deep down, within the caverns of the earth,

reigns rubezahl, the gnome;

here reigned he, long before man had his birth,

beneath the rocky dome.

fires glowed around him, and the great hall shone

with fitful glare that from their flames was thrown.

[186]

diminutive and swart his subject slaves

grim-visaged stood around,

collected in all haste from central caves,

where, delving underground,

ever these baneful sprites are doomed to toil,

and win from rocky beds their iron spoil.

met thus within the murky council cave,

the gnomes and their great king

agree to stay the course of the pure wave which now is hastening

from her far mountain source with joyous tide,

to meet her husband rhine, a fairy bride.

the scheme agreed upon was, by the fire

enchainèd underground,

to raise within the earth commotion dire;

and thus with rocks surround

the pure stream, which hitherward was flowing

with beauty crowned and with heaven’s light glowing.

so with his flame-sceptre king rubezahl

causes the earth to shake;

back flow the streams, the neighb’ring mountains all

with fear and terror quake;

the lurid fires burst forth with horrid glare,

defacing earth, defiling the glad air.

thus were the eifel mountains upwards thrown

from out the deep abyss;

thus sought the evil king to reign alone,

driving from earth that bliss

which rapidly was gliding here to dwell

in the sweet person of the bright moselle.

joyously onward, from the vosges hills speeding,

dances the fairy stream;

attendant rivulets her course are feeding,

whose shining torrents gleam[187]

forth from the valleys, where they timid hide,

to join their life with hers and swell her tide.

thus flowed she on, until her course was stayed

by the uplifted hills;—

grim smiled the fire-king at the fairy maid

and her attendant rills.

the gnomes peeped forth from many a cavern hole,

and forged fresh fetters to enchain the soul.

oh, short-lived triumph! never yet was sin

allowed to conquer long;

never was bounteous love thus hemmèd in

by evil spirits strong,

but it would win its way through hearts or stone,

causing their power to yield before her own.

so wins her way around, with graceful bend,

the fairy stream moselle;

and the gnome king, and all his will attend,

are forced their wrath to quell;

while she and her enleaguèd fairies throw

over these eifel hills, thus raised, a glow

of more than earthly beauty, which exceeds

all else around her course;

each fairy gives her gift—the streamlet leads,

above the hidden force

of demons toiling in eternal night,

its silv’ry thread, for ever glad and bright.

the wood-nymphs give their shadiest coverts green,

spread out fresh turf and flowers,

and clothe the banks which the brooks glide between

with everlasting bowers.

thus were the rocks thrown upward by the gnome

made pleasant spots for future man to roam.

[188]

in the most exquisite of these sweet vales

gushes a healing fount,

a bounteous spring, whose water never fails

to flow from forth the mount.

love so has banished hate, and beauty shines

above the darksome toil of demon mines.

from alf to bad bertrich an excellent road runs winding through a succession of green valleys, shut closely in by the mountains, which are covered with foliage. the alf-bach, or brook, runs by the side of the road; its waters turn the wheels employed in the iron-works, which are embosomed in trees near the entrance of these secluded valleys. so, after all, we find the fire-fiend is not extinguished, but by the assistance of his friend man is, as of old, still defacing nature and enslaving a beautiful stream.

six english miles of beauty bring us to bad bertrich itself. in all probability, the tourist in germany will here exclaim, “i never heard of bad bertrich.” even so, we reply; and that constitutes one of its greatest charms. while the english, and russians, and french are all swarming to baden, to ems, schwalbach, wildbad, and the legion of baths with which all germany teems, there is left neglected one of the most beautiful places in europe. there is plenty of shade, and plenty of sun, and plenty of air, and yet “the bad” is quite sheltered.

the village is very small and clean. there are several small inns, and one good hotel, called werling’s. [189]this hotel is kept by an unmarried woman, who is one of the oddest, best-hearted old bodies possible. she, however, is not the leading person in the establishment, as everything is left to the waiter, a remarkable character.

this waiter is an exceedingly jolly old fellow, who, as the day advances, becomes more and more deeply in liquor; his eyes close up gradually, and his senses seem to be wandering. now these symptoms are not unusual to men in his state; but it is most unusual for a man when so overcome to be able to wait on some twenty or thirty guests, to bring what is wanted for each, and to (without any notes) keep account in his head of what wine and food each has partaken. yet all this he does, and does it right well.

in the winter this hotel is shut up, and our old friend the waiter goes hunting with two apoplectic dogs, that snore on chairs all the summer.

while we were there, his waiting, and drinking, and hunting were nearly all brought to a sudden termination; for one night, while sitting at supper, a tremendous smell of sulphur began to pervade the apartment, and following our noses, we found that it came from a small room to which the old waiter retired between courses to indulge in a sip. by this time the smell was so strong, and on opening the door the air became so dense, that it was all we could do to drag the old fellow out. it then appeared that some visitors had given him a parcel of fire-works to put safely [190]aside, and he had for safety placed them among matches and candle-ends, and somehow the whole had exploded.

adjoining the inn is the bath-house, and around it a garden and promenade. close by is a fountain, where the public drink the waters for nothing. the baths cost one shilling each, and are most delicious. the water flows through all the time you are in, and bubbles and seethes round your body: the after-effect is to freshen and strengthen the frame, while the nerves are all soothed.

