(First Pilgrimage.) (continued 2)

SCHOMBERG.

While passing the picturesque little town of Oberwesel, and just beyond the Lurley-rocks, we raise the eye to the ruins of Schomberg, possessing some interest to the British traveller, as the patrimonial castle of Duke Schomberg, who lost his life in the battle of the Boyne. Alas! that the very name of a mouldering ruin should, after the lapse of a century and a half, engender in the breasts of the same people, living under the same government, professing the same religion, speaking the same language, and having the same interests, such deadly sentiments of hatred and animosity! No two feudal robbers and enemies on the banks of the Rhine, ever viewed each other with such cut-throat propensities, as do the Orange-man and White-boy on the banks of the Boyne! A century and a half hence, when the fiery passions of the present day shall have long been quenched in the grave, and the immortal spirits shall be awaiting the verdict of a final tribunal, posterity will scarcely believe that, amongst their ancestors, Christian charity meant murderous extermination—and that the surest road to Heaven was that which was tracked with the blood of our neighbours! The glorious orb of day shines as joyously over those mouldering ruins, as when the proud castle first rose in majesty over the frowning precipices—nay, as when the Rhine itself first began to trickle from the virgin snows of the Alps:—and why should not the heavenly light of Christianity shed its benign influence over the professors of that faith, as well now, as when the Redeemer inculcated charity and forbearance during his mission on earth? No! It is much easier to preach than to practise the Christian virtues—and the former is considered the more efficacious of the two, by the disciples of Faith.

THE SEVEN SISTERS; OR, THE FATE OF COQUETTES. (Legend the Seventh.)

Cupid is not a god that may be safely tampered with. His arrows are sharp, his feelings are keen, and his resentments are sometimes implacable. Seven beautiful sisters resided in the castle of Schomberg, overhanging the Rhine; and their hearts were as insensible to love as are the seven rocks in that river near Oberwesel, which now bear their names. Their charms and their wealth attracted crowds of suitors from various quarters. The sisters, however, gave smiles to all, yet favours to none of their admirers. Proffers of marriage were always declined, and sometimes treated with levity. Vanity was their ruling, almost their only passion, and adulation was its food. Their public suitors were the subjects of their private merriment. But mischief sometimes mingled with their mirth. By words, looks, or demeanour, they occasionally seemed to shew a preference to certain of their admirers. This led to jealousies, quarrels, bloodshed, and even death. The ranks, however, were constantly filled up by adventurous and ardent lovers, as the Byzantine throne (according to Gibbon) was never without a tenant, though the grave was always ready dug at its foot! But beauty, which is the gift of Nature and Chance, is the first charm which falls before the hand of Time. The sisters had only this one personal attraction, and it began to fade. The suitors diminished in number, and at length totally disappeared! It was then too late to remedy the evil of their own vanity and cruelty. The scene of their former flattery had now become insupportable, and they prepared to remove across the Rhine to a sequestered retreat, where their wounded pride and present humiliation might alike be buried in obscurity. They selected a dark night for leaving their castle and passing the river. When near the Lurley Rocks, the gnome of that place, who had often witnessed the imprudent and unfeeling conduct of her neighbouring sisters, lured the boatmen towards a treacherous sunken shoal, when the vessel was overturned, and all were buried in a watery grave! The Seven Sisters are still seen occasionally, in very low states of the river, raising their heads out of the water, in the form of rocks, and struggling with the foaming and impetuous current!

MORAL.

The moral of this short legend is transparent. The coquette, the flirt, the jilt, is a kind of moral swindler who, having no feelings or affections herself, trifles with those of others. It must be confessed that there are similar characters among the other sex, who are, if possible, still more reprehensible. But the female who plays this disreputable game, runs a greater risk, for obvious reasons, than the male deceiver. The foregoing legend illustrates the danger of relying on mere personal charms, as the great magnet of attraction. Qualities and accomplishments of mind are more durable, and more to be depended on, than beauty of form or feature!

PFALZ.

The robbers of the Rhine were not content with building depôts for stolen, or rather plundered goods, on every eminence, and levying “black mail” on every kind of land carriage; but they invaded “the free navigation of the Rhine,” as some of their descendants now do. A rock on the river whereon to erect a toll-bar was a great treasure in days of yore. The quadrupeds of the mouse-tower were much less voracious and graminivorous, than the bipeds of the same. The latter might not perhaps have nibbled at the body of a bishop, but they took good care to shear his flocks, in their transit up and down the Rhine. Nearly opposite Caub we pass close to an object which looks like a dwarf castle, sailing up the stream on the back of a whale. This was a very convenient edifice for the Rhenish palatines of the adjacent castle of Stahlee. It served the purpose of a custom-house, to collect the “rint,” and a prison to secure the refractory:—in other words, it performed the double function of dungeon and douane. One of the involuntary tenants of this narrow crib, was the own and the only daughter of Conrad, the palatine himself, whose name was Agnes. The lady had been betrothed, with her parents’ and her own consent, to Henry Duke of Brunswick; but a king having offered his hand, Conrad commanded her to change her affections, and set them on a higher rank than that of a duke. Agnes demurred in her own breast, though not openly; for affection, like faith or belief, will not come or go at our own bidding—much less at that of another. In the temporary absence of the father, Agnes, with the consent and privity of her mother, was privately married to the duke. When Conrad learnt this, he ordered his daughter to the Pfalz, till the marriage could be dissolved. Meantime it soon became evident that certain proofs of prior attachment on the part of Agnes, would be too unequivocal to escape the notice of the regal suitor, if the marriage were annulled; and Conrad, after a double confinement of Agnes in the Rhine prison, became reconciled to the duke—and all ended happily.

Passing Bacharach and the “Ara Bacchi,” which shews its propitious face in fertile vintages, we soon come to Lorch, where we have a legend that must not be passed unnoticed.

TEMPTATION, OR THE HALL OF A HUNDRED MIRRORS. (Legend the Eighth.)

Three students from Nuremburg, determined, during one of their vacations, to make the tour of the Rhine. Arrived at Lorch, they learnt that the sombre and triste valley of Wesperthal, behind Mount Kedrick, was the habitation of hobgoblins, who failed not to harass and frighten every one who penetrated into its dreary recesses. This account only stimulated their curiosity, and tempted their courage. They therefore repaired to the valley, and were soon treading on fairy ground. While wandering about, they came to an enormous mass of rock, bearing some rude resemblance to an old castle. In its sides were several apertures, like gothic windows, and its summit was something in the shape of a dome. Presently at one of these apertures there appeared three young ladies of surpassing beauty, who, instead of frowning on the young cavaliers, invited them, by their smiles and signals, to approach the castle. They soon found a narrow door, through which they entered, and passing along a kind of avenue, they came to a stair-case, which they mounted, and entered a vast and magnificent vestibule. They had scarcely time to cast a glance around them, when they were involved in the most Cimmerian darkness. After groping about, for some time, they discovered a door, which they managed to force open, when they found themselves in a splendid hall, illumined by hundreds of chandeliers, and covered from the dome to the floor with brilliant mirrors. But instead of finding the three nymphs, who had beckoned them from the windows, they were astounded by the sight of at least three hundred, who all stretched out their hands, at once, while welcoming the three youths to their father’s mansion! The students were stupified, not knowing which to address, or whom to salute, so bewildered were they by the reflection of three hundred beauties, and double that number of hands, from the surrounding mirrors! Their embarrassment was not lessened by the peals of laughter set up by the mischievous nymphs. In the midst of this scene, a door opened, and a venerable old man, with locks like snow, but clothed in jet black vestments, entered. “Welcome, my children,” said he; “you are come, no doubt, to demand my daughters in marriage. You shall have them, and with each a hundred weight of solid gold. But there is one condition. My daughters have lost their pet birds, and you must search for them, and bring them back from yonder wood.” “Take each your partner,” then said the old man, in a voice of thunder. The youths stepped forward, each to seize the hand of his mistress—but grasped only empty air. At this, the father joined his daughters in a peal of laughter. When the merriment had subsided, the old man led the young suitors to the real nymphs, whose salutes assured the students that they were real flesh and blood, and whose beauty soon captivated their whole souls. They were now eager to fulfil the condition imposed upon them. “You will recognize the Starling,” says the old man, “by the riddles which it has got by rote and is always propounding—the Rook by its hoarse croak—and the Magpie, by the burthen of its chatter, being the birth, parentage, and education of its grandmother.” They set out for the forest, and soon found the three birds, perched on the branch of an oak, chattering and chanting the ditties which they had been taught in the chateau. I have only room for the magpie’s theme—

The young gentlemen soon secured the pet birds, and returned with them to the castle. But what a change presented itself to their horrified senses! The chateau was gray with moss—the hall deprived of its mirrors and lustres, and only exhibiting naked walls! In three niches, sate three withered, tawny, toothless hags, with wine and fruit before them, on three small tables! They instantly rose, and stretched out their wrinkled, yellow, and skinny arms to embrace their lovers, while they mumbled and snivelled, from mouths and noses, their nauseous welcomes, and most loving assurances of eternal attachment and fidelity! To add to the mortification of the bridegrooms, the three pet birds joined their mistresses in such a chorus of squallings, croakings, and catterwaullings, that the young men were obliged to stop their ears to keep out the infernal din! Meanwhile the withered witches led their paramours to the tables, and presented them refreshments, for which they had little stomach. Each, however, took a glass of exquisite wine, which they had scarcely swallowed, when they fell into a state of complete insensibility! When they awoke, which was not till mid-day, they found themselves lying among prickly bushes at the foot of a tall rock, worn into furrows by the storms and rains, their limbs so cold and stiff that they had the greatest difficulty in retracing their steps! While dragging their weary limbs along, they were saluted from every projecting rock by the old hags—and from every branch of tree by the chatterings and croakings of the cursed pet birds! On clearing the valley, the young gentlemen made a vow never again to pay attention to the allurements of female beauty, when proffered on the “voluntary system” of the nymphs of Wesperthal.

