CHAPTER VI.

LETTERS TO MRS. VAN WART-HEIDELBERG-BADEN-OLD CASTLE-SUBTERRANEAN APARTMENTS-SECRET TRIBUNAL-PAYS D'OR-STRASBOURG—ADIEU TO THE RHINE-THE BLACK FOREST-ULM-THE FIELD OF BLENHEIM-MUNICH -EUGENE BEAUHARNOIS-TRANSLATION OF SKETCH BOOK-BRACEBRIDGE HALL -SALZBURG-VIENNA THE YOUNG NAPOLEON-CASTLE OF DUNSTEIN-CON

VENT OF GOTTWIED.

I

BRING together some further extracts from his letters to his sister, Mrs. Van Wart:

Sept. 20th.-I have been three days at Heidelberg, and have passed the time very pleasantly. This is a famous little old town, situated just at the entrance of a narrow valley, between steep mountains. The Neckar, a clear, beautiful river, flows by it, and between the mountains you look out over a vast, rich plain, through which the Neckar winds its course to the Rhine; and the distant horizon is bounded by Mont Tonnere, and the high Vosges mountains that wave along the frontiers of France. On a hill which rises immediately above Heidelberg, are the ruins of the old castle, one of the most splendid and extensive ruins in Germany. There is a public garden and fine shady walks laid out along the brow of the hill, all about the old castle, from whence you have charming views over the plain of the Rhine, and up the valley of the

Neckar. I have received the most hospitable attentions from Count Jennison, who resides at this place, to whom I brought letters from his friends in England. He is a very elegant and agreeable man, and speaks English as perfectly as an Englishman. He was Grand Chamberlain to the late King of Wurtemberg, and was once minister to the Court of St. James, where he married an English lady of rank. His daughters speak English, and the family is very amiable and agreeable. As it is the fashion here to dine at one o'clock, we have long afternoons, which in this serene golden season, are delightful. Count Jennison has taken us out each afternoon in an open carriage, and shown us some of the loveliest prospects in this enchanting neighborhood. We have likewise made the acquaintance of a young Silesian prince, and Count Shoenberg, a young Saxon nobleman, who both reside in the same hotel with us, so that we have plenty of society and amusement. As this neighborhood abounds with old castles, famous in legend and goblin tale, and the country is wonderfully diversified by wild and rich scenery, you may imagine how delightful every little excursion must be. I am now so much recovered from my lameness, as to be able to take long walks among the hills, and to scramble among the ruins of old castles, and I find the exercise has a fine effect upon my general health. There is a good bathing house opposite the hotel, where I take a tepid bath every morning, medicated with sulphuret of potasse, which I find to be extremely efficacious.

[To Mrs. Sarah Van Wart.]

MY DEAR SISTER:

HANSACK (BLACK FOREST), Oct. 3, 1822.

My last letter was written from Heidelberg, which place I left on the 30th September in company with Capt. Wemyss,

the same young officer of dragoons that has travelled with me from Mayence to Frankfort, &c. Our first day's journey brought us to Carlsruhe, the capital of the duchy of Baden, a very pleasant, well-built little place, mostly new, with a fine palace, public buildings, gardens, theatre, &c. These little German potentates have fine times of it, living on the fat of the land in the midst of beautiful scenery. They seem to have all the sweets of sovereignty, without its cares and troubles. From thence we went to Baden, one of the most romantically situated watering-places I have ever seen. It is in a small picturesque valley that runs like an inlet from the broad plain. of the Rhine into the bosom of the mountains. Among the pine-covered mountains that overlook the town are the ruins of a grim old castle, and another protecting castle crests the hill on which the upper part of the town is built. In this last old castle there are long galleries of pictures of all the Electors of Baden, and the heroes of its reigning family for several centuries back, that have a most martial appearance, clad to the teeth in glistening steel. Underneath the castle we were shown subterraneous apartments that equalled the fabrications of novelists. They were chambers where the secret tribunal held its sittings, and where its victims were confined, and if convicted, tortured and executed. This was a mysterious association that, some centuries since, held all Germany in awe. It was a kind of Inquisition that took cognizance of all kinds. of offences. Its sittings were held in secret; all its movements were wrapped in mystery. Its members consisted of all ranks, from the highest to the lowest; all sworn to secrecy; all forbidden to make known their being members; and all sworn by the most imposing oaths to inflict the punishments decreed by the tribunal, without regard to any tie of kindred or affection.

A man, therefore, once condemned by the tribunal had no chance of escape. He knew not where to fly, or in whom to confide; his bosom friend, his very brother might be a member of the terrible tribunal, and, of course, obliged to be his executioner. The subterraneous apartments of the old castle of Baden was one of the places where the secret tribunal was held. The place was worthy of the institution. You can imagine nothing more dismal than the cells and dungeons of which it was composed. There was one vaulted room, black with the smoke of tapers, in which the judges of the tribunal had held their sittings. Narrow winding passages through walls of prodigious thickness led to the dungeons of the prisoners and the places of torture. All these were completely shut up from the light of day, and the doors were formed of immense blocks of stone that turned heavily on their pivots, groaning as they moved. There was one great pitfall, down which, we were told, prisoners were precipitated after execu tion; but enough of this gloomy picture.

From Baden we continued on up the rich valley, or rather plain of the Rhine; away to our right, at a great distance, waved the blue Vosges mountains on the frontier of France, while near by on our left were the mountains of the Black Forest, with now and then the ruins of an old castle among the woods of birch and pine. The road, as usual throughout the Rhine country, ran along a level at the foot of the mountains. The landscape became more fertile even than those parts of the Rhine through which we had already passed. We had entered into that part of Suabia called the pays d'or (i. e. the golden country) on account of its happy fertility. The road was bordered by fruit trees, and ran through fields of grain, or along vine-covered hills. The peasants were all busy in the

fields, getting in their stock of potatoes and other vegetables. The vintage was over, and every now and then we passed wagons bearing great pipes of new wine, with bunches of flowers and streamers of ribbons stuck in the bung. The weather was serene and delightful, and nothing could be more gratifying than the picture of cheerful industry rewarded by abundance, which presented itself on every side.

We stopped at Kehl, a small village on the German side of the Rhine, where we passed the night and left our carriage and trunks, that we might not be incommoded by custom house officers. In the morning we took a hired carriage and drove to Strasbourg, about a league off. This is an important old town on the frontiers of France. and on the banks of the Rhine; I assure you, I felt a kindly throb in finding myself in the territories of the gay nation; and I had several strong tugs of feeling that pulled me towards Paris. However, I resisted them all, and having looked at the noble cathedral of Strasbourg, and from its tower looked out over a magnificent reach of country, watered by the Rhine, I turned my back. upon Strasbourg and France, and ordering post-horses at Kehl, bade a long and reluctant adieu to my summer friend and companion, the Rhine. It was really like parting with an old. friend when I took the last look at this majestic stream about which I had passed so many weeks; our road now lay up the narrow valley of Kenseg that runs into the bosom of the Black Forest. I had bidden adieu to the gay borders of Germany that divide it from France, and was now about to penetrate into its interior. The valley of Kenseg is one of the most romantic and beautiful of the Black Forest; but unluckily for its verdant beauties, we entered it just before dusk. What we wanted VOL. II.-(8)