WISBADEN.

“Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,”

and establish a chain of sympathies and reciprocities between land and water along the whole course of the Rhine.

We have proceeded but a little way above Coblentz, when we find ourselves between two remarkable ruins—one on the banks of the Lahn, (Lahenec), and one on our right—Stolzenfels. This last has a short legend attached to it, which may be glanced at,en passant.

The robber chief of this strong-hold was remarkable, even among the Rhine-robbers, for cruelty and ferocity. This was not all. He contemned the gods, and laughed at religion as the superstition of the ignorant.In the intervals of robbery and murder, he amused himself with tormenting his vassals, whose lives hung upon the mere caprice of their tyrant lord. One evening, while carousing and scoffing, the light of the moon was suddenly obscured—flocks of ravens flew screaming through the air—darkness overspread the Rhine—and distant thunder was heard growling among the mountains. The Stolzenburger turned pale, and, for the first time in his life, fell on his knees to pray. Before he could utter a word, a dreadful crash was heard—a thunderbolt had struck the castle—and the tyrant was buried in the ruins!

A death-bed repentance may be better than none; but that piety which is extorted by terror, hardly deserves the name.

The long and straight reach of the river, from the entrance of the Lahn to the chateau of Liebneck, presents no striking feature, except the frowning castle (now an hospital) ofMarksburg, crowning an apparently inaccessible mountain, which modern art might render impregnable. In another reach or two, we pass Boppart, and come to the scene of a legendary tale.

A little aboveBoppart, but on the opposite side of the river, two mouldering ruins, on two craggy rocks, close to each other, arrest the attention of even the most indifferent passenger. The legend attached to them is of a very melancholy character. A nobleman had two sons and an amiable ward, of whom both of the brothers were enamoured. The elder resigned his pretensions, and retired to Rheuse, a part of the family estate. The younger was affianced to, and beloved by, the beautiful ward,Eloise, whose name deserves to be transmitted to posterity. The Holy, but insane Crusades, however, induced the intended bridegroom to join the military bigots of that day, in a war of extermination against the Musselmen. The result of his religious zeal was the conquest—not of the Holy City, but of a Grecian mistress, with whom he returned to his castle on the Rhine. The elder brother (Liebenstein), incensed at this double crime (profanation of the crusade and breach of his vows to the lady), challenged him to mortal conflict. The amiable ward (Louisa) rushed between the combatants—prevented fratricide—and immediately took the veil. The guilty pair led, at first, a riotous, but soon a wretched life. The Grecian lady proved faithless, and eloped! The brothers became reconciled—lived in the contiguous castles, whose ruins are still seen—and died withoutissue!—The property of the ward was dedicated to the purpose of founding a convent (Bornhoffen) at the foot of the mountain on which the castles were built. As to the brothers—

They never enter’d court or town,Nor looked on woman’s face,But childless to the grave went down,The last of all their race.And still upon the mountain fair,Are seen two castles gray,That, like their lords, together thereSink slowly to decay.[10]

They never enter’d court or town,

Nor looked on woman’s face,

But childless to the grave went down,

The last of all their race.

And still upon the mountain fair,

Are seen two castles gray,

That, like their lords, together there

Sink slowly to decay.[10]

The darker features of this drama are every day seen on the stage of life. Lovers’ vows plighted, soon to be broken—man’s promises of eternal love cancelled—women’s hopes and happiness blighted—but perfidy sooner or later punished.

It was enough for Sternfels to bring home a mistress from Palestine, without parading his guilty partner before the eyes of his betrothed and insulted Louisa. Yet this,and worse, we every day witness! Sternfels’ punishment was not light. The ingratitude of his mistress, and a life of solitude and remorse, were severe chastisements!

Winding along from the ruins last-mentioned, we come to a very striking object, a little short of St. Goar, which attracts the attention of all passengers. It is a dismantled fortification, still black with the powder by which it was blown up in the French revolution. TheRheinfelswas long a robber-fortress of the first water, and its tyrant chiefs carried their depredations and extortions to such a height as to league all the adjacent provinces against them. The chiefs held out and defied the country; but at length the strong-hold fell—and, with it, the whole of the brigand castles on both sides of the Rhine.

Almost immediately after passing the ruins of the Rheinfels, we enter a narrow and sombre river gorge, where the stream is impetuous, turbulent, and tortuous; the cliffs of dark basalt rising almost perpendicular, but in rugged strata or layers, inclining in all directions from the horizontal to nearly the vertical. Here the Rhine like its sister the Rhone—

——“Cleaves its way betweenRocks that appear like lovers who have partedIn haste; whose mining depths so intervene,That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted.”

——“Cleaves its way between

Rocks that appear like lovers who have parted

In haste; whose mining depths so intervene,

That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted.”

