Chapter XIII: Preface (13)

Dr. Richter conceives that, in all cases where it is deemed proper to stimulate the circulation and the lymphatics—to rouse the energy of the nervous system when paralyzed—to excite strongly the functions of the skin—to depurate bad humours—to expel a morbid principle from the constitution or the internal organs—to relax contracted tendons or muscles—to reduce abnormal or morbid growths—it will be necessary to have recourse to the HOT baths of Teplitz, watching their effects, and moderating their action from time to time, according to circumstances.

The _warm_ baths (95° to 100°) re-animate the human organism—cause a sense of comfort (bien-être)—gently excite the circulation—equalize the excitability of the nervous system—and impart elasticity to the muscles. They do not cause perspiration: but rather absorption of fluids, internal as well as external—resolve enlargements of glands or other parts—correct acidity—prove diuretic—and excite the healthy action of the uterine system. The symptoms of “OVER-BATHING,” described under the head of hot baths, less frequently occur, with the warm bath—are more moderate in degree, when they do occur—and are longer in making their appearance. It is needless to observe that these are much safer than the hot baths.

The tepid baths of Teplitz (84° to 94°) diminish nervous irritability—dispose to sleep—render the respiration slower—soften and abate the action of the heart and arteries—diminish the size of external parts—increase the action of the kidneys and internal glands—promote absorption. With this temperature of the waters, the symptoms of “over-bathing” seldom appear. It may be remarked, that they have here, as at Wildbad, baths where the waters rise through the sand at the bottom of the basin. As the spring is constantly rising and running away, the temperature cannot be regulated, and those springs are selected for the sand-baths, where the temperature is about blood-heat. The same advantages are attached to the sand-baths here, as at Wildbad—namely, that the waters are always running in and out of the bath, which is kept at the same degree of heat always. The same advantage attaches to the stone-baths at Pfeffers, and the latter are, I think, more cleanly—at least to the imagination.

The internal use of the Teplitz waters is considered favourable to the physiological or remedial action of the baths. They have some aperient properties—promote mucous and other secretions—but their chief action is on the absorbents, and therefore they are most used in those cases where there are tumours to be dispersed, or abnormal growths to be removed. There can be little danger in drinking such pure waters as those of Teplitz.

The special or particular maladies for which the waters and baths of this place have long been renowned, were already stated in the extract from Dr. Granville. Dr. Richter has dedicated a chapter to the _modus operandi_ of the Teplitz baths on gout, both local and in its complications with affections of the digestive organs, lungs, heart, &c.—on chronic rheumatism, in its various seats, and with its painful consequences, as swellings of the joints, ankylosis, muscular contractions, loss of power, &c.—_paralysis_, numbers of patients affected with which, come annually to Teplitz, to throw away their crutches, and—“retourner gaiement dans leurs foyers.” The noise, however, of a brilliant cure too often brings to Teplitz paralytic sufferers, with organic diseases of the brain or spine, and therefore beyond the reach of all remedy. Rickets, disease of the hip-joint, and spinal distortion, are said to be eminently relieved, and often cured by the Teplitz waters. The same may be said of various cutaneous diseases, especially in their chronic forms—suppression of the natural or habitual evacuations—ulcers—disposition to gravel and stone—old and painful wounds, healed or open—diseases resulting from metallic fumes—swellings and engorgements of the liver, spleen, and other abdominal organs—hæmorrhoids—nervous asthma—chronic sickness—colics—hysteria—hypochondriasis—derangements peculiar to females—sterility—in short, three fourths of human affections, in their chronic or tedious conditions!

The counter-indications are here much the same as at the other thermal springs—namely, states of plethora, local or general—and all dispositions to inflammatory or feverish affections. The cautions and precautions need not be repeated in this place.

Mud-baths have been established at Teplitz since 1835—one establishment is at the Stadtbad—the other at the Schlangenbad. The peat-bog it found to the north of the town, and contains, according to the analysis of Messrs. Wolf and Pleische, the sulphates, muriates, carbonates, and humates of soda—lime—magnesia—iron—and much ulmine and other organic remains. They are prepared in the same manner as at Franzensbad and other places, and are much used in cutaneous complaints—rheumatism and gout of obstinate character—deformities and nodosities, the sequences of these maladies—neuralgic and paralytic affections—metallic diseases—tumours and indurations of glandular structures, as of the liver, spleen, mesentery, ovaries, &c. They are wisely forbidden in organic diseases of the heart and other vital viscera, in high grades of nervous irritability, and in all predispositions to hæmorrhages, on account of their high powers of stimulation. An English lady of rank was using them here, and spoke in high terms of their salutary effects.

TOPOGRAPHY.

The town of Teplitz is not very interesting. The street that leads from the MARKET-PLACE to the PLACE DU CHATEAUX, is chiefly composed of hotels—none of them of first-rate character. From the Prince de Clairy’s palace (which looks like a cotton-factory in Manchester) we turn down an abrupt little street to the great bathing-places—including the Herrenhaus, and the gardens behind, where the waters are drunk by a very few persons. The gardens behind the Prince de Clairy’s residence are umbrageous and pleasant; but the masses of stagnant, or almost stagnant, green water, amongst them, are neither agreeable to the eye nor healthy to the constitution.

The neighbourhood of Teplitz is very beautiful and picturesque. A walk of fifteen minutes up a steep ascent from the Herrenhaus takes us to the SPITALBERG, from the summit of which, where there is an imitation of a ruin, a fine view may be taken of Teplitz and the surrounding country for twenty miles in every direction. A still finer and more extensive view is had from the SCHLOSSBERG, two miles distant from Teplitz, and mounted without much difficulty. The mountain is crowned with the old ruin of a strong castle, from which a magnificent panorama is seen. To the South-East we contemplate Boreslau, and the numerous conical heads of the Mittlegebirge mountains, as far as Aussig, where the silver Elbe is seen flowing along.—To the North-East is the long line of the Erzgeberg (Metalliferous) mountains, the frontiers of Saxony—while directly North, the battle-field of Culm, with its three brazen monuments, lies stretched before us, with all its historical associations and recollections of the brave but bloody deeds which were there enacted, even in our own days!

