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.