SOME EXPERIENCE OF GERMAN LIFE.
As some of our readers will doubtless feel interested, we quote an extract from the diary of Mr. G. W. W. Houghton. Editor of The Hub, who is now taking a trip through Europe.
Hotel Rominscher Kaiser, Chemnitz, Tuesday, June 5th.
At last we have arrived. We occupy the great front chamber on first floor, over entrance, with three windows overlooking the Market Square. It is the room which the King of Saxony occupies when he visits Chemnitz, which I understand is frequently. It is large, was once handsome, though now rather time-worn, and representatively German in its appointments; huge white porcelain stove, extending 2 ft. above highest reach of my hand; two single beds, arranged lengthwise and foot to foot, alongside one wall massive escritoire, elaborately carved and inlaid with mother-of-pearl and great assortment of heavy furniture, covered with figured maroon plush. The usual German hat-tree is a tree indeed. A gorgeous chandelier in the center has twelve candles, and eight other candle sticks are scattered elsewhere, which, by aid of the mirrors, appear quadrupled. The only pictures are gorgeous portraits of Kaiser Wilhelm and Augusta, with royal emblems surmounting the frame.
German beds would be amusing if they were not disgusting. Usually, as here, there is a single sheet drawn over the mattress, then a lightly stuffed affair just the size of the bed, which you drag immediately above you, and then a plump, eider-down, pillow-like construction, just half the size of the bed, which you are expected to poise upon your stomach. The result is inevitable. As long as this infliction remains in place, your body broils and your feet freeze, till, on the first movement, it topples off on to the floor, and you awake chilled to the marrow. Still worse, in some places (at Brunswick, for instance) the lightly stuffed substitute for upper sheet and blanket is omitted, and you have only that horrible eider-down pin-cushion for upper protection, half the length of the body. Allen is a German enthusiast of the most pronounced type, but this proved too much for his patience. He and I were awake and swearing nearly the entire night, and finally came down to steamer-rugs and overcoats.
Hotel Rominscher Kaiser, Chemnitz, Tuesday, June 5th.
At last we have arrived. We occupy the great front chamber on first floor, over entrance, with three windows overlooking the Market Square. It is the room which the King of Saxony occupies when he visits Chemnitz, which I understand is frequently. It is large, was once handsome, though now rather time-worn, and representatively German in its appointments; huge white porcelain stove, extending 2 ft. above highest reach of my hand; two single beds, arranged lengthwise and foot to foot, alongside one wall massive escritoire, elaborately carved and inlaid with mother-of-pearl and great assortment of heavy furniture, covered with figured maroon plush. The usual German hat-tree is a tree indeed. A gorgeous chandelier in the center has twelve candles, and eight other candle sticks are scattered elsewhere, which, by aid of the mirrors, appear quadrupled. The only pictures are gorgeous portraits of Kaiser Wilhelm and Augusta, with royal emblems surmounting the frame.
German beds would be amusing if they were not disgusting. Usually, as here, there is a single sheet drawn over the mattress, then a lightly stuffed affair just the size of the bed, which you drag immediately above you, and then a plump, eider-down, pillow-like construction, just half the size of the bed, which you are expected to poise upon your stomach. The result is inevitable. As long as this infliction remains in place, your body broils and your feet freeze, till, on the first movement, it topples off on to the floor, and you awake chilled to the marrow. Still worse, in some places (at Brunswick, for instance) the lightly stuffed substitute for upper sheet and blanket is omitted, and you have only that horrible eider-down pin-cushion for upper protection, half the length of the body. Allen is a German enthusiast of the most pronounced type, but this proved too much for his patience. He and I were awake and swearing nearly the entire night, and finally came down to steamer-rugs and overcoats.
The Chemnitz bells interest me. I was awakened by them several times last night, and at 4 A.M. took in the full performance. About a dozen took part, big and little, far and near, on after another along the line till a little one, with a a saucy tone, cried “Ah there! I’m Here!” and then last of all the huge market clock, with a hoarse, out-all-night sort of voice, growled: “Now—drowse—once—more” with painfully long pause after each boom, and the night was death-still again. But really they are a nuisance, for not only does this occur every hour, but the quarter-hours are also sounded, and prolonged classes with no apparent cause are thrown in at irregular intervals.
Chemnitz is a manufacturing town, not pretty but business-like, resembling English. Population, upwards of 110,000. Annual exports to the U. S, alone, 10 million dollars. Several American houses have buyers resident here; Marshall, Field & Co., of Chicago, three such, and a fourth accompanied us on the Saale for some special errand here. All about the city, also, are manufacturing suburbs, with numerous specialties: chiefly woven goods, stockings, gloves, etc.
By skipping Berlin, we are now three days ahead of our itinerary. At Vienna we hope to find letters, and possibly at Dresden. Have written to all previous addresses to forward letters to Vienna. Weather has been delightful ever since we landed. G.W.W. H.
“The Hub”, July, 1888