The history of the Schlossberg is veiled in obscurity. It was a rebel’s or perhaps a robber’s citadel, some eight hundred years ago; but has been a mass of ruins since the time of the Hussites. It was partially rebuilt, in the fifteenth century, by John de Wresowec, and its praises were chanted by the poet MITIS.

——Cujusdam refulgent
Mænia vixque non attingentia nubes,
Quæ WRESOWICHIA jecit de stirpe Joannes.

The walls which then “all but reached the clouds,” have now, all but crumbled into dust, like Wresowec and all his ancestors and descendants! It was from this ruin that the Emperor of Russia, the Emperor of Austria and King of Prussia surveyed, with no small anxiety—perhaps fear—the great events that passed underneath them on the field of Culm.

Upon the whole, Teplitz may be considered as the most fashionable bathing-place in all Germany—scarcely a season passing, without crowned heads and flocks of nobility coming here to rid themselves of bodily infirmities or cares of the mind.

_Translation of a Note received from Dr. Richter, of Teplitz, (by Mr. Spitta) dated 18th Sept. 1840._

MY DEAR SIR,—In my little work on the waters of this place, I find I have entirely omitted to mention the subject of PARALYSIS, occasioned by mechanical injuries, and especially those which sometimes follow difficult accouchements. On this topic, Dr. Siebold, one of the most eminent obstetrical practitioners in Germany, has published his opinions, and strongly recommends the baths of Teplitz, as more efficacious than any other remedy.

I omitted also, in my “ENVIRONS OF TEPLITZ,” to allude to the mineral waters of Püllna, Sedlitz, and Saidschitz, so celebrated all over Europe, and which are situated at four leagues from Teplitz, on the Carlsbad road. The village of Püllna lies in a beautiful plain, two or three hundred yards from the Chaussee, on the right; and the mineral springs themselves are close to the road. I refer you to Mr. Spitta for further particulars.

P.S.—A rail-road is forming between Dresden and Prague, to run by Teplitz. This will render the communication between London, Teplitz, and Carlsbad, extremely easy and quick.

I am, dear Sir,

Your’s truly,

THEODORE L. RICHTER, M.D.

_Teplitz, 18th Sept. 1840._

_Extract of a Paper of Mr. Spitta’s on the Waters of Püllna, &c._

Within a morning’s drive from Teplitz, are situated three mineral springs, little known, yet in many respects extremely interesting—Püllna, Saidschitz, and Sedlitz. They all yield a water of a similar nature, rich in the sulphates of magnesia and soda; and which is so peculiarly bitter, as to have acquired the title of “Bitterwasser.”

Having heard so much of this bitterwasser in Germany, and of the powders of Sedlitz at home, I was anxious to ascertain the true nature of the springs; and see if they really afforded a mineral water so agreeable and salutary as we get in England by dissolving our “genuine _Sedlitz_ powders.” I proposed an excursion, and Dr. Richter, of Teplitz, with his usual urbanity, kindly accompanied me.

So near as Teplitz is to these springs, it will doubtless appear strange to others as it did to me, that, no one, not even the people at the post-office, where we ordered the carriage, could tell us their exact position. So great a traffic! so much Sedlitz salt prepared! one hardly knew how to account for such ignorance. Püllna, indeed, they had heard of; for, being on the road from Carlsbad to Teplitz, it could not well have been overlooked; Saidschitz was conceived, by possibility, to exist; but, as to poor Sedlitz, where all our powders come from, its very existence was denied; nor was it, till we were within a mile, that we learnt its situation from a few wandering peasants.

I may mention a few of the general characters of these bitterwasser springs before noticing each separately. Their method of formation is peculiar. Large circular holes are dug into a stratum of earth, which contains the saline ingredients; in these the rain-water is allowed to collect: it dissolves the salts, and yields the bitterwasser. It is really very remarkable, that a stratum of soil should be found containing so large an amount of saline ingredient; and not the less singular, that it is of so limited an extent; thus, at Saidschitz, it has a diameter of about a quarter to half a mile; and a well dug beyond this area will yield no bittersalz. The soil is easily recognized by its yellow-white colour, and by the fact that nothing grows upon it. The plautago indeed, and some species of hieracea (hawk’s weed) exist there; and I had the curiosity to bring home a specimen of the former plant, because the man who had been some years in charge of the wells at Saidschitz, knew the character of the soil, and judged of the propriety of sinking another well in any given spot, by its presence or absence.

In a geological point of view, these springs are not without interest. They are, if I may be allowed so botanical a comparison, a completely different genus of the great class “mineral spring.” It has been asserted, that mineral springs in general are formed by solution of the salts in the neighbouring mountains, by the rain-water which passes through them. This opinion, for many reasons, has _seemed_ to me erroneous; but these springs furnish a _proof_ by analogy, of great weight. For here are springs really formed by such an artificial method; and what happens? The soil furnishes (which is not the case with the soil in the neighbourhood of any other springs) the same water by artificial digestion. The late Dr. Struve succeeded in this manner in forming a very capital Püllna. Again, these springs formed so artificially are uninfluenced, like others, by volcanic shocks, and earthquakes. The Hauptquelle, at Teplitz, stopped for a moment, during the earthquake at Lisbon, and then rushed forth with redoubled violence. Many other sources also have been similarly affected. Indeed, from Lyall’s account, it seems to be no uncommon circumstance: and new ones have even risen into existence, at such awful crises. On they go, however, the bitter springs, from year to year, totally regardless. They have no fixed temperature; because, as I presume, they are not in connexion with the centre of the earth. They have no fixed level of water, from the same cause. They vary, on the contrary, like all other common springs at the surface, with the temperature of the atmosphere, and the quantity of water which percolates the earth to supply them.