MORAL.

I think the allegory of Wesperthal is little inferior to that of Circe, or even of the Syrens. It combines, indeed, the morals of both. Under the head of curiosity and thirst of rash adventure, are shadowed forth the headstrong passions of youth. Then the allurements and temptations by which they are so easily led from the paths of virtue—the Cimmerian darkness in which they are plunged—the blaze of false light, glittering tinsel, and meretricious splendour that attracts them on to their ruin—the penalties which are soon exacted from this short-lived felicity—the stupor in which their senses are drowned—and the remorse and horror in which they finally wake from the delirium of “passion’s wild career.”

Among some sly strokes of irony conveyed in this allegory, the accomplishments of the “pet birds” are biting satires on the education and mental habits of their mistresses in the chateaus of that time. Happily for us, there are now no charades of the starling, croakings of the rook, or magpie chatterings about ancestral honours, among the wives and daughters of the nineteenth century.

THE DEVIL’S LADDER. RUTHELM AND GARLINDA, OR LOVE REWARDED AND INHOSPITALITY PUNISHED. “Omnia vincit amor.” (Legend the Ninth.)

There cannot be a doubt that the legend of the “Devil’s Ladder,” was clearly intended to convey a double moral, as will presently be seen.

Over the little town of Lorch, rises abruptly the craggy, and apparently inaccessible mountain of Kedrick, on which is a solitary tower. Sibo, the Chief of Lorch, was a gloomy, eccentric, and rather misanthropic character. One stormy night, a decrepid old creature, of extremely dwarfish stature, rapped at his door, and demanded the usual rights of hospitality, commonly accorded in that age of chivalry. Sibo drove him from his gate with rudeness, and even brutality. Next day, when the dinner-bell rang, Garlinda, the only child of Sibo, a beautiful girl, twelve years of age, was nowhere to be found! Search was made in all directions, but in vain. A shepherd, however, reported that, early in the morning, he saw a young girl, who was culling flowers at the foot of the Kedrick, surrounded and seized by a number of little old men, who climbed with her up the mountain. The chevalier cast his eyes towards the summit of the steep, and clearly discerned his daughter there, who appeared to be stretching her arms towards her parent’s habitation! The vassals were summoned, and numerous efforts were made to scale the rock; but every attempt was frustrated by fragments of stone coming down the precipices with such fury, that the men were forced to fly for their lives. The wretched Sibo now endeavoured by penances, prayers, donations to the churches, monasteries, and convents, as well as distributions among the poor, to propitiate the powers above, and regain his only child. Heaven seemed hardened against him, and the gnomes of Kedrick retained their captive. The only consolation of the father was, that Garlinda was seen at sunrise and sunset, looking from her airy prison down to the valley of Lorch. Days, months, and years rolled on, without any prospect of regaining his lost treasure. Meantime, every care was taken of Garlinda’s health and comfort by the fairies of the rock—and especially by an aged female gnome, who watched her assiduously, and occasionally gave her hopes of deliverance from captivity.

Four years had now elapsed, and Sibo gave up all expectation of recovering his daughter; when Ruthelm, a brave young knight, who had distinguished himself in the wars against the Infidels, returned to the place of his nativity, near Lorch. On learning the fate of Garlinda, he determined to effect her rescue, or sacrifice his life. Her father promised the hand of the lady to her deliverer. Ruthelm reconnoitred, with anxious eye, every side of the rocky mountain; but no part offered the least prospect of escalade. It rose like a rugged wall in every direction! Returning to his chateau in pensive meditation, he met a diminutive dwarf on the road, who accosted him, and asked him if he had heard the story of Garlinda’s captivity on the summit of Kedrick? On replying in the affirmative, the dwarf hinted that he could effect her freedom if Ruthelm promised to marry her. The lover eagerly closed with the proposal, and the dwarf vanished from his sight.

The youthful knight began to fear that the promise of the dwarf was a deception, when an aged female gnome stood before him, and presenting him with a small bell, desired him to repair to the valley of Wesperthal, a gloomy and haunted ravine behind the Kedrick, and there seek the entrance of a deserted mine, which he would recognize by two old pine trees that grew at its mouth. When he had descended a few steps into the mine, he was to ring the bell thrice, and abide the result. Ruthelm was punctual to the directions, and found the place. As soon as the bell was rung, a light was seen rising from the bottom of the mine, and presently a dwarf appeared, and demanded what Ruthelm wanted. He related the promise of the female dwarf, and her injunction to ring the bell which she had given him. The dwarf examined the bell. The inhabitant of the mine commanded Ruthelm to be at the foot of the mountain before the dawn of next morning. Then drawing a small trumpet from his girdle, he sounded it thrice, when instantly the ravine and the whole valley swarmed with gnomes carrying ropes, hatchets, saws, and hammers. In a few minutes trees were heard falling down the sides of the ravine, felled by the axes of the gnomes, while hundreds of these nimble gentry were busily employed in forming the wood into the different parts of the ladder.

Ruthelm slept little that night, and was at his post before the dawn of morn. He found the ladder placed against the perpendicular precipice, and reaching to its highest pinnacle. He began to mount the ladder; but the terrific vibrations and oscillations of the slender machine, required all the courage of a hero, and all the devotion of a lover—

At length he reached the summit of the rock, and was rewarded for his hazard, by the sight of Garlinda reclining asleep in a bower of roses and eglantine. Her beauty surpassed all that had been reported, even by her own friends. While gazing on the sleeping nymph, she awoke, and Ruthelm dropped on his knee. At that instant the little old man, who had carried off Garlinda, stood before them, and, with frowning looks, demanded the name of the intruder, the cause of his visit, and the means by which he had ascended the mountain? Ruthelm firmly replied, that he came to deliver Garlinda from her prison, and restore her to an affectionate, but broken-hearted parent—that the means of his access would be explained by the bell, which he held in his hand. Garlinda, at these words, burst into a flood of tears, and entreated the dwarf to allow her to visit her father. The dwarf paused for a moment, and then replied:—“Your father, Garlinda, has been amply punished for his inhospitality, and you deserve reward for your patience and resignation. For you, Sir Knight, (addressing Ruthelm,) the jewel you seek is not yet purchased, even by the perils you have encountered. A more dangerous task remains—the descent from this mountain. You must return by the ladder; I will conduct Garlinda by a secret path to her father’s mansion.”

Ruthelm, in descending the ladder, found infinitely more difficulty than in his ascent: and several times his head turned giddy, and he was nearly precipitated to the bottom of the ravine. When he reached Sibo’s castle, he found the daughter in the arms of her father, who was weeping for joy. Sibo, from that moment, kept his gate open to every object of distress—a practice which was continued by Ruthelm and Garlinda, during a long series of years.

MORAL.

To counterpoise the baser passions and propensities of our nature, the Omniscient Creator has implanted others in the human breast of an ennobling kind. Thus charity and benevolence antagonise selfishness and avarice. But these passions and propensities, good and bad, are not left to contend with each other in anarchy, like jarring elements. Over them is placed a power without passion, an emanation from the Deity, designed to control the vicious and foster the virtuous workings of the spirit, either by direct influence, or, which is more common, by nullifying the bad by the good propensities.

It is this God-like Reason, which distinguishes Man from the Brute creation. The latter have but one governing passion or instinct, each, from which they cannot deviate, and which never fails to lead them to their proper objects. But even in Man, and especially in uncultivated states of mind, Reason is too often unequal to the governance of the unruly passions, and requires the aid of another and higher power—Religion.

Reason may, and too often does, err; but instinct is as undeviating in its course as the earth in its revolutions round the sun. Whenever the voice of Reason and the dictates of Religion are resisted, and ultimately disregarded, some prominent passion from the vicious side of human nature is sure to gain and to retain the mastery. The consequences need not be told! Every day that vice retains possession of the soul, diminishes the chance of virtue regaining the ascendancy:—Hence the evil of procrastination in the work of reformation!

But to return. Hospitality to the stranger, and charity to the indigent are virtues so universally acknowledged, that few are bold enough to deny them in theory, though there are many Sibos who are chary of the practice. The sums which were lavished on monasteries and convents, in useless remorse, would have saved the Chieftain of Lorch many a bitter hour of reflection, had they been judiciously applied to the relief of penury and misfortune, before he was made to taste the bitter cup of anguish himself!

The other part of the legend illustrates the well-known fact that—

And not only hope, but accomplish things apparently impossible of achievement. Ruthelm was not the only one who has fallen in love of unseen objects, and only known through pictorial or descriptive representations. Few have passed the juvenile period of life without having some imaginary goddess or hero in their thoughts, endowed with all the virtues and charms which—

Whether time and experience have always realized (as Jonathan would say) these golden dreams, can only be determined by the knowledge of each individual.

Leaving Lorch, then, on our left, (in ascending the river) our attention is strongly attracted to a renovated chateau on our right—Rheinstein. Here we must halt for a few minutes.

THE BRIDAL OF RHEINSTEIN; OR, THE RUNAWAY MARRIAGE. (Legend the Tenth.)

About midway between Lorch and Bingen, on our right hand, stands the renovated castle of Rheinstein, on a romantic eminence, and very near the Rhine. It is no longer a desolate pile of ruins, but the habitation of a royal prince of Prussia, whose proud banner floats on its lofty turret. No destructive missile or drawn sword now repels the inquisitive stranger. The draw-bridge falls at the approach of Jew or Gentile, rich or poor—and the renovated halls are thrown open to the inspection of all visitors.

