Foreign Parts
Rhine to Metz

Foreign Parts.

A Journey along the Rhine, down to Holland, and the North Sea Coast on Bicycles.

By H. and F. Rieck
(of Coffs Harbour, N. S. Wales).

The winged wheel, the bike, is not, as some people believe, a passing whim, a soon forgotten fashion of our time; but, like the electric tram, phonograph, telephone, typewriter, kodac, wireless telegraph, etc., is a useful invention, characterising our new century. It might be improved, but will never go out of use again. We, by railways, get so swiftly hurled through the lands that we do not get the slightest knowledge of them; while by walking our physical, as well as our mental faculties, get so worn out, after many days’ journey, that our strength and humour often fail when most wanted.

Experienced bicycle riders, with good roads and favourable wind, however narrow the path may be, can daily ride 60, 80, even 100 kilometers, and at the end of such a journey are fresh enough to take a walk on foot to look around in the locality of their arrival.

The first place after our arrival at the beautiful, interesting, old-fashioned town of Strassburg, and after securing furnished rooms for several weeks, we went at once to the world-renowned Cathedral (the Münster), wherein is the very ancient miraculous clock, which is reckoned one of the seven wonders of the world. We also climbed at once up to the enormous high tower of this church, one of the highest in Europe. We arrived pretty close to the top for an entrance fee of 50 plennige (6d) each. We had to stop, as the ascent to the very summit of the very taper pinnacle is only permitted by an extra ticket from the Mayor of the town for a fee of 2s per person, and after delivery of a medical testimony warranting entire freedom from giddiness. We contented ourselves, with many other spectators, with the height of our position. Verily this cathedral is a mighty building, and makes one feel very small, although looking down upon the funny little ant-like humanity crawling below.

The wonderful almost five hundred years old clock within the Münster Cathedral keeps on working the timepiece, and the figures of the 12 Apostles come out regularly every hour; but the lunar movements and signs of the Zodiac have long ago stopped, and no artist has been allowed to interfere with the wonderful workmanship, for fear of the whole of the works stopping.

During our stay of 10 days in Strassburg we had many very interesting strolls within its walls and surroundings. The population is entirely German in town, as well as in the country. Some are accustomed to say “bon jour” for good day, “merci” for thank you, “s’il vous plait” for if you please, etc. But as soon as you address them in French the pure German jumps out at once. As the population in Alsace-Lorraine is German to the backbone, it is not only to be wondered at that they stood the foreign government of the French so long, but also that they kept their old nationality through the hundreds of years so brave and true.

We often went to a splendid ancient castle garden near Strassburg, called the “Orangerie.” In this present month, the end of July, all the lovely plants were here in full bloom. We saw a whole forest of fine kept orange trees, palms, dragon trees, pawpaw apples, bananas, and other tropical and sub-tropical friends of ours, panted out in tubs (taken out in spring from their warm greenhouse shelter), parading now amongst the sombre looking northern giant oaks, pines, elms, etc. This “Orangerie” was once a zoological garden, but as the animals were too great an expense to keep, they were sent out of the way.

As since ancient times the fortified town of Strassburg, by its favourable position on the Rhine, with the enormously rich Alsace country at its back, gradually extended in size, the grim old granite walls and towers of the old times interwoven (like the shell of a crab) got too heavy and too narrow, and had to be cast off. Few old ghastly walls remind us of this ancient period. Later on new, these modern bastions were erected by the French, and surrounded by deep, dangerous looking moats. In spite of these precautions, this place, in the year 1870, was bombarded, stormed, and retaken by the German troops, after many hundred years of French rule. Of the great devastations of these days of bombardment nothing is at present to be seen; but occasionally a piece of a big shell or cannon ball is built into fine new buildings, where formerly an old shaky edifice was blown asunder by the promptly acting German artillery, answering the wanton declaration of war by Emperor Napoleon III. and his inglorious bombardment of the open and undefended German township of Saarbracken.

The old part of Strassburg is neither beautiful nor interesting. The lanes are uncomfortably squeezed together by the old style French fortification works, leaving neither space for the military forces in war times to act, nor allowing breathing room for the citizens in peace to develop trade and bodily strength. This old French town is surrounded by tremendous fortification works, gates, and dismal stagnant canals (moats), crossed by many fine bridges. These moats breed a smell, which cannot be excused by the finest buildings and the most elegant of manners of fine gents and dames promenading on these boulevards. We observed the swollen, blown up, hairless carcases of dogs, etc., floating for days on the same spots in the stagnant, greenish fluid.

