SALTZBURG, AUSTRIA, _May 25, 1855_.
From Pesth I returned to Vienna, and made my way up the Danube to Linz,
a sail of twenty-four hours, which would be lessened did they not lie
by at night for the Strudel, where the river, breaking through its
rocky barriers, divides into three parts. The most navigable portion
is through the whirlpool, on approaching which a cannon is fired, as
only one vessel at a time can pass this narrow point, which is from
thirty to forty feet, where the fall is three feet in the distance
of five hundred feet. Up to the last century, vessels and crews were
frequently lost, but by the blasting of rocks, it is no longer
hazardous, and bears no comparison to the running of the rapids of the
St. Lawrence.
From Nussdorf, the starting-point on the main branch of the Danube, one
hour’s ride from Vienna, as the steamer advances, leaving the already
beautiful environs for which the latter city is noted, the scenery
becomes bolder, the stream is divided by islands, and, as the Germans
estimate, one quarter of an hour across. As we proceed, an old fort
presents itself, with its associations in the thirty years’ war; the
hill sides are covered with green leaves of the grape vines. Then we
land at Tulm, one of the oldest cities on the Danube. Here Rudolph of
Hapsburg figured in 1278; and the plain in the environs contained the
sixty thousand men, in 1683, who rescued Vienna from the Turks. Further
on at Gottweih, is a Benedictine Convent, founded in 1072, standing
seven hundred feet high. Still advancing, new objects of interest are
coming forward, comparing favorably with the Rhine travel. We landed
the prelate of the Benedictine Abbey at Melk, a market town at the
foot of the mountain. This immense edifice, looking more like a huge
palace than a cloister, built between 1702 and 1736, stands one hundred
and eighty feet high, on a precipice hanging upon the river bank. It
has been frequently besieged, but is defended with bastions and arms
which Napoleon, after the battle of Asperne, established in it from
its important position, lying on the highway of the army to Vienna. He
levied heavy contributions upon the monks’ wine cellars for the use of
the troops.
As we mount the stream, we see scores of boats, containing from fifty
to eighty persons, with flags flying, and singing lustily, on their
pilgrimage tour to Maria Tafel, which upwards of one hundred thousand
visit annually.
At one of those small villages we landed a certain Baron B. and his
family. He is a Minister in Vienna for one of the German States, and
was taking his family for the summer to his chateau, with parks and
grounds of four thousand acres attached.
His family consisted of the lady, two daughters, and three sons, with a
French governess and male preceptor, and an equal number of servants.
I had made their acquaintance through a friend, and found them an
excellent specimen of the nobility of the land. The young ladies were
nearly as familiar with the French and English languages as with
their mother tongue. As we were detained for coaling the steamer, I
was invited to visit the chateau, on shore. Cannons were fired at
their arrival, and the peasantry flocked down to salute the return of
the party. It was annoying and mortifying, as the weak-sighted old
women and children kissed my hands, mistaking a simple American for an
Austrian Baron, as I escorted the ladies to the house.
The general tourist, of course, comes in contact with all classes of
society, and necessarily has an opportunity of studying character. It
was my fate this trip to fall in mostly with the upper classes. No
sooner had we left the party named, than a quiet young gentleman, a
Russian, approached me, and made some inquiries about my route, and
I found he was disposed to join me in my excursions. When cards were
exchanged, the following day, at Linz, I found that another Baron was
announced, which did not prevent the Republican and the Autocrat going
along harmoniously together, particularly as the former had circulated
more generally than the latter. He is still with me, and disposed to
continue to Munich.
Linz is the last town of importance on the Danube belonging to Austria.
It was there that I abandoned the river in order to make the most
interesting tour through this portion of the Empire. Linz has thirty
thousand inhabitants; the suburbs are very pretty; the laying over of
passengers, and exchange of steamers, with its internal trade, give
it some advantages. A festival day was occupied here in surveying the
town and its environs, and in looking at the interesting groups of
peasantry, in peculiar costume, in and about the churches.
The second Eisenbahn on the continent, with a flat rail, is here; it
was moved by horse power, until this spring. A small locomotive was
put on and run from Gmunden Lake, via Wells and Lambach, where a tiny
little steamer makes the trip in an hour, through most romantic and
enchanting scenery.
It was a reminiscence of the early days of railway travel; the
venerable coach cars with small, low wheels; the narrow bed and strap
rails; the snail pace movement, avoiding the danger of what we formerly
called snake heads, from the breaking of the thin rail, and its flying
through the body of the carriage.
Omnibuses run from the head of the Lake to Ischel, a celebrated
Austrian watering-place of two thousand inhabitants, the bathing
resort of the Emperor, who is now erecting a new summer residence.
The valley and mountain scenery of the Salz-Kammergut, and the position
of this place, thirteen thousand five hundred feet above the level of
the sea, can scarcely be described for their beauty. The Government
Salt Works here are on a stupendous scale, and are a source of great
revenue.
