A Visit to Iceland and the Scandinavian North | Page 6

little town of
Konigstein. Not far off, on the right bank, a huge rock, resting on
others, bears a striking resemblance to a human head. The more distant
groups of rocks are called those of "Rathen," but are considered as
belonging to Saxon Switzerland. The "Basteien" (Bastions) of this
Switzerland, close by which we now pass, are most wonderful
superpositions of lofty and fantastically shaped rocks. Unfortunately,
the steamer whirled us so rapidly on our way, that whilst we
contemplated one bank, the beauteous scenes on the opposite side had
already glided from our view. In much too short a time we had passed
the town of Pirna, situate at the commencement of this range of
mountains. The very ancient gate of this town towers far above all the
other buildings.
Lastly we see the great castle Sonnenstein, built on a rock, and now
used as an asylum for lunatics.
All the beautiful and picturesque portion of our passage is now past,
and the royal villa of Pillnitz, with its many Chinese gables, looks
insignificant enough, after the grand scenes of nature. A chain of hills,
covered with the country-houses of citizens, adjoins it; and on the right
extends a large plain, at the far end of which we can dimly descry the
Saxon metropolis. But what is that in the distance? We have hardly
time to arrange our luggage, when the anchor is let go near the fine old
Dresden Bridge.
This bridge had not escaped unscathed by the furious river. One of the
centre arches had given way, and the cross and watchbox which
surmounted it were precipitated into the flood. At first, carriages still
passed over the bridge; it was not until some time afterwards that the
full extent of the damage was ascertained, and the passage of carriages
over the bridge discontinued for many months.
As I had seen the town of Dresden several years before, and the only
building new to me was the splendid theatre, I took advantage of the

few evening hours of my stay to visit this structure.
Standing in the midst of the beautiful Cathedral-square, its noble
rotunda-like form at once rivets the attention. The inner theatre is
surrounded by a superb broad and lofty corridor, with fine
bow-windows and straight broad staircases, leading in different
directions towards the galleries. The interior of the theatre is not so
spacious as, judging from the exterior, one would imagine it to be, but
the architecture and decorations are truly gorgeous and striking. The
boxes are all open, being separated from each other merely by a low
partition; the walls and chairs are covered with heavy silken draperies,
and the seats of the third and fourth galleries with a mixture of silk and
cotton. One single circumstance was disagreeable to me in an acoustic
point of view--I could hear the slightest whisper of the prompter as
distinctly as though some one had been behind me reading the play.
The curtain had scarcely fallen before the whole house was empty, and
yet there was no crowding to get out. This first drew my attention to the
numerous and excellently contrived doors.
April 16th.
The Dresden omnibuses may be cited as models of comfort; one is
certain of plenty of room, and there is no occasion to dread either the
corpulent persons or the furs and cloaks of fellow-passengers. A
bell-pull is fixed in the interior of the carriage, so that each individual
can give the coachman a signal when he or she wishes to alight. These
omnibuses call at the principal inns, and wait for a moment; but the
traveller who is not ready in advance is left behind.
At half-past five in the morning it called at our hotel. I was ready and
waiting, and drove off comfortably to the railway. The distance from
Dresden to Leipzig is reckoned at fifty-six miles, and the journey
occupied three hours.
The first fourteen miles are very agreeable; gardens, fields, and
meadows, pine-forests in the plain and on the hills, and between these,
villages, farms, country-houses, and solitary chapels, combine to form
a very pretty landscape. But the scene soon changes, and the town of

Meissen (famous for its porcelain manufactory), on the right hand,
seems to shut out from our view all that is picturesque and beautiful.
From here to Leipzig we travel through a wearisome monotonous plain,
enlivened at long intervals by villages and scattered farms. There is
nothing to see but a great tunnel, and the river Pleisse--the latter, or
rather the Elster, is rendered famous by the death of Prince Poniatowski.
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The town of Leipzig, celebrated far and wide for its fairs, and more for
its immense publishing trade, presents an appearance of noise and
bustle proportionate to its commercial importance. I found streets,