Tradition informs us that the original castle was inhabited by a Baron Sifred, a dissolute young robber, who carried off from France, a beautiful maiden, and detained her in durance vile within his impregnable fortress. The captivity of the lady, however, made a wonderful revolution in the baron’s life. The noise of revelry and arms was superseded by the sounds of the lute—and Yutta became the bride of Sifred. Twelve months of love and happiness flew rapidly round, and Yutta presented her husband with a pledge of their affection—a female child. The mother survived the birth only a few hours. The baron shut himself up in his castle, and dedicated his time to the education of his daughter.

Guerda grew up to the delight of her father’s declining years—and to the relief of wandering pilgrims, who sought refuge in the castle, and who sounded the fame of Guerda’s beauty far and near.

Hosts of suitors now flocked to the castle, but they were referred by Sifred to an approaching tournament at Mayence, where his daughter would select the most valiant knight. Her appearance at the assemblage excited universal admiration; and two knights determined to win her hand—Kuno of Reichenstein, and Conrad of Ehrenfels. The latter was the elder, and of a fierce disposition—the former was evidently preferred by the lady. Notwithstanding prodigies of valour, Kuno was defeated, and Conrad claimed the hand of Guerda. The father received the victor as his future son-in-law; while the dejected Kuno prepared to join an expedition to Palestine. The hapless Guerda was overwhelmed with grief; but her father was inexorable! The day of the nuptials was fixed—the cavalcade, with Guerda, the pallid victim of parental tyranny, mounted on a milk-white steed, proceeded towards the chapel, which was midway between the castle of her father and that of Kuno of Reichenstein. When near the sacred edifice, Guerda’s horse suddenly reared and plunged, endangering the life of the bride. Conrad, while endeavouring to seize the reins, received a dreadful kick from the furious steed, which prostrated him on the ground. The animal immediately darted forward, like an arrow from a bow, and never stopped till he carried the betrothed to the very gate of Kuno’s castle. Her lover, who witnessed this exciting scene, flew to the gate—gave admittance to Guerda—dropped the portcullis—and secured the treasure! Conrad was killed by the blow from the steed, and Sifred soon afterwards gave consent to the nuptials of Kuno and Guerda.

Would that, in every mercenary and ill-assorted match, the bride were mounted on so spirited and sensible a palfrey as that of Guerda, when proceeding to the altar! The runaway marriage of Rheinstein was far preferable to many of those slow and stately processions which attend the contracts of fashionable modern life!

THE RAT OR MOUSE-TOWER. (Legend the Eleventh.)

It appears that there were corn-laws, or at least corn-monopolists, in days of yore as well as now. A dignitary of the church (not our church), the bishop of Mentz, had well-stored granaries, and fared sumptuously. A time of scarcity arrived. The populace begged for bread; but the bishop would only give them blessings. These would not fill the stomach, and the clamour becoming louder, the bishop waxed wroth. He flung open one of his granaries containing but little grain. The people rushed in—he bolted the doors—and set fire to the building! Murder will be out, sooner or later, and even punished in this world. The rats and the mice took up the cause of their masters. They cut through the floors and ceilings of the palace—nibbled holes in the arras—and poked their little noses through to smell the fat bishop. This was notice to quit, or furnish a cannibal supper for the unwelcome intruders.

The holy man betook himself to a tower in the middle of the Rhine; (Tours des Rats) but the nimble little quadrupeds swam across in legions—scaled the tower—and devoured the bishop!

The moral is good, though the tale is improbable. But if the Auto da Fé of the bishop was a romance, the atrocity of the action has too often been surpassed even in our time—and that by “butcherly blockheads” in the cause of bigotry and superstition, though in the name of religion!

I suspect that the moral of the “Mouse or Rat Tower” lies much deeper than is supposed. It seems to indicate that, although the rich and the powerful may sometimes evade the law, they can never escape punishment. The inward monitor cannot be stifled, cross what rivers, seas, or mountains we may—

which I would liberally translate thus:—

The mice were meant to represent the conscience of the cruel bishop, from which, neither the streams of the Rhine nor the battlements of the tower could protect him.

CHANGE OF SCENE.

After passing Bingen, the poetry of the Rhine disappears—or sinks into smooth but unimpassioned prose. The “castled crags” and precipitous cliffs soften down into sloping glades and country villas—the river widens, and becomes studded with innumerable islets, verdant to the water’s edge—the majestic and romantic features of the scenery are changed into the beautiful and the fertile—it is like turning from the statues of Mars and Bellona to those of Cupid and Psyche! The legends and tales vanish with the rocks and ruins where they had a “local habitation”—romance degenerates into reality—the fervid imagination is softened down into sober judgment—and the excitement of admiration subsides into the tranquillity of reflection! The eye is spoiled for the charms of the wide-spread Rhinegau, teeming with the grape, and with every necessary of life; yet the landscape is loveliness itself. What it has lost in sublimity, it has fully gained in beauty.

The sun had just set beneath the horizon, and while—

our contemplations were broken by the steamer suddenly sheering alongside the jetty at Biberich, and discharging its cargo of human beings close to the royal palace of Nassau. After the usual bustle attendant on the transmigration of souls, bodies, and baggage, from water to land, we were safely deposited, in less than an hour, at the Adler Hotel, within a stone’s throw of the celebrated Kochbrunnen, or chicken-broth distillery at Wisbaden.

WISBADEN.

This is one of the most celebrated spas in Germany—and more frequented, as a medicinal spa, than any other by our countrymen and women. It is only four miles from Biberich, near Mayence, and is very pleasantly situated, with a ridge of the Taunus to the north-east, while the country is open between it and the Rhine, in the opposite quarter. It is a very handsome town, of seven or eight thousand souls, and the capital of the duchy of Nassau. It is, itself, in a slight depression of the ground, but not so much as to impede a free circulation of air. Wisbaden is healthy, though rather warm, owing, probably, to the hot springs under the surface. The temperature, however, renders it a good winter residence for those who are unable or disinclined to seek the shores of Italy or other southern localities. The neighbouring country produces all the necessaries of life in abundance, and the vicinity of Frankfort, Mayence, and the Rhine, secures it the luxuries, when required. Excellent water is conducted from the Taunus for the use of the town. The Cursaal is the most magnificent in Europe—the hotels are numerous and good—the walks and rides exceedingly varied, cheerful, and salubrious. There are from ten to fifteen thousand annual spa-drinkers and bathers—while a far greater number spend a short time at Wisbaden for pleasure. A considerable number of the hotels have bathing establishments—the Eagle is the oldest—and is well appointed. In turning up from this hotel towards the Cursaal, we stumble on the Kochbrunnen, (the scalding spring,) the grand source of the drinking waters, and also of several baths. It has rather a mean appearance, and the water looks rather of a greenish-yellow colour, and seems turbid in the well, with a scum over a part of it, which is called “cream,” and is considered by the chemists as a peculiar animal or extractive matter, whose nature and source are unknown. The taste is that of weak chicken-broth with rather too much salt. There are upwards of nine hundred baths in the different establishments.

The plantations, extending from the back of the Cursaal to the old ruin of Sonnenburg Castle, are very beautiful—and thence are paths cut among the umbrageous woods to the Platte, the Duke’s Summer-house, on one of the mountains of Taunus, whence a magnificent view is obtained—Rhineward and Inland.

The road to Schwalbach and Schlangenbad present fine airy drives and walks over high, open, and unwooded grounds, communicating health and vigour to the enfeebled frame.

As may be supposed, the Romans were well acquainted with Wisbaden, and close to the Kochbrunnen, in the Romerbad, may be still seen the remains of several Roman baths—and one in particular having two springs of its own. But the monuments of antiquity in this place are numerous.

Three grand theories respecting the causes and sources of thermal springs divide the transcendental philosophers, naturalists, and physicians of Germany. These are the electro-chemical—the volcanic—and the vital. Wurzer expresses the opinions of the first class thus:—“As Nature is performing her operations in her immense laboratory, she has here a galvanic apparatus of immense size. Extensive masses of mountains, perhaps of unfathomable depth, probably form the individual plates of this voltaic column.” This is tolerably bold. While Brand and Faraday are dissolving metals by the tiny galvanic apparatus in Albemarle Street, Nature is manufacturing mineral waters at Wisbaden, Ems, and Carlsbad, on a magnificent scale! Lichtenberg, however, surpasses Wurzer in the sublimity of his ideas on this subject.

“In the distilling operations of Nature, the belly of her retort sometimes lies in Africa—its neck extending all over Europe—whilst its recipient is in—Siberia.”!!

Bischoff, Struve, Kastner, and others, are more moderate in their flights. They ascribe the origin of some thermal springs to volcanic operations in the bowels of the earth—of other springs to the gradual solution of their component parts in subterranean reservoirs.

The third class of philosophers have boldly cut the Gordian knot, instead of untying it, and erected thermal springs and mineral waters generally into animated beings which transfuse their vitality into the bodies of the spa-drinkers, and thus cure all diseases!

“These and similar observations (says Dr. Peez, of Wisbaden,) compel us to admit the existence of a peculiar vital principle in mineral waters, communicating to the human body either an attractive faculty more consonant with the medicinal component parts of the water; or, acting by itself as a healing power upon the diseased organism.”[12]

The italics are those of Dr. Peez, and not mine. German mysticism could hardly be expected to go farther. But it has outdone itself, as the following extract will shew:—

“The partial effect of the medicinal component parts of mineral waters is pushed back, as it were, retreating under the ægis of a general power which directly excites the autocracy of the animated animal body, and compels it to act according to the particular quality of the mineral spring determined by its component parts.”—(104.)

