SCHOMBERG.
While passing the picturesque little town of Oberwesel, and just beyond the Lurley-rocks, we raise the eye to the ruins of Schomberg, possessing some interest to the British traveller, as the patrimonial castle of Duke Schomberg, who lost his life in the battle of the Boyne. Alas! that the very name of a mouldering ruin should, after the lapse of a century and a half, engender in the breasts of the same people, living under the same government, professing the same religion, speaking the same language, and having the same interests, such deadly sentiments of hatred and animosity! No two feudal robbers and enemies on the banks of the Rhine, ever viewed each other with such cut-throat propensities, as do the Orange-man and White-boy on the banks of the Boyne! A century and a half hence, when the fiery passions of the present day shall have long been quenched in the grave, and the immortal spirits shall be awaiting the verdict of a final tribunal, posterity will scarcely believe that, amongst their ancestors, Christian charity meant murderous extermination—and that the surest road to Heaven was that which was tracked with the blood of our neighbours! The glorious orb of day shines as joyously over those mouldering ruins, as when the proud castle first rose in majesty over the frowning precipices—nay, as when the Rhine itself first began to trickle from the virgin snows of the Alps:—and why should not the heavenly light of Christianity shed its benign influence over the professors of that faith, as well now, as when the Redeemer inculcated charity and forbearance during his mission on earth? No! It is much easier to preach than to practise the Christian virtues—and the former is considered the more efficacious of the two, by the disciples of Faith.
THE SEVEN SISTERS; OR, THE FATE OF COQUETTES.
(Legend the Seventh.)
Cupid is not a god that may be safely tampered with. His arrows are sharp, his feelings are keen, and his resentments are sometimes implacable. Seven beautiful sisters resided in the castle of Schomberg, overhanging the Rhine; and their hearts were as insensible to love as are the seven rocks in that river near Oberwesel, which now bear their names. Their charms and their wealth attracted crowds of suitors from various quarters. The sisters, however, gave smiles to all, yet favours to none of their admirers. Proffers of marriage were always declined, and sometimes treated with levity. Vanity was their ruling, almost their only passion, and adulation was its food. Their public suitors were the subjects of their private merriment. But mischief sometimes mingled with their mirth. By words, looks, or demeanour, they occasionally seemed to shew a preference to certain of their admirers. This led to jealousies, quarrels, bloodshed, and even death. The ranks, however, were constantly filled up by adventurous and ardent lovers, as the Byzantine throne (according to Gibbon) was never without a tenant, though the grave was always ready dug at its foot! But beauty, which is the gift of Nature and Chance, is the first charm which falls before the hand of Time. The sisters had only this one personal attraction, and it began to fade. The suitors diminished in number, and at length totally disappeared! It was then too late to remedy the evil of their own vanity and cruelty. The scene of their former flattery had now become insupportable, and they prepared to remove across the Rhine to a sequestered retreat, where their wounded pride and present humiliation might alike be buried in obscurity. They selected a dark night for leaving their castle and passing the river. When near the Lurley Rocks, the gnome of that place, who had often witnessed the imprudent and unfeeling conduct of her neighbouring sisters, lured the boatmen towards a treacherous sunken shoal, when the vessel was overturned, and all were buried in a watery grave! The Seven Sisters are still seen occasionally, in very low states of the river, raising their heads out of the water, in the form of rocks, and struggling with the foaming and impetuous current!
MORAL.
The moral of this short legend is transparent. The coquette, the flirt, the jilt, is a kind of moral swindler who, having no feelings or affections herself, trifles with those of others. It must be confessed that there are similar characters among the other sex, who are, if possible, still more reprehensible. But the female who plays this disreputable game, runs a greater risk, for obvious reasons, than the male deceiver. The foregoing legend illustrates the danger of relying on mere personal charms, as the great magnet of attraction. Qualities and accomplishments of mind are more durable, and more to be depended on, than beauty of form or feature!