‘They whetted their teeth against the stones,
And then they picked the bishop’s bones.’
Fragments of poetry come to one’s mind constantly here, for nearly every spot has been sung of by some one.
Near by is the great ruin of the Castle Ehrenfels, where the Archbishop of Mayence, or Mainz, as the Germans say, used to flee for safety in times of agitation. Opposite is the Castle of Rheinstein (Rhine Stone), which has been restored, and is owned and often occupied by the royal family of Germany, and looks indeed very inviting. The legend connected with this castle is a pretty tale, because the end gives Gerda, the lovely daughter of Count Siegfried, to Kuno, the man she loved, notwithstanding the treachery of his bachelor cousin Kurt, who endeavored to win her for himself, but as a meet punishment fell from his horse while following her and was killed. Kuno inherited his estates, and he, with Gerda, ever after ‘lived in peace.’
We saw the Siebenjungfrauen, ‘Seven Virgins,’ now seven cold rocks, once beautiful maidens. The Lurlei, a river nymph, turned them into stone for flirting too much with the susceptible youth of the Rhine. Near by are the huge rocks of the Lurlei, where dwelt the syren, whose sweet voice lured all who heard it, and whose greatest delight was to charm these admirers on to their own destruction. It is said that even now, at the uncanny hour of midnight, the phantom of a boat can be seen, with the shadowy figure of a man with outstretched arms standing in the centre, gazing toward the cliff, where he had once seen and been entranced by the lovely maid and her sweet voice.
“To the Rhine, to the Rhine, go not to the Rhine,
My son, I counsel thee well:
For there life is too sweet and too fine,
And every breath is a spell.
The Nixie calls to thee out of the flood;
And if thou her smiles shouldst see,
And the Lorelei, with her beautiful lips,
Then ’tis all over with thee;
For bewitched and delighted
Yet seized with fear,
Thy home is forgotten,
And mourners weep here.”
I become so absorbed in all these old traditions, that I feel like telling you the stories as if they were new, but you know them all, and I must stop or weary you, for you are in practical Boston, and I on this historic, romantic stream. Near us, on the boat, sat a distinguished-looking party of Germans, one of whom was the young gentleman I previously alluded to, and who had watched us, we felt, with considerable interest, for the citizens of one nation are always interested in travellers from far-off lands, taking notes of their own. Hearing me ask of F. a question in regard to one of the old ruins, which information she was unable to give me, he kindly volunteered the desired explanation, apologizing at the same time for addressing us. He was every inch a gentleman, and spoke English a little. His knowledge of everything in the vicinity, his kind attentions, and the use of his superior glasses, added greatly to the pleasure of our trip. I think he looked at my companion, but he talked with me, and was charming. ‘Have you reached “the delightful part of the Rhine”?’ he asked, and I felt that I had. The only really beautiful portion is from Bingen to Bonn. It is between these cities that the river turns and winds from one mountain side to the other, on whose heights stand the picturesque old ruins—castles, convents, and crags. Of course the Drachenfels, or Dragon’s Rock, with the castle ruins, brought to us many memories of the ‘Niebelungen Lay,’ for it was here, on this romantic ground, that young Siegfried showed his wonderful strength, which has been told and sung of ever since. If only he had dipped his entire body in the dragon’s blood, and not left the one spot exposed! But, ah me! I fear we all have the one vulnerable spot somewhere, for we are all human! In and near this vicinity the finest grapes grow, and the vineyards are extensive and receive constant care.
We made a short stop at Bonn, long enough to see the fine statue of Beethoven, who was born here, and who was descended from a family of wonderful musicians. Saw the university buildings also, where a young gallant, once ours, studied, and then we pushed on down the river, the banks now flat and of little interest, until Cologne came in sight.
Yes, we have greatly enjoyed the Rhine, but taking it entire, I am a little disappointed, and as these are honest letters, telling you of sights just as I am impressed by them, I must say, that with the exception of that portion of the river I have spoken of to you, which is bordered by the mountains, castle-tipped, I think our own Hudson, with its lovely banks and its shadowy Catskills, the more beautiful. I am thinking now of the time, one year ago, when I sat on the deck of the Mary Powell running up past the grand palisades and dear, lovely, old West Point. Well, I shall be homesick if I dwell upon that trip. Our attentive German escort, whose card has told us that he is the son of Baron von H., and a student at Bonn, now taking his vacation, requested my consent to accompany us to our hotel, as he was to stop at the same one, hoping to be able to be of service to us, which very kind offer we declined, and stepped into a droschky, which soon safely landed us at the Hotel Disch.