SPA.

“Heureux qui s’ecartant des sentiers d’ici bas,

A l’ombre du desert allant cacher ses pas.”

Thirty miles South of Aix-la-Chapelle, and twenty-four South-east of Liege, embosomed in a sombre but rather romantic valley of the Ardennes, lies Spa, formerly one of the most aristocratic and celebrated chalybeates of Europe.

We proceed from Liege to Spa along the valley of the Vesdre, and a more beautiful drive can hardly be met with. I do not think it inferior to the banks of the Meuse, and it certainly is much more beautiful than many parts of the Rhine. The sides of the valley are clothed with wood, or cultivated carefully, from their very summits, and studded with beautiful villas, cottages, and hamlets, in all directions. At every winding, we see hundreds of men at work, carrying the new rail-road over rivers and through the solid rock.

“Cette route charmante decouvre à chaque detour de ravissants vallons qui laissant aperçevoir au loin des maisons de plaisance, de vieux chateaux, et de riants villages. Les cotes escarpées des montagnes qui en dessinent les sinuositées parsemées d’arbres, de rochers, et de precipices.”

At the village of Pepinsterre, about sixteen miles from Liege, we quit the Aix-la-Chapelle road, and turn up to the right. The whole way from this to Spa is a constant ascent, the air becoming more bracing, and the scenery more wild, or of the Ardennes-forest character, till we approach the town through a triple avenue, the centre one a pavé, and the side ones for walking or riding. Spa itself lies in a very picturesque dell, the eastern side of which is very abrupt, and covered with wood. The houses are all white and clean, and the locale, altogether, pleased me more than almost any spa I had previously visited.

Yet the place is comparatively abandoned! We saw very few English there, and up to the 23d July, 1840, only about a thousand names were entered on the books, many, perhaps most, of whom were casual visitors, or merely passengers to other spas! I fear the good citizens of Spa will not erect a statue to Sir Francis Head.

A catalogue of the emperors, kings, queens, princes, and nobility of all grades (laying aside the gentry and bureaucracy) who have lined their ribs with steel, and tanned their slender chylopoietics in the Pouhon or Geronsterre, would fill a volume. Our countrymen bear a conspicuous part in this roll of worthies. Henry the Third, of France, visited Spa in the sixteenth century—in the same, Charles Stuart, having lost his kingdom, repaired to Spa to regain his health. In 1717, Peter the Great drank the waters of the Pouhon and Geronsterre—in one single year, (1783,) the list of princes, dukes, and princesses, alone, amounted to 33, besides the hosts of inferior gentry.

The following history of one of our countrymen, recorded by Henry de Steers, the Sydenham of Spa, is not a little curious:—“In 1620, arrived here a Milord Anglais, accompanied by his medical attendant. The College of Physicians in London, who had been consulted in this case, instead of putting Milord into a strait-waistcoat—or, at all events, under surveillance, recommended him to the care of De Steers, at Spa. This unfortunate gentleman laboured under monomania of three distinct forms, which attacked him periodically, and in succession. During the first ten days of every month, he neither ate, nor drank, nor spoke. He kept to his room all the time. On the eleventh morning he would rise from his bed early, go out a hunting, and come home hungry, eating and drinking enormously. This was his occupation during the second decade of the month. In the third decade, the scene entirely changed. He became passionately fond of music, and squandered hundreds upon the squallini’s of that day. At the end of the month the taciturnity and fasting, &c. returned.”

It is hardly necessary to say that De Steers, being unable to prevail on the monomaniac to drink the Spa waters, the patient returned to England, and became a furious and confirmed maniac.

“As soon,” says Dr. Dordonville, “as the roads to Spa were rendered passable, the English, travellers by disposition, and great admirers of the picturesque, thronged to the fountains, and filled the town by their magnificence. They loved to expend their riches; and those, whose energetic passions threw them into dissipation, introduced a fatal and ruinous luxury.”

Although the caprice of fashion, and the attractions of other watering-places have damaged Spa, it is still resorted to by many people of this country, and great numbers from France, Belgium, and Germany.

POUHON.

This is the most ancient of the springs. It is situated in the middle of the town, surrounded by a marble basin, whence is bottled immense quantities of the waters for France, England, Holland, and Germany. Steers, who practised here for twenty-five years, is not behind his brethren of the spas, in his eulogies of the Pouhon waters. “They have an agreeable tartness, and have worked many miracles. Their effects are all but supernatural, and have excited the curiosity and admiration of physicians and philosophers who have come here from various countries.”

