Letters of a German Countess: written during her travels in Turkey, Egypt, the Holy Land, Syria, Nubia, etc, in 1843-4

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LETTERS OF A GERMAN COUNTESS; WRITTEN DURING HER TRAVELS IN TURKEY, EGYPT, THE HOLY LAND, SYRIA, NUBIA, &c IN 1843-4. BY IDA, COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1845. LONDON: Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street. TO MY MOTHER. My dearest mother, here are now all my Letters in a collective form, and I dedicate them to you, because I know that to you they will give most pleasure. Besides, you are so accustomed to have occasion to be indulgent with me, that you will the more readily overlook the manifold imperfections, contradictions and inconsistencies, which are inseparable from such a series of Letters ; and this idea is very gratifying to me. For, though I am ready to admit that there are a thousand imperfections in mine, still I must extend some protection to the apparent contradictions and inconsistencies; for, in fact, they are but apparent.

On Monday, I saw a thing on one side and wrote to y-ou about it ; on Wednesday f observed it on another, and gave you my further remarks. Explanations, supple ments, which you would like to have at first, you find perhaps ten Letters off — perhaps not at all, TO MY MOTHER. when I thought no more of the subject; a circumstance very likely to happen on a journey abound ing in new and strange impressions. Repetitions, too, sometimes occur : for instance, I advert rather frequently to the stars and to the air ; but they are favourites with me, and make me happy, so have mercy upon them ! — But I ask no mercy for having on every occasion declared my faith, my convic tions, my opinions, with perfect sincerity, without reserve or disguise ; for though you are the only person in the wide world for whom I feel an awe, yet you have always suffered me to take my own ways, distant and different as they may be from yours, and granted me the free development of my faculties, the results of which are my faith and my opinions.

I am sorry that there is nothing concerning Greece for you. But I had no spirit for writing in that unfortunate country ; I felt the strait-waistcoat forced upon it in the new constitution. It is an absurdity to have the form, and not the essence. In a country where feudal — aristocratic — one cannot say institutions, but — sentiments bear sway, where the Klephts blindly adhere to, follow, trust, and obey the Colocotroni, Eubœa, the Griziotti, the Mainottis, the Mauromichali, and him alone — there, of course, they are the only representatives of the people. TO MY MOTHER. V I cannot sufficiently repeat to you how far the difficulties, dangers, disappointments and annoyances of this tour have fallen short of my expectation. I cannot forbear laughing to be everywhere received like one risen from the dead, to be questioned concerning extraordinary perils, which I never encountered, and to find the courage admired which I never had occasion to display.

Letter I. To My Mother

Breslau — Silesia — Aspect of the Country — Bathing-places and their Environs — The Schneekoppe — The County of Glatz — Scenery and Baths — The Heuscheuer. Vienna, August 8, 1843. Constantinople cannot be reached with three steps, my dearest mother. Many thousand must be taken ; and if the traveller is of a loquacious dispo sition, he cannot help talking about them. These ante-oriental letters you must consider as a prelude to the real drama ; they form an introduction to the more interesting ; and if the subject makes them appear to you somewhat common-place, only wait a little; they will become foreign enough, it is to be hoped, by and by. As it is natural to me to be always engrossed in the present, when it is not absolutely destitute VOL. I. B of attraction, I derived great pleasure from the little tour through Silesia, and contemplated its blue mountains with as much delight as if there were no Alps and Sierras in my remembrance, and no Olympus and Lebanon in my hope.

Six years ago, I ran over Silesia in seven-league boots, at such a rate that I slept but one night in Breslau, and saw nothing there but the Town-House. This Town-House pleased me so exceedingly, half fan tastic, half clumsy, as it is, with its turrets, and its sa lient parts, and its sculpture, and overgrown with wild vines, that the whole city was invested by my imagination with the same kind of character, and I fancied that there must be something extraordinary to be seen, if not in, at least about it — like Prague, for instance, or Niirnberg, where you walk through the streets, and look right and left, and find abundant entertainment. Such towns really appear to me like organic for mations, which, springing up as a flower does from a seed, could not but thrive on this soil. Breslau, it is true, is less so : it is gradually assuming a modern aspect ; the houses are gradually beautify ing, and the streets extending themselves : it has not retained so much that is characteristic of ancient as to interest modern times.

