that the
long winter is breaking up. The Main rises fast, and goes by the city
like an arrow, whirling large masses of ice upon the banks. The hills
around are coming out from under the snow, and the lilac-buds in the
promenades begin to expand for the second time.
The Fair has now commenced in earnest, and it is a most singular and
interesting sight. The open squares are filled with booths, leaving
narrow streets between them, across which canvas is spread. Every booth
is open and filled with a dazzling display of wares of all kinds.
Merchants assemble from all parts of Europe. The Bohemians come with
their gorgeous crystal ware; the Nuremborgers with their toys, quaint
and fanciful as the old city itself; men from the Thuringian forest,
with minerals and canes, and traders from Berlin, Vienna, Paris and
Switzerland, with dry goods and wares of all kinds. Near the Exchange
are two or three companies of Tyrolese, who attract much of my
attention. Their costume is exceedingly picturesque. The men have all
splendid manly figures, and honor and bravery are written on their
countenances. One of the girls is a really handsome mountain maiden, and
with her pointed, broad-brimmed black hat, as romantic looking as one
could desire. The musicians have arrived, and we are entertained the
whole day long by wandering bands, some of whom play finely. The best,
which is also the favorite company, is from Saxony, called "The Mountain
Boys." They are now playing in our street, and while I write, one of the
beautiful choruses from Norma comes up through the din of the crowd. In
fact, music is heard over the whole city, and the throngs that fill
every street with all sorts of faces and dresses, somewhat relieve the
monotony that was beginning to make Frankfort tiresome.
We have an ever-varied and interesting scene from our window. Besides
the motley crowd of passers-by, there are booths and tables stationed
thick below. One man in particular is busily engaged in selling his
store of blacking in the auction style, in a manner that would do credit
to a real Down-caster. He has flaming certificates exhibited, and
prefaces his calls to buy with a high-sounding description of his
wonderful qualities. He has a bench in front, where he tests on the
shoes of his customers, or if none of those are disposed to try it, he
rubs it on his own, which shine like mirrors. So he rattles on with
amazing fluency in French, German and Italian, and this, with his black
beard and moustache and his polite, graceful manner, keeps a crowd of
customers around him, so that the wonderful blacking goes off as fast as
he can supply it.
_April 6._--Old Winter's gales are shut close behind us, and the sun
looks down with his summer countenance. The air, after the long cold
rain, is like that of Paradise. All things are gay and bright, and
everybody is in motion. Spring commenced with yesterday in earnest, and
lo! before night the roads were all dry and fine as if there had been no
rain for a month; and the gardeners dug and planted in ground which,
eight days before, was covered with snow!
After having lived through the longest winter here, for one hundred and
fifty years, we were destined to witness the greatest flood for sixty,
and little lower than any within the last three hundred years. On the
28th of March, the river overflooded the high pier along the Main, and
rising higher and higher, began to come into the gates and alleys.
Before night the whole bank was covered and the water intruded into some
of the booths in the Römerberg. When I went there the next morning, it
was a sorrowful sight. Persons were inside the gate with boats; so
rapidly had it risen, that many of the merchants had no time to move
their wares, and must suffer great damage. They were busy rescuing what
property could bo seized in the haste, and constructing passages into
the houses which were surrounded. No one seemed to think of buying or
selling, but only on the best method to escape the danger. Along the
Main it was still worse. From the measure, it had risen seventeen feet
above its usual level, and the arches of the bridge were filled nearly
to the top. At the Upper-Main gate, every thing was flooded--houses,
gardens, workshops, &c.; the water had even overrun the meadows above
and attacked the city from behind, so that a part of the beautiful
promenades lay deep under water. On the other side, we could see houses
standing in it up to the roof. It came up through the sewers into the
middle of Frankfort; a large body of men were kept at work constructing
slight bridges to walk on, and transporting boats to places where they
were needed. This was all done at the expense of the city; the greatest
readiness was everywhere manifested to render all possible assistance.
In the Fischergasse, I saw them taking provisions to the people in
boats; one man even fastened a loaf of bread to the end of a broomstick
and reached it across the narrow street from an upper story window, to
the neighbor opposite. News came that Hausen, a village towards the
Taunus, about two miles distant, was quite under water, and that the
people clung to the roofs and cried for help; but it was fortunately
false. About noon, cannon shots were heard, and twenty boats were sent
out from the city.
In the afternoon I ascended the tower of the Cathedral, which commands a
wide view of the valley, up and down. Just above the city the whole
plain was like a small lake--between two and three miles wide. A row of
new-built houses stretched into it like a long promontory, and in the
middle, like an island, stood a country-seat with large out-buildings.
The river sent a long arm out below, that reached up through the meadows
behind the city, as if to clasp it all and bear it away together. A
heavy storm was raging along the whole extent of the Taunus; but a
rainbow stood in the eastern sky. I thought of its promise, and hoped,
for the sake of the hundreds of poor people who were suffering by the
waters, that it might herald their fall.
We afterwards went over to Sachsenhausen, which was, if possible, in a
still more unfortunate condition. The water had penetrated the passages
and sewers, and from these leaped and rushed up into the streets, as out
of a fountain. The houses next to the Main, which were first filled,
poured torrents out of the doors and windows into the street below.
These people were nearly all poor, and could ill afford the loss of time
and damage of property it occasioned them. The stream was filled with
wood and boards, and even whole roofs, with the tiles on, went floating
down. The bridge was crowded with people; one saw everywhere mournful
countenances, and heard lamentations over the catastrophe. After sunset,
a great cloud, filling half the sky, hung above; the reflection of its
glowing crimson tint, joined to the brown hue of the water, made it seem
like a river of fire.