Here we have a good specimen of German ideality, and transcendental mystification![13]

My friend, Dr. Granville, like every other man of genius, has a hankering after a theory; but he was too shrewd not to see that this monstrous German hypothesis of “vitality” would be too large even for the swallow of John Bull. He has therefore substituted a much more rational and intelligible reason for the effects of thermal spas—namely, their caloricity, as differing materially from that of common water heated to the same degree of temperature. It is very easy to conceive that cauldrons that have been kept boiling in the bowels of the earth for thousands of years, will have diffused the caloric more uniformly and minutely through the waters, and dissolved more completely the mineral ingredients, than pots and kettles in the laboratory of the chemist. This, in all probability, is the solution of the mystery respecting the superior efficacy of thermal spas.

The composition of the Kochbrunnen is as follows:—Forty-four grains of common salt—five of muriate of lime—one and a half of carbonate of lime, out of fifty-nine grains in the pint. The remaining nine grains are not worth enumerating, as the salt and lime are clearly the main ingredients. There are only seven cubic inches of carbonic acid gas in the pint. The temperature is little short of 160° of Fahrenheit. Let us begin with the baths. At a temperature of 86° to 90°, the bath generally occasions a slight sensation of chilliness, which goes off in a few minutes, and is succeeded by a feeling of comfort—serenity of mind—and ultimately a degree of weariness or lassitude, inclining the bather to lie quiet and repose himself. The volume of the body rather diminishes than expands, and the skin of the hands and feet are gently corrugated—the pulse becomes slower and softer—irritability is lessened—spasmodic feelings (if they existed,) disappear under the soothing influence of the waters on the nervous system and circulation—the functions of the intestinal tube are encreased, as are those of the skin, kidneys, and various glandular organs.

At a temperature of 94° to 98°, the bather, at the moment of immersion, experiences an agreeable sense of warmth—the vital powers are exalted, and all the functions of the organs are put into a state of increased activity. The pulse expands and quickens, but is still soft—and all the secretions and excretions are augmented after leaving the bath.

As the weight of the body is increased from half-a-pound to a pound and a half, while immersed, there can be no doubt that a considerable absorption takes place. At above 98°, or blood heat, the bath excites the pulse and renders it both full and hard—embarrasses the breath—flushes the face—reddens the whole surface of the body—excites perspiration—powerfully draws the circulation to the skin—and not seldom causes head-aches, vertigo—and even apoplexy. Douches and shower-baths are often ordered before the plunging or vapour-bath. Lavements of the spa-water are also employed—and it is said with good effects, relieving the stomach from the ingurgitation of so much fluid.

Preceding, and sometimes during the cure, the following phenomena occur in a majority of cases, in addition to those already described:—viz. a prostration of strength—headaches—giddiness—constriction over the eyes—drowsiness. In some cases, there will be constipation—loaded tongue—loss of appetite—oppression about the chest—feebleness of the limbs—nervous irritability—disturbed sleep—perspiration—palpitations—eruptions on the skin. These symptoms are acknowledged by the spa-practitioners themselves to indicate an inconvenient use either of the baths or the drink—or some abnormal susceptibility of the constitution—or some impropriety of regime. They soon disappear by lessening the application of the remedy, and taking some aperient medicine—an omission, however, which most of the spa-doctors are sure to make, trusting, as they do, almost entirely to the operation of the waters.

It is necessary to remark that, the rheumatic and gouty who resort to these waters, (and they are by far the most numerous classes,) must expect to suffer a considerable increase of their complaints at the commencement—amounting often to acute pain and even inflammation of the parts affected. The local medical authorities represent these as the sure precursors of great relief, if not a radical cure of the maladies in question. I would advise patients to be on their guard in this respect. The first two individuals whom I fell in with at Wisbaden, and whom I formerly attended, were in imminent danger of their lives, from the effects of drinking and bathing in the waters. One was on the verge of apoplexy—and the other in a fair way for a rheumatic fever. Both were soon relieved by aperients, colchicum, and starvation.[14]

There is another class who experience no uncomfortable symptoms during the use of the waters, which operate by the skin, the kidneys, and the bowels—and these proceed quickly and favourably to a restoration of health.

There is still a third class who experience no relief from the waters, but rather an exasperation of all their maladies. The spa doctors give them this consolation, that, long after their return to their homes, they will probably get much better—or quite well! The following passage from Dr. Peez, should awaken precaution.

“Let us now take into consideration a phenomenon we observe first after patients have for some time been drinking, or bathing in, the thermal water of Wisbaden, and which might alarm timorous minds. The reaction taking place in the beginning of the patient’s making use of the water, mentioned above, returns with some individuals. I have observed this being the case particularly with females of a hysteric disposition, attended with a tendency to hemorrhoïdal complaints, who, for that reason, were very irritable. Bathing in, and drinking thermal water of this place for a fortnight, three weeks, and longer, are extremely favorable,—each day is attended with additional success: one ailment after the other disappears; a pause then ensues, the irritability of the body rises—the patient’s sleep grows restless; some complain of palpitating of the heart, oppression of the chest, and slight vertigo. In this case it is necessary to cease bathing, at least for some days, and to observe what nature means by that excitation. This, however, commonly ceases in the course of a few days, when the patient may again take the bath without hesitation, and with advantage, provided he be careful to follow the direction of his physician. Others, however, in that case have attained to the limits of bathing, prescribed by nature, and if they obstinately transgress these laws, their career on the road to recovery takes a retrograde turn. I have seen such improvident bathers, who, not knowing the nature of these phenomena, continued bathing without consulting their physician, were seized with spasms, spitting of blood, and other ailments.”

It is remarked by Dr. Richter, that as the greater number of patients at Wisbaden are afflicted with gouty or rheumatic complaints, so they must expect to experience the specific effects of the waters more sensibly than other people. It is not uncommon therefore for these to suffer, at the beginning of the course, very high states of excitement, pain, and even inflammation of the parts involved in the original malady. This may be encouragement to perseverance; but it may also prove extremely hazardous. The following case from Dr. Peez, will exemplify this remark.

“The abdomen of a lady aged 52 years, having been afflicted for a long time with plethora abdominalis, began at last to swell and to grow hard, her complexion being tinged with a greyish-yellow colour, whilst her organs of digestion were impaired at the same time. She was particularly alarmed by occasional palpitations of her heart, most commonly troubling her at night, and obliging her to quit her bed. Having bathed in, and drunk, our thermal water, the palpitations grew more violent, and rendered it necessary that a small quantity of blood should be taken from her occasionally.”

In the third week of the course, she was seized with a copious purgation of morbid secretions, when the palpitations vanished—the abdomen became soft—the complexion cleared—and she was soon well.

Now it is clear that this good lady laboured under congestion of the liver, jaundice, and loaded bowels. Nature rescued her from the heat of the Kochbrunnen, by a process which ought to have been instituted three weeks before.

I shall endeavour to shew in other places, that these crises, spa-fevers, bad-sturms, and re-actions, described by the foreign writers on the Spas, are often attributable to the want of combining some mild mercurial alterative and aperient with the use of the waters. Many cures are prevented or rendered ineffectual by the dread of mercury entertained by the German physicians.

The following auxilio-preservative (if I may so term it), will be found of essential service every night before taking the morning waters.

℞. Extr. Col. Comp.

Pil. Rhei. Comp. aa ℈ij.

Pil. Hydrarg. gr. x.

Ol. Caryoph. gt. vj.

Ft. pil. xx. capt. j. vel. ij. hora somni.

We shall now advert to the remarks of Dr. Richter, who has published a very sensible little treatise on the Wisbaden waters, in the year 1839.

Group of Disorders in which the Waters, either Internal or External, or both, are likely to be useful.

1. Complaints having their seat in the abdominal organs, and especially in the biliary apparatus.—The signs or indications of these are—acidities—eructations—furred tongue—troubled digestion—loss of appetite—sense of tightness or oppression about the stomach and bowels, after food—costiveness, or relaxed bowels—congestion about the liver, with or without enlargement of that organ—hypochondriasis and hysteria—hæmorrhoids and their consequences—irritations about the kidneys and bladder—sequences of residence in tropical climates.

2. The various forms of gout and their sequences.—Besides the regular or periodical gout, Dr. Richter enumerates the multitudinous forms which it assumes when latently preying on different organs and structures. There is no end to the proteian features of masked gout—extending as they do from the terrific lacerations of tic douloureux down to the most anomalous morbid feeling, whether internal or external. “In all these,” D. R. avers, “the waters and baths of Wisbaden are eminently beneficial.” The baths, when assisted by the internal use of the waters, bring anomalous and latent gout into its proper place and form—into the extremities, thus relieving the interior.

3. Paralysis, general or local—the sequence of apoplectic attacks, or the consequences of metastases of gout, rheumatism, or cutaneous eruptions from the surface to the brain or spine—also those paralytic affections occasioned by the poisons of lead, arsenic, mercury, &c. or contusions or other injuries of the head and back. Dr. Richter cautiously observes that, during the use of the Wisbaden waters for the foregoing class of complaints, it will often be necessary to bleed, cup, or leech, as well as to take aperient medicines from time to time, under the guidance of the medical attendant.

4. Scrofulous complaints, of all kinds and degrees.

5. Rheumatism, with its various consequences. Of course it is chronic rheumatism that is here meant, with enlargements of joints, contractions, effusions into the capsular ligaments, &c. which attend on and follow that painful class of diseases.

6. The sequences of mercurial courses for various diseases, both in this country and between the tropics.

7. Several pulmonary complaints, occasioned by repressed gout, rheumatism or cutaneous eruptions.

8. The Wisbaden waters (like many other mineral springs) are lauded as efficacious in certain complaints and defects of both sexes, which it is not convenient or proper to notice in this place.

COUNTER-INDICATIONS.

Dr. Richter dedicates a chapter to those complaints which are not benefited, but injured by the waters of Wisbaden.