It is very clear when received into a glass, which becomes covered on the sides with bubbles of air, that also rise on the surface. The acidulous and piquant taste is succeeded by a smack of steel. On standing for some time there is a deposition of iron at the bottom of the glass, in consequence of the disengagement of carbonic acid. Peter the Great, who came here exhausted, and menaced with dropsy, completely recovered—and his statue stands over the Pouhon as no mean certificate of the medicinal powers of the spring.

The second source, Sauveniere, is half a league out of the town, and situated in a romantic spot. This spa contains less iron than the Pouhon, and used to precede the others in drinking.

The Geronsterre was known to De Steers. It is to the south of the town, but now of easy access by a beautiful road. This spring disengages some sulphuretted hydrogen gas, which distinguishes it from the others.

The Tonnelet is situated between the Pouhon and Sauveniere, and has three springs, all of the same quality.

Constituents of One Gallon (231 Cubic Inches).

SOURCES.Carb.-Acide Gas.
Cub. Inch.		Solid Matters.
Grains		Muriate of Soda.
Grains		Carbonate of Soda.
Grains		Carbonate of Lime.
Grains		Oxide of Iron.
Grains		Temperature.
Pouhon2622712¼95¼50°F.
Geronsterre16812½½1½5¼149°
Sauveniere2418½¼½3¾2¼49°
Tonnelet2805½....1½2¾49°

From the above it will be seen that iron and large quantity of carbonic acid gas are the main ingredients in the spa waters—and consequently that they are simple chalybeates—without aperient qualities.

Superb baths have been erected near the Pouhon, for the accommodation of visitors.

MEDICINAL AGENCY.

M. Dordonville is the most recent author on the Spa waters, as he has resided there for many years, on account of his own health. According to him, the first perceptible effect of drinking the Spa waters, especially if taken on an empty stomach, is a slight affection of the head resembling that which results from taking champaign. Four or five glasses suffice to produce this phenomenon, especially at first. As this arises from the carbonic acid gas, it is very transitory. This abundance of gas renders these waters very pleasant to drink, but they are far from agreeable when the gas has escaped—and they are then less easy of digestion. Hence the bottled waters are far less efficacious than at the sources. Since the mania of Broussais, it has not been uncommon for French visitors to take the waters mixed with gum Arabic, by which precious mess the springs were rendered nauseous and indigestible. We may agree with Dr. Dordonville that the action of Spa waters is not confined to the stomach, but extends to various organs with which the stomach is bound in sympathy. This applies to debility of the digestive organs and its consequences; but we must be cautious how we employ this chalybeate where there are any obstructions or engorgements of other viscera, merely because they are diuretic, and promote absorption. Both De Steers of old, and Monsr. Dordonville, of the present day, assure us that these waters require to be taken in large doses, and for a considerable time, otherwise they will do harm instead of good. “Those who cannot take them in this manner ought to desist from taking them at all.” Mons. D. has seen many people who have taken from 300 to 350 ounces of the waters daily. Peter the Great generally took twenty-one glasses (three ounces each) every morning. Dr. D. however, wisely leaves it to the feelings of the patient, how many goblets he daily takes.

These waters have been found very beneficial in chronic diarrhœa, as might indeed be expected; but large quantities of any liquid taken in such cases, are detrimental, especially when conjoined with the pedestrian exercises that are recommended. We can hardly subscribe to the doctrine that these chalybeates are beneficial in obstructions of the liver, and enlargments of the spleen—especially the former, considering that they have no aperient quality. The same observation applies to enlargement of the mesenteric glands.

On the kidneys they have an evident action, and De Steers, the Sydenham of his day, calls them vesical.

“The waters of Spa remove heat of the kidneys and bladder, and expel gravel more effectually than any other remedy.”

One of the most general effects of these waters is an increase of appetite, and most patients acquire flesh as well as strength under their use.

It is, however, to people of pallid complexions—leucophlegmatic constitutions—and general debility, without organic disease, that these waters may be very useful. The pallid female, affected with complaints peculiar to the sex, may expect to acquire a healthy complexion, and general strength from the waters of Spa, assisted by mountain air and daily exercise. Sterility is one of the many maladies for which they are loudly praised by the resident physicians.

The sulphuretted chalybeate of the Geronsterre is recommended by Dr. D. in tuberculous affections of the lungs—a recommendation which needs confirmation, as the Americans say.

REGIMEN.

