SCHWALBACH.
The wizzard of Nassau—the knight of the “Bubbles,” has wrought a real modern miracle—the transmutation of water into wine, or rather into nectar.
“The conscious Brunnens saw their god and blushed.”
Every spring in the Duchy has danced more merrily, and bubbled more briskly to the beams of the rising sun, since the children of Albion have swarmed round the living fountains, in search of health or amusement. Well may Dr. Fenner say—“cette reputation est due surtout aux Anglais. La plume caustique de Head a puissament contribué à nous faire-faire une connaissance plus intime avec cette nation.” The pen of Sir Francis may be likened to the bath of Schlangenbad—
“Nullum tetigit quod non ornavit.”
By “ornavit” I do not mean the embellishment which is sometimes synonymous with exaggerations or distortions; but merely that charm which the pen of genius can throw round the most common subjects. Schwalbach is still as it was, in a deep narrow valley—and invisible till we are within a few hundred yards of it. The houses, though more generally painted, and greatly increased in number since the time of the “Old Man,” are still as though they had been shaken in a bag and scattered through the ravine, without the slightest regard to order or regularity. Sir Francis could find no shops in his time—now he would find a bazaar! The town is still somewhat in the form of a Y or a fork, at the end of one prong of which is the Stahl-brunnen—while the other prong, or rather prongs, boasts of two hygeian fountains—the Wein-brunnen and the Paulinen-brunnen. The Wein-brunnen is the most powerful—the Stahl-brunnen is the most palatable—and the Pauline is the most fashionable. The climate of this place, according to the testimony of Dr. Fenner, supported by that of Sir F. Head and others, is very pleasant and salubrious. On the hills we have cool breezes—in the valley shelter from cold winds—in the woods, ample shade beneath umbrageous foliage, when the sun is powerful and the heat oppressive.
When the “bad humours” of the spa-going invalids have been washed away by copious libations at Aix-la-Chapelle, Ems, and Wisbaden—when the gouty and misshapen limbs have shrunk into “the lean and slippered pantaloon,” beneath the powerful influence of the Kochbrunnen, the Ragoczy, and the Sprudel—when the purple nose of the alderman has faded into the pale proboscis—when the turgid liver, the tumid spleen, and the over-fed corporation have receded within the normal boundaries of a double-reefed waistcoat—when the knotty and contracted joints of rheumatic gout have taken their departure, leaving a legacy of the crutches—when—
“Wrapp’d in his robe, white Lepra hides his stains,
Robb’d of his strength, but unsubdued his pains”—
when tottering palsy has been discharged from Wisbaden and Wildbad, as much reduced in general, as recruited in local power—when blighted ambition, wounded pride, ruined fortunes, and corroding cares, have sapped the energies of mind and body, and marked their impress on the pale and sickly countenance—when the “green and yellow melancholy” of hopeless love or severed affections wanes to the alabaster hue on the maiden’s cheek—then Schwalbach, with its ruby fountains and sparkling gases, comes to the rescue, and works as many miracles and metamorphoses as steel and carbonic acid can any where effect. The saline spas of Germany are all of the radical cast. They are qualified to break down and expel the rotten and decayed parts of the constitution—but they can seldom build up or repair the vacant spaces. The chalybeate spas, among which Schwalbach holds a distinguished rank, unite the principles of conservatism and reform. They are calculated to preserve the original constitution, and to re-form those portions that have been pulled down and extruded by the “mouvement,” or radical waters of the saline class.
In none of the three springs is there more than three-fourths of a grain of iron to the pint—and in the Pauline—the most fashionable one—there is little more than half a grain; but it contains nearly 40 cubic inches of carbonic acid gas to the pint, which, with six grains of carbonate of sodium, two grains of carbonate of lime, and nearly three grains of magnesia, makes it the most ætherial and aperient of the three sisters. The water of the Wein-brunnen is limpid, pleasant to the taste, and sparkling like champaigne. It is very easy of digestion, even when taken in considerable quantity. Almost immediately after being swallowed, it produces an agreeable warmth in the stomach, and thence diffuses a sensation of comfort, nearly amounting to pleasure, through the whole frame. It acts gently on the bowels in most cases. It is easily preserved in bottles for any length of time.