SAIDSCHITZ.

The first we visited was Saidschitz, about three hours drive from Teplitz: and I would advise none but those anxiously desirous of medical observation, to venture there. The road is shocking; at one part I was walking, whilst my friend Dr. Richter was reclining in the carriage. Suddenly a large rut appeared, and I feel convinced, that, had not the coachman and myself propped up the side of the carriage, which was falling towards us, it would, with all its professional contents, have been quietly precipitated.

Arrived at length, and eager to taste the water, of which so much had been said, I swallowed some of the most nauseous physic it is possible to prescribe. Instead of the nice saline draught which _our_ Sedlitz powder makes, of tartrate of soda and potash, rendered even effervescent by the succeeding additions of carbonated soda and tartaric acid, the bitterwasser of Saidschitz consists of a strong solution of Epsom and Glauber’s salts; and I need not say that the term “bitterwasser” is most appropriately applied. There are twenty-two wells at Saidschitz, all capable of furnishing a large quantity of water, though few only are in actual use. They are included, as I previously said, within an area of about a quarter of a mile; and each well is covered with a small wooden shed, like a hay-cock. When drawn, the water is quite clear, and without any bubbles of carbonic acid. It has no smell, but a slightly brown color, depending on the presence of a peculiar acid, termed by Berzelius the “_chrenic_” (χρηνη, source). It undergoes no alteration by standing.

Most of these properties would have been anticipated from an inspection of the following analysis[83] published by Professor Berzelius.

Sixteen ounces contain,

Sulphate of soda 46.8019
Sulphate of potash 4.0965
Sulphate of magnesia 84.1666
Sulphate of lime 10.0776
Chloride of magnesium 2.1696
Iodide of magnesium .0368
Nitrate of magnesia 25.1715
Carbonate of magnesia 3.9858
Chrenate of magnesia 1.0667
Oxyde of iron and manganese .0192
Oxyde of tin with traces of oxyde of copper .0307
Silica .0360
Bromine and fluorine traces
Ammonia traces
--------
177.6589
--------

The water is not allowed to be bottled at Saidschitz, but is sent to Bilin, a little town about two hours drive from Teplitz, for that purpose.

Saidschitz salt however is prepared there in considerable quantities. The water is evaporated to a proper degree of concentration, when the three sulphates of soda, potash, and magnesia, crystallize. They present crystals of large size. Again dissolved and concentrated, the latter salt is separated from the two former by its greater solubility; and the new solution, when crystallized, furnishes the Saidschitz salt—a tolerably pure sulphate of magnesia. The popular term in Germany for sulphate of magnesia corresponding to our “Epsom salt” is “bittersalz;” but it is known also as Saidschitz and Püllna salz; so that, if you enter a chemist’s, and demand a salt with either of the above titles, he will supply you from a certain bottle, labelled sal-amarum. If you ask for Sedlitz-salt, he will smile at your ignorance, and quietly tell you he does not keep it; and for this, we shall presently see, there is the very best of reasons. The prince is said to get about 1200 florins of good Austrian money annually by his salt making.

SEDLITZ.

It is but a quarter of an hour’s drive from Saidschitz to Sedlitz; a name better known, perhaps, in England, than that of any other spa in Germany. For who has not had a Sedlitz? a _genuine_ Sedlitz? or who has not bought a box of these powders, with the acid in the blue and the alkali in the white paper? as though the wondrous spring could produce a salt, acid or alkaline, at the pleasure of the chemist who dispensed it?

Large manufactories indeed must be there! and how thriving a village Sedlitz must be!! A few miserable hovels, however, soon undeceive you, tenanted by the poorest of the poor. There are nine springs, not separate from the village of the same name, as at Saidschitz, but interspersed among the houses; and really it requires no small discernment to distinguish which are dwelling-houses, and which represent the wooden sheds covering the wells. Spring, No. 2, is the only one in use; and well, No. 2, the only one supplied with a bucket. The bucket was lowered by a rope and windlass (just conceive how civilized a bath-place); and brought up, full of water, for our inspection. I was not caught twice; I did not venture to taste this Bitterwasser with so much rashness. Its taste, color, and other physical properties, are exactly similar to those of Saidschitz-water, except that they are rather less marked, from its containing a smaller quantity of mineral ingredients. The following analysis by Professor Steinmann will be interesting.

Sixteen ounces contain,

Sulphate of soda 17.446
Sulphate of potash 4.414
Sulphate of magnesia 79.555
Sulphate of lime 4.144
Chloride of magnesium 1.061
Carbonate of magnesia 0.201
Carbonate of lime 5.297
Carbonate of stronthian .009
Carbonate of protoxyde of iron and manganese, alumina,
silica and extractive .050
-------
112.177 grs.
-------
Carbonic acid gas 3.461 grs.

But where is the salt-manufactory, asked Dr. Richter? The woman was astonished—she knew not, nor had she ever heard of such a thing, although she had been in charge of the wells for thirty years. Her aged mother solved the difficulty. About thirty-three years ago. Prince Lobkowitz rented Sedlitz of the “ordre des chevaliers de l’etoile rouge,” and then a salt apparatus was in action. Finding, I presume, that Saidschitz was a more prolific source of bittersalz, he stopped the process at Sedlitz; so that absolutely, for the thirty-three long years that we have been drinking and enjoying our _genuine_ Sedlitz powders, not a single atom of salt has been prepared.