What a difference a little sunshine makes! I could have forgotten the
season the next day, but for the bare trees and swelling Main, as I
threaded my way through the hundreds of people who thronged its banks.
It was that soft warmth that comes with the first spring days, relaxing
the body and casting a dreamy hue over the mind. I leaned over the
bridge in the full enjoyment of it, and listening to the roaring of the
water under the arches, forgot every thing else for a time. It was
amusing to walk up and down the pier and look at the countenances
passing by, while the phantasy was ever ready, weaving a tale for all.
My favorite Tyrolese were there, and I saw a Greek leaning over the
stone balustrade, wearing the red cap and white frock, and with the long
dark hair and fiery eye of the Orient. I could not but wonder, as he
looked at the dim hills of the Odenwald, along the eastern horizon,
whether they called up in his mind the purple isles of his native
Archipelago.
The general character of a nation is plainly stamped on the countenances
of its people. One who notices the faces in the streets, can soon
distinguish, by the glance he gives in going by, the Englishman or the
Frenchman from the German, and the Christian from the Jew. Not less
striking is the difference of expression between the Germans themselves;
and in places where all classes of people are drawn together, it is
interesting to observe how accurately these distinctions are drawn. The
boys have generally handsome, intelligent faces, and like all boys, they
are full of life and spirit, for they know nothing of the laws by which
their country is chained down, and would not care for them, if they did.
But with the exception of the students, who _talk_, at least, of Liberty
and Right, the young men lose this spirit and at last settle down into
the calm, cautious, _lethargic_ citizen. One distinguishes an Englishman
and I should think an American, also, in this respect, very easily; the
former, moreover, by a certain cold stateliness and reserve. There is
something, however, about a Jew, whether English or German, which marks
him from all others. However different their faces, there is a family
character which runs through the whole of them. It lays principally in
their high cheek-bones, prominent nose and thin, compressed lips; which,
especially in elderly men, gives a peculiar miserly expression that is
unmistakeable. I regret to say, one looks almost in vain, in Germany,
for a handsome female countenance. Here and there, perhaps, is a woman
with regular features, but that intellectual expression, which gives
such a charm to the most common face, is wanting. I have seen more
beautiful women in one night, in a public assembly in America, than
during the seven months I have been on the Continent. Some of the young
Jewesses, in Frankfort, are considered handsome, but their features soon
become too strongly marked. In a public walk the number of positively
ugly faces is really astonishing.
About ten o'clock that night, I heard a noise of persons running in the
street, and going to the Römerberg, found the water had risen, all at
once, much higher, and was still rapidly increasing. People were setting
up torches and lengthening the rafts, which had been already formed. The
lower part of the city was a real Venice--the streets were full of boats
and people could even row about in their own houses; though it was not
quite so bad as the flood in Georgia, where they went _up stairs to bed_
in boats! I went to the bridge. Persons were calling around--"The water!
the water! it rises continually!" The river rushed through the arches,
foaming and dashing with a noise like thunder, and the red light of the
torches along the shore cost a flickering glare on the troubled waves.
It was then twenty-one feet above its usual level. Men were busy all
around, carrying boats and ladders to the places most threatened, or
emptying cellars into which it was penetrating. The sudden swelling was
occasioned by the coming down of the floods from the mountains of
Spessart.
Part of the upper quay cracked next morning and threatened to fall in,
and one of the projecting piers of the bridge sunk away from the main
body three or four inches. In Sachsenhausen the desolation occasioned by
the flood is absolutely frightful; several houses have fallen into total
ruin. All business was stopped for the day; the Exchange was even shut
up. As the city depends almost entirely on pumps for its supply of
water, and these were filled with the flood, we have been drinking the
muddy current of the Main ever since. The damage to goods is very great.
The fair was stopped at once, and the loss in this respect alone, must
be several millions of florins. The water began to fall on the 1st, and
has now sunk about ten feet, so that most of the houses are again
released, though in a bad condition.
Yesterday afternoon, as I was sitting in my room, writing, I heard all
at once an explosion like a cannon in the street, followed by loud and
continued screams. Looking out the window, I saw the people rushing by
with goods in their arms, some wringing their hands and crying, others
running in all directions. Imagining that it was nothing less than the
tumbling down of one of the old houses, we ran down and saw a store a
few doors distant in flames. The windows were bursting and flying out,
and the mingled mass of smoke and red flame reached half way across the
street. We learned afterwards it was occasioned by the explosion of a
jar of naphtha, which instantly enveloped the whole room in fire, the
people barely escaping in time. The persons who had booths near were
standing still in despair, while the flames were beginning to touch
their property. A few butchers who first came up, did almost everything.
A fire engine arrived soon, but it was ten minutes before it began to
play, and by that time the flames were coming out of the upper stories.
Then the supply of water soon failed, and though another engine came up
shortly after, it was sometime before it could be put in order, so that
by the time they got fairly to work, the fire had made its way nearly
through the house. The water was first brought in barrels drawn by
horses, till some officer came and opened the fire plug. The police were
busy at work seizing those who came by and setting them to work; and as
the alarm had drawn a great many together, they at last began to effect
something. All the military are obliged to bo out, and the officers
appeared eager to use their authority while they could, for every one
was ordering and commanding, till all was a scene of perfect confusion
and uproar. I could not help laughing heartily, so ludicrous did the
scene appear. There were little, miserable engines, not much bigger than
a hand-cart, and looking as if they had not been used for half a
century, the horses running backwards and forwards, dragging barrels
which were emptied into tubs, after which the water was finally dipped
up in buckets, and emptied into the engines! These machines can only
play into the second or third story, after which the hose was taken up
in the houses on the opposite side of the street, and made to play
across. After four hours the fire was overcome, the house being
thoroughly burnt out; it happened to have double fire walls, which
prevented those adjoining from catching easily.