New-York daily tribune. [volume] (New-York [N.Y.]) 1842-1866, 1850-11-20
OUT OF A TRAVELLERS DIARY.
Baden-Bnden In 1913.

Was it the halo of the Wild Chase that alIured
ms thither with sympathetic speed We follow
ed back the little creek that creeps to the Rhine,
and ct the base of gentle and luxuriant hills,
reached 81 den Baden.
This wear it was the dead capital Of European
fashion. Princes now have other plays, end the
world follow it's leaders. Yet the spot is very
beautiful. A lawn-like level in the lap of most
graceful hills that sweep and circle around the lit
tie town. fringng its fierce frivolities with the
grim gravity of the Black Forest.
It should have been gay, and in the heart of
the season. But at the bright Swiss station stood
no equipages in waiting, only plebeian omnibus
and we moved through quiet streets, and by I'M
naturally silent hotels, that should have been
flashing and foaming with the sparkle of brilliant
life but were mournful with closed blinds, and
with pair Of well.prescrved elderlies, perhaps
grayely gossiping upon balcony.
We were four pedestrians. Our arrival at n
hotel was therefore no event There were no
consequent apparitions OF walters in ball costume
no violent ringing of unseen bells, and rushings
TO and fro of an aimless household. We arrived,
and yellow bag was all our state
Rambling through the town, we climbed fine
wood behind it, to the old castle Our path final
" wound through the forest. 1t was society oil
stately trees. They stood separate aud cool Tree
from underground, and took unmoved the golden
gushing fthe Western Sun that streamed through
the spacious dimness.
A few groups passed us. Ladies from their
stroll beaux-less, and regretfuly remembering the
wanted 5000 bath.guests workmen with their
tools and pipes children shouting upon donkles,
and nonchalent nurses airing absurd babies
"Wherc then are the fays of the famed forest ~
and trembling elderly lady with bandagedface
emerged from the shadow Of a tree. Alas the
unhappy magic which spelled our eyes that we
could not see the golden hair and the bounding
grace, and the keen radicnce Of smiling that tan,
giles all hearts and hopes in a web OF wonder !
For of course they were there Was 1t not sum
mer sunset and the Black Forest
But we will beard this magician II his deA-H
such be the grey old castle that rises among the
trees. and commands the wide Rhine valley Z
climbed into the noble ruin.
Though not sculptured Ike the eastleo OF heIdcl-
berg it is so stately and romantic and retired
the trees grow 50 er7llly IN the courts and cham
bers. and wave 50 sadly ander he arched embra-
spres the sun streams through tie prematureiy
crimson leaves hanging IN pointed arched windows
more coldenlv than through the stained glass
of MI CafheGrals the buttresses and battlements
build themselves 50 proudly in the forest as il
thew were only another freak of the same genius
which planted that-that the old Castle OF Baden
is not less impressive, and is more romantic.
We reached the summit of the highest tower
half hour before sunset We walked around such
battlement as the eager Fatima stood upon and
waved her handkerchief and cried into the court,
AZ see a great dust and two horsemen riding rapid
w." But in our West was the radiance of sun
dust, and above the long serene lines OF cloud lay
in the tranquil heaven, as they lie in the heaven
Of Mucke's St. Catherine. Behind MS and beneath
was the rolling deep green uniformity OF the Tor
est. The little circle of hills opened before US
out upon the plain Of the Rhine. Under the ives
tern sky and in full sunlight the river flashed from
horizon to horizon. Toward the North there were
no hills or only few ghosts of such, paely haunt
ing the rosy distance. To the South and West
vague dim piles and ranges-dumb hints OF swift
zerland. Between the sunset and the heavy re-
firing clouds swan vapors like visible dew over
our heads, and for appropriate life in this rapt sun
set silence, lay the little village OF Baden, and the
smoking train whistling as it darted toward the
Rhine. For romance and poesy there were the
castle and the forest and the thousand fancles
that sang in remembered strains of passionate
Italian music.
The summer lay dead upon the plain, for the
grain was almost reaped beneath u.s. But the
wonderful beauty-more beautiful almost than
life-yet fingered, for the grain was shocked and
piled-promiscs of plenty-and the stubble shone
as the golden heads shone in June,
In the evening we went to the Casino Bril-
anty co.ored lanterns shone among ranges of ex-
otcs-oranges in golden ripeness, and palms
while passionate waltzes pulsed out from the
closed hall.
"Un bal de reunion ce soir."
1t stands simply written and we step into the
spacious saloon-the lofty ante-room Of the dancing
hall. Hall OF Conversation is the inscription
over the door, and behold how silently they speak,
with gold and silver syllabes at these tables.
III the first room there is no crowd. This silent
conversation is not animated, scarcely interesting
Now and then a bashful man essays little word
but no one is eloquent with flush of golden Pc
RODS Three or four stake their thoughts in ex-
pressions as valuable, and the curious crowd passes
unentertained.
We enter this smaller saloon-smaler but more
brilliant. These paintings upon the walls are not
daubs, and this universe! arabesque adornment is
oriental Beside here is exciting discourse Our
friend at the corner is interested in this talk He
slips smoothly and silently out his golden essays
The responses are prompt and sweet as lovers
kisses. His black ebony rake is very delicate,
and he gathers with it aharvest more shining than
we saw from the old Tower 1t is his lucky night
He sits close to the table One hand shades his