M. Dordonville remarks that no small portion of those who come to Spa, do so for pleasure, and not for health. These may eat and drink and exercise as they would at home. But the invalid must pursue a systematic regimen. The ancients always recommended aperient medicine previously to taking mineral waters—and even De Steers made a point of giving a gentle purgative to his patients every eight or ten days. The horror of opening medicine entertained by people on the continent, medical men and all, is productive of infinite mischief, when chalybeate waters, and all those not aperient, are used. M. Dordonville cautions the drinkers of Spa very strongly against exposure to cold—a necessary advice in a mountainous region, where vicissitudes of temperature are frequent. The waters are best taken early in the morning fasting; or before meals. Some people drink them at their meals, without injury. Most of the inhabitants of Spa have no other beverage. In affections of the chest they may be mixed with milk—especially those of the Geronsterre. M. Dordonville considers the Spring as the best season for the waters of Spa, and regrets that tyrant fashion prevents invalids from coming to these waters till the middle of Summer, or even till Autumn. From five to fifteen minutes’ interval between the glasses is to be observed, with exercise during that time. He recommends a light breakfast to be taken at the fountains, after the waters, where delicious milk, fresh eggs, good butter, and bread can always be had. From twenty to forty, or even sixty days are necessary for a complete course of the waters. The same physician cautions us against compound dishes or the least approach to repletion while taking the Spa. “The great rock on which patients split is the pleasures of the table.”

The environs of Spa are very picturesque, and even romantic—the rides and promenades being extensive and varied in this mountainous region. The railway from Ostende or Antwerp takes the invalid or visitor to within twenty-four miles of the Spa, and will soon take him within six miles of the town: and therefore the place may be reached on the third day from London.

Springing from my couch at five o’clock, in the morning after my arrival, I first drank a large tumbler of the Pouhon, and started up the mountain for the Geronsterre. The ascent is constant and rather steep; but the mountain air gave me fresh vigour, and I reached the fountain (three miles) without the slightest fatigue. It is prettily situated in a kind of pleasure-ground, with shaded walks and pleasant benches for promenade or repose, while taking the waters. The water itself did not convey to my olfactory nerves that decided odour of sulphuretted hydrogen which Dr. Dordonville maintains it does. It certainly tastes somewhat different from the Pouhon, and they urge you to swallow it quickly, lest the malodorous gas should escape. It was in vain that I told the Nymph of the Spring that I was not sick, but only drinking the waters from curiosity. Still she urged, and so did some of the drinkers, that the most precious ingredient would vanish into air, if I did not gulp it down in an instant: I now took an eastern road over the brow of the mountain, through a wild forest, but along a good road, and reached the Sauveniere, after a long walk of nearly three miles. Here I quaffed at the source whence the Duchess of —— imbibed new life, or at least renovated health, and hung up her votive tablet, in the shape of a dome and colonnade, in gratitude to the fountain and its tutelar saint, Apollo. It tasted to my palate much more inky than its neighbour the Geronsterre, as, indeed, it ought to do, having more than double the quantity of iron, and nearly half as much as the Pouhon.

From thence I turned down a narrow road to the Tonnelet, about a mile distant from the Sauveniere. It was the briskest of them all, to my palate, containing more carbonic acid gas than even the Pouhon. The chalybeate taste was very marked, and the water, upon the whole, very pleasant. By this time I had swallowed four large tumblers of mineral water, and walked seven miles before breakfast, which was very well for the first morning. I experienced no sensation whatever about my head, nor any other than a sense of fulness in the stomach, and very little appetite. Another walk of more than a mile to the town, dissipated the sense of fulness and brought me an excellent appetite, which was again removed by eggs, coutelets, potatoes, and coffee, at the hotel de Pays Bas. After breakfast, the pedestrian exercise was again resumed, and the heights to the eastward of the town, with all their devious and intricate paths, were carefully explored. The views from these heights are various and beautiful—the air delicate and exhilarating. Descending to the town, and resting half an hour, I repaired to the bathing establishment, close to the Pouhon, and ordered a mineral water bath, at a temperature of 98°. I found that the bath-master trusted entirely to his hand, for the regulation of temperature, and on testing this “rule of thumb” by the thermometer, he had only made a mistake of six degrees, the instrument exhibiting 104°, instead of 98°. This, however, is very common at all bathing places. The chalybeate bath produced in me no other sensations than those arising from saline or plain baths elsewhere. The carbonic acid was all gone, and the water tasted merely mawkish. It has very little of the stimulating effects of the Wisbaden or other potent waters. Although I did not rise from the bath “rajeuné comme un Phœnix,” I experienced great refreshment after twelve miles’ walking-exercise, and repaired to the three o’clock table-d’hôte in the Pays Bas, with more natural appetite than I had felt since leaving Modern Babylon. A siesta of an hour after dinner was equally pleasant and salubrious. After some ramblings about the town, a visit to the Redout finished the day’s work.