At present, under the German rule, things in Strassburg are gradually improved. The old narrow streets are broadened out, and a system of underground canalisation is in course of introduction, while the fine old historical buildings, monuments, bridges, etc., are piously preserved. A quiet, new town has also sprung up since the last 30 years, the centre of which in the Kaiserschloss (Imperial castle, built in a simple but massive and noble style, facing a large, green, shady park, on the opposite side of which flanks a row of highly magnificent buildings: the new University and Public and Academic Libraries, Museum, Justice Palace, etc.

In all directions, far around Strassburg, on prominent hills are at present in course of erection a number of formidable detached forts, and a very significant and curious fact appeared to us that, in consequence of the scarcity of native German working men, who are occupied in the many technical manufactories that are at these stone quarries, pick and shovel works, etc., a great number of foreigners (Poles, Italians, Chedos, and even Frenchmen) are employed.

The town of Strassburg is situated in a most beautiful and fertile Alsatian plain on the left side of the Rhine, about five miles distant from this beautiful river, but is connected with it by a canal, in which big barges, constantly going to and fro, are drawn by horses, pulling on lines along the banks. A new harbour is at present being built at the town of Kehl, a town opposite Strassburg; a new canal is also finished to facilitate the shipping trade.

Unlike this formidable Rhine stream farther downwards at Coblenz and Cologne, this river here, in its upper part, in the vicinity of Strassburg is very rapid and treacherous, and shortly before our arrival, at a manœuvre in pontooning, a boat in the ebbing, swift-flowing Rhine in the vicinity of the town of Kehl was overturned. Eight soldiers were drowned, and some of the bodies were not recovered for weeks afterwards.

At Kehl are two very fine, iron, powerful, enormously long suspension bridges, spanning this broad, majestic river, one for railway and one for foot, wheel, etc., traffic. Across this latter we left Alsace and went on a splendid level and smooth road and in fine weather, about 50 kilometer to the magnificent, celebrated town of Baden-Baden. We rode our wheels as slowly as possible, to enjoy the beauty of this part of the Schwarzwald (Black forest) thoroughly.

The town of Baden-Baden is charmingly situated in the sunny Lichtenthal (valley of light), and the gorgeous castles, fairy-like villas, majestic mansions, homely, funny and snug cottages in these long-stretched valleys are surrounded by parks, gardens and shrubberies of manifold style. The whole is combined by splendid, very broad carriage streets, footpaths, bicycle tracks and saddle-horse roads, flanked by endless long alleys of gigantic, shady, linden, elm and oak trees.

The alleys, as well as the Casino buildings and gardens, are swarming with crowds of super-elegant tourists and Kur guests, as Baden-Baden is the favourite resort of the tip-top aristocracy and plutocracy and other cracies of the world. On the evening after our arrival in the splendid and very spacious Kur-Garden, on the 23rd July, an extraordinary and very expensive illumination, firework and grand out-door concert (a “Venetian night”) was prepared, but scarcely was the illumination perfect and everything ready, when suddenly a heavy thunderstorm, with sheets of rain, began to fall, ruining in a short time many costly toilets. It being a garden festival, the elegant crowds could not all get fast enough under the roofs of the Casino and other buildings near by, so they hurried in carriages, cabs, etc., to their homes.

The mineral waters in Baden-Baden are drunk in great halls, which are free to the public, and close by is a neat clean stable, where six fine handsome cows are kept, which are warranted to be perfectly free from tuberculosis, etc. Here is a little arbor, where patients sit, who come to drink the milk warm and quite fresh from the cows. This place is mostly beset by nurses and children; older people preferring—also here—something stronger.

Near by is the spacious building of the Casino, formerly a celebrated gambling resort; but as in the dominions of the German Empire such hazard gambling institutions are rigorously forbidden, these grand halls are now conversation and music kiosks.

There are at Baden-Baden many large bathing and Kur establishments, called “Lande’s Bad,” “Friedrick’s Bad,” “Kaiserin Augusta Bad,” etc., and very many grand hotels, pensions, and private chambres garnies. The kur season was on our arrival just beginning, and fresh fashionable crowds were constantly arriving. In spite of this fact, we managed to get a good, simple, but very clean room for both of us for the night at three marks (3s.), which is not too dear for Baden-Baden, where in the best hotels a single bed costs 25 marks per night, including supper and breakfast.

