After winding my way through the trees for a considerable time, inclining gently to the left, I suddenly saw close before me, at the bottom of a most sequestered valley, the object of my journey,—namely, the very ancient monastery of Eberbach. The sylvan loveliness, and the peaceful retirement of this spot, I strongly feel it is quite impossible to describe. Almost surrounded by hills or rather mountains, clothed with forest trees, one does not expect to find at the bottom of such a valley an immense solitary building, which in size and magnificence not only corresponds with the bold features of the country, but seems worthy of a place in any of the largest capitals of Europe.
The irregular building, with its dome, spires, statues, and high slated roofs, looks like the palace of some powerful king; and yet the monarch has apparently no subjects but the forest trees, which on all sides almost touch the architecture, and even closely environ the garden walls.
A spot better suited to any being or race of beings who wished to say to the world “Fare thee well! and if for ever, still for ever fare thee well!” could scarcely be met with on its vast circumference; and certainly if it were possible for the vegetable creation to compensate a man for losing the society of his fellow-creatures, the woods of Eberbach would, in a high degree, afford him that consolation. A more lovely and romantic situation for a monastery could not have existed; yet I should have wondered how it could possibly have been discovered, had not its history most clearly explained that marvel.
In the year 1131, St. Bernhard, the famous preacher of the crusade (whose followers eventually possessed, merely in the Rhine-gau, six monastic establishments—namely, Tiefenthal, Gottesthal, Eberbach, Eibinger, Nothgottes, and Marienhausen), was attacked by a holy itch, or irresistible determination to erect a monastery; but not knowing where to drop the foundation-stone, he consulted, it is said, a wild boar, on this important subject. The sagacious creature shrewdly listened to the human being who addressed it; and a mysterious meeting being agreed upon, he silently grubbed with his snout, the valley of Eberbach, lines marking out the foundation of the building; and certainly such a lovely stye, for men basking in sunshine, to snore away their existence, no animal but a pig would ever have thought of!
St. Bernhard, highly approving of the boar’s taste, employed the best architects to carry his plan into execution; and sparing no expense, a magnificent cathedral—a large palace, with a monastery, connected together by colonnades, as well as ornamented in various places with the image of a pig, its founder—were quickly reared upon the spot; and when all was completed, monks were brought to the abode, and the holy hive, for many centuries, was heard buzzing in the wild mountains which surrounded it: however, in the year 1803, the Duke of Nassau took violent possession of its honey, and its inmates were thus rudely shaken from their cells. Three or four of the monks, of this once wealthy establishment, are all that now remain in existence, and their abode has ever since been used partly as a government prison, and partly as a public asylum for lunatics.
Before entering the great gate, which was surmounted by colossal figures of the Virgin Mary, St. John, and the great St. Bernhard himself, I was advised by my cicerone, Luy, to go to some grotto he kept raving about; and, as Katerinchen’s nose also seemed placidly to point the same way, I left the monastery, and through a plantation of very fine oaks, which were growing about twenty feet asunder, we ascended, by zigzags, a hill surmounted by a beautiful plantation of firs; and the moment I reached the summit, there suddenly flashed upon me a view of the Rhine, which, without any exception, I should say, is the finest I have witnessed in this country. Uninterrupted by anything but its own long, narrow islands, I beheld the course of the river, from Johannisburg to Mainz, which two points formed, from the grotto where I stood, an angle of about 120 degrees. Between me and the water, lay, basking in sunshine, the Rhine-gau, covered with vineyards, or surrounded by large patches of corn, which were evidently just ready for the sickle; but the harvest not having actually commenced, the only moving objects in the picture were young women with white handkerchiefs on their heads, busily pruning the vines; and the Coln, or, as it might more properly be termed, the English steam-boat, which, immediately before me, was gliding against the stream towards Mainz. On the opposite side of the Rhine, an immense country, highly cultivated, but without a fence, was to be seen.
Turning my back upon this noble prospect, the monastery lay immediately beneath me, so completely surrounded by the forest, that it looked as if, ready built, it had been dropped from heaven upon its site.
A more noble-looking residence could hardly be imagined, and the zigzag walks and plantations of fir imparted to it a gentlemanlike appearance, which I could not sufficiently admire; yet, notwithstanding the rural beauty of the place, I felt within me a strong emotion of pity for those poor, forlorn, misguided beings, whose existence had been uselessly squandered in such mistaken seclusion; and I could not help fancying how acutely, from the spot on which I stood, they might have compared the moral loneliness of their mansion, with the natural joy and loveliness of that river scenery, from which their relentless mountain had severed them: indeed, I hope my reader will not think an old man too Anacreontic for saying, that if any thing in this world could penetrate the sackcloth garment of a monk, “and wring his bosom,” it would be the sight of what I had just turned my back upon—namely, a vineyard full of women! That the fermentation of the grape was intended to cheer decrepitude, and that the affections of a softer sex were made to brighten the zenith of mid-day life, are truths which, within the walls of a convent or a monastery, it must have been most exquisite torture to reflect upon.
As I descended from the grotto, I saw beneath me, entering the great gate of the building, half a dozen carts laden with wood, each drawn by six prisoners. None being in irons, and the whole gang being escorted by a single soldier in the Nassau uniform, I was at first surprised,—why, when they penetrated the forest, they did not all run away! However, fear of punishment held them together: there being no large cities in the duchy, they had no where to run, but to their own homes, where they would instantly have been recaptured; and though, to a stranger like myself, the forest seemed to offer them protection, yet it was certain death by starvation to remain in it.
On entering the great square, I found it would be necessary to apply to the commandant of the establishment for permission to view it. I accordingly waited upon him, and was agreeably surprised at being politely informed by him, in English, that he would be proud and most happy to attend me. He was a fine, erect, soldierlike-looking man, of about forty, seventeen years of which he had reigned in this valley, over prisoners and lunatics; the average number of the former being 250, and of the latter about 100.