But it is said, Saidschitz salt has been prepared, it imports little, that the mere name should have been mis-spelt. I answer—truly; a mere verbal error is of no moment; but when it is found, that the salt of Saidschitz and Sedlitz waters is sulphate of magnesia or Epsom salts; and when further it is observed, that the renowned Sedlitz powders are composed, for the most part, of Rochelle salt, or the triple tartrate of potash and soda, I confess, it seems that more than a verbal error is committed.

Like Saidschitz, the waters of Sedlitz are bottled at the establishment of Prince Lobkowitz, at Bilin. Some is sent into Germany; by far the greater part goes to Paris; none to England. The bottles are known by the peculiar manner in which they are stopped; they have metal collars round the necks, on which metal caps are screwed. It is a singular circumstance, that, at Teplitz, not a single bottle of Sedlitz water could be obtained.

Before quitting Prince Lobkowitz and his springs, I may notice another ingenious application of the Saidschitz water. At Bilin there is a mineral spring, containing the carbonate of soda, about 23 grains in the pint. The result is anticipated. It is concentrated considerably by evaporation, and mixed with the Saidschitz water, also much concentrated; a double decomposition of the proximate elements of the carbonate of soda in the one, and the sulphate of magnesia in the other water, ensues: and a very capital carbonate magnesia is precipitated. The prince is said to add 500 more florins of good Austrian money to his income by this preparation.

PÜLLNA,

The last of the three bitter springs, lying on the road from Carlsbad to Teplitz, is the property of the village of that name, close by, but is rented at present, by a private individual. Compared with the two former, it is quite an elegant spot. There is even a small white hotel opposite the wells; where, if fortune smiles, and you are in time for Table-d’hôte, you may get a dinner; but if not, you must fare, as we did, on “butter-brod.” It contains, moreover, a few baths, supplied with water from the springs; and one patient, Baron Christophe de Campenhausen, with his medical attendant, was resident there for the cure. An attempt at a registry of the visitors is also made. About thirty people, perhaps, may have seen Püllna, certainly not more than half a dozen English. Of the three bittersprings, the waters of Püllna have been by far the most drank—it is said that 300,000 of the Püllna dumpty bottles are annually circulated. Bittersalz is also made here in considerable quantity.

The wells are scattered over a larger area than either at Saidschitz or Sedlitz; but have the same odd appearance. The physical characters of a bitterwasser, its yellow tint, oily consistence, and horribly bitter taste, are here most strongly marked. The last analysis (which I obtained at Püllna) is by Dr. Ticinus, professor of chemistry at Dresden; and it will be seen how extremely concentrated a water it is.

Sixteen ounces contain—

Sulphate of soda 10.125
Sulphate of potash 82.720
Sulphate of magnesia 96.975
Sulphate of lime .800
Chloride magnesium 19.120
Bromide magnesium .588
Carbonate of magnesia 2.280
Carbonate of lime .760
Carbonate of iron traces
Nitrate of magnesia 4.602
Crenate of magnesia 4.640
Phosphate of soda .290
-------
222.900
-------
Carbonic acid gas .49 cubic inches.

I shall add but one word on the medical properties of the bitterwassers. As a glance at the analyses would anticipate, they are solvent and diuretic. They are aperient, however, without being at the same time stimulating; as is the case with the Salzbrunn at Franzensbad, from its abundance of carbonic acid, and with the Carlsbad water, from its heat. They, especially the Püllna, which is employed the most frequently, are too strong to be taken pure. One-third to the half of a dumpty bottle, with an equal quantity of luke-warm water, will be found an efficient and tolerably palatable dose. A medicine of this kind, repeated regularly every morning, is of the greatest advantage to persons habitually costive from sluggishness of action in the muscular fibre of the intestine, brought on by sedentary lives, much study at late hours, &c. If this state be accompanied with hæmorrhoids, the remedy, from its gentle effect, is still more valuable. In congested states of the liver and spleen, they are efficient; blood is determined to the intestine, to the relief of the portal vessels. In actual jaundice, they are even prescribed with advantage.

In mentioning the leading properties of these bittersprings, I do not think I should be inclined (were he willing) to send a patient there; for I should expect to hear, either that he had been upset in his journey, or starved on his arrival. But I have another motive. From the very nature of the water, containing so little carbonic acid, and so little iron, it can be imitated with great success. I saw Struve’s process at Dresden; and I have taken that made at the Brighton spa, with all the effect of the original and genuine Püllna. It seemed to me a remedy worthy of more patronage than it had hitherto received.

Finally, I would not wish, from what I have said, to depreciate the character of our very old and tried friend, the “Sedlitz.” On the contrary—I hold him in much veneration. One word only I would add to his title—I would call him the “GENUINE (LONDON) SEDLITZ POWDER.”

ROBERT J. SPITTA.

P.S.—I may as well state here, for the information of travellers, and especially of invalids, the ready means of communication that now exist, independent of the rail-road abovementioned.

From Teplitz to Tetchen 4 hours.
From Tetchen (through the heart of Saxon Switzerland by
steamer) to Dresden 12 ”
From Dresden to Magdeburg (passing through Leipzig—rail-road) 8 ”
Magdeburg to Hamburg (steam) 14 ”
Hamburg to London 48 ”
---
Total 86 hours.
---

The whole run may be done in six days; the traveller sleeping every night in his bed, and undergoing no fatigue whatever in the day. The opposite course will require an additional day, on account of the stream of the Elbe, but may be performed with great ease by all, to whom economy of time, money, and bodily exertion is of any moment. It is only an easy day’s journey from Teplitz to Carlsbad, and 24 miles from thence to Marienbad. The route through Saxon Switzerland alone, will well repay the journey, which is almost all by water, and the far greater part by river steaming, where there is no chance of sea-sickness. In fine, the line of the Elbe offers, as it were, an invalid carriage, by which the most frail valetudinarian, or the most crippled victim of gout or rheumatism, may repair to the great fountains of health in Bohemia, with almost as much ease as if reposing in an arm-chair. J. J.