To have another good look at this grandest of towns and its surrounding scenery, and as the sun gives light already at about two o’clock, we rose early at five, and mounted our bikes in the cool morning breeze, while the fashionable world of Baden-Baden was still fast asleep. We wheeled slowly through the many flowery fairy-like allies and esplanades, thence through the streets of the commercial parts of the town, where the shutters on the enormous plate-glass windows of the many proud drapery, jewellery magazines, etc., were still up, and at last, on splendid roads and asphalts, into the pure air of the country. When the sun was pretty high we halted before the arbor verandah of a veritable old Schwarzwald wirtshouse, and had our breakfast of coffee, muffins, butter, and honey.

From Baden-Baden we went to the strong fortification town of Rastatt, en route through a level, thoroughly cultivated agricultural country, and saw thousands and thousands of German troops manœuvring: infantry as well as cavalry and field artillery, and we halted for hours, seated on the grassy brink of a road-trench, watching them. At present, at the end of July, the grain crops are harvested out of the fields, and the troops are free there to manœuvre. Sometimes there are flocks of sheep and goats and cattle pasturing in charge of their shepherds amongst the long, straight lines of detached outswarming soldiers, quite a peaceful scene amongst the warlike crack, rattle, boom and life of the battalions.

After passing through Rastatt we crossed the Rhine River, again travelling westwards, over a long, pontoon-boat bridge, and returned into Alsace territory again. We never saw better land for agriculture than is to be found in this part of the valley of the Rhine, between the Vogese mountains in the west and the ranges of the Black Forest in the east. The whole of the rich, alluvial flats were a wealth of harvests of almost every sort: wheat, which looked as if it would turn out at least 50 bushels per acre; maize just as good as we ever saw it on the banks of the Macleay, Nambucca, Bellinger and Clarence Rivers, although being here very closely planted, as the rich land is here abundantly manured, and has no want of moisture; beet-roots, mangelwerzel, carrots, potatoes, cabbage, and all sorts of vegetables; tobacco, luxuriantly growing although rather densely planted also, and not at all pestered with the worms which are so destructive in Australia, West India, and other hot parts. A kind of yam-like tuber-plant is also largely cultivated here, the foliage of which resembles that of the stalk of the sunflower. The tuber of this plant, which is said to thrive very well, is used for feeding stock in winter.

Gradually and slowly, after rather troublesome up-hill work with our bikes—although the roads in Germany are perfect and quite unlike the Switzer plains around Basle—we arrived in the sunny forest hills of the Vogese ranges (the highest top spurs of which are now the boundary of Germany and France). We passed the town of Hagenau, and a great number of small towns and villages. Here in large fields and on mountain slopes the hop plant is extensively cultivated; but this year it has been a failure on account of prolonged drought, which destroyed the germinating power of the blossom.

Travelling still higher and higher, we came at last to the splendidly situated old venerable town of Zabern (French Saverne). This territory is the generating ground of many ancient old German sagas: stories of the “Holy Genoveva,” “The giant boy,” “Iron hammer,” etc. The most picturesque surroundings of Zabern, beautiful forest-clad hills with a view towards the morning sun over the rich flats of the Rhine valley towards the far blue mountains of the Schwarzwald, cause during the hot season a great crowd of jolly German and Austrian middle class people. Citizens with wives and children, students, scholars, painters, and similar tourists of all ages visit and reside here.

From Zabern we had a pretty steep climb for several hours on a splendid mountain road, and had to travel for two days through numerous Alsatian and Lorraine villages, via Kurzell (French Courselles) and Urville, before we reached the important stronghold of Metz. However ugly, narrow and repulsive the overcrowded streets of this old fortification are, he took furnished lodgings in Metz for one week, to have ample time to thoroughly inspect the localities of the most murderous battles the world ever saw, in the year 1870. In three days, August the 14th, 16th and 18th, the battles which were fought between French and German armies decided in this comparatively short time, by exact and formidable blows, the new standpoint of these two European nations.

