The peculiar waters of Baden-Baden come from a great many springs in the hill-sides, and are conducted to the various bathing places in pipes, and they are as hot as you want them. One of the springs is known as Hell Spring, because of the temperature of the water, one would suppose, but the Badenese have another reason for its name. Of course they have a legend for it, which runs thus:
THE LEGEND OF THE HELL SPRING.
A great many centuries ago an irascible and very wicked old man who possessed the ground on which the spring is, had, as a matter of course, a beautiful and supernaturally good daughter. By the way, I never could understand why excessively wicked men in legends always had so sweet a lot of daughters, but I suppose it is necessary in order to have legends.
This daughter was beloved by the son of a neighboring noble who was at feud with her father, and, as a matter of course, the old man opposed the match. The present hot spring was then as cold as ice and a most delicious water for drinking, of which the old man was very fond, which statement proves the legend to be false. No German noble in this or any other period of the world’s history ever knew whether the water on his estate was good for drinking or not. He may have tested it for other purposes, but never for a beverage. He prefers wine or beer.
One day going down to his pet spring he found his girl there, and with her her lover. He was enraged, and when the young man told him he loved his daughter and would wed her, he exclaimed with a horrible oath:
“Wed her! You may wed her when this spring is as hot as hell, and when that happens I will drink to your nuptials in its waters!”
No sooner said than done. The spring changed from its lovely greenish blue to a sulphurous and salty color. Great jets of gas with an unpleasant smell issued, and the water boiled up quite as hot as the place the profane old man had indicated as a standard. And Satan himself, with tail and hoofs, and everything complete, appeared, from where none of the three could determine, and politely handed him a goblet of the boiling water.
He had sworn an oath, and there was no going back upon it. So he took the goblet and swallowed the contents and rolled over in agony and died, as I should suppose any one would.
The young man married the girl, and I doubt not his descendants are interested in the bath houses supplied from the springs.
It isn’t much of a legend, indeed with a little practice I believe I could write a better one myself, but it is as they gave it to me.