Odd Bits of Travel with Brush and Camera

by Charles M. Taylor

As a natural consequence of this enormous appetite for beer, one sees in the restaurants in many of the German cities an especial table constructed with a deep semicircular curve in the side, which allows the corpulent guest to drink his favorite beverage in comfortable proximity to the bottle. Such as these must have been in Shakespeare’s mind, when he wrote: “He was a man of an unbounded stomach.”

The deep cuts and scars upon the faces of many of the students, are matters of great pride with them, as evidences of the number of “affairs of honor” in which they have been engaged. They look with scorn upon the fellow collegian whose countenance does not display one or more of these signs of bloody combat, and are always ready to seize an occasion of this kind for the exhibition of their bravery or their skill at arms. Sometimes these duels are a result of the silliest arguments, at others they are sought by deliberate insult given by the one who wishes to fight. A glance is sometimes sufficient for a sanguinary meeting.

Will they ever learn that no stain can ever be washed out with blood, no honor redeemed by the sword, no moral bravery displayed by an encounter of this kind? It is falling to the level of the brute, with perhaps a little more skill evinced in the choice of the weapons of warfare. It cannot but detract from the dignity of the human being, and this is true to a far greater extent in the case of those who entertain themselves by witnessing such unnatural sports as prize fights, cock fights, and most degrading of all, but thank heaven a rare sight in civilized countries, the bull fight;—all relics of barbarism.

Let us leave this unpleasant subject, however, and allow ourselves to be spirited away to a veritable fairy land of beauty, and quaint legendary associations. The little town of Königswinter nestles at the foot of the Seven Mountains, from which there are innumerable views of the Rhine and the surrounding country. A halo of romance surrounds this region, and in the many excursions from this point, the lover of the weird and visionary will find his every step accompanied by imaginary maidens of rare grace and beauty, brave knights, crafty priests, wild huntsmen, cruel dragons, super-human heroes, and all the wonderful personages of legendary lore. The town is a thriving, modern looking place of about thirty-five hundred inhabitants, excluding the floating population of tourists who throng the hotels and scatter themselves among the private families.

We arrive here early in the afternoon, and establish ourselves in a comfortable and attractive hotel. The day is clear and pleasant, and desiring to make good use of the hours of daylight before us, we determine to make the ascent of the Drachenfels. There are a number of different routes or paths, by which one may reach the summit of this mountain on foot; or, should the tourist prefer to ride, he can use the Mountain Railway which approaches the top in a line almost straight. Protected by stout shoes, carrying wraps, and armed with long and strong wooden staffs, we walk slowly along the mountain road, pausing at intervals to gaze upon the beautiful scenes which surround us in every direction. The great peak known as the Drachenfels or Dragon rock, in which from the river a vast cavern may be seen, owes its name to the numerous legends which are connected with it. In the cave, it is said, lived a terrible monster who daily demanded of the people the sacrifice of a young maiden, who was bound and decorated with flowers, and placed near the entrance to his lair. Siegfried slew the dragon and by bathing in his blood, became invulnerable. The maiden whose life he thus saved was Hildegarde, the beautiful daughter of the Lord of Drachenfels, whom he afterward married and bore to the castle whose crumbling and picturesque ruins seem to cling to the lofty crag, fifteen hundred feet above the Rhine. This castle was once a mighty stronghold of the robber chieftains; its foundation is associated with Arnold, Archbishop of Cologne at the beginning of the twelfth century, who in 1149 bestowed it upon the Cassius Monastery at Bonn. It was held as a fief by the counts of the castle.

Henry, Count of Drachenfels, furnished the chapter of the Cathedral of Cologne with the stone for its construction from a quarry which from this fact still bears the name of Dombruch, or cathedral quarry. In the Thirty Years’ War the half-ruined castle was occupied by the Swedes, but was besieged and taken from them by Duke Ferdinand of Bavaria, Elector of Cologne, who completed its destruction.

The cliff is now surmounted by a beautiful new castle, the Drachenburg, built in 1883 for the Baron von Sarter. It is in the Gothic style, and is elaborately decorated with frescoes and stained glass. The upper part of the mountain is covered with trees below the cliff, the lower part with grapevines, while along the banks of the Rhine at its foot are picturesque cottages, nestling among trees and vines. The Drachenfels is the loftiest of the Seven Mountains, and its summit commands one of the finest prospects on the Rhine. In the ruins of the old castle, ingenious and progressive man has seen fit to ignore sentiment, and thrust a modern restaurant, where in spite of his shocked sensibilities, the weary traveller may in return for German marks, rest and refresh himself with sparkling wine which is famous for its fine quality and flavor, while the cool breezes fan his brow and soothe his excited brain.

“The great peak known as the Drachenfels, or Dragon Rock.”   (See page 291.)