THE ELBE—SAXON SWITZERLAND. TEPLITZ TO TETCHEN.

CULM.

On leaving Teplitz, we pass through a highly picturesque country, full of mountain scenery, but not of that Alpine grandeur which excludes fertility, cultivation, and beauty, till we come to the Thermopylæ of Bohemia—the battle-field of Culm—whose history, though “Ære perennius,” is yet commemorated by three monuments—the Russian and Prussian dedicated to the memory of those heroes who fell in the combat—the Austrian, to the general who turned the fortune of the day—and changed a doubtful and sanguinary battle into a splendid and decided victory.[84] The three monuments are of very different stature and dimensions. The first we come to is the Russian, a Gothic pyramid of cast iron, of great height, bearing on its summit the figure of Fame. The portrait of the hero OSTERMAN, who, with 8000 Russians, checked Vandamme and 40,000 Frenchmen, is sculptured on one side. This monument is like Russia itself, infinitely more colossal than either of the others. The Prussian, like its kingdom, is the smallest of all—while the Austrian, is next in dimensions to the Russian, and dedicated, as was observed, to the hero who conquered, and not to those who fell in the battle. After all, this was perhaps the wisest plan. The living hero would feel pride and pleasure in contemplating the monuments; but, alas!

“Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion draw the fleeting breath?
Can honour’s voice provoke the silent dust,
Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?”

No! the blood of the brave has, no doubt, fertilized the soil of this beautiful valley, while the bodies of heroes, who drew their natal breath on the banks of the Gneiper and the Vistula—the Elbe and the Danube—the Rhine and the Rhone—the Seine and the Tiber, have served to fatten the birds and beasts of prey, as well as the mould of mother-earth—migrating into myriads of new existences, and completing the mysterious circle of the SAMIAN SAGE!

When we glance at this infinitessimal speck of human consciousness and identity, surrounded and swallowed up by the countless cycles of other and ephemeral modes of existence, we may well marvel that MAN—reasoning man—should be the only creature on this globe who wages eternal war—against his own species! One would think that the span of human life was narrow enough, without abridging or annihilating it by fire, famine, and the sword! War indeed is a game which—

——were their subjects wise,
Kings _could_ not play at.

It is rather singular that, in our days, at least, though monarchs occasionally lose their crowns in these games of _hazard_, they rarely part with their heads at the same time.

Three Emperors and a King played one of those fearful games of _hazard_ in the valley of Culm. From the summit of the Schlossberg the royal Eagles of Austria, Russia, and Prussia beheld, with astonishment, if not dismay, the sudden and unexpected descent through a gorge in the Erzebirge mountains, the fierce, the rapacious, and the ferocious VANDAMME, at the head of forty thousand Frenchmen, flushed with the victory of Dresden (27th August, 1813) and pouncing on the scattered troops of the allies in the valley, quite unprepared for such an unexpected onslaught! The “COCK OF THE NORTH,” and HE of the Danube, “immediately retired.” Not so the regal bird, with two heads, from the Elbe and the Oder. He clapped his sable wings, as he snuffed the sulphurous fumes from the roaring cannon—directed several movements of the allies below—and presented a wall of steel, to a cloud of cossacks, flying before the enemy—thus compelling them to face their foes.

Meanwhile, OSTERMAN and his eight thousand Russians slowly and doggedly retreated (fighting) before Vandamme and his forty thousand French, till within two miles of Teplitz, when the Gallic general considered the crowned heads as inevitably within his grasp! Here the Muscovites stopped short—wheeled round—and crossed the narrow valley, like an avenue of knotted oaks that might be borne down or torn up by the furious storm or lightning’s flash, but never would bend. It was in vain that the “ferocious” Vandamme brought up line after line of his men against the northern phalanx. They were repulsed, one after the other, as the basaltic columns of Staffa repel the onsets of the Atlantic surge! As individuals fell in the Russian ranks, the lines instantly closed again, as if by a vital and instinctive movement of the whole body! When the last column of Vandamme had failed to break the Russian phalanx, the furious and disconcerted Frank retreated in his turn, and encamped on the field of Culm for the night. This gave time for the panic-stricken and disordered allies to collect, combine, and arrange for the grand struggle of the coming day. The dawn (30th August) had not yet unveiled the peaks of the surrounding mountains, when all were ready and panting for the sanguinary conflict.

By torch and trumpet soon array’d,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neigh’d,
To join the dreadful revelry.

Then flew the steed, to battle driv’n—
Then shook the hills, with thunder riven—
And louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flash’d the red artillery!