The Stahl-brunnen is the greatest favourite with the ladies. It contains about three-fourths of a grain of iron, and little more than three grains of other substances in the pint. It is sharper and rougher to the taste, and has more of the inky gout than either of the other springs. It is also much more refreshing and exhilarating. The carbonic acid is very abundant. The waters more nearly resemble Champaigne than the other sources, and quickly diffuse a powerful energy over the whole frame. Formerly these waters caused an eruption on the skin; but they do not so at present.
The Pauline was only discovered in 1828, at a depth of fourteen feet. The quantity it discharges is prodigious. The taste is extremely agreeable and refreshing. It is one of the mildest and purest chalybeates that is known. It is very easy of digestion, and operates very gently on the bowels. By quickly amalgamating itself with the blood, it is rapidly diffused through every organ and tissue of the body, producing favourable changes there, and proving a general restorative. The vigor which it inspires is remarkable from day to day—and the change of complexion from pale to rosy, is equally surprising.
The waters of Schwalbach, generally belong to the class of æthereal or volatile chalybeates—very agreeable to the palate, and producing a slight and temporary feeling of intoxication. Their chief ingredients are steel and carbonic acid, in such a state of combination as gives the iron a great efficacy in consequence of its minute solution in the waters.
“At the same time (says Dr. Fenner,) that this spring causes agreeable sensations in the palate and stomach, it excites the muscular fibres and the nerves of the whole alimentary canal, into a state of activity—invigorates the circulation—corrects the secretions—increases them when defective—and gives new vigor to the whole process of digestion and nutrition. In doing this it enlivens the spirits, and imparts tone to the intellectual functions.”
The indications for using the Schwalbach chalybeates, according to the same authority, are the following:—
1. In atony or debility of the stomach and bowels, whether from natural constitution, or from excesses previously committed—whether isolated from other complaints, or connected with affections of other organs, as the liver, spleen, &c. This atony eventuating in difficult, painful, or imperfect digestion, with all its consequences, is remedied by the waters. It is in these kinds of complaints that the Stahl-brunnen is chiefly employed—“the Wein-brunnen being too strong, and the Pauline too volatile.” Strict regimen, in such cases, is indispensible.
2. When the blood is in a watery or deteriorated condition—when it is deficient in red globules—and consequently not fitted to support the energies of the muscles, the tone of the nerves, or the functions of the great organs of assimilation, secretion, &c. It is in such cases that the chalybeates produce their most brilliant and unequivocally good effects. Females, from the delicacy of their constitutions, the effects of civilization, and certain disorders to which their sex subjects them, are the peculiar votaries of these springs. Hence those affected with chlorosis—with hæmorrhages—with menorrhagia—hysteria—obstructions, &c. are seen flocking to Schwalbach, there to regain strength, colour, and health.
“Quels que les noms des maladies qui se developpent, ici le malade peut esperer, avec raison, d’etre gueri. Quelques semaines suffisent souvent pour regenerer ses humeurs d’une maniere sensible.”
Although this is the assurance of a Spa Doctor, yet the nature of these waters, and the reputation they have obtained, produce a considerable degree of confidence in the assertion of Dr. Fenner.
3. In great weakness of the nerves, and where their influence is not sufficient to impart energy to the various functions, particularly of chylification and sanguification, the chalybeates of Schwalbach are said to have proved eminently serviceable. Dr. Fenner asserts their efficacy in hypochondriasis, hysteria, melancholia, and in partial and complete paralysis. In sterility they have also acquired considerable reputation.
COUNTER-INDICATIONS.
The waters of Schwalbach have limits to their medicinal agency, and are even injurious in many states of disease.
1. In plethoric states of the constitution, accompanied by irritable condition of the heart and great vessels—in sanguineous temperaments—and in all cases where there is a tendency to local inflammation or general fever—or even to congestion in any of the organs or tissues of the body. “High attacks of acute inflammation, of hæmorrhage, and of apoplexy, have followed the imprudent employment of these chalybeates.”—Fenner.
