LEAVE OF ABSENCE.
In the year 1851 my magisterial duties, which did not indeed afford any incident worthy of being particularized, were interrupted by a severe attack of gastric fever; on my recovery from which, I was directed by my medical attendant to proceed to Wiesbaden, and take such baths and drink such mineral waters as should be prescribed by a certain English physician residing there, Dr. Lewis. I waited on the Chief Secretary, Sir William Somerville, who subsequently became Lord Athlumney, and requested leave of absence for a month or six weeks. He took a printed form of reply, directed it to me, and signed it. By this document I was granted "leave of absence for ——." On remarking to him that he had not specified the duration of the indulgence, the worthy gentleman was pleased to compliment me by saying, "I have left a blank for the time. Go, and stay until your health and strength are completely renovated, and fill up the blank at your return. You are deserving of the most favourable treatment." I record with gratitude and pride such an acknowledgment of my anxious endeavours to discharge my official duties with efficiency; but I must also say that kindness and benignity were amongst his prominent characteristics. I left Dublin at the latter end of May, and proceeded through London to Ostend, and from thence by railway to Bonn, where I commenced ascending "the wide and winding Rhine." Whilst waiting at the wharf for the steamer, and contemplating "The castled crag of Drachenfels," I thought of Byron's lines, in which he describes the scenery which appeared so enchanting to Childe Harold, and also how
"Peasant girls with deep blue eyes,
And hands which offer early flowers,
Walk smiling o'er this paradise;"
and I felt that the landscape before me transcended even his description. I had, however, the greatest contrast offered to my view so far as regarded eyes, hands, or smiles. Four females approached with flowers, which they desired to sell. They were all old women, and they constituted, in their features and figures, the most complete realization of hideous ugliness. It is not my intention to attempt any description of the scenes which successively astonished and delighted me whilst proceeding up the Rhine from Bonn to Mentz. I would fully adopt the unexaggerated truth contained in four short lines—
"The river nobly foams and flows,
The charm of this enchanted ground,
And all its thousand turns disclose
Some fresher beauties varying round."
I found the steamer extremely convenient and most agreeable, especially for a person debilitated by severe and recent indisposition. I do not recollect the charges for conveyance or refreshments, but I considered them moderate, and relished my repasts greatly, whether as regarded their materials, culinary preparation, or table attendance. The few hotels at which I stopped were very comfortable in every respect. At the Giant Hotel, Coblentz, I observed that the delicious wine, sparkling Moselle, was given for a Rhenish florin and a half, (two shillings and sixpence,) per bottle, and that Guinness's Dublin Porter was precisely the same price there. I have heard some Germans, who understood English, remark on the designation almost universally given to the Rhenish wines by us. The vineyards are nearly all on places considerably elevated, and the names of the wines have generally the prefix of "High." The German word is "Hoch," and they give it a guttural pronunciation which the Irish and Scotch can utter perfectly, but which an Englishman cannot accomplish. He hardens "hoch" into "hock," and adopts the prefix alone as the name of the exhilarating fluid, and we follow his example. The mistake, however, is perfectly harmless, for the abbreviation has not lessened the production, or deteriorated the flavor of the liquor.
At Coblentz, I saw in a square before a church, the name of which I do not remember, a monument with two inscriptions, the first of which I considered indicative of silly and premature pride, whilst the second formed an instance of a complete junction of wit and wisdom. In 1812, when the French had occupied Moscow, the prefect of Coblentz erected the monument and inscribed it thus—
AN. MDCCCXII.