The allies under Schwartzenburg may now have outnumbered the French under Vandamme, but their _morale_ was depressed by the recent disasters at Dresden, and their _physique_ exhausted by their almost superhuman exertions in dragging their cannon, baggage, and ammunition over the rugged summits of the Bohemian mountains. On the other hand, the French were elated beyond measure by the recent and successive victories of Lutzen, Botzen, and Dresden—but still more by the star of Napoleon, which was now rising, like a Phœnix from the ashes of Moscow, and approaching its second zenith on the banks of the Elbe. Daylight, however, had scarcely enabled the armies to distinguish friend from foe, when they rushed simultaneously into mortal conflict. Vandamme lay between a great crescent of the allies on the West, and the towery ridge of Erzeberg in his rear, and from which he had descended the preceding morning. The “fiery Frank” fought like a tiger encompassed and goaded by hunters—while the “furious HUN” successfully repelled his repeated efforts to break the line of the allies, and even drove him nearer and nearer to the mountain behind. The pass of the Erzeberg, through which Vandamme descended into the valley, now presented the only opening by which he could effect his egress out of it. The order for retreat was given; but what was the surprize of the French on entering the defile from below, when they beheld a body of Prussians enter it from above! The surprize and consternation, however, were mutual. Kleist, who, with five or six thousand Prussians, had been wandering among the mountains since the disaster of Dresden, and who was now hurrying to Teplitz to join the allies, was thunderstruck to see the French scrambling up the defile to meet him, and considered his retreat as cut off. Vandamme looked upon himself as in precisely the same predicament. Kleist knew that the French columns were pressing onward in his rear—Vandamme knew full well that the Austro-Prusso-Russian army was close at his heels. The object of each corps in the defile was therefore to cut through its opponent, and escape in the direction of its friends. Under these impressions, they rushed into tumultuous combat, and were soon mingled in inextricable confusion. The officers of one corps were sometimes in the midst of the soldiery of the other, and _vice versa_—all fighting pell-mell like two hostile mobs, without order or command—individually rather than collectively—often wresting the arms from their opponents, and fighting with the weapons of their enemies! So desperate a struggle on such a precipitous pass, was never, perhaps, witnessed since the days of Leonidas in the Straits of Thermopylæ! The Prussians had the vantage ground, inasmuch as their own weight gave them an increased momentum in rushing down the declivity—the French had greatly the advantage in numbers, both in horse and foot; but Kleist prevailed, and Vandamme and his army were hurled back into the valley below, when the allies closed round them and the Gallic Eagles surrendered!

On the field of Culm the sable wing of destiny threw a shade over the star of Napoleon, which never afterwards regained its splendour, or stayed its downward course, till it sunk in the far Atlantic. On the plains of Marne and Waterloo, indeed,[85] that star emitted some vivid corruscations; but they only tended to exhaust its fire and accelerate its fall!

TETCHEN.

Full of ruminations on the vicissitudes of human life—the vanity of man’s hopes—and the nothingness of his works—we drove through a highly picturesque valley, at the foot of the last range of the Bohemian mountains, till we suddenly debouched on the silvery Elbe, at the bustling and boating little town of Tetchen. The first object which arrested our attention was a huge pile of white buildings standing on a bold and jutting promontory some seven or eight hundred feet above the right bank of the river, with thrice as many windows in its walls as there were eyes in the head of Argus. Various were our conjectures as to whether the edifice before us was an immense barrack, an overgrown convent, where half the daughters of Bohemia might prepare for another world, or a great factory? Even the oracular authority of the “RED-BOOK” could not persuade us that it was a palace. The river at this place is always crowded with boats of all shapes and sizes laden with merchandize—chiefly hewn stone from the rocky banks, and timber from the pine-clad mountains. We had some difficulty in getting the carriage along between a precipice on the left, and the stream on our right, but at length got safely housed in the JOSEPHSBAD Hotel—“in one of the most romantic situations which the banks of the river Elbe afford.”—_Murray._ Here we learnt that the great pile of building was actually the palace or castle of Count Thun, and crossing the ferry we scrambled up through a straggling town to the rear of the castle, and then climbed up a road of rock that led to the chateau, and which was steep enough for goats, though the tracks of wheels, worn in the smooth and precipitous stone, shewed that less agile animals than the ibex had dragged their weary way to the summit. The view from the castle is remarkably picturesque, though rather hemmed in by hills, rocks, and mountains—the winding Elbe soon disappearing in the dark ravines of SAXON SWITZERLAND. Count Thun’s library is, I believe, the great lion of the castle; but as I never could derive much amusement or information from a survey of the backs of books, we returned to our eagle’s nest, the Josephsbad, and slept sound over the murmuring Elbe. There is a chalybeate spring here of some local reputation, and certainly an invalid could not easily select a more romantic spot for the restoration of health than Tetchen.

We embarked in a gondola early in the morning, and immediately entered “SAXON SWITZERLAND,” a tract of country extending from Tetchen to the neighbourhood of Dresden, and perfectly unique in character, bearing little or no resemblance to Switzerland, or to any other country in the world through which I have passed. It has none of the snowy solitudes, the sparkling glaciers, or the majestic altitude of the Alps; but it has a geographical and geological physiognomy, of which there is “nil simile aut secundum” on this globe. The river runs through a gorge, which is, in fact, a gigantic excavation—a huge crevasse—a profound chasm, in the rocky bed of an antediluvian ocean, disclosing glimpses of “the world before the flood,” and letting out some of the “secrets of the prison-house.” Whether this ocean-bed was raised from its dark abyss by the agency of subterranean fire, or was left uncovered by the subsidence of the superincumbent sea, may admit of question; but no doubt can be entertained as to the formation of those rocky walls that now rise a thousand feet high on each side of the stream. They are piled, layer over layer, in strata of different thickness and different density—but all as horizontal as the ocean under which they once lay. They were all, therefore, depositions from the sea, and considering that most of these strata are hard enough to form millstones, imagination is lost in the vain attempt to estimate the countless ages that must have rolled away during the deposition and consolidation of even a single stratum—how many millions of years, then, must it have required to form layer over layer, of this immense crust, at the bottom of the ocean, leaving aside the unknown intervals that must have elapsed between the various deposits!! Again, the elevation of the earth, or the subsidence of the waters, so as to produce the complete denudation of this rocky district, could not but occupy ages of ages. In whatever way this long chain of stratifications took place, it is quite evident that it was long subjected to powerful currents. The layers are all grooved and furrowed _horizontally_, in the line of the river, and not _perpendicularly_, as by rains descending along their sides. It is true they are often split perpendicularly and irregularly; but this is quite the work of time and decay—not at all like the horizontal smoothing, the consequence of long-continued watery friction. Some travellers have supposed that the river Elbe has hewn its way through these rocks and formed the huge ravine on the principle—

“Gutta cavat lapidem non vi sed sæpe cadendo.”