2. In those cases of indigestion, connected with, or dependent on, organic disease of stomach, liver, spleen, kidneys, or mesenteric glands, these waters would be improper and hurtful.
3. But the chalybeates of Schwalbach are not to be recommended in cases where the vital powers are greatly prostrated—the blood and humours extremely vitiated—or the nervous system too much shattered. “Those who venture on these waters, under such circumstances, and where the constitution is at so low an ebb,—‘trouvent, loin des siens et de leur patrie, une mort certaine et premature.’”—Fenner.
The waters are taken fasting. The best season is the spring and summer. From one to three glasses are prescribed, with a quarter of an hour’s exercise between each glass. After this a light breakfast, where the bath is not used.
THE BATHS.
These are prescribed in the morning, after taking a glass or two of the waters. They are generally given at a low temperature, such as 90° of Fahrenheit, unless ordered otherwise. They therefore are several degrees lower than the heat of the bather’s blood, and about the same heat as the external surface of the body. They feel neither warm nor cold; but it is asserted by Sir F. Head, who used them for some time, that they impart a feeling of invigoration soon after immersion—and “he could almost have fancied himself lying with a set of hides in a tan-pit.” The same author remarks that they are very apt to produce—“headaches, sleepiness, and other slightly apoplectic symptoms.” He thinks these effects must result from not immersing the head as well as the body. In this he is mistaken. The best way to avoid such consequences is to keep the head cool—and the atmosphere of the bath is and must be many degrees below that of the water. The bare head will therefore be cooler out of the bath than in it. But the fact is, that the symptoms above-mentioned are not seldom apt to occur in all tepid and warm baths, from the action of the waters on the nervous and vascular systems of the surface, producing an excitement and determination to the brain. They should be taken as warnings, and not be trifled with.
Upon the whole, the waters of Schwalbach, from what I could learn on the spot, and from those who have prescribed them, and used them, are very useful and mild chalybeates, which may be considered as a kind of “finish,” after the powerful alterative waters of Wisbaden, and the strong alkaline waters of Ems;—always remembering that Schlangenbad is to give a polish to the surface at the end of the process.
GERMAN SOCIETY AND MANNERS.
There are few places where a stranger can have a better coup-d’œil of German habits and manners, than at the spas; where all ranks and classes, from the prince to the peasant, are jumbled together, without ever jostling each other. They drink together, bathe together, walk together, talk together, smoke together, joke together, dine together, muse together, sup together—and, then go to bed, all with the greatest decorum, quietude, civility—and I may add, ceremony.
“The company,” says Sir F. Head, “which comes to the brunnens for health, and which daily assembles at dinner, is of a most heterogeneous description, being composed of princes, dukes, barons, counts, &c. down to the petty shop-keeper, and even the Jew of Frankfort, Mainz, and other neighbouring towns; in short, all the most jarring elements of society, at the same moment, enter the same room, to partake together, the same one shilling and eight-penny dinner—still, all those invaluable forms of society which connect the guests of any private individual were most strictly observed; and, from the natural good sense and breeding in the country, this happy combination was apparently effected without any effort. No one seemed to be under any restraint, yet there was no freezing formality at one end of the table, nor rude boisterous mirth at the other. With as honest good appetites as could belong to any set of people under the sun, I particularly remarked that there was no scrambling for favourite dishes;—to be sure, here and there, an eye was seen twinkling a little brighter than usual, as it watched the progress of any approaching dish which appeared to be unusually sour or greasy, but there was no greediness, no impatience, and nothing which seemed for a single moment to interrupt the general harmony of the scene; and, though I scarcely heard a syllable of the buzz of conversation which surrounded me; although every moment I felt less and less disposed to attempt to eat what for some time had gradually been coagulating in my plate; yet, leaning back in my chair, I certainly did derive very great pleasure, and I hope a very rational enjoyment, in looking upon so pleasing a picture of civilized life.”