the herr director is an old officer of engineers or artillery, and speaks excellent english. he is a man of great taste, and has laid out (at the expense of the government) the walks and extensive grounds of the place.

all over the woods and the valleys these walks wind through the shade; and at all the best points of view are seats of wood or stone, covered with bark. often, too, summer-houses, with roofs that will keep the showers from wetting the visitors, are met on the hills.

bad bertrich was well known to the romans, who, in the fourth century, erected a bath-house and other fine buildings. remnants of these are often turned up, and some are preserved.

in the fifteenth century these baths again became noted, but fell again into disuse; but in 1769 the last elector of trèves had the springs properly managed, and built the kurhaus, which now stands. [191]

the bathing establishment, hotel and village, are clustered together at one end of a circular valley. precipitous cliffs shut in this beautiful valley, round which a brooklet runs singing. the cliffs are covered with forests of oak, beech, and other fine trees. the little paths that wind round them are bordered with mountain-ash, through whose red clusters of berries the green carpet which lies in the valley, with the water splashing around it, is seen.

two eminences in the green valley are surmounted by the two churches: one is protestant, and the other (the old one) is for roman catholic worship.

a pleasant little society of germans collect at this place, and music enlivens the air; but the season is considered quite over in september, and the music then goes away.

water to drink and water to bathe in, and plenty of fresh air and exercise, will render a stay at bad bertrich most pleasant; added to which there are plenty of excursions to make, plenty of pleasant walks, and objects to sketch; and wild flowers and rocks to examine; or shooting for those so inclined.

one of the shortest and most beautiful walks about bertrich is to the k?segrotte, or cheese grotto: this is a cave supported by basaltic pillars which look as if made of cheeses placed one on the top of the other. by the side of the cave tumbles a rill of water, which flows from a most beautiful little pool above; [192]over the ravine is a rustic bridge, exceedingly well-constructed: the banks are covered with trees.

k?segrotte.

k?segrotte.

lines on the k?segrotte.

pure and beautiful the streamlet flows,

fresh from the earth it springs;

like heavenly light that o’er earth glows,

and fans the angels’ wings.

within the grot a spirit dwells,

lovely, and pure, and sweet;

hard by the streamlet gently wells,

cooling the fair retreat.

[193]

so, hidden in the heart of man,

is love for nature pure;

so, ever since the world began,

has welled god’s mercy sure.

close to this grotto is a seat commanding an exquisite view of the alf-bach; its course is blocked with masses of stone washed down by its torrent: these stones form the brook into a succession of little pools, in which the setting sun reflects his brightness. paths along the brook lead through groves in which seats, beautifully placed, are dedicated to different german poets.

another little spring, called the peter’s brunnen, on the side of the hill opposite the village, is famous for the extreme clearness and coldness of its waters; the water is collected into a cistern, and sitting in the shade under the rock which holds these cold waters, the air is cool even on the hottest day. a lion’s head allows the imprisoned spring to send forth its waters, which trickle and splash into a bason underneath.

lines on the peter’s brunnen.

trickling gently, lightly falling,

the water-nymph to us is calling

from her hidden cool retreat,

where the hill-drops fresh do meet;

and to us she seems to say,

“my commands on you i lay,

“that, while thus you near me stay,

“you shall drive all care away,

“and with my waters’ murmur sweet

“refresh your minds at my retreat.”

[194]

the meadow that fills the valley of bertrich is intersected with walks, and gardens are being formed at the end farthest from the village. above these new gardens the alf falls in a cascade over the rocks; a part of the water is conducted into fish-ponds, that are to be well stocked.

the falkenlei is well worth visiting; it is a bare mass of rock, that rears its head over the tree-tops on the summit of a mountain: it is 160 feet high and 600 feet long; it is formed of basalt, and is inhabited by foxes and falcons. it is supposed to be an extinct volcano.

one of the best rambles is down the valley nearly to the village of alf, and then up the hills to burg arras; afterwards, explore the uesbach valley. but in all directions the walks are nearly equally beautiful, and as only a visit can convey a proper idea of bad bertrich, we will not endeavour to bring into mere words such beautiful scenery: go and explore!

the first knight of arras was a brave man, who, at the time of the hunnish invasion, was a poor collier; he had twelve sons equally brave, and they all fought so stoutly and well, that after the defeat of the huns the pfalz-graf selected this collier as the bravest and best warrior there, and causing him then to kneel down conferred on him the order of knighthood and gave him this castle.

the alf-bach, of which we here give a peep, falls into the moselle at the village of alf, which is [195]a cheerful old town; as usual, beautifully placed between the river and brook: it contains very good little inns, and is a good point to rest at.

alf-bach.

alf-bach.

evening shadows.

the sun retires—the shades draw near—

their lengthened forms now close appear;

with noiseless step they onwards speed,

like time, whose passage swift we heed

as little as the close of day,

which vanishing from us away

leads surely to eternity.

[196]

oh, let the waning daylight teach

this lesson; whilst yet time can reach,

ere from our eyes is passed for ever

that day which life from death doth sever,—

“from earthly shadows let us fly,

“let upwards soar our thoughts on high,

“to where love reigns eternally.”