And here is still heard that prattling nymph, MissEcho, who, like many a descriptive tourist, repeats her parrot-note for the tenth time—with no other variation than that of diminished force and distinctness. This lady, who, when young, was dismissed from the skies for allowing her tongue to wag too freely, has since endured the severe punishment of keeping silent, except when spoken to! She is not permitted to ask, but only to iterate questions—having the privilege, on some rare occasions, and in some peculiar places, of repeating the said question, or rather the last word or syllable of it twice or even many times. The present spot is one of these favourite localities—and the voices which she loves to hear and to imitate are those of the cannon, the bugle, and the horn. The clanking and plashing of the steamers are unfavourable to the delicate iterations of Echo, and often drown her voice entirely. Though not so witty as her sister of Killarney, who answers, instead of repeating the questions put to her, yet she occasionally cracks a joke on the mayor of the neighbouring town, when some stentorian German bawls out from the opposite rock, “Who is the mayor of Oberwesel?” The damsel, with a faint but clear titter, replies, “esel”—or ass! so that lord mayors on the banks of the Rhine, as well as of the Thames, are sometimes treated with ridicule.

There can be little doubt that boat-wrecks, raft-wrecks, and loss of life were of frequent occurrence in a locality like this, where the rapid stream is twisted into whirlpools, between rugged banks, the very proximity of which increases the difficulty of the passage, and the danger of drowning, where the vessel or flotilla is stranded. The eddying surge, the sunken rock, and the serrated perpendicular shore, in a dark and tempestuous night, must render the navigation of this dreary ravine most hazardous—and escape, in case of an overturn, all but hopeless.

That a place so singular and so perilous, coupled with a remarkable and musical echo, should become the scene of some popular or superstitious legend, is not at all wonderful. Accordingly a fourthSirenwas added to the classical list, and located on the banks of the Rhine, instead of the coast of Sicily, to lure (lurlei) the enchanted mariner from his helm or oar, by her melodious song, and wreck himself and bark on the treacherous rocks. Lurley carried on the trade of her elder sisters for some time, with considerable success, but not without some redeeming qualities; for she often pointed out the best places for the poor fishermen to cast their nets. At length a young Palatine Count determined to emulate the hero of Ithaca, and break the spell of the enchantress. For that purpose he embarked on the Rhine, and steered towards the dangerous pass, but without taking the precaution of the wily Greek, to stop the ears of the crew with wax, and cause himself to be bound to the mast. As thecount’s barge approached the rocks, Lurley poured forth one of her most melodious lays over the face of the river. The men dropped their oars, and the count’s senses were all absorbed in listening to the divine strains. A sudden eddy of the stream whirled the boat’s head towards the shore—another dashed her against the rocks—and, in another instant, all were engulphed in the boiling whirlpool!

This catastrophe caused a great sensation, and the count’s father sent a veteran warrior, with a select party of soldiers, to surround the rock, and seize the sorceress. On approaching the summit, Lurley was seen for the first time by human eyes, with arms, ankles, and neck encircled with corals, and even her flowing tresses braided with the same emblems of the deep. She demanded their purpose. The veteran announced his determination to force her into the Rhine, there to expiate the death of the young count. Lurley replied, by throwing her corals into the river, singing at the same time—

Entends ma voix, puissant Pere des eaux,Fais parter, sans delai, tes rapides chevaux.

Entends ma voix, puissant Pere des eaux,

Fais parter, sans delai, tes rapides chevaux.

Instantly a great storm arose—the river boiled with foam—and two towering waves, bearing some resemblance to milk-white steeds, surged along the rock, and boreUndine(for such was the nymph) to her paternal grottoes under the waters. From that time the song of Lurley was never heard; but her spirit still hovers about her favourite rocks, and mimicks the voices of the boatmen as they pass the place.

The veteran warrior returned to the count’s father, and was agreeably surprised to find the son safely returned to his paternal mansion by the kindUndine.

A contemplation of this locality irresistibly leads me to the conclusion that, here existed in some remote period, a cataract, similar to that now existing, but rapidly crumbling down, as at Schaffhausen. The alluvial plains between Heidelberg and the present bed of the Rhine, were unquestionably a large lake, which would be drained by the wearing down of a cataract at some lower part of the river. When the falls of the Rhine at Schaffhouse are reduced to mere rapids, it is probable that the lake of Constance will become an alluvial valley. The valley of the Rhone was once a lake, till the flood-gate at St. Maurice gave way, and converted the lake into a plain. The huge walls of basaltic rock piled up in strata on each side of the Rhine at Lurley, torn by fire and worn by water, draw the mind to contemplate the myriads of years which must have rolled along, since first they upsprung from the bowels of the earth in liquid lava—and the countless ages required to form this sombre gorge by the mere attrition of the unceasing current!

While passing the picturesque little town of Oberwesel, and just beyond the Lurley-rocks, we raise the eye to the ruins ofSchomberg, 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 theRedeemerinculcated 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 ofFaith.

Cupidis 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 certainof 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 theLurley 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!

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!

