Frankfort-on-the-Oder is a venerable town of 37,000 inhabitants, memorable as the scene of a great battle in 1759, when Frederick the Great was defeated by the Russians and Austrians. We crossed the Oder at Castion, the bridge being strongly fortified, as if war were imminent or guns relied on as the best peace preservers. Immense tracts of peat-beds are on the route, and women are at work wheeling heavy loads of it just cut out, and men cutting it, the women being made to do the hardest work.
Frankfort Dinner-Table.
At Krewz we stopped for dinner. We had sent forward our names by telegraph, and were curious to see what was the result. It proved to be a good soup, a stew of beef and potatoes, roast veal with stewed prunes, and the usual condiments, but no dessert or wine, unless extra. The tables for dinner were set out on the platform, under shade, and every thing neat and clean, and the table furniture good. Beautiful gardens are around the railroad stations: large peonies and lilacs, seringas and roses, and other flowers like our own, in full bloom. We met an excursion train with two or three hundred people, who had left the cars at a way-station to get water; and as our train came between them and theirs, they were thrown into the greatest alarm and confusion, lest they should be left behind. The cottages of the peasantry are very neat and comfortable; no signs of great poverty, no beggars at the stations. I have scarcely been solicited by a beggar in Germany. As we are going north, the country appears less fertile: there is more grass and less grain; few fruit-trees, some apples, cherries, and pears; poplar trees, sycamores, and some willows are seen. We have ceased to see forests on the line of the road: we pass another peat-bed, and a dozen women are working it, one man overseeing them.
At Nakal twenty peasants were standing, each with a staff in hand, as if they had just arrived from a journey on foot, and were waiting for a train to take them on to the seaboard to emigrate. They were swarthy, stout, and well clad. They will all be voters soon on the other side of the sea.
Two hundred miles from Berlin, on our way to Warsaw, we came to Bromberg. We had marked it down as the half-way place, and here we were to pass the night. We found an elegant railroad station; porters from three hotels, with plates on their hats, begged the pleasure of our company at their respective houses. The Englischer Hof had the honor of taking us in, and we were hospitably and comfortably cared for. This city was once in Poland. When the kingdom was carved and partitioned, this fell to Prussia. But Polish names predominate upon the signs, and the Polish language still prevails. Its trade is in wool and iron and steel, by canal connecting it with Oder and Wexsel. We went to the top of a hill near the hotel, and found beautiful walks and seats, commanding fine views of the town. The churches are both Protestant and Catholic. We were near a cemetery, and all the tombstones had their inscriptions in Hebrew. It was a Jewish burial-place. Adjoining it was a dead-house, into which every dead person of this people is brought, and washed, and ceremonially prepared for the grave. A young man showed us over the apartments. He seemed to be the solitary dweller in this gloomy house. A fine monument in the grove near by is in memory of the good citizen who had given the grounds, and embellished them, as a resort for the people.
Only in Germany have we had bolsters in shape of a wedge, hard, and designed to be laid with the edge under the shoulders, making an inclined plane, from which one is slipping down all the time. The old feather-bed comforter on top is now dispensed with; but in place of it is a quilt inside of a sheet, like a bag to hold it, and a very uncomfortable thing to manage. It requires a deal of patience to put up with the curious ways of other people; but when one gets used to them, they are just as well as his own.
We were to take an early start, and the servant was so anxious to do his whole duty, that he called us, as Samuel the prophet was called, three times in the course of the night, and finally succeeded in getting us out an hour too soon. But that was better than to be an hour too late, and so we had breakfast, and were off again by the rail at six in the morning. By eight we were at the frontier of Poland, now Russia. Our passports were demanded, and our baggage searched. Even the little bags were taken out of the cars and examined. The only article sought for was tobacco, and nobody ever found a bit of that in any luggage of mine. At the station signs of progress were evident. Carts drawn by oxen were loaded with brick, each brick twice as large as one of ours. Large iron pipes for aqueducts were lying around. A photographic apparatus, of a pattern quite novel to me, was in use, taking views of the works going on. The names of all the passengers were copied from their passports into a register; the passports were returned to their several owners, then each passenger was asked if he had his passport, and, the formality being over, we were allowed to proceed after an hour’s detention.
We are now travelling in Poland. We soon pass miserable dwellings, half under ground, and with stagnant water about them, giving every appearance of unhealthiness and wretchedness. Yet the country was better tilled than in Northern Germany. We are now on the Vistula. At one of the stations we saw a meeting of friends, men kissing each other; young people stooped down, and old men kissed them on the back of their heads. Elegant parks and gardens surrounded the villa of the Princess Racziwill. For centuries it has been the residence of the titled and rich.
At half-past three P.M. we arrived at Warsaw. All the passengers, as they left the cars, were required to give up their passports again; were led into a room where all ingress and egress was cut off; here to each person was given a receipt for his passport, and he was required to give the name of the house at which he intended to stay, also to state when he expected to leave. He was then allowed to go. At the door a metal check was handed him, having on it the number of the hack in which he would ride; and thus, with a deep conviction that we are at last in a country where we are to be looked after, we were taken to our hotel.