Memorable par la Campagne
Contre les Russes,
Sous la prefecture de Jules Doazan.[10]
In 1814 the fortunes of war had necessitated the retreat of the French before the allied forces, and Coblentz was occupied by the Russians. Instead of demolishing the memorable record of the previous campaign, the Russian commander of the force, by which the town was captured, caused a supplementary statement to be added, which clearly showed the complete change of affairs. The addition was as follows:—
Vu et approuve par nous, Commandant Russe de la ville
de Coblentz. 1 Jan. 1814.[11]
The people of Coblentz appeared to enjoy drawing a stranger's notice to these inscriptions, and it was easy to perceive that they considered the annexation of the Rhenish provinces to France, by the first Napoleon, as not merely objectionable, but detestable and insufferable. I believe that the same sentiments pervaded every part of Germany, which had been under the rule or in the occupation of the French. As far as my sojourn in Germany enabled me to form an opinion, I thought that the people liked the English very much, and thoroughly disliked the French. I found them most friendly, and on several occasions when I have wished to procure fruit, and produced money, pointing at the same time to apple, pear, or plum trees, in the unfenced gardens and orchards near Wiesbaden, the tree would be shaken, and signs made to me to pick up the fallen fruits, and money would be declined. This kindness was accorded to me because I was deemed an Englishman. I do not believe that an apple would have been gratuitously tendered to a Frenchman. In the places of public amusement, I repeatedly heard a certain lively tune played. It seemed to be decidedly popular, and I was informed that it owed its popularity to the fact of having been the quick-step to which the Prussians advanced upon the flank of the French army at the close of the battle of Waterloo.
In the preceding paragraph, I have mentioned unfenced gardens and orchards. I have passed along roads in the Rhenish land where, for five or six miles, there were no fences whatever between the highway and grounds appropriated to the culture of choice fruits and vegetables, and where no hedge, wall, or ditch intervened to distinguish or separate one holding from another. The bounds were marked by poles, on the tops of which bits of straw or dried rushes were placed; but even such marks were not considered necessary at the edges of the public thoroughfare. Of course, in those districts grazing was impracticable. No sheep or goats were to be seen, no horses, unless such as were yoked or saddled; and the food for the cows was usually conveyed, in the morning and evening, from the place of its production, in a cart drawn by one of themselves. The summer feeding for the cattle consisted of clover, Italian rye-grass, Lucern, American cow-grass, or vetches. I observed that the fodder was cut and left lying sufficiently long to become flagged before it was given to the animals. The tillage in those districts presented a great contrast to the generality of Irish crops. Neatness and cleanliness characterized the German culture, and the weeds were excluded from the partnership which is so liberally accorded to them here. Near Wiesbaden, I saw a very flourishing crop, which occupied, in my opinion, about two acres, and I was informed by Dr. Greiss, that the elevation of the place above sea-level was 2400 ft. The growth was tobacco, for the production of which our soil and climate are as well suited as those in which the Germans cultivate it. There it is taxed, or, as I believe, taken by the Government at a valuation, and made an Imperial monopoly. Here it is prohibited, to form, perhaps, a very apt and forcible illustration of the principle of Free Trade.
The springs at Wiesbaden are not numerous, but they constitute great natural curiosities. There is one which, if I remember rightly, is called the Kochbrunnen. It is intensely hot; and I was told that even in winter, the water is used for scalding the hair off slaughtered pigs. It gushes up profusely; and yet, within fifty yards of it, there is a spring extremely cold and effervescent, precisely similar to the Seltzer water. Whilst the Roman empire continued, almost all the Rhineland was appurtenant to it, and Wiesbaden was then designated "Mattiacæ aquæ." It is believed that Nero visited it for the benefit of his health; and there is a locality close to the town, where he is said to have sojourned, and which is named Nerothal, (Nero's valley.) Some ancient edifices have Latin inscriptions denoting their former use or the names of their pristine occupants. The Germans take special care of such antique remains; and instead of destroying relics of heathenism, they show them as indicating a state of darkness and degradation to which Christianity offers the greatest and most glorious contrast. In reference to the gratitude of their votaries to Pagan deities for benefits attributed to the exercise of their peculiar powers, I only recollect one mythological inscription, which I was prevented from forgetting by a ludicrous comment on it, made by a Manchester visitant at Wiesbaden. In the Ræmerbad, (Roman bath,) there was a mural tablet in perfect preservation, every letter on the stone being as distinct as when cut many centuries ago. It was as follows:—
"Æsculapio sanatori, milites quatuordecimæ legionis, ob
valetudinem restaurtam, hanc tabulam votivam.
D.D.D."
The Manchester gent and I had become acquainted at the table d'hôte of the "Four Seasons," and we happened to stroll into the Ræmerbad at the same time. Pointing to the mural tablet, he said—
"Mr. Porter, they say that is Latin."
"Yes," I replied, "you have been rightly informed."
"Could you untwist it, and tell us what it is about?"
"I shall try. To Æsculapius the healer, the soldiers of the fourteenth legion, in consequence of their health being restored, give, inscribe, and dedicate this votive tablet."