But as the very summits of the rock (800 feet high) shew the same proofs of horizontal “wear and tear” as the lowest strata, what must have been the state of the surrounding country, when the Elbe was 800 feet above its present level? It was covered with water, and the grooves in the rocks were the effects of currents, not rivers—in other words, they are _diluvial_ and not _fluvial_ phenomena. But the banks of this stream are not the only places here which exhibit proofs and records of a deluge. The neighbouring country, especially on the right bank, and where no rivers exist, is studded with “fragments of an earlier world,” all bearing the same marks of watery attrition, from their highest to their lowest strata. Although many of these “splinter’d pinnacles,” are columnar in shape, they are tabular in construction—all shewing horizontal strata (where they have not tumbled down), and all evincing a greater wear and tear of the interstitial materials between the layers, than of the layers themselves—another proof of the lateral and not perpendicular action of the waters by which they were worn smooth.

We descended slowly in our gondola, the day being splendidly clear, and the wind blowing fresh against us, which retarded our progress, but favoured our examination of the infinitely varied scenery in this romantic gorge. At Neidergrund, on the left bank, we were stopped by the last Austrian Douane, for examination of passports; and then continued our descent. At this place, however, there is a huge fragment of rock which must have rolled from the adjacent cliff, at some remote period, but which is now perfectly smooth in every part of its surface, from the friction of the floods. In this stone, there is also a polished excavation, with a narrow door, in which, it is said, a pious hermit once resided. Hence its name—“MONCHENSTEIN.” It is worth examining while the tardy Douanier is poring over your passport, and filling unmeaning columns in his musty journals.

A league farther on, where the right bank rises like a wall to a stupendous height, and demonstrating the stratifications with peculiar distinctness, we come to a huge pile of buildings, overhung by massive crags of rocks, and forming a douane, police-station, and hotel. Here we encounter the Saxon Custom-house, where our trunks were opened and examined—an operation which was never once performed by Prussian, Bavarian, or Austrian, during our whole journey. And here I must do the Austrians, who are represented as so very _austere_ in their police and douanes, the justice to say that, in no part of their dominions did we ever experience the slightest interruption or inconvenience in respect to passports; nor did they ever ask us for the key of a trunk on entering, travelling through, or quitting their territories.

From this place (Herrnskretchen), excursions are often made, by people who have plenty of time on their hands, to the summit of the “WINTERBERG,” where a very extensive prospect of Saxon Switzerland and the Bohemian ranges is obtained. The mountain prospect is hardly worth the toil of the mountain journey. Better prospects are obtained from two points to be presently noticed, where the view, though not quite so wide, is infinitely more distinct and striking, and where the points themselves possess the highest degree of interest, which the summit of the Winterberg does not. The PREBERCHTHOR, however, a league and a half from Herrnskretchen, is worth seeing. It is a gigantic natural arch of rock, exhibiting well the stratified formation, and looking like the portal of some enchanted castle, being 60 ells (French) in height, the same in breadth, and 30 in depth. The arch itself is 1400 feet and more above the level of the sea. The summit, or key-stone of the arch forms a kind of narrow slanting platform, 30 or 40 feet in length, from which a romantic prospect opens on the view.

The Kuhstall (or cow-house) is another natural arch, where the strata of rock appear to be somewhat bent as they stride over the aperture below. Various other “disjecta membra” of an antediluvian world are scattered about between the Winterberg and Schandau.

We remained but a short time at Schandau; and, after dinner, hired a gondola, where a female rowed manfully against the breeze, assisted by her husband and brother, and in a couple of hours we reached

KŒNIGSTEIN.

This is one of the lions of Saxon Switzerland—a kind of jung-frau fortress that has never yielded to shot, shell, or escalade. It is situated on the left bank of the river, near the town of Kœnigstein, from whence we ascended by a long and steep road that required full an hour before we arrived at the gate of this impregnable fortress. The Saxon war minister being governor of Kœnigstein, our passports procured us admission, with an orderly to shew us round. One of the most prominent features of this country is, the projection from its surface of numerous truncated cones of the same kind of stratified rock which compose the banks of the Elbe. They rise almost perpendicularly from plain or hill, to various heights of one hundred to seven or eight hundred feet, with a flat surface on the top, like a sugar-loaf with its upper third cut off. Kœnigstein is one of the largest of these natural forts, and the strongest. It springs from an elevated ground, and is at least fifteen hundred feet above the level of the Elbe that flows at its base. The walls are not columnar, but masses of horizontal strata piled upon one another, precisely like those composing the banks of the river, the highest as well as lowest layers presenting the same horizontal “wear and tear,” produced by the action of long-continued currents of water. The plateau on the summit of this antediluvian citadel occupies a space of two or three acres, which, considering the locality, supports a good deal of vegetation, trees, and fruit. Excavations in the rock serve as bomb-proofs for provisions, ammunition, and military barracks, if assailed. The plateau is encircled by a coronet of cannon and mortars, and in the spaces between the embrasures, immense heaps of stones are piled up, to be hurled on the heads of those who ventured to approach the rocky ramparts of this aerial fortress. Down through the centre of the rock a well is bored to the depth of 1800 feet, and from this source an abundant supply of excellent water is drawn up by a wheel, like a tread-mill, worked, or rather walked, by half a dozen soldiers. In the centre of the plateau there is a circus, where the governor with one of his aide-de-camps was galloping round, for air and exercise.

