Wishing to see Rudesheim and its neighbourhood, I one morning left Schlangenbad very early, in a hired open carriage, drawn by a pair of small punchy horses.
We were to get first to the Rhine at the village of Ellfeld, and we accordingly proceeded about a league on the great macadamized road towards Mainz, when, turning to the right, we passed under the celebrated hill of Rauenthal, and then very shortly came in sight of the retired peaceful little village of Neudorf. The simple outline of this remote hamlet, as well as the costume and attitudes of a row of peasants, who, seated on a grassy bank at the road side, were resting from their labour, formed the subject of an interesting sketch which the Paneidolon presented to me in a very few minutes.
This exceedingly clever, newly-invented instrument, the most silent—the most faithful, and one of the most entertaining compagnons de voyage which any traveller can desire, consists of a small box, in which can be packed anything it is capable of holding. On being emptied for use, all that is necessary is to put one’s head into one side, and then trace with a pencil the objects which are instantly seen most beautifully delineated at the other.
Whether the perspective be complicated or simple—whether the figures be human or inhuman, it is all the same, for they are traced with equal facility, rain not even retarding the operation. The Paneidolon also possesses an advantage which all very modest people will, I think, appreciate, for the operator’s face being (like Jack’s) “in a box,” no person can stare at it or the drawing; whereas, while sketching with the camera lucida, everybody must have observed that the village peasants, in crowds, not only watch every line of the pencil, but laugh outright at the contortion of countenance with which the poor Syntax, in search of the picturesque, having one optic closed, squints with the other through a hole scarcely bigger than the head of a pin, standing all the time in the inquisitive attitude of a young magpie looking into a marrow-bone.
On leaving Neudorf, getting into a cross country road, or chemin de terre, we began, with the carriage-wheel dragged, an uninterrupted descent, which was to lead us to the banks of the Rhine. The horses (which had no blinkers) having neither to pull nor to hold back, were trotting merrily along, occasionally looking at me—occasionally biting at each other; every thing was delightful, save and except a whiff of tobacco, which, about six times a minute, like a sort of pulsation, proved that my torpid driver was not really, as he appeared to be—a corpse; when, all of a sudden, as we were jolting down a narrow ravine, surmounted by vineyards, I saw, about a hundred yards before us, a cart heavily laden, drawn by two little cows. There happened at the moment to be a small road at right angles on our left, into which we ought to have turned to let our opponent pass: but either the driver did not see, or would not see, the humble vehicle, and so onwards he recklessly drove, until our horses’ heads and the cows’ horns being nearly close together, the dull, heavy lord of the creation pulled at his reins and stopped.
The road was so narrow, and the banks of the ravine so precipitous, that there was scarcely room on either side of the vehicle for a human being to pass; and the cows and horses being vis-à-vis, or “at issue,” the legal question now arose which of the two carriages was to retrograde.
As, without metaphor, I sat on my woolsack, or cushion stuffed with wool, my first judgement was, that the odds were not in favour of the defendant, the poor old woman,—for she had not only to contend with the plaintiff (my stupid driver), his yellow carriage, and two bay horses, but the hill itself was sadly against her; her opponent loudly exclaiming that she and her cows could retire easier than he could. The toothless old woman did not attempt to plead for herself; but what was infinitely better, having first proved, by pushing at her cows’ heads with all her force, that they actually did not know how to back, she showed us her face, which had every appearance of going to sleep. Seeing affairs in this state, I got out of the carriage, and quietly walked on: however, I afterwards learnt, with great pleasure, that the old woman gained her cause, and that the squabble ended by the yellow carriage retreating to the point where its stupid, inanimate driver ought to have stopped it.
On arriving at the bottom of the lane, we reached that noble road, running parallel with and close to the Rhine, which was brought into its present excellent state in the time of Napoleon. Along it, with considerable noise, we trotted steadily, stopping only about once every half hour to pay a few kreuzers at what was called the Barrière. No barrier, however, existed, their being nothing to mark the fatal spot but an inanimate, party-coloured post, exhibiting, in stripes of blue and orange, the government colours of Nassau.
On the horses stopping, which they seemed most loyally to do of their own accord, the person whose office it was to collect this road-money, or chaussée-gelt, in process of time, appeared at a window with a heavy pipe hanging in his mouth, and in his hand an immense long stick, to the end of which there was affixed a small box containing a ticket, in exchange for which I silently dropped my money into this till. Not a word was spoken, but, with the gravity of an angler, the man having drawn in his rod, a whiff of tobacco was vomited from his mouth, and then the window, like the transaction—closed.
After proceeding for some hours, having passed through Erbach and Hattenheim, we drove through the village of Johannisberg, which lies crouching at the foot of the hill so remarkable on the Rhine for being crowned with the white, shining habitation of Prince Metternich. The celebrated vineyards on this estate were swarming with labourers, male and female, who were seen busily lopping off the exuberant heads of the vines, an operation which, with arms lifted above their heads, was not inelegantly performed with a common sickle.