It has a very commer cial look, and, in the inscriptions over the shops, Po lish is found mixed with German. In the streets we also heard Polish spoken ; and the inns were full of Poles, on their way to the baths. Few other foreigners come to Breslau, the great majority of travellers, native and foreign, proceeding to the south and the west. It has stately, solemn-looking churches, befitting the residence of a prince-bishop ; and in the Augus tine church of the Blessed Virgin on the Sands — the name is as long as that of a Spanish grandee — there are in the aisles some most singular arched roofs, displaying consummate art, though appearing incomplete. But no Albert Durer, no Peter Vischer adorned the austere edifices with the lovely crea tions of their art — of that old honest art, which affects and warms my heart like the sight of a friend.

Modern art has found its place, where, as it is not uncommon now-a-days, it appears associated with industry. In Karsch's Museum, painting, bookbinders' work, engraving, knick-knacks of bronze, lithographic productions, are arranged side by side; and I must confess that of all these things the specimens of bookbinding pleased me most. The lithograph of the Madonna Sistina is an absolute disgrace to art, and doubly striking in this Museum, because it possesses a fine impression of Muller's engraving of the same picture — that engraving which I can never behold without a feeling of melancholy ; for no sooner was the plate finished, than the mental powers of the poor artist were exhausted, and the gloom of insanity enshrouded that spirit, which had been so long, so deeply, so b entirely absorbed in the holiest, the highest beauty — a hard lot for such transcendent talent !

Several of the Silesian nobility and gentry have houses at Breslau, but they are not externally dis tinguished by any particular beauty. Neither did the laquais de place know of any works of art, which I took it for granted they must contain. Indeed, it is better to have nothing of the kind than only middling productions ; and it is difficult for private persons to attain higher, since princes have at their command greater resources for securing what is excellent for their collections. In a rather old private house, there is on the ceiling of a large room a remarkable alto relievo, an equestrian figure of Gustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden, of stone, or some substance resembling stone, in which iron bars are inserted, of beautiful workmanship, and, though upwards of two hundred years old, in ex cellent preservation.

Basso-relievos of military sub jects run along the frieze, but are not equal in merit to that extraordinary work. This apartment is said to have been formerly a Protestant chapel. At present, not more than two of the numerous churches in Breslau belong to the Protestants. The lofty steeple of one of these, the church of St. Elizabeth, I should have liked to ascend, but the wind was too violent. During the three weeks that I was in Silesia, I had certainly, at most, not above three hours of calm weather, and this, in the midst of summer and at such a distance from the sea is very extraordinary. I should imagine that this is the only way in which Riibezahl now manifests his presence. People have ceased to give credit to his other pranks ; this enrages him, and he ranges over his mountains in a fury that produces storms and tempests.

I would fain have made acquaintance with the humorous old gentleman in some other way ; but he deemed me unworthy of it. Though my journey was, in consequence, per formed in wretched weather, so that not a day passed without several heavy showers, and at Warm brunn I was kept prisoner some days by the rain, still the country has made an agreeable impression upon me, because it is so populous and cheerful. How completely is Silesia cut off from the New Mark ! — not by rivers, mountains, language ; but by its character, its nature. It is cultivated and planted in a different manner; has vineyards — the famous Griinberg grape — walnut-trees, and all the roads are lined with fruit-trees, particularly the cherry, so that dull alleys of poplars are not to be seen. Pop lars are handsome in gardens, overtopping groups of other trees, as steeples do houses ; but their spare beauty is too meagre to adorn a landscape.

