The observations and reflections contained in the following pages, are the results of several autumnal excursions in the line of the German Spas, undertaken partly for health, partly for recreation, and partly for information on a subject that now interests a large portion of English invalids. The contents of the volume are like the objects which gave it origin. They are miscellaneous—and probably this character will be objected to, on the principle, “ne sutor ultra crepidam.” I have yet to learn, however, why a physician should be debarred from indulgence in general observations or reflections, and confined exclusively to professional topics. His education, habits of thought, and knowledge of human nature do not particularly disqualify him for a task which is daily undertaken by people of all grades of acquirement, and degrees of ability. The truth is, that being too independent to write for the mere purpose of catching the approbation of others, I have followed the bent of my own inclinations, and, if taken to task by censors, have little other reason to offer for my conduct than the old one—“stat pro ratione voluntas.”

There is one portion of the book, however, (a very small one, some twenty pages of letter-press) which may require some apology. The course of the Rhine leads to most of the German Spas, and is therefore traversed annually by multitudes of invalids as well as tourists. Every castle and promontory on its banks has its legend, and these traditions contribute to fix the picture of the locality in the mind’s eye, by association, for ever afterwards. In one of my excursions, some years ago, it struck me that these legends were designed, originally, each to convey some moral precept—at all events, I became convinced that they were capable of being moralized. Under this impression, I condensed the principal traditionary tales that have their locale in sight of the voyager, and deduced what I considered to be the moral or useful precepts which they concealed under a wild and improbable fiction. If I have failed in this attempt, the intention, at least, was good. Throughout the whole volume, my object has been to compress into small space much useful information for invalid or tourist, and, on all occasions, to start subjects for meditation or reflection, well knowing, from long experience, that such occupations of the mind on a journey, are eminently conducive both to pleasure and health.

In the principal or professional portion of the work, I have endeavoured to collect all the information in my power, and, in the exercise of my judgment, to sift the grain from the chaff, thus to steer clear of the extremes of exaggeration and scepticism. There has been too much of the former abroad, and too much of the latter at home. Holding myself perfectly free from all obligation to subserve local interests on one side of the channel, or foster national prejudices on the other, I have spoken my mind, with equal fearlessness and, I hope, impartiality.

The typography of this volume will prove that, although I must plead guilty to the charge of “making a book,” it has not been constructed on the approved principles of “book making.” By certain mechanical processes well known “in the trade,” this slender tome might have been easily expanded into two or even three goodly, or at least costly octavos, without the expenditure of a single additional line, word, or thought. But, bearing in mind the old Greek maxim that “a great book is a great evil,” I was determined that, should my lucubrations come under this head at all, the evil as well as the book should be on a small scale. Spa-going invalids have evils enough, God knows, to carry on their shoulders, without the addition, of a “Mega Biblion” in their wallets.

There is one defect in this work, however, which common honesty compels me to point out to the intending purchaser, before he parts with his money. If the travelling invalid expects to find here a catalogue of the post-houses, the signs of the inns, the prices of the wines, the fares of the table-d’hÔtes, the pretensions of the cuisine, &c. &c. &c., except upon very rare occasions, he will be woefully disappointed. All this species of information, and a great deal more, will be found in that excellent emporium of peripatetic lore—“Murray’s Handbook.” But even this useful feature in the “red-book,” is not without its alloy. The character of caravanserais is perpetually changing, as well as that of their landlords; and when one of these gets a good name in a guide book, the afflux of travellers to that point too often causes the master to become proud, the servants lazy, the fare bad, and the bill exorbitant. Many a bitter anathema have I heard launched against the “Handbooks, &c.” for leading tourists and invalids to be starved and fleeced at the “Red Lion,” when they might have fared sumptuously and cheaply at the “Black Swan.”

Still, the Handbook is equally invaluable and indispensable to the continental traveller; and, as far as the Spas are concerned, Dr. Granville’s work is full of information on this subject. The profession and the public, indeed, are deeply indebted to Dr. Granville and Mr. Edwin Lee for opening out wider and clearer views of the continental mineral waters; but the subject itself, so far from being exhausted, is only in its infancy of investigation. Whether we regard the constituent elements of the waters themselves, their physiological operation, or their remedial efficacy, there is ample room for many future inquirers.

I have now only to return my sincere thanks to the various German and other physicians on the continent, from whom I received oral, written, or published information, and to say that I shall feel myself honoured by any future communications from the same sources, on the subject of the Spas.

JAMES JOHNSON.

Suffolk Place, Pall Mall,
May, 1841.