The governments derive large sums from the sale of wood, which is seen
piled by thousands of cords upon the banks of the Traum and Ischel
streams, and the quantities dashing down the mountain torrents from
the melting of the snows, afford a curious spectacle. All possible
contrivances, through barriers, to unite the floating masses and
aqueducts to bring the required quantities together, for piling and
drying, before they are sent to navigable water for sale, or for the
boiling of the salt flowing through pipes from the bowels of the
mountains, are seen.
The town from which I write has a population of less than twenty
thousand; it is in a most romantic position, and is full of interest.
The birthplace of Mozart, with a monument to his memory, an immense
cathedral of freestone and marble, and the fortification upon the
summit of Monchsberg, make a lovely picture in the distance. The rock
was tunnelled between 1763 and ’67 by Archbishop Sigismund III., four
hundred and fifty feet through, twenty-two feet high, and twenty-two
feet wide; it forms one of the entrances to the city, and resembles
somewhat the grotto of Posilippo, near Naples.
An excursion for a day to Konigsee, an inclosed lake, with its
occasional precipitate rocky walls, and water six hundred feet deep,
with its echoes and the rumbling sound of the avalanches from the
towering snowy mountains, from seven to eight thousand feet high,
rowed in flat bottomed skiffs by two lusty women with men’s black
hats, is something novel, to say the least. The Hunting Chateau, the
Ice Chapel, and the Cataract, come in for a part of the interest, and
one is rejoiced to get back to the little hotel of embarkation with an
appetite for Lachsforellen, or salmon trout, and the wild game of the
country.
We returned by Bechtesgaden, a small town, occupying a high picturesque
position, and celebrated for wood, horn, and ivory cut work, similar to
the Swiss ware. The population are in part employed in this business;
their manufactures find a market abroad, and were it not for the
continual annoyance of custom-houses and travel, one would be tempted
to fill his trunk and carpet-bag with their pretty trifles.
The Salt Works at Hallein, about seven miles from here, which I have
just visited, are of an entirely different character from those of
Cracow. Instead of the rock salt being excavated from the bowels of
the earth, the mountains are filled with the saline material, which is
extracted by means of fresh water introduced into the pits, and then
conveyed through wooden logs to the two salt establishments in the
valley below.
The ascent to the summit of the Durenburg, from the town, is about two
and a half miles; it is rather tiresome to climb, but the constant
changing views relieve one from the fatigue. When we arrived at the
house where the descent begins, we rested ourselves, before entering,
in a cooler atmosphere; and giving our hats and superfluous garments to
our valet, with orders to meet us at the place of egress half way down
the mountain side, we put ourselves in miner’s costume, with a cap and
heavy buck-skin gloves, to relieve the friction of the cables or ropes,
in sliding down the rollers.
Preceded by our Steiger, my Russian companion and myself, flambeaux in
hand, entered the gallery of Obersteinberg, and passed two thousand
two hundred and twenty-eight feet to the first Rollen, or inclined
plane of forty degrees. The gallery road bed is of plank, with wood
rails on each side for the truck carts to remove the sand, after the
salt is extracted, and for the bringing in of materials to support the
sides and roofs of these narrow passages. Branch avenues, right and
left, extend in different directions in the mountain. The Rollen leads
from story to story, as we descend (there are five stories in all),
until we find ourselves one thousand five hundred feet below. They are
formed of two parallel ranges of round slippery beams, joined at the
end, and connecting from top to bottom. One places himself behind the
miner-guide, who carries the torch, sitting astride with one thigh
resting on a cable rope, grasping the same with the right hand, which
serves to moderate the speed, and to establish his position, and then
with locomotive motion finds himself two hundred and forty feet below
in short notice. As we pass through the different passages, a fairy
scene suddenly presented itself: a hundred lights are reflected in the
splendid sheet of water, three hundred feet long, and one hundred and
eighty feet wide, and our ferry boat, by means of a rope and pulley, is
drawn down to the opposite side, when we continue our march.
This is one of twenty-two similar lakes, where fresh water is
introduced, and the saline properties for a month absorbed, when it
runs to the salt houses for the process of boiling and crystallizing.
The mines date from the fifteenth century. The quantity annually
extracted is four hundred thousand centners, of one hundred pounds
each; it may be increased if needed. In 1761 the mines fell in, and
fossil salt was discovered. A museum, or collection of specimens, with
monuments to the memories of the founders and Emperors, are within
these deep recesses.
The egress from the mine below is through a narrow, calcareous stone
arch, two and a half feet wide, six feet high, and six thousand feet
long, commenced in 1541, and finished in forty-two years. One comes out
seated astride a car running upon a slanting rail bed, drawn by one
boy, and pushed by a second, at full trot. When the distance is half
accomplished, the light through the opening looks like a brilliant star
in the distance, and one hails with pleasure the cheering blaze of day.