No chissel’d shaft, no work of mortal hands.
Ere man had ceased in savage woods to dwell—
Roots for his food, his drink the crystal well;
Ere cities grew, or Parian marble shown,
Yon columns stood—and stand while they are gone.”
From these “fragments of an earlier world,” these real monuments of antiquity, compared with which, the Pyramids of Egypt are as mushrooms of yesterday, and whose rugged brows the rains and tempests of ten thousand years have not yet smoothed, we ascended to a great height, and reached a comparatively open and partially cultivated country, between Frauenalb on the left, and Rothensal on the right. This alpine plateau continued for six or seven miles—the prospect towards the North and West being of great extent, over a fine champaigne country which, from this altitude, appeared like an immense plain. The South and East presented a vast sea of mighty mountains, the insurgent billows of which were feathered with perennial forests. After doubling the North-western extremity of a high alpine ridge, we turned short round to the right—plunged into a deep wood—and descended quickly by a precipitous route to the town of Nuenburg, situated on the foaming Enz, in a narrow and gloomy valley. Here we got black bread and water for the horses, and Seltzer water with wine for ourselves. While the horses were resting, we scrambled up to the ancient chateau, now occupied by the foresters. From this there is a good view of the valley of the Enz, for a few miles above and below the town. The valley is here not more than five or six hundred yards broad at the bottom, with the river in the centre, and the pine mountains rising abruptly on both sides. We had now about eight miles to Wildbad, close along the right bank of the river, and consequently with only a gentle ascent the whole way.
The valley of Wildbad, between Nuenburg and the town of Wildbad, is about 1400 feet above the level of the sea—and the mountains on each side about 1500 above the river. It resembles a good deal the Vallée d’Enfer, well known to most travellers. There is but a narrow border of cultivated ground on each side of the Enz—in some places not exceeding two or three hundred yards—in others, creeping up the steep acclivities nearly a quarter of a mile. Hay, corn, and potatoes are the chief productions of the valley. The pine occupies every slope not cultivated; the forest, on each side, presenting a serrated border, the salient angles sometimes coming nearly down to the banks of the stream—the interspaces being occupied with potatoes or some culinary vegetable. But the Enz itself presents more bustle and activity than its banks. Small and precipitous as is the torrent, it is made to carry the mountains—or at least their forests, on its slender back. The flotteurs or rafters are a race and craft distinct from the wood-cutters, who hew the trees in the mountains, and hurl them down their steep sides to the river. The Enz falls 370 feet in the short distance of nine miles between Wildbad and Nuenburg, and yet they manage to float down numerous rafts, or rather raftlets, two or three hundred feet in length, along this trajet. The method is simple but ingenious. At convenient distances, dikes or dams are run diagonally across the stream, with a sluice or flood-gate in the centre. When the gate is shut, the back-water accumulates so as to float the raft from the next dam higher up. The rafts are narrow, but very long and jointed. When one, two, or more have arrived at the dam, the head of the raft is brought close to the sluice—the gate is opened—and away darts the raft, with a loud noise and fracas—dashing against the rocks—each joint, as it passes over the dam, rising up like the dorsal fin of a huge whale rolling about in the sea. In this way they are conveyed from the mountains to the Rhine—the raftlets augmenting in breadth, or number of trees, in proportion as the stream augments and enlarges into a river. As every mountain must have a valley, so every valley must have a rivulet. However small the stream, it can be dammed so as to float one tree at a time—and when contributary streamlets from the mountains enlarge the parent stream, the raftlets increase in size also. Thus the main wealth of Wildbad is constantly floating down the Enz, consigned to distant countries, but leaving profit for the merchant, and affording employment for thousands and thousands of the industrious poor. The raftlets grown into rafts, having arrived at the Rhine, change hands, and the local boucherons, or floaters, return to their native valleys to renew their labours from spring till the approach of winter. The aggregated rafts now become flotillas, capable of bearing an army on their backs, and actually inhabited by four or five hundred—not seamen but raftmen, while they glide down the majestic stream of the Rhine.
Let us see whether this animated scene of industry, hilarity, and wealth has any back-ground to the picture—any alloy to the pure metal. Many a gaudy tissue, embroidered robe, and sparkling gem, has been produced by sordid hands, amidst penury, disease, and despair! The wood-cutter of the Black Forest mountains leads a gloomy and miserable life. His labour is eternally the same—affording no food or reflection for the mind—the workmen being secluded in dark and dreary forests for days, weeks, and months, without any communication with their families; while their children are entirely neglected, as far as education is concerned! They are, as it were, cut off from human society—become morose, taciturn, melancholic—or even misanthropic. What is worse, they are frequently brought home maimed, lamed, or stricken with some dangerous or fatal disease! They almost always die prematurely. Yet the facility of gaining a livelihood by cutting and floating wood, leaves very few inhabitants of this valley inclined to pursue any mechanical occupation. The trees, when felled and the branches lopped off, are dragged in traineaus to the edges of the declivities, from whence they descend along cleared tracks, or a kind of wooden tunnel, by their own weight, to the vicinity of the river. A little field of potatoes—a wooden hut—a couple of goats to feed the children—and a pig to be killed at Christmas—constitute the whole riches of the woodman, whether of mountain or valley.
After a very pleasant drive of nine miles along the right bank of the Enz, we came suddenly upon the little town of Wildbad, now celebrated for the divine effects of its baths on the human frame. The town contains 279 inhabited houses, and 115 buildings of other kinds. It is nearly equally divided by the foaming little Enz, the backs of houses, on each side of the valley, being actually built against the feet of the mountains. As these are some 1500 feet high, an hour, at least, of the rising, and another of the setting sun, are unseen and unfelt in Wildbad—except in the curious phenomenon of the sunshine creeping down the western mountain in the morning, and up the eastern mountain in the evening.
The valley of Wildbad lies nearly North and South, and consequently the winds are felt only in those two directions. The temperature of the atmosphere necessarily varies considerably, but cold prevails over heat. Snow ordinarily lurks on the summits of the mountains from the middle of November till the middle of May. From the first of July till the middle of August, the heat is generally great. “In a hot summer (says Professor Heim) the temperature is almost insupportable about mid-day, when the breeze is scarcely perceptible in the depth of the valley.” In June, July, and August, the thermometer in Wildbad mounts occasionally to 90, in the hottest days—and falls correspondingly in the winter. In the season (months of June, July, August, and September) of 1834, there were 47 clear days—five thunder-storms—and 34 rainy days. In 1837—35 clear days—44 rainy days—and 11 thunder-storms. During the years 1834-5-6 and 7, the mean temperature of the four summer months, at mid-day, was 66° of Fahrenheit, which is very moderate. Lightning has never struck any of the houses in Wildbad—the contiguous mountains proving excellent conductors. There are no peculiar diseases at Wildbad, except those produced by scanty food and hard labour. Scarcely any goitres or cretins are seen here. The inhabitants hardly ever take any other medicines than the warm waters of the place. Doctors would inevitably starve here, were it not for the foreign visitors. The water of Wildbad is excellent, both for cooking and drinking. Pulmonary complaints are exceedingly rare in this valley, and indeed in the Black Forest generally. The same may be said of goitre and cretinism.