JOURNEY THROUGH EASTERN BOHEMIA AND MORAVIA TO THE DANUBE.
Our road the first two days after leaving Prague led across broad,
elevated plains, across which a cold wind came direct from the summits
of the Riesengebirge, far to our left. Were it not for the pleasant view
we had of the rich valley of the Upper Elbe, which afforded a delightful
relief to the monotony of the hills around us, the journey would have
been exceedingly tiresome. The snow still glistened on the distant
mountains; but when the sun shone out, the broad valley below, clad in
the luxuriance of summer, and extending for at least fifty miles with
its woods, meadows and white villages, looked like a real Paradise. The
long ridges over which we travelled extend for nearly a hundred and
fifty miles--from the Elbe almost to the Danube. The soil is not
fertile, the inhabitants are exceedingly poor, and from our own
experience, the climate must be unhealthy. In winter the country is
exposed to the full sweep of the northern winds, and in summer the sun
shines down on it with unbroken force. There are few streams running
through it, and the highest part, which divides the waters of the Baltic
from those of the Black Sea is filled for a long distance with marshes
and standing pools, whose exhalations must inevitably subject the
inhabitants to disease. This was perceptible in their sallow, sickly
countenances; many of the women are afflicted with the _goitre_, or
swelling of the throat; I noticed that towards evening they always
carefully muffled up their faces. According to their own statements, the
people suffer much from the cold in winter, as the few forests the
country affords are in possession of the noblemen to whom the land
belongs, and they are not willing to let them be cut down. The dominions
of these petty despots are marked along the road with as much precision
as the boundaries of an empire; we saw sometimes their stalely castles
at a distance, forming quite a contrast to the poor scattering villages
of the peasants.
At Kollin, the road, which had been running eastward in the direction of
Olmutz, turned to the south, and we took leave of the Elbe, after
tracing back his course from Magdeburg nearly to his home in the
mountains of Silesia. The country was barren and monotonous, but a
bright sunshine made it look somewhat cheerful. We passed, every few
paces, some shrine or statue by the roadside. This had struck me,
immediately on crossing the border, in the Saxon Switzerland--it seemed
as if the boundary of Saxony was that of Protestantism. But here in the
heart of Bohemia, the extent to which this image worship is carried,
exceeds anything I had imagined. There is something pleasing as well as
poetical in the idea of a shrine by the wayside, where the weary
traveller can rest, and raise his heart in thankfulness to the Power
that protects him; it was no doubt a pious spirit that placed them
there; but the people appear to pay the reverence to the picture which
they should give to its spiritual image, and the pictures themselves are
so shocking and ghastly, they seem better calculated to excite horror
than reverence. It was really repulsive to look on images of the Saviour
covered with blood, and generally with swords sticking in different
parts of the body. The Almighty is represented as an old man, wearing a
Bishop's mitre, and the image of the Virgin is always drest in a gay
silk robe, with beads and other ornaments. From the miserable painting,
the faces often had an expression that would have been exceedingly
ludicrous, if the shock given to our feelings of reverence were not
predominant. The poor, degraded peasants always uncovered or crossed
themselves when passing by these shrines, but it appeared to be rather
the effect of habit than any good impulse, for the Bohemians are noted
all over Germany for their dishonesty; we learned by experience they
deserve it. It is not to be wondered at either; for a people so poor and
miserable and oppressed will soon learn to take advantage of all who
appear better off than themselves. They had one custom which was
touching and beautiful. At the sound of the church bell, as it rung the
morning, noon and evening chimes, every one uncovered, and repeated to
himself a prayer. Often, as we rested at noon on a bank by the roadside,
that voice spoke out from the house of worship and every one heeded its
tone. Would that to this innate spirit of reverence were added the light
of Knowledge, which a tyrannical government denies them!
The third night of our journey we stopped at the little village of
Stecken, and the next morning, after three hours' walk over the ridgy
heights, reached the old Moravian city of Iglau, built on a hill. It
happened to be _Corpus Christi_ day, and the peasants of the
neighborhood were hastening there in their gayest dresses. The young
women wore a crimson scarf around the head, with long fringed and
embroidered ends hanging over the shoulders, or falling in one smooth
fold from the back of the head. They were attired in black velvet vests,
with full white sleeves and skirts of some gay color, which were short
enough to show to advantage their red stockings and polished
shoe-buckles. Many of them were not deficient in personal beauty--there
was a gipsy-like wildness in their eyes, that combined with their rich
hair and graceful costume, reminded me of the Italian maidens. The towns
too, with their open squares and arched passages, have quite a southern
look; but the damp, gloomy weather was enough to dispel any illusion of
this kind.