We made the entire circuit of the ramparts, and from these the most extensive views are taken in every direction, embracing scenery so strange, romantic, and beautiful, that no language can do it justice—nor pencil neither! At its eastern base flows the winding Elbe, and directly opposite, on the other side of the stream, rises LILIENSTEIN, about three miles distant from Kœnigstein, and of a precisely similar shape and composition. A German prince, who was also a Polish king, had the courage and dexterity to scale the _Lilienstein_, and was so proud of the exploit, that he commemorated it by an inscription near the place of ascent. Napoleon, in one of his German forays, succeeded, with incredible labour and difficulty, to elevate some guns to the summit of this gigantic rock, in order to batter Kœnigstein, but his labour was lost, for the shot fell short of the sister fortress. But Kœnigstein might have laughed at Bonaparte even if his cannon could have swept the houses from the plateau of the Saxon strong-hold. It would have remained as impregnable as ever. The view from this spot takes in the whole or nearly the whole of Saxon Switzerland, and extends to thirty or forty miles in every direction—from the Winterberg to DRESDEN, the towers of which are plainly visible. All the peculiar rocks in the shape of truncated cones, as well as those masses of pillars and cliffs about the Bastei, are distinctly seen from Kœnigstein. Mr. Russell has the following passage in his work on Germany.

“The striking feature is, that in the bosom of this amphitheatre, a plain of the most varied beauty, huge columnar hills start up at once from the ground, at great distances from each other, overlooking in lonely and solemn grandeur, each its own portion of the domain. _They are monuments which the Elbe has left standing to commemorate his triumph over their less hardy kindred._ The most remarkable among them are the Lilienstein and Kœnigstein, which tower, nearly in the centre of the plain, to a height of above 1200 feet above the Elbe.”

I have marked a sentence, in italics, because it conveys an erroneous idea. It may be poetical; but it is not philosophical. If the Elbe was the Deluge, or the Deluge was the Elbe, all well. But I think Mr. Russell would hardly contend for this identity. The fact is, that the DELUGE wore away the softer parts from around Kœnigstein, Lilienstein, and all the other Steins, ten thousand, or, more likely, ten million of years before the Elbe was born! The diminutive stream of the river merely conducted its rills from the mountains through the bottom of the chasm hollowed out by the mighty currents of an antediluvian ocean.

It required two hours to visit the cloud-capt towers and frowning battlements of this impregnable citadel, whose walls were not built by human hands, but constructed beneath the waters of some mighty deep. The magnificent and singular scenery which everywhere bursts on the astonished eye from the cannon-crown’d crest of Kœnigstein, can never be erased from the memory.

We descended from the fortress to the town, tired, hunger’d, but highly gratified by the excursion. Fickle Fortune is not always profuse of her gifts. The feast of the eye this day was purchased by a fast of the stomach. Notwithstanding the care we had taken to order the “HUHN GEBRATEN,” the “SCHINKEN,” the “KARTOFLEN,” and other little matters for dinner, all of which were civilly promised, with a hearty “ja wohl mynheer,” into the bargain; yet, to our mortification, up came the infernal or at least the eternal dish—mutton-chops, composed of old meat pounded into a paste, squeezed into a mould, fried with butter, covered with flour, and pierced with the ribs of some “_schaf_” that might have been slaughtered the preceding year! Remonstrance was vain, and complaint was unavailing. Dish after dish was returned untouched—and dish after dish of the _same materials_, came back again, in other forms! With a sorrowful heart and an empty stomach, I called to mind the first line of Ovid’s Metamorphoses—

“In _nova_, fert animus, _mutatas_ dicere _formas_,
_Corpora_.”

As a forlorn hope, we requested some cheese; when, lo, after a quarter of an hour’s expectation, in came a wedge exhaling such a complication of all horrible and unutterable odours, that we were glad to launch it out of the window among the pigs—and even they scampered off in all directions at the sight, sound, and smell of this unexpected and apparently unwelcome visitor! Good comes out of evil. This last consummation of our miseries fortunately obliterated our appetites as effectually as a fit of sea-sickness in a gale of wind. The beds were as bad as the board, and the smell of the cheese seemed to have called forth myriads of the most minute, agile, and animated beings, who appeared to _leap_ and skip with joy, over our beds and round our dormitory—but whether in search of the savoury “kase,” or bent on more sanguinary depredations, I will not pretend to decide. This I know, that the frolicksome gambols of these black and saltant imps conduced but very little to sleep, notwithstanding the lightness of our supper. Mr. Murray says that the INN at Kœnigstein is “tolerable.” It may be so, but the INMATES are intolerable! I do not think that Horace spent a worse night in the Pontine fens, when he was assailed, on one side by the “mali culices,” and on the other, by the “ranæ palustres.” We had not the “_mali culices_,” it is true—but we had far worse customers, the _mali pulices!!_ In fine, it was the “frogs and flies” of Treponti in Italy, _versus_ the “fleas and cheese” of Kœnigstein in Germany. I would pit the _latter_ against the _former_ any Summer’s night of the year!

THE BASTEI.

We left Kœnigstein early on a beautiful morning in our gondola, and in two hours we were housed in New Raden, at the foot of the BASTEI. Having procured a guide, we commenced a laborious and steep zig-zag ascent towards the summit of the arch-lion of Saxon Switzerland. It required an hour or nearly so, to accomplish this task—each tourniquet of the ascent opening out more and more extended and splendid prospects. At length we got into the “regio petrea,” or stony region—sometimes winding round the bases of huge cliffs—sometimes squeezing through narrow fissures of the rock—and at others, crossing profound chasms over slender wooden bridges, or rather foot-paths. When almost despairing of gaining the summit before our strength was exhausted, we suddenly found ourselves on a small but level platform, on the highest pinnacle of the Bastei, and commanding a complete view, not only of the immense mass of splintered rocks around us, but of the whole country in every direction. In all my peregrinations round this globe, I never met with any locality or prospect similar to the one which burst on my astonished sight at this place!

I’ve travers’d many a mountain strand,
Abroad and in my native land;—
And it has been my fate to tread,
Where safety more than pleasure led—
But by my Halidome—

A scene so rude, so wild as this—
Or so sublime in barrenness,
Ne’er did my wandering footsteps press,
Where’er I chanc’d to roam!