With magic tints to harmonize the scene,”
our contemplations were broken by the steamer suddenly sheering alongside the jetty at Biberich, and discharging its cargo of human beings close to the royal palace of Nassau. After the usual bustle attendant on the transmigration of souls, bodies, and baggage, from water to land, we were safely deposited, in less than an hour, at the Adler Hotel, within a stone’s throw of the celebrated Kochbrunnen, or chicken-broth distillery at Wisbaden.
WISBADEN.
This is one of the most celebrated spas in Germany—and more frequented, as a medicinal spa, than any other by our countrymen and women. It is only four miles from Biberich, near Mayence, and is very pleasantly situated, with a ridge of the Taunus to the north-east, while the country is open between it and the Rhine, in the opposite quarter. It is a very handsome town, of seven or eight thousand souls, and the capital of the duchy of Nassau. It is, itself, in a slight depression of the ground, but not so much as to impede a free circulation of air. Wisbaden is healthy, though rather warm, owing, probably, to the hot springs under the surface. The temperature, however, renders it a good winter residence for those who are unable or disinclined to seek the shores of Italy or other southern localities. The neighbouring country produces all the necessaries of life in abundance, and the vicinity of Frankfort, Mayence, and the Rhine, secures it the luxuries, when required. Excellent water is conducted from the Taunus for the use of the town. The Cursaal is the most magnificent in Europe—the hotels are numerous and good—the walks and rides exceedingly varied, cheerful, and salubrious. There are from ten to fifteen thousand annual spa-drinkers and bathers—while a far greater number spend a short time at Wisbaden for pleasure. A considerable number of the hotels have bathing establishments—the Eagle is the oldest—and is well appointed. In turning up from this hotel towards the Cursaal, we stumble on the Kochbrunnen, (the scalding spring,) the grand source of the drinking waters, and also of several baths. It has rather a mean appearance, and the water looks rather of a greenish-yellow colour, and seems turbid in the well, with a scum over a part of it, which is called “cream,” and is considered by the chemists as a peculiar animal or extractive matter, whose nature and source are unknown. The taste is that of weak chicken-broth with rather too much salt. There are upwards of nine hundred baths in the different establishments.
The plantations, extending from the back of the Cursaal to the old ruin of Sonnenburg Castle, are very beautiful—and thence are paths cut among the umbrageous woods to the Platte, the Duke’s Summer-house, on one of the mountains of Taunus, whence a magnificent view is obtained—Rhineward and Inland.
The road to Schwalbach and Schlangenbad present fine airy drives and walks over high, open, and unwooded grounds, communicating health and vigour to the enfeebled frame.
As may be supposed, the Romans were well acquainted with Wisbaden, and close to the Kochbrunnen, in the Romerbad, may be still seen the remains of several Roman baths—and one in particular having two springs of its own. But the monuments of antiquity in this place are numerous.
Three grand theories respecting the causes and sources of thermal springs divide the transcendental philosophers, naturalists, and physicians of Germany. These are the electro-chemical—the volcanic—and the vital. Wurzer expresses the opinions of the first class thus:—“As Nature is performing her operations in her immense laboratory, she has here a galvanic apparatus of immense size. Extensive masses of mountains, perhaps of unfathomable depth, probably form the individual plates of this voltaic column.” This is tolerably bold. While Brand and Faraday are dissolving metals by the tiny galvanic apparatus in Albemarle Street, Nature is manufacturing mineral waters at Wisbaden, Ems, and Carlsbad, on a magnificent scale! Lichtenberg, however, surpasses Wurzer in the sublimity of his ideas on this subject.
“In the distilling operations of Nature, the belly of her retort sometimes lies in Africa—its neck extending all over Europe—whilst its recipient is in—Siberia.”!!