Cochem is a good resting-place, as in its neighbourhood are found many interesting places, such as Beilstein, Marienbourg, Clotten, Treis, Elz, &c.; and immediately around it the country walks are very numerous, varied in character, and beautiful.
Sitting in the balcony of the inn, too, is very pleasant; the steamers, with their passing life, arrive and depart just opposite; the great fleets of barges are pulled past by dozens of horses, at which the drivers scream and crack their whips till the whole valley resounds; fishermen ply their trade, and at night-time light fires on the banks, that thus they may be able to see their prey in the water.
Opposite is a small village, and behind this village are vineyards belonging to Cochem; so the constant communication necessarily kept up makes the river appear very lively. Boats also are generally being built or repaired, and the girls are washing linen or carrying water up from the stream.
Between Cochem and Beilstein there is, at a turn of the river, a beautiful cemetery, and a church with twin-spires. The cliffs and river sweep round the angle and shut in this retired nook, which, thus separated from the world, appears a fit resting-place for those whose waking will be in a world more glorious than this. There are on our river many cemeteries and graveyards, most beautifully placed; and the graves, with their simple crosses, seem the realisation of peace.
Nearer to Cochem is a very perfect echo; it repeats twice with great clearness, and is so long before answering that there is time to say quite a sentence. Thus it invited us to “come again to-morrow;” and for many a morrow we visited and revisited the scenery here, the endless foot-paths over rocks and through vines, or forests, or fields, ever giving us new views and fresh combinations of beauty, and we found days pass into weeks with the greatest rapidity.
Following the brook at the end of the town, we arrive at the foot of the hill on which the strong castle of Winneburg stands, midst its own ruins. It has two sets of walls and moats, and must have been quite inaccessible in the old time. It is difficult to get into it now, even without anybody to poke a pike down one’s throat, or pour molten lead in your eyes.
Its situation is fine, and from it part of Cochem is seen, and the castle of Cochem, which rises quite close to the town. It is curious how deceptive these places are in size. What seems from below to be a mere fragment of ruin, becomes, at your nearer approach, a most extensive circuit of wall, with many roofless chambers and turrets; just as we never know the size of a tree until it is felled.
The legend of Winneburg, called “the Immured Maiden,” merely relates that the master-builder who had contracted to finish the keep within a certain time failed in his contract; and being reproached by his employer, was about to jump into the Moselle from the walls: but a stranger assured him, if he would allow him to build into the wall the little daughter he loved so dearly, he would finish the keep in a day. The rascal consented, and the devil built the little girl up in the foundation of this strong keep-tower.
We doubted the truth of this story, as the master-builder must have been a very active man to have jumped two miles and a half, which is the distance from Winneburg to the Moselle.
Continuing our course from the hill on which Winneburg stands, we enter a narrow part of the valley called the Enterthal. This Enterthal consists of a series of openings in the very high hills; the openings are exquisitely green lawns, surrounded by thick foliage and rock; through or round these openings runs the brook, heaping up stones and spreading into pools, or tumbling down headlong in its hurry to reach its gentle sovereign the Moselle.