The cherry-tree cuts a very different figure, fresh, full, and luxuriant. To me, who always think cherries as beautiful as rubies, it was a magnificent sight ; but, as I should not eat them any more than rubies, so cold and heavy do I find them, the idea who was to consume all these cherries gave me no small uneasiness. That they were likely, however, to find but too many admirers was demonstrated by the small boarded sheds here and there along the road, in which hired watchmen looked out as vigilantly for pilferers as those in the vineyards before the vintage. The fields were of a golden yellow, the heavy ears undulating like waves ; the harvest had commenced, and the mowers merrily whetted their scythes. Scattered among the fields, and so numerous that the landscape never appears of one uniform colour, are large villages, sometimes with handsome villas and mansions, which are never without a spacious garden, and many towns.

Cross and by-roads run from all these places to the others, and also between the alleys of fruit-trees. The towns look more cheerful and are better built than small country towns in general are ; and the villages are adorned with such a profusion of flowers as I have never before seen in the country ; lilies and roses in the greatest abundance, and standard rose-trees, which are accounted something rare in North Germany, appear in front of the meanest cottages; honey suckle and convolvulus creep around the windows, the frames of which are generally painted green or blue ; and hedges of spiræa enclose the garden, which, be it ever so small, is sure to contain a mass of poppies of different colours, scarlet lychnis, and all the flaring flowers that bloom in the height of summer. Thanks to the frequent rain, not a withered leaf or a dry stalk was to be seen; and whenever the sun burst forth from amid the clouds, everything met him glistening, glowing, and flinging perfume around.

Such is the country in the plain between Breslau and the mountains, and, the nearer to these, the richer, the more beautiful, and the more diversified ; for there the valleys run down from the mountains, between ranges of hills, into the plain; a stream winds through them, and strives to reach the Oder ; and the windings of this stream are lined with vsilages, and where one visiage ends another begins. Or the hills stretch like long arms into the country, and thereby cut out for themselves a larger, deeper, valley, which again parts into several divisions. Thus the charming valley of Hirschberg, or of Warmbrunn, one of the most delightful in Germany, at the foot of the Giant Mountains, ten miles in length and breadth, is a real park ; but in such a way as to detract from the beauty of the actual parks formed in it, though not of the country.

This valley, indeed, is the crown-jewel ; as I must confess that it is only the portion of the Giant Mountains from Schmiedeberg to Hirschberg that I find really mountainous. There the long blue outstretched range every where forms the beautiful, solid back ground, to which the eye giadually rises from the plain, over hills, over spurs of mountains, as upon irregular terraces, and seeks the Schneekoppe, whose summit is frequently enveloped in clouds. We were first in the Sudetes, at the small bathing places, Charlottenbrunn and Altwasser, and at Salzbrunn, which is larger and better known. To the remarkable objects and the riches of that country belong most particularly the coal-pits ; but they do not contribute to its embellishment. They are mostly elevated plains, completely under mined, and rather bare, to which you ascend through some picturesque ravine, in which a little stream iuddenly rends a deep narrow channel — a cleft, I might call it, like those defiles of Liebethal, and Ottowald, through which you enter Saxon Switzer land.

Nearly of this nature is the Hollengrund, near Ftirstenstein, between two and three miles from Salzbrunn. This castle rises on the one side abruptly from the precipice, while on the other it is situated absolutely in the plain, which here has a certain naked and uncultivated appearance, owing to the coal-pits. In my opinion, the Castle of Fiirstenstein has a higher reputation than it deserves. Me, at least, it has not surprised, either by picturesque or by original beauty : on the other hand, there was something that far surpassed my expec tation ; this was the rocks of Adersbach. They are situated beyond the Silesian frontiers, in Bo hemia, eighteen miles from Salzbrunn, and a wretched road leads to them. It rained in torrents, and I considered seriously whether I had not better give up the trip; for I had heard so much about the rocks of Adersbach that it seemed as if I knew them.

