We were advanced by this time, many hundred yards into the bowels of the mountain, and stood at length on a fair open platform, surrounded as heretofore, by enormous cliffs, yet having room enough, and to spare. Here a small rustic arbour has been formed with rough-hewn pine logs, and close by is a sort of pantry, composed of similar materials, while facing them a little rivulet pours its water from a ledge of rock, causing the air around to reverberate with its ceaseless and most refreshing music. Our guide described the spot merely as the lesser waterfall, while he invited us to drink from a fountain which bubbled up close to the stream. I do not think that I ever tasted water more deliciously cool and limpid.
The phrase "Lesser Waterfall" naturally associated itself in our minds with something more wonderful, and we questioned the guide on the subject, who, instead of answering directly, invited us to follow him. We did so, winding round the corner of a huge column; but no cataract met our inquiring gaze. "Wait you here," said the boy, "or rather go on into that recess, while I run up the face of the cliff, and lift the sluice." The idea of a sluice, as connected with one of the most sublime of nature's productions, was too ludicrous. It reminded us of a miserable little affair, not far from Schandau, on the road to the Kuhstall, which the delighted Saxons exhibit to you as one of the wonders of their land, and for the display of which you are charged one groschen. For this Saxon cataract consists of a stream of water, a size or too more voluminous than that which may, at any time, be seen winding its way along the groved outsides of the streets in one of our fifth-rate boroughs in England. Yet the Saxons make the most of it. By means of a deal fence they dam it up on the top of a rock, perhaps twelve feet high, and so keep it till some pleasure-seeking stranger happens to approach the spot. Then, after exciting his curiosity to the utmost, an old man leaves the wanderer in the road to gaze about in vain, not only for the cataract, but for any place where a cataract might be expected to exist. Yet the stranger must not begin to murmur too speedily. All at once a cracked voice bids him attend. He turns round; the sluice is raised, and out comes a volume of water, of all things in creation most resembling that which in the old town of Edinburgh follows on the exclamation, "Garde loo!" I advise the astonished traveller not to indulge his admiration too long. If, in the intensity of his ardour, he keep the sluice open more than ten minutes, not only does the waterfall fade and disappear before his own eyes, but a month may elapse ere it shall be in a fit state to be exhibited again.
All these brilliant images took possession of our fancies as soon as the boy had uttered the unlucky word "sluice;" and smiling to one another, we made up our minds to rest contentedly where we were. But we did not adhere to this determination. In a few minutes there came upon us a noise like the growling of distant thunder; by-and-by the fall of water was loudly and fiercely distinct, and we knew, to our extreme surprise, that this was a very different affair from the cataract in Saxon Switzerland. We therefore hurried round the angle of the rock, and guided by the sound, came at last to behold what really was a very fine sight. From a ledge, perhaps thirty or forty feet high, a rivulet discharged a considerable body of water into a cavern, beneath the foundations of which, though it was impossible to say in what direction, the current held its course. I must confess that we stood and gazed upon the scene for some moments in great admiration,—a feeling which was probably heightened in consequence of the unlooked-for issue to an adventure, of the commencement of which we had augured so unfavourably.
Having thus witnessed the effect, we naturally enough desired to look upon the cause also; in other words, nothing would content us, except to ascend the cliff and watch the whole process of lifting and replacing the sluice. I am not sure that the sight recompensed us for the labour that was necessary to obtain it. The stream, to be sure, looked dark and deep, hemmed in as it was, between walls of rock, and to watch the descent of the mass of water from above, was quite as fine as to look up to it from below; but the process of climbing was both toilsome and hazardous, and I do not therefore advise others to undergo it, unless they be both strong of head and sure of foot.
The waterfall, like the general discharge of fire-works at Vauxhall, or the blowing-up of the beleaguered fortress in a melo-drama, was the last and greatest wonder which our guide had to show us, and the termination of the play was marked by the usual application for a little drinkgelt. This we gave, of course; but having heard something of a wonderful echo, we begged him at the same time to conduct us to the spot where it was to be heard. We were drawing, in this instance, too much either upon his goodnature or his powers. The echo was not in his department. A separate functionary called that forth at will, and to his care we were transferred. He was an old man, who played wretchedly on the French horn and clarionet, both of which, as well as a double-barrelled gun, were called into operation, and there is no denying that the effect was fine. Four reverberations followed each blast; all of them clear and distinct, as if four separate instruments had spoken. The last sounded like the voice of a trumpet, issuing from some dark woods, perhaps five or six miles distant.
Such were the wonders which we saw and heard at Aderspach,—a mighty show-place, as it appears, to Poles, Prussians, Bohemians, and even Saxons; yet strange to say, not often visited by our own more restless countrymen. Yet our adventures in the Trucktere-house did not end here. There arrived, soon after we came in, the identical travelling band which had delighted us with their music in Troutenau; and partly to conciliate us, partly to ensure for themselves a supper free of expense, they played some airs very sweetly in the passage. One of these took my fancy so much, that I begged to have a copy of the notes, and sent out a florin as the price of my purchase. But in thus paying for the goods before I got them, I had over-calculated the honesty even of Bohemian minstrels. The master of the band pronounced that the air should be ready for me next morning, but it never came; and when I inquired for the performers, they were gone. So much for paying beforehand for matters so light as the notes of music.
CHAPTER VII.
WALK TO SHATZLAR. MAGNIFICENT SCENERY. EXTREME FATIGUE. OUR LANDLORD. EARLY ASSOCIATIONS AWAKENED BY A SCENE IN THE MARKET-PLACE. REST FOR A DAY. ASCENT OF SCHNEE-KOPPEE. HALT AT A VILLAGE ON THE SILESIAN SIDE.
All the wonders which I have inadequately described in the preceding chapter, having been investigated between the hours of nine and twelve, we made up our minds to dine like gentlemen at Aderspach, and to proceed that evening as far as Shatzlar, a town at the Bohemian foot of Schnee-Koppee. We were the more induced to adopt this course, because Shatzlar was stated to be only four hours' walk from Aderspach, and we believed ourselves sufficiently strong, not only to accomplish that over-night, but to undertake the ascent of the mountain himself on the morrow. The result proved that our calculations had rested on no solid basis. Instead of a four hours' walk, Shatzlar proved to be rather more than six hours' distant; and the way being mountainous and rugged, we came in thoroughly knocked up. I do not recollect that throughout the whole of our excursion we were, on any other occasion, so indifferent to the magnificent scenery that surrounded us; and probably the reader will not be displeased that the case was so, seeing that our indifference at the moment saves him the labour now of perusing what might very possibly be felt as a wearisome description of it.