1. All acute diseases—that is to say, diseases accompanied by fever or inflammation, are totally and entirely prohibited from these waters. But this is not all. Wherever there is febrile action in the constitution, or local inflammation, however subacute, or even chronic, the use of thermal springs, either as drink or baths—but especially the baths—is dangerous. “These waters, internal and external, will excite the circulation and nervous system (already too much exalted) into the most dangerous reactions, and lead to the most deplorable consequences.” P. 43.

Phthisical affections, except in the earliest stage, and before any material change has taken place in the lungs, preclude the idea of utility from these waters. Emaciation, from internal suppuration in any organ, and resembling phthisis, forbids the waters of Wisbaden. The same may be said of cachectic habits, where the blood is broken down, and the solids wasted. Dropsy of the chest, abdomen, or skin will be prejudiced by these sources—and in short, all diseases connected with, or dependent on defect of vital energy; or, in other words, debility of constitution generally. Catarrhal affections of kidneys and bladder—fluor albus—severe derangement of the digestive organs, (grand derangement des organs de la digestion)—chronic diarrhœa, &c. with emaciation, will derive no benefit but injury from these waters. All tendency to spitting of blood—all enlargements of the glandular abdominal organs with debility and wasting, prohibit the use of Wisbaden waters. The same holds good with respect to stony concretions in the kidneys or bladder—biliary concretions in the gall-bladder or ducts—scirrhous formations in any of the organs of the interior, or exterior parts—all organic affections of the heart or large vessels—epilepsy—catalepsy—St. Vitus’s dance—very inveterate forms of gout, with chalk-stones, paralytic lameness, and considerable debility. In some of these last cases, Dr. R. thinks that, when directed with skill and caution, the waters may afford some relief though nothing like a cure. Sterility, with constitutional exhaustion and debility, has little to hope from Wisbaden.

The reader will here perceive a long list of maladies which the Wisbaden waters will not cure, but aggravate. It is very rare for a spa-doctor to offer any such list. Their springs are panaceas for all the ills to which flesh is heir. There is a passage in Dr. Peez’s work respecting the baths which deserves attention. He remarks that there is a point of saturation in the use of thermal waters, beyond which it is dangerous to proceed. But this point of saturation is difficult to ascertain. The following is not very consolatory.

“The temperature of the bath must be made to correspond as exactly as possible with their individuality. Baths that are but one degree too warm or too cool, will very soon produce the point of saturation. Neither is it advisable that such a person should bathe daily, nor, in the beginning, stay in the bath longer than 15-25 minutes: for his great irritability very easily provokes in the very beginning those excitations that are the forerunners of critical secretions and accelerate the appearance of the symptoms of overbathing, and if the patient be not exposed to the danger of a violent artificial fever, the success of his cure is, at least, rendered very doubtful. He is, in this case, obliged to discontinue bathing so long that the time intended to have been spent in bathing passes, or must be prolonged considerably.” 161.

In many people this critical point of saturation is announced by very restless sleep, disturbed by dreams—or somnolency by day—tenderness of the eye to light—uneasiness, despondency, and anxiety, without any adequate cause—derangement of the digestion—loaded tongue. If these symptoms be overlooked or disregarded, phenomena of more importance present themselves, such as palpitations—difficulty of breathing—profuse sweats—nausea—and finally a fever. Dr. P. is very averse to any active remedies to reduce the fever of over-bathing, and especially bleeding or purging. He advises that nothing be done but to desist from bathing, and to take some cooling acidulous waters, as those of Selters or Fackingen.

The same author assures us that the Wisbaden waters are extremely easy of digestion—that they improve the appetite—open the bowels, in a majority of cases—are eminently diuretic—but occasionally produce constipation. From all that I could observe myself, these waters have very little aperient effect.

To enumerate the diseases for which the Wisbaden waters are renowned would require a small volume—at least according to the testimony of Peez. In one word, they cure all diseases in general, and many others in particular!! On looking over the works of spa-doctors, we must come to one or other of the following conclusions, viz. there must either be a universal conspiracy among the faculty of Europe against spas, and in favour of their own monopoly of thinning the ranks of the population by physic—or the world is deaf to the entreaties of the water-doctors, and desire not to be cured—or, what is not quite impossible, the virtues of mineral waters are a little too much extolled by those who have the administration of them. It is perhaps fortunate for the world that one or other of these prejudices or infatuations prevail—otherwise there would be no bills of mortality—no doctors—no undertakers—in short, man would be immortal even in this world!

There will still be a considerable number, however, of afflicted beings who will not despise the blessings so freely and so cheaply offered by the high priests of Hygeia.

It is pretty well known that a kind of monomania prevails among all classes on the Continent respecting hæmorrhoids—a complaint almost as much dreaded by the English as it is courted by foreigners. By the people it is considered quite a god-send—the absence of it being a calamity, and its presence a talisman against every malady—by the physician, its sanative powers are represented as only inferior to the waters of Wisbaden, Kissengen, or Carlsbad. By the physiologist and pathologist hæmorrhoids are calculated to bear the same relation to the constitution that the safety-valve does to the steam-engine. Without the one, the boiler would burst—without the other the German would die. In a word, the German had rather live without his pipe, than without his piles!

To the deficiency, absence, or interruption of hæmorrhoids are attributed chiefly all those obstructions of the abdominal viscera which lead to dropsy and other fatal diseases. The waters of Wisbaden are represented as having the normal or salutary power of restraining piles, when in excess—encouraging them when languid—and reproducing them when accidentally arrested. Hypochondriasis is one of the grand forms in which suppressed hæmorrhoids harasses the patient for years, according to the continental pathology.

“How often,” says Dr. Peez, “does it, however, happen, that an abdominal disease exclusively confined to the nervous system, suddenly changes its character, preferably affecting the bloodvessels, and thus is transformed into an active hemorrhoïdal disorder!

“I have had occasion to observe the case of a husbandman, who had been suffering the torments of hypochondria for some years; he was emaciated and ill fed. His means did not allow him to attempt a radical cure, and he applied only from time to time for my assistance, when his sufferings were most painful. In spring 1821 he was suddenly seized with palpitations of the heart, and when these ceased, his pulse continued for some months to be full and hard, as in the case of fever. Discerning the character of his disorder, I made him come to Wisbaden. Here he took half-baths, drank the water in copious doses, and was cupped in his legs several times. In twelve days the hemorrhoïds declared themselves in the usual shape and delivered him from his melancholy, anxiety, and oppression of the stomach, which had tormented him so long.” 196.

Dr. Peez informs us that the sequences of tropical diseases are radically cured by the Wisbaden springs.

“Among the consequences of these endemic diseases of the Indies we must reckon: tumefactions of the liver, and the spleen, which frequently are encomous, as well as other tumors in the cavity of the abdomen: swellings and obstructions of the intestinal glands (which frequently also are the products of malignant cutaneous diseases, peculiar to the torrid zone), obstinate jaundice, spasms of the stomach, accompanied with a vomiting of food.

“The English and Dutch physicians have these many years been in the habit of sending patients of this class to Carlsbad or Wisbaden, after those of the former first had tried Cheltenham to no purpose; and these two springs produce, in the above mentioned diseases, an effect really wonderful.” 198.

Now we were told by the more cautious and candid Dr. Richter, a page or two back, that “all enlargements of the glandular abdominal organs, with debility,” were diseases not to be remedied by these waters. All these morbid growths are attended and nourished by more or less of chronic inflammation, and in these cases the Wisbaden, or any other thermal baths, are more likely to do harm than good. The aperient waters of Kissengen or Pulna are far more efficacious and safe. Dr. P. has a chapter on the efficacy of these waters in “paralysis the consequence of apoplexy.” Now every physician knows that the cause of the paralysis succeeding apoplexy is the clot of blood effused in the attack, and the damage which the brain has received in the neighbourhood of that clot. Nature, at length, absorbs the effused blood, or surrounds it with a sac, and then the adjacent brain gradually recovers its function, if within the power of nature, and the motion of the paralyzed limb is regained in proportion. How this salutary process is to be accelerated by the baths or waters of Wisbaden, I cannot imagine; but I can very easily conceive that these warm baths may readily interrupt the work of nature, and convert a paralysis into an apoplexy. Such conversions, in fact, do occur every year at the German thermal spas. He says, “paralysis arising from plethora will be cured with more facility by means of the thermal waters, than that which is caused by the accumulation of lymph in the brain or the spinal marrow.” This doctrine may be true in one sense, but it is dangerous in another. Paralysis from plethora is undoubtedly more susceptible of cure than dropsy of the brain or spine; but it must be a most hazardous attempt to try the waters of Wisbaden for plethora of the brain or spinal-marrow.

Our author’s directions for using the waters appear unobjectionable, and therefore I shall cull out some of his chief rules.

1. The waters ought to be drunk fasting, and before the bath—using gentle exercise and cheerful conversation between each draught. The cup should never be emptied at once, but sipped slowly. Some people may drink four hours after dinner, but in less quantities and at a lower temperature.

In gouty affections, and where the skin is torpid, the water should be drunk as hot as possible—and even in bed, if necessary. Some find it better to drink it luke-warm, and mixed with a little milk. Half an hour after finishing the waters, breakfast, (chocolate, coffee, or egg-milk, or broth with the yolk of an egg,) may be taken. “The less nourishment that is taken between drinking and bathing the better.” Half an hour or an hour should elapse even after the lightest breakfast, before the bath. It is dangerous to bathe when heated or perspiring. “Persons taking a whole bath, should immerse themselves into the water only by slow degrees, up to the neck, having previously sponged the chest and abdomen with the bath water.” If seized with headache or vertigo in the bath, it is too hot, and ought to be left immediately. Baths in which you perspire are too hot, spoil the appetite, weaken the patient, and put him out of humour all day. “All baths, even those of common water—sometimes cause a sensible congestion of blood in the head.” The head should then be sponged with cold water. Great care should be taken to avoid sleep in the bath—or even after a hot bath—but after a tepid bath it may be allowed.

