The 26th of April, the day appointed for my departure, arrived only
too speedily. To part is the unavoidable fate of the traveller; but
sometimes we part gladly, sometimes with regret. I need not write
many pages to describe my feelings at the parting in Hamburgh. I
was leaving behind me my last relations, my last friends. Now I was
going into the wide world, and among strangers.
At eight o'clock in the morning I left Altona, and proceeded by
railway to Kiel.
I noticed with pleasure that on this railway even the third-class
carriages were securely covered in, and furnished with glass
windows. In fact, they only differed from those of the first and
second class in being painted a different colour, and having the
seats uncushioned.
The whole distance of seventy miles was passed in three hours; a
rapid journey, but agreeable merely by its rapidity, for the whole
neighbourhood presents only widely-extended plains, turf-bogs and
moorlands, sandy places and heaths, interspersed with a little
meadow or arable land. From the nature of the soil, the water in
the ditches and fields looked black as ink.
Near Binneburg we notice a few stunted plantations of trees. From
Eisholm a branch-line leads to Gluckstadt, and another from
Neumunster, a large place with important cloth-factories, to
Rendsburg.
From here there is nothing to be seen but a convent, in which many
Dukes of Holstein lie buried, and several unimportant lakes; for
instance, those of Bernsholm, Einfeld, and Schulhof. The little
river Eider would have passed unnoticed by me, had not some of my
fellow-passengers made a great feature of it. In the finest
countries I have found the natives far less enthusiastic about what
was really grand and beautiful, than they were here in praise of
what was neither the one nor the other. My neighbour, a very
agreeable lady, was untiring in laudation of her beautiful native
land. In her eyes the crippled wood was a splendid park, the waste
moorland an inexhaustible field for contemplation, and every trifle
a matter of real importance. In my heart I wished her joy of her
fervid imagination; but unfortunately my colder nature would not
catch the infection.
Towards Kiel the plain becomes a region of low hills. Kiel itself
is prettily situated on the Baltic, which, viewed from thence, has
the appearance of a lake of middling size. The harbour is said to
be good; but there were not many ships there. {13} Among these was
the steamer destined to carry me to Copenhagen. Little did I
anticipate the good reason I should have to remember this vessel.
Thanks to the affectionate forethought of my cousin Schmidt, I found
one of his relations, Herr Brauer, waiting for me at the railway. I
was immediately introduced to his family, and passed the few hours
of my stay very agreeably in their company.
Evening approached, and with it the hour of embarkation. My kind
friends the Brauers accompanied me to the steamer, and I took a
grateful leave of them.
I soon discovered the steamer Christian VIII., of 180-horse power,
to be a vessel dirtier and more uncomfortable than any with which I
had become acquainted in my maritime excursions. Scrubbing and
sweeping seemed things unknown here. The approach to the cabin was
by a flight of stairs so steep, that great care was requisite to
avoid descending in an expeditious but disagreeable manner, by a
fall from top to bottom. In the fore-cabin there was no attempt at
separate quarters for ladies and gentlemen. In short, the
arrangements seemed all to have been made with a view of impressing
the ship vividly on the recollection of every traveller.
At nine o'clock we left Kiel. The day and the twilight are here
already longer than in the lands lying to the south and the west.
There was light enough to enable me to see, looming out of the
surrounding darkness, the fortress "Friedrichsort," which we passed
at about ten o'clock.
April 27th.
To-day I still rose with the sun; but that will soon be a difficult
matter to accomplish; for in the north the goddess of light makes
amends in spring and summer for her shortcomings during the winter.
I went on deck, and looked on the broad expanse of ocean. No land
was to be seen; but soon a coast appeared, then disappeared, and
then a new and more distant one rose out of the sea. Towards noon
we reached the island of Moen, which lies about forty {14} miles
distant from Copenhagen. It forms a beautiful group of rocks,
rising boldly from the sea. They are white as chalk, and have a
smooth and shining appearance. The highest of these walls of rock
towers 400 feet above the level of the surrounding ocean. Soon we
saw the coast of Sweden, then the island of Malmo; and at last
Copenhagen itself, where we landed at four o'clock in the afternoon.
The distance from Kiel to Copenhagen is 136 sea-miles.
I remained seven days at Copenhagen, and should have had ample time
to see every thing, had the weather been more favourable. But it
blew and rained so violently, that I was obliged to give up all
thoughts of visiting the surrounding parks, and was fain to content
myself with seeing a few of the nearest walks, which I accomplished
with some difficulty.
The first street in Copenhagen which I traversed on coming from the
harbour generally produces a great impression. It is called the
"Broad Street," and leads from the harbour through the greater part
of the town. In addition to its breadth it is very long and
regular, and the splendid palaces and houses on either side give it
a remarkably grand appearance.
