A Visit to Iceland and the Scandinavian North | Page 4

presence of the excise officer!
I took merely a cursory glance at Prague, as I had thoroughly examined
every thing there some years before. The beautiful "Graben" and
Horse-market once more excited my admiration. It was with a peculiar
feeling that I trod the old bridge, from which St. John of Nepomuk was
cast into the Moldau for refusing to publish the confession of King
Wenceslaus' consort. {7} On the opposite bank I mounted the

Hradschin, and paid a visit to the cathedral, in which a large
sarcophagus, surrounded and borne by angels, and surmounted by a
canopy of crimson damask, is dedicated to the memory of the saint.
The monument is of silver, and the worth of the metal alone is
estimated at 80,000 florins. The church itself is not spacious, but is
built in the noble Gothic style; the lesser altars, however, with their
innumerable gilded wooden figures, look by contrast extremely puny.
In the chapel are many sarcophagi, on which repose bishops and
knights hewn in stone, but so much damaged, that many are without
hands and feet, while some lack heads. To the right, at the entrance of
the church, is the celebrated chapel of St. Wenceslaus, with its walls
ornamented with frescoes, of which the colours and designs are now
almost obliterated. It is further enriched with costly stones.
Not far from the cathedral is situated the palace of Count Czernin, a
building particularly favoured with windows, of which it has one for
every day in the year. I was there in an ordinary year, and saw 365;
how they manage in leap-year I do not know. The view from the
belvedere of this palace well repays the observer. It takes in the old and
new town, the noble river with its two bridges (the ancient
venerable-looking stone structure, and the graceful suspension-bridge,
six hundred paces long), and the hills round about, clothed with
gardens, among which appear neat country-houses.
The streets of the "Kleinseite" are not particularly attractive, being
mostly tortuous, steep, and narrow. They contain, however, several
remarkable palaces, among which that of Wallenstein Duke of
Friedland stands pre-eminent. {8}
After visiting St. Nicholas' Church, remarkable for the height of its
spire and its beautifully arched cupola, I betook myself to Wimmer's
gardens, and thence to the "Bastei," a place of public resort with the
citizens of Prague.
I could now observe the devastation caused by the rising of the water
shortly before my arrival. The Moldau had overstepped its banks in so
turbulent a manner, as to carry along with it several small houses, and
even a little village not far from Prague, besides damaging all the

dwellings upon its banks. The water had indeed already fallen, but the
walls of the houses were soaked through and through; the doors had
been carried away, and from the broken windows no faces looked out
upon the passers-by. The water had risen two feet more than in 1784, in
which year the Moldau had also attained an unusual height.
From the same tower of observation, I looked down upon the great
open space bought a few years ago, and intended to be occupied by the
termini of the Vienna and Dresden railroads. Although several houses
were only just being pulled down, and the foundations of but few
buildings were laid, I was assured that within six months every thing
would be completed.
I have still to mention a circumstance which struck me during my
morning peregrinations, namely, the curious method in which milk,
vegetables, and other provisions are here brought to town. I could have
fancied myself transported to Lapland or Greenland, on meeting every
where carts to which two, three, or four dogs were harnessed. One pair
of dogs will drag three hundredweight on level ground; but when they
encounter a hill, the driver must lend a helping hand. These dogs are,
besides, careful guardians; and I would not advise any one to approach
a car of this kind, as it stands before the inn-door, while the proprietor
is quenching his thirst within, on the money he has just earned.
At five o'clock on the morning of the 15th of April I left Prague, and
rode for fourteen miles in the mail-carriage, as far as Obristwy on the
Elbe, at which place I embarked for Dresden, on board the steamer
Bohemia, of fifty-horse power, a miserable old craft, apparently a
stranger to beauty and comfort from her youth up. The price charged
for this short passage of eight or nine hours is enormously dear. The
travellers will, however, soon have their revenge on the extortionate
proprietors; a railroad is constructing, by means of which this distance
will be traversed in a much shorter time, and at a great saving of
expense.
But at any rate