In many cases it is very beneficial to use friction, by means of a brush or sponge, whilst in the bath. The duration of the bath is a quarter of an hour to an hour and a half. People should always begin with the short period—and not too high a temperature. Where it is desirable to encourage gentle perspiration after the bath, the patient should go to bed.

As all sudden extremes are repugnant to nature, invalids, when travelling towards watering-places, should begin to adopt the regimen and hours which they must follow at the spas. A few tepid baths of plain water are useful preparations, and light cooling diet, should be employed for a week or two before arriving at the spa.

The following sketch of the motives, hopes, and prospects which lead invalids to spas—and their routine of life and enjoyments at those places, is drawn by a Spa Doctor of twenty years’ standing. It is nearly free from the sins of commission—but not of omission. It is penned en couleur de rose—and, like the speech of an advocate, it slurs over all features of the case that might seem disadvantageous to the cause of the client. I shall supply some deficiencies at the end.

“It is owing, in a great measure, to the enlivening influence which a temporary residence at some watering-place exercises on the mind of the visitor, that the most successful results are obtained there, and which the best endeavours of the regular physician can seldom effect at home.

“Persons not labouring under serious disorders—such as men of business, who purpose only to repose from the fatigues with which the performance of their official duties is attended, and to partake of the amusements afforded by bathing-places—the man of letters, who takes refuge in them for relaxation from his serious studies;—the tender mother, resorting to them to obtain relief for a beloved daughter—all these have disengaged themselves, as much as possible, from the trammels of their professional and domestic occupations and relations, and enter this new world with renovated spirits. The cheerful and gay life of a bathing-establishment presents to all of them charms with which they were entirely unacquainted before. Individuals of all ranks, gathering there from neighbouring parts and the most distant countries, united there within narrow confines, mostly for one and the same purpose, meet for the first time in that motley assemblage, and also hail each other, perhaps, for the last time, for a long series of years. This variety, this contact of individuals, frequently distinguished by high rank and eminent talents and accomplishments, enhances the charms of indiscriminate social intercourse, and adds an additional value even to the patient’s solitary hours, as I have frequently experienced myself, by ushering in the dawn of a happier futurity.

“The variety of interesting objects that present themselves to his view, attracts his attention, and occupies his eyes and imagination, and kindred spirits find many opportunities at watering-places to meet and to form familiar connexions. A common purpose, the same society, the participation of the same amusements and pleasures, facilitate the formation of many interesting connexions. The opportunities of mutual intercourse are numerous: the social meetings are not hampered by the trammels of ceremony, and we readily acknowledge and enjoy mental and social talents wherever we meet with them.

“The patients meet early in the morning on the public walks and at the wells. There they interchange their wishes and hopes of recovery. Many are on the eve of returning health; and, encouraged by the improving state of convalescents whom they daily see, or by the perception of encreasing strength, feel themselves elated with the pleasing hope of experiencing in their own persons the successful results of bathing which they behold in others. New hopes awake in others that are still groaning under the burden of severe and painful disorders, when they hear many of their acquaintances bless the beneficent spring that has restored to them health and the means of enjoying life.

“Here plans for the amusements of the day are discussed, appointments for shorter or longer excursions made, according to the strength and inclination of each individual; and these excursions, this enjoyment of the open air, contribute a great deal to heighten the salubrious efficacy of the wells. A cheerful mind exercises the most happy influence on the body, and who could indulge his melancholy bent and remain a cool observer amidst the charms of nature and in the society of persons that are endeavouring to enjoy them?

“Now the patient takes the bath, and is happy to remain in the congenial fluid to which earth communicates her vital warmth; he feels himself strained more closely to the bosom of our common mother, whilst he is surrounded by the salubrious liquid, issuing from her womb, and joyfully presages the tendency of her mysterious powers.

“After the bath the patient regularly indulges himself with a few hours of rest, which affords him additional enjoyment. He notes down what he has seen and heard, reads, writes, or directs his steps to the colonnade of the Cursaal, (pump-room,) where a select band of performers on wind instruments gives an additional zest to the charms of the morning hours, until the company meet in the dining-hall, where they sit down to a comfortable dinner, seasoned by the sweet sounds of excellent music.

“Happy would it be if temperance and a sensible conversation did always characterise these meals, and if all would be mindful, that the offended Naiad severely punishes all kinds of excess, by which the strict regimen she requires, is profaned!

“In the afternoon the plans formed in the morning are executed, each patient trying the strength he has regained;—and, in the evening, the lovers of dancing repair to Terpsichore’s temple; whilst others spend the evening in one of the parties that are formed in every bathing establishment. After the fatigues of the day, a balmy sleep, which is interrupted no more by restlessness, improves the encreasing strength, and the dreams that formerly were the mirrors of a melancholy reality, are superseded by cheerful sports of fancy.

“These are the general outlines of a life that may be led at a much-frequented watering-place, and by many is realized in a shape still more pleasing and refined. The great diversity of enjoyments that may be procured at these places, allots to each as much as he may want, and sometimes even more than many a one desires.”[15]

But is there no drawback on this scene of sunshine? Do all experience the invigorating influence of returning health? No. Not one half! Do the hypochondriacs who resort to Wisbaden in shoals, throw off their load of mental despondency and bodily infirmities? Let Dr. Granville, who is not inclined to depreciate spas in general—and “Spas of Germany” in particular, decide the question.

“What a dreadful picture of human wretchedness the hypochondriac at Wiesbaden presents! He is sombre, thoughtful, or absent, in the midst of a laughing world. For ever brooding over his fate, his disease absorbs the whole of his attention. He disdains even the most trifling conversation with his fellow-creatures, and flies from those ephemeral acquaintances which are so easily formed at watering-places, exactly because one cares little how soon after they are forgotten. In fact, he would feel himself alone in the world, and never concern himself about those around him, did he not envy their healthy looks, their firmer muscles, and their sounder stomachs, which can sustain an indigestion with impunity!”

There are a great many others, besides hypochondriacs, who are destined to feel the melancholy effects of blighted hopes in these last resorts of suffering—and who turn their weary steps homewards, without the cheering expectations that gilded their journey to a foreign land!

But is there no risk of receiving, in exchange for dear-bought health, a moral contagion that poisons the springs of life, and saps the foundation of every virtue? Beneath the gilded domes of that splendid mansion—that palace of Plutus—that Cursaal, or Curst Hell—the dæmons of play exhibit their piles of glittering ore—those “irritamenta malorum—

familiarizing the uninitiated eye to scenes of desperate speculation—imbuing the soul with the wicked thirst of gold unjustly acquired—of plunder, without fear of punishment—of robbery, without danger of the gallows! The atmosphere of this Pandemonium—for the devils are in legions here—is too infectious to be long resisted. The open manner in which the vice is practised by day, and by night—in the presence of multitudes of all ages, nations, and both sexes—on the sabbath of the Lord, as well as on the day of work—this legalization, not merely permission of a violation of morality, religion, and social order, which, in England, must skulk in holes and corners—the kind of social heroism with which the most destructive vicissitudes of fortune are borne by some of the hardened haunters of these splendid hells—these and various other circumstances combine to mask the hideous mien of the monster, and strip the crime itself of half its horrors, till, by daily presentation, it becomes at length endurable without terror, and embraced without remorse! The neophyte has no sooner wound up his courage to the staking of his piece of gold, than the spell of security is broken—the charm of serenity is dissolved—the flood-gate of the passions is thrown open—the “auri sacra fames” takes possession of the soul—and the dæmon of the night enrols one more name on the list of his victims!

The Spartan practice of exhibiting the drunken slave to disgust the rising generation with the vice of inebriety, was a doubtful experiment at best—but, in the present case, there can be no doubt at all as to its inapplicability. There is always seen a certain proportion of the fair sex round the gambling-tables—many of them playing with quite as much desperation as the men. It is melancholy to state that, we too often see delicate English females squeezing in between parded Jew and whiskered German, to stake their gold or silver on the gyrations of a ball or the colour of a card!

Here is an excellent normal school, where the wives, and daughters, and sons of our nobility and gentry can learn the rudiments—“and something more”—of heartless vice and headlong dissipation, without reference to sectarian creed, theological faith, or national religion;—while the children of the Protestant peasant and mechanic would be contaminated by the presence of Catholic or Dissenter in the same grammar-school, when acquiring the rudiments of reading and writing! If this be not “straining at gnats and swallowing camels,” I know not what is!

And here I may glance at a curious species of one-sided morality strictly enforced by the late Duke of Nassau—the prohibition of gambling in the “curst-hells,” among his own subjects; while free permission is given to all foreigners to rob and plunder each other at roulette and rouge et noir, in the open day—Sundays and Saturdays! When I said free permission, I was wrong. The license to gamble is sold to the bankers of each Cursaal (curst hell) for a large sum—which goes into the ducal treasury. I puzzled my brains, for a long time, in the attempt to discover the principle of this law, and at length found it, as far off as China. The geographers of that country represent the Celestial Empire as occupying nearly the whole of the dry land of this globe—the various other countries of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, being located as small islands dotted in the ocean, and inhabited by barbarians. Now it is clear that the late Duke considered his Duchy of Nassau as the Celestial Empire of Europe, the other nations, as Russia, Prussia, Austria, Italy, Spain, England, America, &c. being mere barbarians, whose morals were not worth preserving—whose souls were not worth saving—and whose gold alone was worth gathering into the royal exchequer at Biberich![16]

The young sovereign of Nassau has now a good opportunity of signalizing his accession to power by abolishing the gambling tables of the Cursaals. The income derived from the licensing of “hells” cannot yield good interest here or hereafter.