In the neighborhood of Iglau, and, in fact, through the whole of
Bohemia, we saw some of the strangest teams that could well be imagined.
I thought the Frankfort milkwomen with their donkeys and hearse-like
carts, were comical objects enough, but they bear no comparison with
these Bohemian turn-outs. Dogs--for economy's sake, perhaps--generally
supply the place of oxen or horses, and it is no uncommon thing to see
three large mastiffs abreast, harnessed to a country-cart. A donkey and
a cow together, are sometimes met with, and one man, going to the
festival at Iglau, had his wife and children in a little wagon, drawn by
a dog and a donkey. These two, however, did not work well together; the
dog would bite his lazy companion, and the man's time was constantly
employed in whipping him off the donkey, and in whipping the donkey away
from the side of the road. Once I saw a wagon drawn by a dog, with a
woman pushing behind, while a man, doubtless her lord and master, sat
comfortably within, smoking his pipe with the greatest complacency! The
very climax of all was a woman and a dog harnessed _together_, taking a
load of country produce to market! I hope, for the honor of the country,
it was not emblematic of woman's condition there. But as we saw hundreds
of them breaking stone along the road, and occupied at other laborious
and not less menial labor, there is too much reason to fear that it is
so.
As we approached Iglau, we heard cannon firing; the crowd increased, and
following the road, we came to an open square, where a large number were
already assembled; shrines were erected around it, hung with pictures
and pine boughs, and a long procession of children was passing down the
side as we entered. We went towards the middle, where Neptune and his
Tritons poured the water from their urns into two fountains, and stopped
to observe the scene. The procession came on, headed by a large body of
priests, in white robes, with banners and crosses. They stopped before
the principal shrine, in front of the Rathhaus, and began a solemn
religious ceremony. The whole crowd of not less than ten thousand
persons, stood silent and uncovered, and the deep voice of the
officiating priest was heard over the whole square. At times the
multitude sang responses, and I could mark the sound, swelling and
rolling up like a mighty wave, till it broke and slowly sank down again
to the deepest stillness. The effect was marred by the rough voice of
the officers commanding the soldiery, and the volleys of musquetry which
were occasionally discharged. It degraded the solemnity of the pageant
to the level of a military parade.
In the afternoon we were overtaken by a travelling _handwerker_, on his
way to Vienna, who joined company with us. We walked several miles
together, talking on various matters, without his having the least
suspicion we were not Germans. He had been at Trieste, and at length
began speaking of the great beauty of the American vessels there. "Yes,"
said I, "_our_ vessels are admired all over the world." He stared at me
without comprehending;--"_your_ vessels?" "Our country's," I replied;
"we are Americans!" I can see still his look of incredulous astonishment
and hear the amazed tone with which he cried: "_You_ Americans--it is
impossible!" We convinced him nevertheless, to his great joy, for all
through Germany there is a curiosity to see our countrymen and a kindly
feeling towards them. "I shall write down in my book," said he, "so that
I shall never forget it, that I once travelled with two Americans!" We
stopped together for the night at the only inn in a large, beggarly
village, where we obtained a frugal supper with difficulty, for a
regiment of Polish lancers was quartered there for the night, and the
pretty _Kellnerin_ was so busy in waiting on the officers that she had
no eye for wandering journeymen, as she took us to be. She even told us
the beds were all occupied and we must sleep on the floor. Just then the
landlord came by. "Is it possible, Herr Landlord," asked our new
companion, "that there is no bed here for us? Have the goodness to look
again, for we are not in the habit of sleeping on the floor, like dogs!"
This speech had its effect, for the _Kellnerin_ was commanded to find us
beds. She came back unwillingly after a time and reported that _two_,
only, were vacant. As a German bed is only a yard wide, we pushed these
two together, but they were still too small for three persons, and I had
a severe cold in the morning, from sleeping crouched up against the damp
wall.
The next day we passed the dividing ridge which separates the waters of
the Elbe from the Danube, and in the evening arrived at Znaim, the
capital of Moravia. It is built on a steep hill looking down on the
valley of the Thaya, whose waters mingle with the Danube near Pressburg.