Luckily my curiosity proved too strong ; and the result showed that bad weather detracts nothing whatever from these remarkable rocks. In all other mountain scenery, more or less depends upon favourable light, but in this case nothing at all. Here you advance in so narrow a labyrinth of paths and ravines, here the extraordinary forma tions approach so near to you, that rain or sun shine makes no difference. All these rocks, some of which rise to the height of two hundred and fifty feet, stand upon their smallest base, some singly, some in groups, on a marshy meadow ground, elevated above the surface by a caprice of Nature, and rent from the body of the hill; for there are hills enough round about, but their blocks are piled upon one another. Here it appears as though mountain spirits had been attempting with rude hands to copy the forms and works of men, and, dissatisfied with their clumsy and colossal imita tions, had flung them down by one another, and half buried them in the swamp.

So fantastic and to a certain degree, so like are these forms, that you are disposed to believe the guide, when he points out to you, with the gravest look in the world, here the twins, there the mummy, there the veiled nun, there St. John in the wilderness — " that little man up yonder between the stones," he adds, for your better information. Upon the desig nations, fortress, market-place, cathedral, &c, you b hit of yourself; but with deep shame I confess that it was impossible for me to recognize the " Breslau wool-fair." The way through this world of rocks is sometimes extremely narrow, at others it expands into a wider space; in some places the sides are so close that you are obliged to squeeze and stoop to get along. Wooden steps facilitate climbing wherever it is ne cessary. The most striking point of the labyrinth is the grotto with the water-fall.

The bright, cheerful, ever-moving stream suddenly tumbles aU af frighted into the dark cellar-like grotto, and thence winds in a thousand toilsome meanders round the foot of the rocks into the open country. On the level plain, a few hundred paces from the entrance, at which the " overturned sugar-loaf" keeps guard, stands the public house. The landlord, who keeps the rocky ways in order, expects a trifle for his pains, but considerably more for the dinner which it is customary to take at his house, and which is not likely to be very palatable, if you neglect to order trout. This I never forget to do among the mountains ; and this is particularly to be recommended in Silesia, for the refinements of cookery have not yet penetrated into the kitchens of that country ; nay, their precursor, cleansiness, is not everywhere to be found ; and therefore the simplest dishes, such as trout, eggs, potatoes, were to me the most welcome.

When you have seen Adersbach and Fiirstenstein you are very glad that you can leave Salzbrunn. The gardens surrounding the drinking room are it is true very pleasing, especially for their profusion of roses ; but you have strolled through them in a quarter of an hour, and the place itself is not pleasant. An endless, mean, thoroughly rustic village, in the middle of which, like the heart, is that building supported by pillars, which covers the wells, the drinkers, and likewise the shops. Some hotels and lodging-houses surround this edifice, so that just this spot has a rather gaudy appearance, which is not exactly becoming in a country beauty. There is very little bathing, so little that the keeper looked quite disconcerted when, about eight o'clock in the evening, I wished to take a bath.

Of course I de sisted from the unreasonable desire, when she enu merated all the obstacles to its fulfilment; but I could not help smiling at the idea that I was in a bathing-place. A place where I should never think of bathing either early or late is Warmbrunn ; the smeU of the sulphureous water is too disgusting. The two prin cipal springs are covered by circular cupola-topped buildings, and in these basins people bathe in com mon — very early in the morning, the gentlemen, then the ladies, and after them servants, Jews, paupers. As the supply from these springs is not very copious, the influx of fresh water is of course but scanty ; hence it is not particularly gratifying to re flect that the basins are let off, and the water completely renewed, only once a week. There are, how ever, large bathing-houses, with single baths for persons who dislike bathing in company ; but the horrible smell of sulphur renders them intolerable to all but actual sufferers.

