Pilgrimages to the Spas in Pursuit of Health and Recreation / With an inquiry into the comparative merits of different mineral waters: the maladies to which they are applicable, and those in which they are injurious

by James Johnson

Rocks that appear like lovers who have parted

In haste; whose mining depths so intervene,

That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted.”

And here is still heard that prattling nymph, Miss Echo, who, like many a descriptive tourist, repeats her parrot-note for the tenth time—with no other variation than that of diminished force and distinctness. This lady, who, when young, was dismissed from the skies for allowing her tongue to wag too freely, has since endured the severe punishment of keeping silent, except when spoken to! She is not permitted to ask, but only to iterate questions—having the privilege, on some rare occasions, and in some peculiar places, of repeating the said question, or rather the last word or syllable of it twice or even many times. The present spot is one of these favourite localities—and the voices which she loves to hear and to imitate are those of the cannon, the bugle, and the horn. The clanking and plashing of the steamers are unfavourable to the delicate iterations of Echo, and often drown her voice entirely. Though not so witty as her sister of Killarney, who answers, instead of repeating the questions put to her, yet she occasionally cracks a joke on the mayor of the neighbouring town, when some stentorian German bawls out from the opposite rock, “Who is the mayor of Oberwesel?” The damsel, with a faint but clear titter, replies, “esel”—or ass! so that lord mayors on the banks of the Rhine, as well as of the Thames, are sometimes treated with ridicule.

There can be little doubt that boat-wrecks, raft-wrecks, and loss of life were of frequent occurrence in a locality like this, where the rapid stream is twisted into whirlpools, between rugged banks, the very proximity of which increases the difficulty of the passage, and the danger of drowning, where the vessel or flotilla is stranded. The eddying surge, the sunken rock, and the serrated perpendicular shore, in a dark and tempestuous night, must render the navigation of this dreary ravine most hazardous—and escape, in case of an overturn, all but hopeless.

That a place so singular and so perilous, coupled with a remarkable and musical echo, should become the scene of some popular or superstitious legend, is not at all wonderful. Accordingly a fourth Siren was added to the classical list, and located on the banks of the Rhine, instead of the coast of Sicily, to lure (lurlei) the enchanted mariner from his helm or oar, by her melodious song, and wreck himself and bark on the treacherous rocks. Lurley carried on the trade of her elder sisters for some time, with considerable success, but not without some redeeming qualities; for she often pointed out the best places for the poor fishermen to cast their nets. At length a young Palatine Count determined to emulate the hero of Ithaca, and break the spell of the enchantress. For that purpose he embarked on the Rhine, and steered towards the dangerous pass, but without taking the precaution of the wily Greek, to stop the ears of the crew with wax, and cause himself to be bound to the mast. As the count’s barge approached the rocks, Lurley poured forth one of her most melodious lays over the face of the river. The men dropped their oars, and the count’s senses were all absorbed in listening to the divine strains. A sudden eddy of the stream whirled the boat’s head towards the shore—another dashed her against the rocks—and, in another instant, all were engulphed in the boiling whirlpool!

This catastrophe caused a great sensation, and the count’s father sent a veteran warrior, with a select party of soldiers, to surround the rock, and seize the sorceress. On approaching the summit, Lurley was seen for the first time by human eyes, with arms, ankles, and neck encircled with corals, and even her flowing tresses braided with the same emblems of the deep. She demanded their purpose. The veteran announced his determination to force her into the Rhine, there to expiate the death of the young count. Lurley replied, by throwing her corals into the river, singing at the same time—

Entends ma voix, puissant Pere des eaux,

Fais parter, sans delai, tes rapides chevaux.

Instantly a great storm arose—the river boiled with foam—and two towering waves, bearing some resemblance to milk-white steeds, surged along the rock, and bore Undine (for such was the nymph) to her paternal grottoes under the waters. From that time the song of Lurley was never heard; but her spirit still hovers about her favourite rocks, and mimicks the voices of the boatmen as they pass the place.