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 oppositeCaubwe 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 forthe Rhenish palatines of the adjacent castle ofStahlee. 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.

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

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 Cimmeriandarkness. 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 theStarling,” says the old man, “by the riddles which it has got by rote and is always propounding—theRookby its hoarse croak—and theMagpie, 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—

“Ma grand-mêre etait une pie,Qui pondait des œufs d’ou sortaient des pies.Et si elle n’etait pas morte,Elle serait encore en vie.”[11]

“Ma grand-mêre etait une pie,

Qui pondait des œufs d’ou sortaient des pies.

Et si elle n’etait pas morte,

Elle serait encore en vie.”[11]

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 mirrorsand 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 ofWesperthal.

I think the allegory of Wesperthal is little inferior to that ofCirce, 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 arenowno charades of the starling, croakings of the rook, or magpie chatterings about ancestral honours, among the wives and daughters of the nineteenth century.

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 ofLorch, rises abruptly the craggy, and apparently inaccessible mountain ofKedrick, 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.Sibodrove him from his gate with rudeness, and even brutality. Next day, when the dinner-bell rang,Garlinda, the only child ofSibo, 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 wretchedSibonow 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, andSibogave up all expectation of recovering his daughter; whenRuthelm, a brave young knight, who had distinguished himself in the wars against the Infidels, returned to theplace 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—

——lest the deficient sightTopple down headlong.——

——lest the deficient sight

Topple down headlong.——

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, whohad 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.

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-likeReason, which distinguishesManfrom theBrutecreation. The latter have but one governing passion orinstinct, each, from which they cannot deviate, and which never fails to lead them to their proper objects. But even inMan, and especially in uncultivated states of mind,Reasonis 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 neednot 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 manySiboswho 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—

“Love will hope where Reason would despair.”

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—

“Youthful poets fancy when they love.”

Whether time and experience have alwaysrealized(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.

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 beautifulmaiden, 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—andYuttabecame the bride ofSifred. 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! Therunawaymarriage of Rheinstein was far preferable to many of those slow and stately processions which attend the contracts of fashionable modern life!

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 (notourchurch), 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.

“They gnawed the arras above and beneath,They ate each savoury dish up.And shortly their sacrilegious teethBegan to nibble the bishop!”

“They gnawed the arras above and beneath,

They ate each savoury dish up.

And shortly their sacrilegious teeth

Began to nibble the bishop!”

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!

One morning his skeleton there was seen,By a load of flesh the lighter,They had picked his bones uncommonly clean,And eaten his very mitre!

One morning his skeleton there was seen,

By a load of flesh the lighter,

They had picked his bones uncommonly clean,

And eaten his very mitre!

The moral is good, though the tale is improbable. But if theAuto da Féof 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—

“Cœlum non animum mutantqui trans mare currunt.”

“Cœlum non animum mutant

qui trans mare currunt.”

which I would liberally translate thus:—

O’er sea and land the guilty flies,To blunt the stings of conscience keen;Vain hope! That “worm that never dies,”Preys on his vitals all unseen!

O’er sea and land the guilty flies,

To blunt the stings of conscience keen;

Vain hope! That “worm that never dies,”

Preys on his vitals all unseen!

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.

After passingBingen, 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—

“Twilight’s soft shades stole o’er the village green,With magic tints to harmonize the scene,”

“Twilight’s soft shades stole o’er the village green,

With magic tints to harmonize the scene,”

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 celebratedKochbrunnen, or chicken-broth distillery at Wisbaden.

This is one of the most celebrated spas in Germany—and more frequented, as amedicinal 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, butnot 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. TheCursaalis 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 theKochbrunnen, (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 thePlatte, 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.Wurzerexpresses the opinions of the first class thus:—“As Nature is performing her operations in her immense laboratory, she has here agalvanic apparatusof immense size. Extensive masses of mountains,perhapsof unfathomable depth,probablyform the individual plates of this voltaic column.” This is tolerably bold. While Brand and Faraday are dissolving metals by the tiny galvanic apparatus in AlbemarleStreet, 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 intoanimated beingswhich 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 apeculiar 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]

Theitalicsare 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, andcompels 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 theswallow of John Bull. He has therefore substituted a much more rational and intelligible reason for the effects of thermal spas—namely, theircaloricity, 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 causeshead-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 reactiontaking place in the beginning of the patient’s making use of the water, mentioned above, returns withsome individuals. I have observed this being the case particularly with females of a hysteric disposition, attended with atendencyto 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 withplethora 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 copiouspurgationof 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 followingauxilio-preservative(if I may so term it), will be found of essential service every night before taking the morning waters.

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.

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 oftic douloureuxdown 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 orother 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 ischronicrheumatism 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. Thesequences of mercurial coursesfor 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.

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

1. Allacutediseases—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—severederangement 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 ofsaturationin 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 butonedegree 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 ofsaturationis 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.Hypochondriasisis 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.

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