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "those chaps were wide awake; and they knew how to pay a nice compliment, for of course this Skewlaypius was their regimental doctor."
I regretted that there was not another tablet extant declaratory of their veneration and devotion to Mars, for it would have elicited the interesting suggestion that his military rank was, at least, that of a colonel.
I recollect seeing on an ancient tower of octagonal form, near Andernach, an inscription, in reference to which I heard many conjectures, and some of them extremely absurd. It was as follows:—
"Siste paululum, ambula paululum, sedere vetitum est, et
dormire est mori."[12]
The conclusion at which I arrived was, that immediately beneath this direction a sentinel's station had been established, and that whether he stood, or walked "his lonely round," he was to bear in mind that to slumber on his post was inexcusable, and subjected him to the forfeiture of life.
One day I sat, in the large dining-room of the Four Seasons, near a noble lord who, with his lady, had been there for some weeks. She was a native of Germany, and he was an Irishman who possessed extensive estates in a southern county. I heard him say to a gentleman, who was recommending him to visit Frankfort-on-the-Maine, that he could not adopt his suggestion, as he was obliged to start for home on the next day but one. That evening I was speaking to the landlord, and mentioned that I had heard my noble countryman tell his friend that he was about to leave. The landlord replied, "I am delighted to hear that they are going, for her other husband is to be here next week, and their meeting would be rather unpleasant, especially as he is bringing his other wife."
At a short distance from Wiesbaden, the road to Schlangenbad (the serpent's bath) passes through a portion of a very extensive forest. In one of my rambles, I left the highway, and walked into the dense wood, and when I thought that I had gone far enough, and that it was time to return, I became suddenly aware that I had lost my way. In a state of extreme uneasiness I walked for more than an hour, frequently shouting, but without hearing any responsive voice. Dismal ideas arose in my mind as to the probability of having to meet dangers and privations beyond my power of resistance or endurance. At length I found that there was a hill before me, on which the trees were rather sparse; and having attained the elevation, I was relieved from my apprehensions by a glimpse of the Rhine, and immediately directed my steps towards the river, and soon emerged from the forest. If any of my readers should contemplate a visit to any place in the vicinity of extensive woods, they will avoid all liability to such annoyance as I suffered, by refraining from solitary forest rambles, and by taking such excursions with a guide, or with companions acquainted with the localities. Before I left Wiesbaden, a young gentleman named Vernon was found dead in the Taunus forest. His death was attributed to the bite of an adder or viper.
In the Kursahl, at Wiesbaden, there was a Roulette table, and also one for Rouge et Noir. The gambling was not considered at all comparable to the play at Baden-Baden; nevertheless, I have seen many instances of serious, perhaps of ruinous losses. On one occasion I observed an Englishman who sat down at the Rouge et Noir table. He had a large leathern purse full of gold, and certainly more than one thousand pounds in Bank of England notes of fifty pounds each. In less than an hour, all his money was absorbed, and some exclamations, garnished with imprecations, as he retired, impressed me with the opinion that he was reduced to destitution. Whilst I express the warmest approval of the abolition of those gambling establishments, and their recent suppression in the German towns, I must admit having tried my luck occasionally to the extent of four florins (about six shillings and eightpence.) In almost every instance the remorseless rake added my stake to the accumulations of "the bank." On the last evening that I was at the Kursahl, I went in a party of nine persons, of whom six were ladies. One of my fair companions proposed that each of us should contribute four florins, and stake the amount on red. This was acceded to, and I stepped forward and placed the money on the colour. The bystanders were numerous, and when it was announced that the red had won, I picked up the seventy-two florins, but whilst doing so, I heard an exclamation from one end of the crowd—"That would be a nice story to tell at the Dublin police-office."