We, on our trusty modern steel steeds, inspected that landscape where, 31 years ago, on the 14th of August, the German armies searched out and attacked that part of the French army which, after a vain attempt to invade the German lands, and after bombarding the undefended open town of Saarbruck, tried hard under Bazaine to join their other French army, which, under M’Mahon, stood in the north of France. This attack was made at Colombey, on the eastern side of Metz and the Moselle River. All the many soldiers’ graves (French and German), marked by numerous monuments, we visited, and thence followed the retiring enemy across this river to the town of Noveant, and made a halt before the small farm house where the commanding Prince Frederic Charles, in the village of Gorge, then held his headquarters. Upon this we, in the footsteps of the advancing German army, advanced towards the horrible field of the undecided battle of Mars-la-Tour on the 16th of August. To finish our day’s sight-seeing, and after religiously visiting all the places of the horrible battles, and the monuments of the comrades of my husband (who in those days not far from this spot had also his part of the burden of those war sufferings to carry), we went across the French boundary also to inspect the beautiful monument the French have erected in this town of Mars-la-Tour in memory of their warriors.

But the French customs boundary guard would not (in spite of the production of our Touring Club wheel passports) permit our wheels to enter the French territory without payment of duty, as on previous boundary crossings (by the Austrian, Switzer, Italian, etc.) we got granted. We had here in France to put our wheels in the drizzling rain on the street walls outside of the watchhouse, and walk into the town in search of the monument. After finding and admiring this beautiful and highly artistic statue on the high road to Paris, very tastefully decorated with ribbons and laurel wreaths, we took some refreshments in a French restaurant, and hurried on in the constantly falling rain towards our wheels, which were securely situated where we put them. As we approached our property and laid hands on it, the French guard demanded one franc for each wheel for the permission to put the bikes on the street wall. This French “sang froid” was too much for our patience. We shoved the mannikin aside, jumped laughing on our machines, and whirled with a favourable wind, but under streaming rain, out of France and over the German boundary, where the friendly eagle spread his protecting wings over us.

Like Marshal Bazaine, 31 years ago, we hurried under pouring rain towards Metz, and made the 25 kilometer incline from Mars-la-Tour to Metz in little more than one hour. But the following morning saw us, fresh and well fed, in the village of St. Marie-aux-Chenes, from where we, as 31 years ago (when my dear husband served in this war with the IV. Regiment II. Company of the Prussian Guards — Fanny E. Rieck) stormed the strongly fortified positions of the French in the battle of Gravelotte, in the village of St. Privat la Montague, over again.

In this present attack on the village of St. Privat we were heartily joined by a jolly party of English tourists, who got into our company while sitting in front of a French coffee house in St. Marie. These people, male and female, arrived direct from England via Dieppe and Paris, and were enraged about the treatment they had received during their journey through France in consequence of the hatred the French have cultivated, in consequence of the present war in South Africa, against everybody who uses the English tongue. We saw on this day, which was dry, sunny and fresh, leisurely and thoughtfully, the graves of the many thousands of good true comrades, who bravely and boldly faced the enemy, who with many coloured bands, Arabs, negroes and white soliers, threatened to overrun the Fatherland, and with their blood created the union of a now mighty Empire.

At present lay in the fortification of Metz and surrounding forts, which latter are, like at Strassburg, increased, a garrison of eighteen regiments. It is said that, as soon as the formidable ring of detached forts far around Metz is completed, the narrow rings of walls and moats will be levelled, for the benefit of the increasing growth of the town of Metz.

On our bicycle tour from Breisandi, Strassburg, up to Metz, and also on our journeys from this place to Diedenhofen (French: Thionville), we had the opportunity of seeing on the flat and on moderately hilly landscape the most different manœuvres and evolutions of troops of all regiments. We passed on the very broad and carefully kept main roads great bodies of artillery, cavalry and infantry.

There is on all the many roads in Alsace and Lorraine a very lively and busy industrial and agricultural traffic, and neither the eight hours system of daily labour nor the striking of work on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons is here thought of.

The crops in the fields, especially wheat, except oats (which, on account of dry weather, even on the low plains, looks rather poorly) are in a splendid condition. In the mountainous slopes towards the sun the vines look carefully trained and kept clean, of vigorous, healthy growth. The vine-growers we saw from morning to night busily employed sulphuring and spraying them with bluestone solution, etc. In all directions are also industrial establishments of all possible kinds, belching forth smoke.