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.