During my stay at Wiesbaden, I visited Mentz, or Mayence, several times. On the first occasion, I was crossing the bridge from the right bank of the Rhine, and met a young officer in Austrian uniform. At that period Mentz was termed a Confederate town, and its garrison was composed of an equal number of Prussian and Austrian troops. I had seen enough of them at Wiesbaden to satisfy me that an inquiry on the part of a stranger would receive a kind and polite reply. I consequently accosted the gentleman in French, being quite destitute of German beyond the name of the place to which I wished to go, which was the Music Garden. To my surprise and great gratification, he said, "If it is the same thing to you, Mr. Porter, to speak English, I shall give you any information in my power." I told him that I wanted a direction to the Music Garden, and he replied, "I have to leave an order with the officer on guard at the Cassel end of the bridge, and then I shall return to my quarters, and the Music Garden is on the way, I shall show it to you in a few minutes." During our walk, I asked him how he knew my name, and was informed that he remembered seeing me at the assizes of Nenagh; that he was a "Tipperary boy," born and reared within sight of the Devil's Bit Mountain, and his name was Scully. He was a captain in an infantry regiment, and appeared to be perfectly contented with his position and its attendant prospects. We thoroughly fraternized, and I never again went to Mentz without calling at his quarters. He expressed an intention of visiting Ireland, and promised to favor me with a renewal of our friendly intercourse in Dublin; but my hopes of seeing him have not been realized, and I fear that he has not escaped all the disastrous combats in which, since 1851, the Austrian forces have been engaged.
Nothing tends more to render a sojourn in the Rhineland agreeable, than the great number of persons connected with hotels, railways, steamers, and other public establishments, who understand English. Indeed I may extend the observation to Belgium also. A foreigner in Dublin, if he is unacquainted with our language, has to encounter more difficulties than we would have to contend with in the places to which I have referred. This is to be regretted; for exquisitely beautiful as Rhenish, Swiss, or Italian scenery may be justly considered, still Ireland can present to a foreign tourist, views numerous and extensive, which cannot be surpassed in picturesque beauty. I have never met a foreigner who had seen the principal places of attraction in our country, who was not most enthusiastic in his expressions of admiration. Our insular position is no longer a serious obstacle to the traveller who may wish to visit even the most remote districts; and it is to be hoped that at no distant time Ireland shall be far better known by strangers. They should be encouraged by the most respectful and attentive treatment; and when we find that in the Mechanics' Institute of Dublin, a member will be instructed in French, German, or Italian, at the very moderate charge of six shillings per quarter, it is not creditable to our trading and operative classes that they should not attain to educational acquirements equal to those possessed by a considerable number of the same classes in several continental countries. Although I am a Dublin man, I regret that I must admit the superiority of Cork as regards the means of satisfactory communication with foreigners, understanding them and being understood.
Before I close my observations on the very interesting portion of Germany in which I had so agreeable a sojourn, I shall relate a couple of incidents from which my readers may form an idea as to the honest tendencies of the people. I spent an evening, along with some of my Wiesbaden associates, at the Music Garden of Mentz, and the weather being rather close and sultry, I took off a waterproof overcoat, and laid it on a rockery just beside our refreshment table. When the musical performances and other amusements had terminated, I departed without recollecting the garment, and arrived at Wiesbaden before I became aware of my forgetfulness. Next morning I set off to Mentz to try my chance of recovering the vestment, but with very slight hopes of succeeding. At the garden, a person connected with the establishment, on being informed of my business, said, in English, "Come to the place where you threw off your overcoat, and you will most probably find it." Accordingly, when we reached the rockery, I saw the coat lying where I placed it, and having possessed myself of it, observed to my conductor that I was extremely lucky, for unquestionably more than one thousand persons must have passed the spot on the previous evening. "Oh, yes," replied the German; "the garden was crowded, but there was not a man here who saw your coat lying there, without knowing that it was not his."
At Biebrich, the office of the steamers plying on the Rhine is in a house on the quay. It faces the south, but abuts the public thoroughfare without any rails or other fence. On the front wall there were two vines, on which there was an abundant crop of grapes; and on the day of my departure, whilst waiting for the steamer, I remarked to the agent that his fruit was almost ripe, and that it appeared to be of first-rate quality. He said that another week would suffice to ripen them perfectly, and that they were of very fine flavor. I observed that there was a strong temptation for his neighbours, and even for the casual passengers who walked the quay, to assume a partnership in such desirable productions. He seemed surprised at my observation, and told me that no person would interfere with his vines, adding, "The grapes will be all left for me to gather. They have never been taken by anyone else, for they are grown on my wall, and are mine." I do not think that in any part of the United Kingdom there would be the slightest chance of fruit grown in a similar public situation, and unprotected by a strong fence, being left to the enjoyment of its owner, or even allowed to ripen.