THE ADLER, OR EAGLE BATH.

It is not my custom to entertain my readers with the names of hotels, the prices of wines, or the hours of table-d’hôtes. These pieces of information I leave for others. The present anecdote is an exception to the general rule. Having arrived late at Wisbaden, we put up at the nearest hotel, which was the Adler, or Eagle, the one where Dr. Granville resided, and the locality of which is not considered the very best by him. We found it a very good hotel, and well supplied with excellent baths. Early next morning, my friend Mr. Cooper, of Brentford, and myself, took out our tickets from the “Bade-maitre” in the hall, and strolled round the establishment, without meeting with any person whatever. As several of the baths were standing open, we went into the first two that struck our fancy, and bathed. I observed an unusual quantity of the scum or cream on the surface of mine, and which I could have dispensed with. I took the opportunity, however, of examining this cream, by means of four out of the five senses, viz. by sight, touch, taste, and smell. Before I left the bath I came to a conclusion as to its nature and origin. I have not a doubt that, at the great deluge, an immense posse of white antediluvian bears, then as large as elephants, were swept from the polar regions, and hurled headlong into the great cauldron beneath Wisbaden. There they have been simmering from the days of Noah—their flesh, fat, and marrow oozing up daily, in the shape of cream or bear’s grease, as well as broth, through the Kochbrunnen, greatly to the advantage of the Wisbadenites, and the benefit of those afflicted with gout, rheumatism, and the stiff-joints of old age.[17] I am astonished that Dr. Granville and Sir Francis Head should have framed so puny an hypothesis as that of the Kochbrunnen and Chicken-broth. Why, I appeal to every one who has travelled in Germany, whether it would be possible to extract an ounce of fat from all the cocks, hens, and chickens in Nassau, even if stewed in a Papin’s digester for six months together. No, no. The cream and broth of the Kochbrunnen are the veritable essence and decoction of the antediluvian bear, spiced perhaps with a sprinkling of the “organic remains” of wolves, tigers, jackalls, hyenas, and other small gear.

While I was dressing after my dip in this delectable soup, and carrying out the details of my theory, a series of heavy blows and unintelligible vociferations at the door, induced me to think that the hotel was on fire, or that the Kochbrunnen had exploded. I hastily drew the bolt, when in rushed the infuriated bath-master’s cad, with his Medusa-faced cadess, breathing forth all kinds of imprecations on my devoted head; and, from their gestures and actions, menacing me with a drowning instead of a plunging bath! I instantly threw myself into a posture of defence, determined, if I must drink the bear’s broth again, that the cad or his gentle mate should have the first gulp. On seeing this, they retreated a few feet but still kept up a roar of abuse, till I had finished dressing, when my friend Cooper joined in the affray. The assailants followed us, till I had nearly got to the bad-master’s office, where, opening one of Dr. Granville’s volumes, which I had under my arm, I pointed out the notice (not too favourable) which had been already taken of the Adler, and told him that I, too, was a spa-tourist, and would render his baths either famous or infamous, by the portrait which I should draw of them, as a warning to my countrymen. The bath-master was astonished, and not a little terrified. He immediately summoned his cad and cadess, informing them that the English gentleman was an author, and threatened to publish in England an unfavourable account of the hotel and baths. The “cream” of the jest soon came out. It appeared that a dandy of sixty—a Cupid of the grand climacteric, had occupied for the season the bath which I used, taking care that the water should be turned in over night, in order that the cream, or bear’s grease, should have time for concretion on the surface, and thus “smoothe the wrinkled brow,” as well as lubricate the unpliant joints, of this veteran Adonis. The denouement disarmed me of my wrath, especially when I recollected that, in this land of minute regulations, I ought not to have descended into a vacant bath, without the express sanction of the bad-master’s cad, in the subterranean regions. The hotel itself is a very excellent one, and its master, who speaks English, a very civil and obliging host. I recommend it to my countrymen, with this proviso, that they never go into a bath that has an unusual proportion of bear’s grease on the surface, without the cad’s permission, lest they spoil the watery mirroir of some antiquated Narcissus, who hopes—vain hope!—by means of baths and broths, to relume the lack-lustre eye—to efface the time-ploughed furrows from the faded cheek—to communicate elasticity to the indurated muscle—vital heat to the stagnant veins—activity to the body, and energy to the mind:—and all these, after the allotted hours of human existence have danced their giddy rounds[18]—after the cup of enjoyment has over-flowed, times without number, and is now drained to the dregs—after,

has begun to afford feeble shelter against the storms of moral adversity, and the stings of physical infirmity—after the discovery of Solomon, that “all is vanity,” has been amply verified! That humanity should still cling fondly to the cheerful clay, after all these warnings, is not wonderful, because it is the natural impulse and instinct of every animated being, from the gnat to the elephant. But that reasoning man, and woman too, should attempt, not merely to conceal the ravages of time, but deck them out in the false colours of youth, is a mortifying reflection and preposterous exhibition! We see it however, every day—and the Adonis of the Adler is an exquisite specimen.

I shall close this Chapter with an extract from a little work on the Spas of Nassau, published in 1839, by my friend Mr. Lee, who practised three years at Wisbaden, and made himself well acquainted with the remedial efficacy of these waters.

“It is becoming evident in England, that the high reputation which the Wisbaden springs have always enjoyed, for the cure and relief of gouty and rheumatic affections, has not been over estimated, from the numbers who annually return home in an improved state, several of whom having for years been subject to repeated attacks of gout, have escaped any recurrence after a course of the baths, during the whole winter and spring, and have returned in subsequent seasons greatly improved in appearance, more for the purpose of more effectually preserving themselves from a relapse, than from any actual necessity. In cases of long standing, of the atonic kind, with or without deposition of calcareous matter in the joints, occurring in persons beyond the middle period of life, the Wisbaden baths are calculated to render the most eminent service; indeed, according to Dr. Peez, the more inveterate the gout is, the more effectually can it be combated by these waters. Though bathing is the essential part of the treatment, it is advisable in most of these cases to combine with it the internal use of the water. Mild douching will also tend very much to the dispersion of local swellings, puffiness, stiffness of the joints, of the wrist, fingers or foot, and also of chalky concretions, although it should not be used if there be a tendency to inflammatory action, nor until a certain number of baths have been taken. During an attack, the baths will require to be suspended, till the more severe symptoms have subsided; when the patient may again begin, by previously drinking the water, while confined to his room. In general, patients who have been accustomed to free living do not bear a low regimen, and will be the better, after the inflammatory symptoms are allayed, for being allowed some solid food if an inclination be felt for it; care being taken, that the quality be plain and light, and that the quantity be small. In cases of erratic, irregular, or repelled gout, these baths will also most probably be productive of great benefit, and not unfrequently cause the morbid action to restrict itself to one spot; a more regular attack being sometimes induced, previous to an amelioration taking place. Persons who have only experienced two or three attacks, but in whom the predisposition is strong, may generally expect to derive permanent benefit from the baths; provided they are subsequently cautious in their mode of living, and do not indulge too freely in the pleasures of the table; on the other hand, where there is much tendency to acute inflammation, in persons of a plethoric or highly irritable habit, I should consider Wisbaden less likely to suit than a warm alkaline spring, as Vichy or Teplitz. I should be inclined also to counsel many young persons, in whom the gout developed itself at an early age, in consequence of a strong hereditary tendence, to give the preference to a spring of this kind; though it is probable that they would equally derive advantage from Wisbaden. It cannot be expected however, that a single course of the waters would suffice to eradicate the disease; and, in order to have the chance of a permanent cure, persons afflicted with gout would do well to return, for two or three consecutive seasons, to the springs from which they derived benefit; passing the intervening months in a suitable climate, and paying attention to the regulation of their diet and mode of living.

“As the mornings are frequently chilly, and it is of importance to prevent the action of a cold atmosphere on the surface of the body, while under a course of bathing, I do not in general recommend, to English patients, the very early hours of rising and drinking the water, adopted by the Germans; six, or half-past, will be sufficiently early, even for those who take their bath before breakfast, and for those who do not, any time between that hour and half-past seven; breakfast being taken an hour after drinking, and consisting of tea or coffee, according as the one or other is found best to agree. Those who dine at one o’clock, should again drink about seven in the evening; while for those persons who prefer dining at four, or later, from two to three will be the best time for taking their second dose. The effects of the water are thus better sustained than when the whole quantity prescribed is taken in the morning, and an interval of four-and-twenty hours allowed to elapse between the periods of drinking; the water is often thus better digested, and is well borne, when the distention of the stomach by the same quantity if taken before breakfast, would disagree and give rise to unpleasant symptoms, or occasion a too active operation upon the bowels or kidneys.—It is also advisable, when a full course of these and other mineral waters is required, to recommend a temporary suspension of the course, and change of air for three or four days, after a certain period of drinking and bathing has elapsed; by this means, the system is not too early saturated, and the patient returns to resume the use of the water, in a more fit state for its absorption, and with a greater probability of more durable benefit.

“Most chronic rheumatic affections will be removed or greatly relieved by the Wisbaden baths. In the slighter cases, not of long standing, a short course, for about three weeks, will be frequently sufficient. In the more intractable cases of articular and muscular rheumatism, as also in the pains of a rheumatic nature affecting the face, head, and other parts; a more prolonged course will often be required, combined with the use of the douche. In some cases the hot bath, vapour-bath, or douche, may be advantageously employed, especially in elderly persons whose skin is dry, and seldom perspirable. Where however the complaint has supervened upon, or has been continued from an acute attack, in which any symptoms of the heart or pericardium being affected, were present—which is more frequently the case than is generally supposed—it would be well to ascertain, by auscultation and percussion, that none of those symptoms remain, as they would very likely be aggravated by the employment of the water. Those rheumatic affections depending upon long exposure to wet or cold, to which military men on duty are peculiarly subject, are especially relieved by these baths. Two or three bad cases of this kind fell under my observation last year, in which the most beneficial and unexpected results followed a full course of the waters. One gentleman in particular who returned from India invalided, was scarcely able to get about with the assistance of a stick; who was sceptical of the power of mineral waters, and not over-attentive with respect to his diet, recovered the comparatively free use of his limbs before he left Wisbaden, and was completely restored when I met him about a month afterwards, in a steamer on the Mediterranean, being on his way to rejoin his regiment.”