Warmbrunn is nevertheless so attractive that visi tors repair thither, without needing the baths, as to a delightful country abode. The bulk of them con sist of Silesians ; few foreigners go to this place. It is not a European bath, like the baths of Bohemia ; it is not a universal bath, like the Rhenish, and es pecially Baden-Baden ; it is for the province, or rather the country, of Silesia — for people are not fond of being comprehended under the subordinate de nomination of province ; and, as they have their own capital, Breslau, where they reside in winter, so they have also at home a bathing-place to which the Silesian is ardently attached. As then the flower of the company consists of Silesian families who are all acquainted with one another, and most of them connected by the bonds of friendship or consangui nity, and consequently form of themselves a separate coterie, strangers would have great difficulty to gain admission into this circle, unless its members were kindly disposed towards them and prepossessed in their favour.

In Berlin, an amiable friend, who be longs herself to one of the first Silesian families, said to me, " In Silesia, people will not speak to you till they know your pedigree." I can, however, judge from my own experience alone. I have experienced a most friendly reception, an hospitable attention, which shows an interest in the stranger and yet leaves him at perfect liberty. But, as I belong to the " caste," as people now say — and besides, am just now the fashion, as I say to myself— that asser tion may be on the whole correct. Noble and not noble are said to be strictly separated in society, and this is not to be effected without a strong spirit of caste — especially in Prussia, where the prodigiously extensive host of placemen, with its various rami fications, forms a very numerous and important class, into which people are received without regard to birth, and attain to the highest posts in the State, and of course cannot possibly be excluded from the first society.

Under such circumstances, it must require most skilful management to keep the caste pure. For my part, I believe that there will soon be no other nobility but that which consists of servants ofthe State, nearly the same as in Russia; who ever holds this or that office is noble, be he even the son of a peasant. The period of history which began with the Reformation, about three hundred and fifty years ago, and established nobility and church upon the footing on which they still subsist, is approaching to its end — that is undeniable ; for the forms in which both institutions still continue to exist, have ceased to content any one. They are decaying, giving way, cracking, and breaking on all sides, and the minority only yet cling tenaciously to them. To harmonize the present with the past, with the fragments that still protrude from the one into the other, appears to me useless.

One ought to strive, on the contrary, to harmonize the future with the present ; this must be the task of those supe rior minds, who cast a prophetic glance over their own time, and also into that which is approaching, and who are never so necessary for nations as just now, at the moment of a closing period. On what basis the company at Warmbrunn wsil be organised a century hence, I shaU not pretend to decide ; at present they amuse themselves there ex tremely well with balls, assemblies, parties of pleasure to points more or less distant in the surrounding country ; and in bad weather they have the public room and a neat little theatre. The drama seems to be a great favourite in Silesia. Not only at Warmbrunn and Salzbrunn, where it has been introduced for the entertainment of the visitors to the baths, but also in very small towns, with a few thousand inhabitants, there are playhouses.

The people, certainly, need pleasure, amusement, as weU as we, and have, from the olden times, had and been passionately attached to their dramatic enter tainments, their parish feasts, and archery meetings, their religious and profane festivals, at which there was always enough to be seen ; but this fondness for the theatre appears to me most particularly to be regretted. Genuine art does not find its way to those stages, and if it did, it would not make an impression on the unpractised taste, which, chiefly demands performances full of show and bustle. The fondness for the theatre attests a certain morbid longing for amusement, and a thirst for sensual excitement, which, in this sphere, appear to me the more melancholy the more difficult they are to satisfy. It is not very long since there were no theatres in Switzerland, because the little repub lics feared that vanity and a love of diversions and dissipation would be fostered to an extent for which the limited circumstance of those times afforded no scope.

Such patriarchal precautions, indeed, are out of season now, and perhaps people would be all the better if a great number of prohibitions were removed, and governments were to say to them, " Say, see, hear, write, read, what you please, and show, in doing so, that you are rational creatures." For eight days I was detained at Warmbrunn by my principal object, to ascend the Schneekoppe, the loftiest mountain in Germany, excepting the Alps. The weather forbade its accomplishment ; the sun always set in a prodigious stratus ; the chaffinch always twittered his rain-notes ; the garden spider always tore holes in her web, to spare herself the vexation of seeing it rent by the coming storm ; and the barometer always stood at changeable. Meanwhue, I made little excursions to places which have less need of clear weather than the Schneekoppe, to the celebrated parks in the vaUey of Hirschberg, for instance, and to Briickenberg, LETTERS OF A a parish in the mountains, where they are erecting, at the expense of the king of Prussia, an ancient Norwegian church, which was taken down in its own country, and purchased by him.

