CHAPTER I.
Departure from Vienna.—Linz.—Salzburg.—Munich.—The Artists’ Festival.—The King of Bavaria.—Berlin.—Alexander von Humboldt.—Hamburg.
On the 21st of May, 1856, I left Vienna, and set forth on another of my long journeys. At Nussdorf, near Vienna, I embarked on board the fine steamer “Austria,” bound up the river for Linz. The steam-boat company was not only so obliging as to give me a free pass, but even placed a cabin at my disposal, and provided board and every comfort for me.
The short distance (about thirty German miles) from Vienna to Linz can be accomplished in twenty-one hours, and a beautiful trip it is. Few rivers can boast such an endless variety of scenery as greets the eye of the traveler on the Danube. Hill and valley, city and hamlet, magnificent convents and elegant villas glide past in endless succession, nor lacketh there the knightly castle, or the half-decayed ruin with its appropriate legend of romance. Favored by the Fates with the finest possible weather, and surrounded by agreeable company, I could only wish that my journey might continue to present the auspicious appearance under which it had begun.
I made acquaintance with several passengers on board, and among the rest with the wife of the respected physician, Dr. Pleninger, of Linz. This amiable lady insisted upon my taking up my quarters in her house. Unfortunately, I had but a short time to stay at Linz, as I purposed proceeding to Lambach the same day. But kind Dr. Pleninger arranged a little pleasure party for the morning to the neighboring “Freudenberg” (Mountain of Joy), on which a great Jesuit convent is built. Besides its clerical occupants, this establishment numbers more than a hundred and fifty pupils, who, for the sum of only twelve florins[A] per month, are boarded and lodged, and get their education into the bargain. The institution appears to be conducted with care and with notable order. It already possesses a little collection of ethnographical objects and a botanic garden, the latter under the superintendence of Herr Hintereker, a very eminent botanist. The view from the Freudenberg is very charming, and I herewith recommend this walk to all future tourists, including those who are unable to see the convent.
I remained at Dr. Pleninger’s till the afternoon, and then proceeded by rail to Lambach, a distance of eight German miles, which it required full three hours to accomplish.
At Lambach I took the Salzburg omnibus. Unfortunately, this vehicle was not managed on English principles. It was a true, genuine, and unadulterated German omnibus, drawn by German horses, who tramped stolidly along at the rate, as I judged, of a German mile an hour. The distance is twelve German miles, and in just twelve hours we got to our destination, so that my calculation was quite correct.
At Salzburg it was pouring wet weather, of course: my countrymen do not call this town the “rainy corner” without reason.
They tell a story of an Englishman who once came to Salzburg at midsummer, and found town, valley, and hills alike shrouded in mist and rain. He had read so much of the charming situation of Salzburg that he lingered there a few days, but, as the sky showed no token of clearing up, this son of Albion at length lost patience and decamped. Two years afterward, on his journey home from Italy, he took the route by this town, in the hope of being more fortunate this time; but, behold, it was raining as it had rained two years ago. “By Jove!” exclaimed the Briton, in astonishment, “hasn’t it left off yet?”
I might have made the same observation; for, although in my journeys I had several times passed through Salzburg, I had not once had the good luck to see this beautiful region smiling in the sunshine. And beautiful it is—wonderfully beautiful. It would be difficult to find a prettier little town, or one situate in so fertile a valley, and surrounded by such majestic masses of mountains. One of these, the Watzmann, is nearly 9000 feet high.