The old castle on the height near, was formerly the residence of the
Moravian monarchs, and traces of the ancient walls and battlements of
the city are still to be seen. The handwerker took us to the inn
frequented by his craft--the leather-curriers--and we conversed together
till bed-time. While telling me of the oppressive laws of Austria, the
degrading vassalage of the peasants and the horrors of the conscription
system, he paused as in deep thought, and looking at me with a
suppressed sigh, said: "Is it not true, America is free?" I told him of
our country and her institutions, adding that though we were not yet as
free as we hoped and wished to be, we enjoyed far more liberty than any
country in the world. "Ah!" said he, "it is hard to leave one's
fatherland oppressed as it is, but I wish I could go to America!"
We left next morning at eight o'clock, after having done full justice
to the beds of the "Golden Stag," and taken leave of Florian Francke,
the honest and hearty old landlord. Znaim appears to great advantage
from the Vienna road; the wind which blew with fury against our backs,
would not permit us to look long at it, but pushed us on towards the
Austrian border. In the course of three hours we were obliged to stop at
a little village; it blew a perfect hurricane and the rain began to soak
through our garments. Here we stayed three hours among the wagoners who
stopped on account of the weather. One miserable, drunken wretch, whom
one would not wish to look at more than once, distinguished himself by
insulting those around him, and devouring like a beast, large quantities
of food. When the reckoning was given him, he declared he had already
paid, and the waiter denying it, he said, "Stop, I will show you
something!" pulled out his passport and pointed to the name--"Baron von
Reitzenstein." It availed nothing; he had fallen so low that his title
inspired no respect, and when we left the inn they were still
endeavoring to get their money and threatening him with a summary
proceeding if the demand was not complied with.
Next morning the sky was clear and a glorious day opened before us. The
country became more beautiful as we approached the Danube; the hills
were covered with vineyards, just in the tender green of their first
leaves, and the rich valleys lay in Sabbath stillness in the warm
sunshine. Sometimes from an eminence we could see far and wide over the
garden-like slopes, where little white villages shone among the
blossoming fruit-trees. A chain of blue hills rose in front, which I
knew almost instinctively stood by the Danube; when we climbed to the
last height and began to descend to the valley, where the river was
still hidden by luxuriant groves, I saw far to the southwest, a range of
faint, silvery summits, rising through the dim ether like an airy
vision. There was no mistaking those snowy mountains. My heart bounded
with a sudden thrill of rapturous excitement at this first view of _the
Alps!_ They were at a great distance, and their outline was almost
blended with the blue drapery of air which clothed them. I gazed till my
vision became dim and I could no longer trace their airy lines. They
called up images blended with the grandest events in the world's
history. I thought of the glorious spirits who have looked upon them and
trodden their rugged sides--of the storms in which they veil their
countenances, and the avalanches they hurl thundering to the valleys--of
the voices of great deeds, which have echoed from their crags over the
wide earth--and of the ages which have broken, like the waves of a
mighty sea, upon their everlasting summits!
As we descended, the hills and forests shut out this sublime vision, and
I looked to the wood-clothed mountains opposite and tried to catch a
glimpse of the current that rolled at their feet. We here entered upon a
rich plain, about ten miles in diameter, which lay between a backward
sweep of the hills and a curve of the Danube. It was covered with the
richest grain; every thing wore the luxuriance of summer, and we seemed
to have changed seasons since leaving the dreary hills of Bohemia.
Continuing over the plain, we had on our left the fields of Wagram and
Essling, the scene of two of Napoleon's blood-bought victories. The
outposts of the Carpathians skirted the horizon--that great mountain
range which stretches through Hungary to the borders of Russia.
At length the road came to the river's side, and we crossed on wooden
bridges over two or three arms of the Danube, all of which together were
little wider than the Schuylkill at Philadelphia. When we crossed the
last bridge, we came to a kind of island covered with groves of the
silver ash. Crowds of people filled the cool walks; booths of
refreshment stood by the roadside, and music was everywhere heard. The
road finally terminated in a circle, where beautiful alleys radiated
into the groves; from the opposite side a broad street lined with
stately buildings extended into the heart of the city, and through this
avenue, filled with crowds of carriages and people on their way to those
delightful walks, we entered Vienna!