It must be candidly confessed that this scene, which is every where the same, exhibits a striking contrast to spa-society in England, where each class forms a clique that repels its neighbour, as one electrified ball repels another. It is therefore highly desirable that the cause of this happy concordance throughout the whole chain of society on the Continent, should be ascertained, in order, if possible, to introduce it into our own country. Sir F. Head seems to attribute it to a high degree of civilization or refinement. “I fear it cannot be denied that we islanders are very far from being as highly polished as our continental neighbours.” If civilization consist in civility, I admit the truth of this assertion. But a Gentoo is even more civil than a German—and a Chinese is more ceremonious than either—yet we do not place the Hindoo or the Hong at the very top of the tree of civilization.
But I apprehend that this harmonious amalgamation of all ranks and classes in Germany is not to be traced to one, but to several causes. I would attempt to account for the phenomenon by one, or more, or all of the following circumstances.
1. Natural disposition.—2. Education, inducing habit.—3. Comparative paucity of trade, commerce, and manufactures.—4. Government.
1. We see peculiarities in the natural dispositions of nations, as well as of men. Some evince a disposition to music, another to arms, a third to navigation, a fourth to agriculture, a fifth to commerce, &c. The Germans may have a natural disposition to order, quietude, and politeness. Of this I am by no means sure.
2. What is man, individually or collectively, but the creature of those circumstances in which he is placed?—of the elements around him—of the education impressed on him—of the religion within his breast—of the examples before his eyes? In all the lauded and laudable traits of character delineated by Sir. F. Head, the German has been trained from his infancy—and from these he has neither inducement nor inclination to deviate.
3. The third circumstance I consider to be very operative. The struggles, the collisions, the jealousies—the host of evil and of exciting passions, which agitate a commercial, trading, maritime, and manufacturing country like England, have, comparatively, no field in Germany; where life is far more allied to agricultural and pastoral, than to commercial and manufacturing pursuits. There is as much difference between the Germans and the English, generally, as between the peasantry of Lincolnshire and the mechanics of Birmingham—between the chaw-bacons of Hampshire, and the black and white devils of Merthyr-Tidvill and Sheffield.
4. Government.—I attribute no small share to this class of influential causes in modifying the manners of a nation. In absolute monarchies, where the will of the sovereign is the law of the people, the latter are not likely to be so frisky, boisterous, and turbulent, as under a limited and constitutional government, inclining to democracy, where the vox populi is not seldom the vox Dei—and where—
——Imprisoned factions roar,
And rampant Treason stalks from shore to shore.
On another occasion I shall allude to the minuteness with which the German governments regulate the most trifling concerns of life, when mentioning that a passenger in a public diligence is forbidden to move from the seat allotted to him, to the next vacant one at his side, without permission from the post-master of the first town at which the conveyance stops! In such countries would the Age, the Satirist, or even the Times be long allowed to take liberties with crowned heads, courts, or ministers? No verily! Their tongues would soon be as smooth, and civil and ceremonious, as those of the crowds of spa-drinkers around the Wein-Brunnen of Schwalbach![25]
Whether the state of things on the South side of the Channel be better or worse than that on the North, I presume not to say. Davus sum, non Œdipus. But I think I have proved that, while these differences exist, the manners and habits of Germany are not likely to blend or amalgamate with those of England. Nothing, I think, would produce this fusion of the two people, except some strange geographical revolution that might convert the British Isles into a small appendix to the Continent; without “ships, colonies, or commerce”—without iron mines or coal mines—without cotton or cutlery—without fisheries or factories—without steam-engines or printing-presses—but above all, without that great national or normal school of agitation—the Parliament—where deputies learn to “speak daggers,” and chartists are encouraged to make pikes—where orations are directed not to the ears of the Commons, but to the eyes of the Constituents—where the campaign is opened with a speech recommending concord; carried on with speeches full of discord; and concluded with a speech of gracious accord—finally, where multiplicity of motion in the beginning is synonymous with paucity of action in the end. When all these incentives to turbulence shall have vanished, and also when English stomachs shall prefer sour krout and rancid oil to roast beef and brown stout, then, and not till then, may Sir Francis hope to see his favourite German polish and Gallic varnish lacquering over the rough manners of his native Isle.