trarbach was an interesting little town, of perhaps fifteen hundred inhabitants. it was one of the most perfect specimens of its class existing, and the fire that burnt it to the ground has robbed many a tourist of subjects for his sketch-book that can scarcely be replaced.

the streets of the town were very narrow and winding, the houses projected over their bases in every variety of irregularity: they were nearly all built of wood frames, filled up with plaster, as those in the villages are; but frequently this plaster was covered with many-coloured tiles, rounded at the edges. the general effect was a sort of green shot with red tints, [166]and being glazed, these tiles reflected blue from the sky, and broken lights and hues of all sorts, giving a very gay and pleasing appearance. the casements were filled with glass that was nearly as green as the tiles, and from the windows hung out lengths of cloth; or bright flowers in their pots filled the openings, when not occupied by the faces of gossips, who carried on quick conversation with others below in the street, or else in the opposite windows, almost within reach of their arms.

a little canal wound about, following the course of the streets. this was covered over with flat stones; but many apertures allowed your feet to slip in, if a careful watch was not kept. the pavements required the same caution, as holes were abundant, and cabbage-stalks plentiful.

here and there houses more modern, or of greater pretension than others, had large windows and walls built of stone. the church was placed on an eminence, and had many gables, quite in keeping with the little walled town over which it presided. squeezed into a space too small for its wants, the town overlapped the old walls and formed different suburbs, the chief of which lay on the banks of a brook which here dashes down through the steep valley into the river.

busy and flourishing, trarbach was quite a gay city compared to the clusters of houses that call themselves stadts and dorfs on the banks of our river, and in the valleys surrounding.

high up on a lofty cliff directly over the town are [167]the ruins of the gr?finburg castle. in bygone days this castle belonged to the powerful counts of sponheim, and was built with funds procured in the following manner from an archbishop of trèves, and named after the sharp-witted countess.

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the bishop’s ransom.

the count of sponheim dying, his beautiful wife, lauretta, was left with her young son to contend against the malice of the archbishop baldwin of trèves, who claimed her territory for himself, with no right but that of “the strong hand;” baldwin deeming that a young widow would not be able to support the claims of her son against an elector and prince-bishop.

the archbishop formally excommunicated her as a first step, on her contumaciously refusing to surrender her rights to a usurper. the beautiful countess laughed at this proceeding, and being assisted by many good knights, defied all his efforts.

one fine day in may, the bishop, who was lodging in trarbach, embarked in a boat for coblence, and much enjoying the voyage, stood talking and planning with his adherents how best he might surprise the countess of sponheim, whose castle of starkenburg rose from the rocks overhead.

while thus scheming, the bishop perceived on the bank a number of men, who seemed armed, and awaiting his coming. hastily, therefore, his lordship gave orders to quicken their pace; but suddenly a great [168]shock threw baldwin and many of his friends down on their knees. this was caused by the bow of the boat coming quickly against a strong chain, which was placed by the countess’s orders just under the water, reaching from shore to shore. before the bishop and friends could recover their footing the countess’s adherents were on them, and the whole party made prisoners and marched up to the castle of starkenburg.

the angry bishop was led into the presence of the beautiful lady. at first the prelate demanded that he should instantly be freed, and spoke of the rights of the church, the shameless treachery of the whole proceeding, and the risk his captors ran of damnation.

at all this the lady but smiled, and the bishop’s heart melted within him as he gazed on her beauty.

the days sped away, and the archbishop baldwin finding the beautiful countess was not to be moved by his threats, nor yet won by his love, bethought him at length of his people, who pined for so gentle a shepherd; therefore he sent off to trèves, asking his flock for a ransom, which the countess insisted his lordship should pay before he set out, “as some slight compensation,” she said, “for the loss of his presence. moreover,” her ladyship added, “that the archbishop was something indebted for the use of her larder and cellar.”

the bill for eating and drinking proved heavy, and the amount for the loss of his pleasing society brought the sum total up to sufficient to pay for the [169]building the strong castle, whose ruins now crumble over the good town of trarbach: this castle proved an effectual barrier against the archbishop’s encroachments.

at parting, the prelate absolved the fair countess of guilt, and took away the excommunication under which she had laboured; so there is probably no truth in the tale that her ladyship haunts the old ruin, and constantly weeps for her crime of incarcerating so holy a man.

this castle of gr?finburg was a most important fortress, and capable of making a stout resistance, even in the days of cannon; for, in 1734, the marquis of belle-isle was sent by louis xiv., with a strong army, to ravage the territories of the elector of trèves, who escaped by flight to ehrenbreitstein. the marquis laid siege to trarbach, and after a hard struggle, and enduring a fierce bombardment, the garrison capitulated, and marched out with all the honours of war: the castle was then rased to the ground by the marquis, leaving only the portion engraved at the head of the preceding chapter.

the burning of trarbach, which happened last autumn, was a splendid but melancholy sight; we chanced to be sleeping at traben, a town on the opposite side of the river, and from our windows we saw the magnificent spectacle.

about four in the afternoon the fire first began, caused (it was said) by some children playing with [170]matches. as may be easily imagined, from the fact of the very old houses, all built of wood, being crushed into narrow streets and enclosed within walls, the flames spread rapidly; so fast, indeed, they came on, that the poor people flying were forced to throw down the goods they were trying to save and run for their lives. the church, being on an eminence a little out of the town, was thought quite secure, and in it were stored the effects from the neighbouring houses until it was filled from roof-tree to floor.

the night now set in dark as pitch; still the fire crept on, reaching its red forked tongue over the narrow streets, in spite of the water which was freely supplied from the river; at last the church caught, and the flames, bursting from windows and roof, consumed all the goods that were stored, and destroyed the old building itself.

trarbach in flames.

trarbach in flames.

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the sight was superb; the whole space, enclosed by the hills in which the town lay, surged in great waves of fire: in this huge molten sea great monsters appeared to be moving, whose shapes seemed writhing with pain as those of the devils in hell.

the glare fell on the ruins of gr?finburg, and the water reflected it back. the houses were all burnt to the ground, excepting only those seen in the view, and a very few others which lay in the outskirt. the inhabitants laboured all night with the engines, but at six in the morning, when we came away, great clouds of dull smoke still ascended from where trarbach had stood, but which now was only a ruin.

this fire was one of a series. in three succeeding days, zell, zeltingen, and trarbach were more or less burnt; and within a short time berncastel was thrice visited by the fire-fiend. many other smaller fires also took place, and no one could give us the reason; troops were sent out from trèves, but nothing was ever elicited.

traben, which was also partially burnt, is a curious enough place, and has as bad pavement as any in europe: the little inn there was well spoken of by murray, so now they charge very dear, and give very indifferent food. when we speak of dearness on the moselle, we do not mean actually dear, for prices are far lower than those on the rhine; only when in one little inn we get our supper and bed, with bottle of wine, for three shillings, we grumble at paying five for the same in another, where nothing is better.

not far from traben is the place where kloster springiersbach formerly stood in a solitude; here came crowds of pilgrims, for the place was most holy, and inhabited by many pious monks: of one of these a legend is told, called

the lily in the choir.

a very pious monk lay dying upon his bed, around him his brethren prayed for his soul; the dying man suffered from much pain, therefore his dissolution would be a blessing for him. the monk had been too weak to attend at his prayers in the chapel for many days past, and lo! over the place where he had been accustomed to pray, a white lily put forth its leaves. the holy man died, and the lily then burst into flower: so passed the guileless soul of the man from earth into heaven, and the pure blooming lily long marked the place where he knelt in the chapel,—an image of him whose departure from earth we now have narrated.