The magnificent “grande salle” in this splendid edifice, was occupied with the ball, while the “Dæmon-robber bands” were plying their vocation at the end of the room. The play, however, seemed to go on languidly; and the waltz appeared to have more attractions for the company than the roulette. The dancers and spectators were by no means distinguée. There was not one fine woman in the room. We did not distinguish more than half a dozen English in the whole assembly. They were almost all French, Flemish, and a few Germans.

Thus ended a Spa-day in the Ardennes. I do not recommend an imitation of it to all those who go to Spa for health. But if the pedestrian exercise were superseded by equestrian or carriage exercise, I think a more effectual plan for the recovery of health could hardly be devised. To those who are very delicate, the paths that are cut along the face of the wooded precipices overhanging the town, afford most beautiful walks, sheltered from the winds, and commanding pleasing prospects of Ardennes scenery. The air there is bracing and elastic.

It is not likely that such a “Haven of Health” as this is, should be without its Cursaal, or gambling-table. The two grand hells are the Redout and the Vauxhall. A few years before the Revolution the Church sustained some damage in slander by these mansions of morality. It appears that the Bishop of Liege, who united a temporal with an eternal concern for the souls of the good citizens, had granted a monopoly of fifty years gambling to the proprietors of the Redout—of course without any other consideration than the advancement of religion and the good of the people. But a rival establishment (Vauxhall) having been started, the Bishop issued an ordonnance against the new tables, as not being orthodox. An appeal was made to the legislature, and the holy canon was reversed, on the principle that, as in a free state like that of Liege, “every man had a right to do as he liked with his own”—and as gambling was not contrary to law, so the Bishop had no right to grant a monopoly to gamblers. This was an awkward affair; but an amicable arrangement was soon made between the Bishop and the proprietors of the two hells, by which the man of God modestly declined a tenth of the spoil, and only accepted a third of the profits of the tables at the end of each season! “Le Prince Eveque recevra le tiers des Benefices que se feront dans ces deux maisons sur les jeux, apres la saison des Eaux.”

In this way things went on smoothly for a while; when lo! a third Cursaal raised its lofty head to share the spoils of hazard with the noble firm of “Bishop, Redout, and Vauxhall.” This was too much for the conscience of M. L’Eveque. He justly considered that two royal roads to the regions of his “friend in black” were amply sufficient—and that to open a third would only be adding another facility to the already “faciles descensus Averni.” He therefore sent a file of “gens-d’armes” to turn the tables on these scoffers at the holy command of their Bishop, which led to wars and bloodshed. The Bishop, finding his palace of Liege rather warm for him, appealed to the Emperor of Germany—or rather to Prince Metternich, then at Coblentz. Metternich decided in favour of the original hells, as being under the benediction of the Bishop, or perhaps of the Pope—and therefore incapable of doing any thing inconsistent with the orthodox religion! Soon after this, Metternich and his master had more important games to play in the French Revolution, and how Mons. Levoz, the unfortunate proprietor of the new Cursaal fared, this deponent knoweth not.

Spas are under the dominion of more influences than fashion. Who could have supposed that the medicinal virtues of mineral waters should be deteriorated or even destroyed by politics. Yet such is the case. While Holland and Belgium were under one crown, the Dutch dolls flocked annually in great numbers to paint their cheeks in the Pouhon or Geronsterre, returning to their dykes with a cargo of steel that secured them, for ten months, against the damps and debilities of their vapoury atmosphere. But no sooner had the “Braves Belges” revolted, than the chalybeates of Spa lost all their efficacy, and grass is now likely to grow, and water to run in the streets of this celebrated place! The Dutch and most of the English at present resort to the Brunnens of Nassau—the chalybeates of Brucknau—or the boiling Sprudel, for that health and renovation which they used to seek and obtain in the forest of the Ardennes!

It would be equally useless and impertinent in me to attempt a revulsion in the tide of spa-goers; yet, when I reflect on the locality of Spa—its facility of access (forty-eight hours from London)—the efficacy of its waters—the salubrity of its air—the variety of its promenades and drives—the excellence of its hotels—the cheapness of living—and the seclusion which is attainable by all—I cannot help regretting that fashion, caprice, or some inexplicable spell should turn the tide of British invalids so completely from Spa, and impel it with irresistible impetus towards the Brunnens of Germany.