LEGEND OF THE MOSELLE BRIDGE.
A youth stood leaning on the parapet of the Moselle Bridge. He thought of the numerous stories then rife in those regions, in which water-spirits played so conspicuous a part. As he silently gazed, and his young heart yearned for something to love—something more pure and ethereal than the Sannchens and Lisbeths of every-day life, a gentle Spirit arose from the waters—a Spirit of purity raised by the Spirit of Love.
“Dreamer,” said the pure Spirit of Water, “day after day and night after night I hear thy sighs and complaints. Thy tears fall down into the stream, and cause me to pity thee. Nay more, I could love thy sad heart were I a mortal; but, unlike thee, my poor youth, I live for ever. I was old when thy fathers were young, and young shall I be when thou art departed.”
Then broke forth the youth:—“Ever young, ever glorious art thou! Receive but my love, and I shall be contented to pass from my mortal existence at once.”
“Nay,” gravely replied the pure Spirit, “thou thinkest alone of thy love and thy pleasure; know this for thy good,—all like thee of mortal race must perform the duties of their lives before their great reward is gained. If then thou truly lovest me, and earnestly fulfillest the work appointed thee to do, faithfully and steadfastly pursuing the straight path in life, then will I, when thy years are full, receive thee in my arms, for so only canst thou gain perpetual youth and be a fit associate for even such as I, who am but a handmaiden of the Queen Moselle, who herself is but one of the lesser Spirits of the Universe. Go, and be just, and honourable, and brave; be kind to all, and liberal to the poor; so shalt thou gain immortal youth and me.”
The Spirit was gone, and the bright waves shone in the moonlight; the youth returned, silent and thoughtful, towards the city.
* * *
Year after year went by, and every night a solitary figure appeared at the same spot on the bridge, until the snows of a century crowned the brows of him who was still in heart but a youth; then his radiant bride appeared, and the pure-hearted man was wafted away on the bosom of the pure Water Spirit.
Still on the waters live spirits, beautiful and pure as that which appeared to the youth, but as yet no other mortal has been found who, at his death, could claim by his own spotless life an immortal bride. And if it is the case that scarce one is sinless enough to claim even a handmaiden among spirits, who shall take his place with those higher hosts that fill the sky? Who shall dare aspire to the central heaven itself?
The Germans of the present time are quite as much given to amusement as their forefathers were; on every possible occasion they indulge in pic-nics, dances, fairs, processions, and festivals of all sorts. Christmas and New-year’s Days are perhaps the greatest holidays in the year, but Carnival time is also universally kept as a fête, the same as in Italy.
In summer, excursions into the country are the most favourite amusements; people of all classes, high and low alike, indulge in these excursions. Some of the villages on the Moselle are particularly frequented by the people of Coblence. Güls, Moselweiss, and Lay are often crowded with pleasure-seekers of the poorer class, while the richer are met with at much greater distances; crowned with wreaths, and laughing and singing, these latter seem to pass very merry days in the woods, exploring old castles, &c. Certainly our pic-nics in England are but dull affairs in comparison, but then our belles are on such occasions better dressed, and it might hurt their fine clothes if they went romping about as the German girls do; besides, the impropriety would be shocking.
Coblence is, on the whole, an uninteresting town; it has all the disadvantage of being a garrison without any particular redeeming point; the rivers are quite shut out from the town by the fortifications, and can only be seen by going on to the bridges: however, the hotels, which are very good, command views of the Rhine from their windows; and the Belle Vue may be especially mentioned, as affording most animated scenes to those who occupy its apartments, it being just opposite to the bridge of boats, where promenaders sun themselves and military are always crossing and recrossing.
Occasionally the bridge of boats is opened, and steamers, each tugging a fleet of from two to six, or even seven vessels, beat up the stream; or else a gigantic floating village of wood comes gliding down, quite filling the aperture, and looking as if it would carry away the whole bridge. It is wonderful the skill with which these unwieldy rafts are managed.
In the town there are good shops, but not much outward display; and though, as we have mentioned, not in itself very interesting, yet there are many and beautiful excursions to be made from it: the society is said to be agreeable.
Near the junction of the rivers is the church of Saint Castor; it stands in a large open space, and is a stately and interesting building: it contains a handsome monument to one of the Electors of Trèves.
The palace is a large house, not remarkable in any way; in it is a chapel where English service is performed, as there are a good many English constantly residing here, as well as the swarms of summer visitors. Most of the more important buildings are near the Moselle Bridge, or between it and the church of Saint Castor; that is to say, they are in the old part of the town.
Near the Castor Church, in the large square, is the monument erected by the French to commemorate their invasion of Russia. To the inscription recording the object of raising the monument, the Russian General who in his turn invaded the Rhine provinces, added—
“Vu et approuvé par nous,
Commandant Russe de la Ville de Coblence.
“Janvier 1ère, 1814.”
The monument is a remarkably ugly lump of stone, which perhaps was meant for a fountain, but there is no water.
Very few historical associations belong to Coblence, and those that do are not particularly interesting, so we will turn back to the legends.
LEGEND OF MARIAHILF.[1]
Near the Moselle Bridge stood a chapel, piously dedicated to the Mother of God and her Son. Within the chapel were images of both Mother and Son.
Here resorted many pilgrims, especially those who suffered under bodily infirmities: among others came a certain man who was paralytic, and given over to death by his physicians. With great labour and trouble he contrived to totter into the chapel by the aid of his staff.
The pilgrims were singing a hymn, in which the words, “Help us, Maria,” occurred frequently. The poor cripple endeavoured to join in the hymn, but could not, he was so weak.
At last he made a great effort, and the words from his lips were scarcely audible, but immediately he was relieved: his voice returned to him, and his limbs became strong again; so that he no longer needed his staff, which he therefore presented to the chapel.