“Those nervous pains recurring in paroxysms affecting the branches of particular nerves of the face, head, or extremities, to which the term neuralgia or tic is generally applied, and which not unfrequently originate from a rheumatic or gouty diathesis, from the suppression of habitual discharges, or of cutaneous eruptions—which causes, though perhaps somewhat exaggerated by continental practitioners, are not sufficiently attended to in England—are more likely to be relieved and cured by a properly directed course of mineral waters, than by pharmaceutical remedies or local applications. To many of these cases Wisbaden would be exceedingly applicable, especially when the functions of the skin are sluggishly performed, and there exists a congested state of the abdominal or pelvic viscera, with retardation or irregularity of the periodical secretion in females. In those cases which appear to arise from other causes, as moral influences, a high state of nervous excitability, &c., I should be more inclined to recommend waters of a different kind, of which I shall have to speak presently. Water or vapour douches may in general be advantageously combined with the baths and the internal use of the same water—or of a water of a different nature, as that of Homburg, Marienbad, &c. according as circumstances may seem to indicate their employment.

“The state of abdominal plethora, with congestion of the liver, and obstruction in the circulation of the vena portæ, termed by the Germans Unterleibsvollblütigkeit, with its consequences, as impaired digestion, deficient or vitiated biliary secretion, piles, &c.—occurring for the most part in persons about or beyond the middle period of life, who have been addicted to the pleasures of the table, and marked by more or less protuberance of the abdomen, with diminished muscular and nervous energy—is one well calculated to be relieved by the use of the Wisbaden waters internally and externally employed. The baths, by exciting the activity of the nervous and vascular systems, and by determining powerfully to the surface, tend most materially to equalize the circulation and remove the internal congestion, while by the internal use of the water the secretions of the mucous membranes, of the alimentary canal, of the liver and kidneys, are improved in quality, and often perceptibly increased in quantity;—at the same time that the mesenteric glands and absorbent vessels are stimulated to increased activity, and the digestion is consequently improved. Even when, under these circumstances, the drinking of the water is not followed by immediate sensible effects, either upon the bowels or kidneys, it is frequently not the less efficient on that account, and unless some inconvenience be experienced, it should be persisted in, as after a certain time copious critical evacuations will often occur, and be followed by immediate relief; whereas were similar effects produced by artificial means, as the exhibition of drugs, the relief would only be temporary, and the frequent repetition of the same or analogous measures, would be necessary, and would tend but little to the permanent amelioration of the patient. In several of these cases, especially where there exists hardness or tension in the region of the liver, spleen, or in other parts of the abdomen, the douche will be of material assistance in the treatment.”

“In many cases of paralysis, baths of mineral waters offer the most efficient, and often the only means of arousing the nervous energy of the system, and of the paralysed parts; and few have a more beneficial influence in this way than those of Wisbaden; but here again it cannot always be determined beforehand, that baths of this kind will be more effectual than those of other springs containing but a small proportion of solid and gaseous substance, as the latter occasionally succeed after the failure of the former. In the obscurity which still envelops the mode of action of mineral baths, this cannot be satisfactorily accounted for, except upon the principle of idiosyncrasy, or by the supposition that the disturbing action of a thoroughly impregnated spring is less adapted to certain of these cases, than the more tranquilizing and sedative influence of a simple thermal, or slightly alkaline, warm spring. In most instances, however, where there does not exist a high degree of nervous excitability, or tendency to fulness in the cerebral vessels, the baths of Wisbaden may be used with great prospect of advantage; especially when the complaint is of a rheumatic origin, depending upon the impression of poisonous influences upon the nervous system, as malaria, the abuse of mercury, or the employment of this and some other metals by workmen; as also in those cases, where the disease appears to be of a purely local nature, not connected with cerebral disease, but arising from deficient energy of the nerves of the part, or of the spinal marrow, consequent upon exposure to cold and wet, or other analogous causes. Even in paralysis affecting a limb or one side of the body, remaining after an apoplectic seizure, baths of this and other mineral waters may often be advantageously employed, provided there be no symptoms of cerebral congestion, or organic disease. Plethoric individuals, and those whose digestive organs are disordered, will frequently require some preparatory treatment, previous to using the baths, in paralytic, as well as in other diseases. These, then, are the principal diseases which the Wisbaden waters are more especially calculated to relieve, and in which their use in the form of baths and douches is the most essential part of the treatment. There are besides various other complaints to which the external or internal use of the water, or both combined, is extremely suitable, in common with several other mineral springs; but of which the peculiar circumstances of each case require to be investigated, in order to enable the practitioner to decide upon the springs likely to be most effectual. Of these, many scrofulous affections will be cured or greatly ameliorated by the internal and external application of these waters; particularly enlarged lymphatic glands of various parts, and of the mesentery, occurring in children or young persons of a torpid habit, with tumid upper lip and abdomen, a vitiated state of the intestinal secretions, and a harsh dry condition of the skin. Here the exciting and resolvent powers of the waters are exceedingly effectual, by improving and augmenting the secretions of the alimentary canal, and of the skin; and, by stimulating the absorbent and vascular systems, mostly cause the speedy diminution of glandular or bony swellings.

“Another case, in which the Wisbaden springs are often eminently serviceable, is, where there is a general disordered state of the health, without the existence of any actual disease, or material derangement of any particular functions, except perhaps impaired digestive powers—as is very frequently seen in Londoners, and inhabitants of other large cities, closely engaged in trading, mercantile or professional occupations; as also in those who have been resident in a tropical or unhealthy climate: such a state, though relieved and palliated for a time by medicines, not unfrequently terminates in serious functional or structural disease, if allowed to continue for a long period—and nothing would tend more effectually to its removal than temporary absence from the cares of avocation, change of air and mode of life, and the employment of a mineral spring like Wisbaden, followed by that of a chalybeate water, in those cases where it is not counterindicated.

“The same may be said of several cases of hypochondriasis, with disordered digestive powers, to which Wisbaden is applicable, both on account of its waters, tending to rectify the deranged state of the digestive organs, and also from the beneficial influence which would be exerted in most instances on the patient’s morale, by the movement of the place, its cheerful appearance, the beauty of its environs, and the neighbourhood of so many objects of interest. To some patients of this class, tepid bathing with the internal use of a cold gaseous spring is most applicable. To others again, certain other mineral springs are best adapted.

“The suppression or painful performance of periodical functions peculiar to females, is frequently benefitted by the Wisbaden baths; especially, if the cause be cold, checked perspiration, or a congested state of the abdominal or pelvic viscera. Some syphilitic affections, especially where much mercury has been employed, and certain chronic cutaneous diseases, as psoriasis, impetigo, &c. where the skin is generally in a dry state; as also eruptions of the face depending upon derangement of the alimentary canal or liver, will often be removed, by baths of a warm saline water, like Wisbaden; and likewise by sulphurous or alkaline springs, either alone, or combined with the internal use of the same, or some other mineral water. In certain bronchial and laryngeal affections, with cough, and scanty or deficient expectoration, the Wisbaden baths, combined with the internal use of the water, and the inhalation of its vapour, may be expected to be of material advantage.

“On the other hand, these springs, like most others, will generally be prejudicial in organic disease of the lungs, heart, or large vessels, in disorganisation of the abdominal or pelvic viscera, with fever, profuse hemorrhagy or discharges per vaginam, either depending upon relaxation or upon the presence of hypertrophy, polypus, or other structural disease.”[19]

SCHLANGENBAD.

The extensive cook-shop and laboratory under Wisbaden have communicated no small portion of caloric to the air, as well as to the waters of that place. We no sooner begin to ascend the slopes or ridges of the Taunus than we experience a remarkable transition from languor and oppression to vigor and elasticity—not confined to the physique, but extending also to the morale. Of the two roads from Wisbaden to Schlangenbad, we preferred the mountainous, or inland route, to that along the Rhine, for the sake of a bracing air and a boundless prospect. We trotted merrily along the hills and vales of the Taunus, over a Macadamized road, till, in two hours, we found ourselves, all at once, in a romantic dell or valley, bounded on both sides, by densely wooded mountains rising nearly perpendicular, from the narrow space between. In this small compass rise three or four huge buildings, white as snow, and each having more windows than there are days in the year. I set them down as manufactories of cotton or cutlery, but the absence of all clanking of machinery or hissing of steam, soon undeceived me. On driving into a little square between the two principal Hoffs, all was silent as Pompeii—and not a human being was seen in any direction. There was no competition here between the two chief hotels—both belonging to one master—and he the sovereign of the country. As it was about 12 o’clock, all true Germans were in their holes and corners, meditating on, and preparing for the grand business of the day—the onslaught of the couteau and fourçhette at the mittag table-d’hôte. To the Serpent’s Bath, the intervening hour was dedicated. The cosmetic and renovating qualities of the Schlangenbad are nearly as far-famed now as the cauldron of Medea was, in days of yore. The Old Man of the Brunnens dipped his pencil in prime copal varnish, when he embellished the baths of this sequestered valley. The description is a real bijou of its kind,—a diamond of the first water—equally profitable to the pen of the painter and the purse of the royal proprietor!