It is constructed entirely of wood, and, having grown gray and un sightly with age, the materials have been nicely planed, and the church, which, indeed, is not finished, looks very little better than a wooden barn. Four pillars, in the interior, supporting the rafters of the flat roof, have rude carving upon the capitals. The whole appears to me like the work of savages, and is at the same time on so small a scale that one would almost take it for a plaything. The massive bell-tower of free-stone erecting by the side of this wooden cabin, causes it to look doubly so. 'Tis a pity that it was not turned into a chapel in some Catholic country, which, placed on the solitary mountain-top, or down in a rocky ravine, might invite the wanderer to rest from earthly cares ; to this purpose it would be precisely suited, so small, so wild, and so forlorn it is.

Now, opened, according to Protestant custom, every Sunday, and pro vided with organ and pulpit, it will not form a particularly pleasing object. In my opinion, the wooden houses in the park of Erdmannsdorf, inhabited by those Protestant Ty rolese, who emigrated a few years since from the Zillerthal on account of their religion, and here form a little colony, are handsomer. The mansion of Erdmannsdorf is rebuilding, and the park is quite a new creation, destitute of trees. That at Fischbach cannot be much older ; and the park of Buchwald alone is adorned and enriched with majestic old trees, in whose shade one loves to linger, and which form such beautiful frames to views of the hills, or a fore-ground to the prospects from them. Fischbach has an air of melancholy, of being cut off from the world, little variety of landscape, and likewise but few views of the mountains.

I can imagine what a desirable hermitage it must be at times for princes ; who, by way of change, wish nei ther to see nor hear anything of what is passing in the world. One of the summer-houses contains a real jewel, precisely one of those for which I could envy princes ; namely an ancient little altar-piece, which an archbishop of Cologne presented to the princess.* You are acquainted, my dear mamma, with the famous large altar-piece in the cathedral of Cologne, by an unknown, old German master — an Epiphania in the centre, and on the sides St. Ursula, the patron-saint of the city, with her eleven thousand virgins, and St. Gereon, with his eleven thousand bachelors — By the by, I do not recollect from what barbarians the holy bands were fleeing ; I believe it was the Huns; but I should think they were numerous enough to defend themselves, instead of sub mitting to be martyred.

Well, the same subject on * These estates belong to the Princess of Liegnitz, originally a Countess Harracb, who was united by what is called abroad a morganatic marriage to the late King of Prussia. — Tr. LETTERS OF A a smaU scale is represented in this little piece ; but it has two additional side-wings, with the Virgin Mary and the Angel of the Annunciation. It is painted with such— shall I say simplicity or igno rance ? — one may say both ; for science then lay enchained, and of anatomy the painter knew nothing, and of perspective very sittle. With a mind free and unencumbered by the rubbish of study, he fell to work upon his subject, and painted just as his child like genius guided his pencil. This is the prodigious difference between the old painters and the modern who strive to paint in that old manner.

The old painters really knew nothing. The modern affect to know nothing. Such as Fiesole, for example, a pious friar, who passed his whole life in the service of the altar ; what could he know of the beauty of the female figure ? He was a stranger to it, and so he painted it with that angular, dry, meagreness of forms, which certainly offends the eye in his productions and those of his contemporaries. In doing this^ he certainly sinned against truth ; and the individual truth, that he could not paint the female form otherwise, simply manifests it self. Now, on the contrary, there is not a painter who practises his art shut up between the four walls of a convent. He studies at academies and schools of art, on his travels, in museums, in galleries, in the painting-rooms of masters, in the motley life of the world, in the rich life of Nature : there are models of aU sorts, of flesh and blood as well as of marble.