Tourists who can afford space for leather sheets among their luggage, should take these useful articles with them, as there are more maladies than colds and rheumatisms contracted in caravanseras, and for which there is no provision made in the contract between host and passenger.
It must be acknowledged, however, that, of late years considerable improvements have taken place in the bedding line. In several parts of Germany, in the Autumn of 1840, we found very comfortable mattresses, blankets, coverlets, and sheets, to our no small joy and surprize.
26. German Stove versus English Chimney.—That a room heated by invisible caloric—with an atmosphere stagnant as the dead sea, humid as a Scotch mist, and odoriferous as a slaughter-house—should prove more congenial to the lungs of persons in the first or last stage of consumption, than an apartment with a blazing fire at one end, a large column of hot air rushing up the chimney, and a thousand tiny streams of cold air stealing in through the chinks and crevices of doors and windows, I do not, for a moment, deny. But, that the general balance of salubrity is on the side of the German stove, and against the English fire-place, I very much doubt. I admit that the air of an English room, heated by fire, is frequently changing the degree of its temperature, not only as a whole, but in different parts of the same chamber. This is the alpha and omega of Continental objections to the English plan—and it would not be difficult to show that this variability of heat, so much complained of, is a powerful preservative against atmospheric disorders in general. Nothing is more certain than that the most effectual way of counteracting the effects of sudden changes in the temperature of the air around us, is to habituate ourselves to these vicissitudes. It is in this way, that daily sponging of the face, throat, and other exposed parts of the body, first with hot, and then immediately with cold water, generally prevents face-aches, ear-aches, tooth-aches, and catarrhs, by habituating those parts to changes of temperature. And it is on this principle, that a person who has been for some time in an English room, where variations prevail, goes out into the open air afterwards, with far less risk than he who has been for an equal time in an actual sudatorium, at a high and unvarying range of temperature. But let us look a little more closely into the affair. In the room heated by a German stove and consequently where there cannot be a free ventilation, every individual is breathing the identical air that has circulated through the lungs of every other individual in the same place—through the air-cells of the scrofulous, the scorbutic, the asthmatic, the consumptive, &c.—air that is not only deprived of its oxygen, but loaded with animal effluvia of a very questionable character! Add to these the malodorous essence of tobacco, much of which must drip down the throat, as well as into the receptacle below the bowl of the pipe, during the day, to be exhaled in poisonous gases through the rooms at night! All must have experienced the debilitating effects of disoxygenated air in crowded rooms, even where there were various facilities of ingress and egress for the breath of Heaven. But where these facilities are wanting, the depression of the vital energies is indescribable. In short, I am of opinion that nothing can compensate for the ventilation produced by the English chimney. Those who stand or sit near a partially opened door, or a broken pane of glass, may catch cold, or face-ache, or rheumatism, it is true; but if I am to die or to suffer from atmospheric influence, let me do so in pure, rather than in mephitic air!
I have grounded these reasonings on salubrity alone—leaving comfort out of the question—as indeed it must be round the German stove! Why, the very sight of a cheerful fire in a Winter evening, is worth a German stove with the table-d’hôte thrown into the bargain! In a good fire we have company, conversation, and even meditation. I do not wonder that the Persees adore fire, as an emanation from the sun itself. I much doubt whether the Egyptians would have worshipped a German stove, even when they were so over-godly as to deify cats and crocodiles! But, to give the devil his due, the German stove is not without some good qualities. It is cheap—it does not set fire to ladies’ dresses—nor cause chilblains by scorching the fingers and toes in frosty weather. But as a drawback upon these negative good qualities, it renders the Germans a race of hot-house plants, who shiver in the blast whenever they issue from their vapour-baths, and are infinitely more liable to take cold than if they had come from an English room.
The introduction into this country of the Anglo-Germanic stove—that unsightly and unsocial laboratory of sulphur and suffocation—will not, I think, succeed. It is bad enough in Germany, where the Dutch tiles with which it is covered, emit no bad smell, and have a comparatively light and cheerful appearance; but here the hybrid iron mass—that dark lantern, “cui lumen ademptum”—is positively a nuisance. It may be borne, and even prove useful, in large halls, where there are constant currents of cool air. In a sitting-room or other chamber, it is very offensive—at least to my senses, from its metallic and sulphurous emanations. I had rather pitch my tent in the crater of Vesuvius, the valley of Solfatera, or the hut of a charbonnier in the Maremma, than in the vicinity of that sable distillery of “Northumberland diamonds,” from which every ray of light has been previously extracted by the gasometer.
27. Verlobung, or betrothing.—The German system of affiance appears to me to be a long courtship, and “something more.” It is a kind of “little-go,” or ante-marriage contract, attended with form, ceremony, and sequences. The affianced pair send out their cards bound together in the silken bonds of Hymen, in perspective—are waited on and congratulated by their friends,—are always invited together to parties, where they sit next each other at table, engross each other’s conversation, and appear like—or rather unlike, man and wife. At page 24 of this volume, I ventured some observations on the danger and the miseries that often attend on affiances, or long-promised marriages. Notwithstanding the approval of Mrs. Jameson, I still hold my opinion. That lady indeed, is not blind to some of the consequences of the verlobung. One of them will be sufficient. “As the bridegroom is expected to devote every leisure moment to the society of his betrothed—as he attends her to all public places—as they are invariably seated next each other,—they have time to become tolerably tired of each others’ society before marriage, and have nothing left to say.” This is a charming prospect for matrimony! The soft looks, the fine speeches, the glowing sentiments, nay even the pretty riens, are all expended during the protracted affiance, and when, at last, the knot is tied indissolubly, the gallant gay lothario is, as Rosalind says—“gravelled for lack of matter.”
But Mrs. Jameson says that this long state of probation enables the parties to study well their respective characters, and detect failings and faults which a short courtship would be apt to over-look. Now the affiance is either binding or not binding. If the latter, of what use is it? If the former, it is small consolation to the bride or bridegroom to ascertain the causes of future misery before even Hymen lights his torch! But who is unaware that courtship is a kind of warfare, in which the belligerents take good care to mask their weak points and magnify their strong positions. The Germans themselves, indeed, have an adage that runs in little accordance with the tedious verlobung.
“Early woo’d and early won,
Was never repented under the sun.”