Her name, and that of her partner, were accordingly inscribed; and others would, with equal bursts of joy, have been added to the list, but observing that my poor pencil, which would still have lived in my service many a year, and which, in fact, was all I had, was, from its violent rencontres with the hard, gritty wall, actually gasping for life in the illiterate clutches of a great bony bridesmaid, I very civilly managed, under pretence of cutting it, to extract it from her grasp; and the attention of the youthful party flitting of its own accord to some other object, the stump of my poor crayon was miraculously spared to continue its humble notes of the day’s proceedings.
On leaving the enchanted cave, we ascended through a noble oak wood, until reaching a most celebrated pinnacle of the Taunus mountains, we arrived at the Rossel, an old ruined castle, which, standing on the Niederwald like a weather-beaten sentinel at his post, seemed to be faithfully guarding the entrance of that strange mysterious chasm, through which, at an immense depth beneath, the river was triumphantly and majestically flowing.
Although the view from the ruined top of this castle was very extensive and magnificent, yet the dark, struggling river was so remarkable an object, that it at first completely engrossed my attention. While the great mass of water was flowing on its course, a sort of civil war was raging between various particles of the element. In some places an eddy seemed to be rebelliously trying to stem the stream; in others the water was revolving in a circle;—here it was seen tumbling and breaking over a sunken rock—there as smooth as glass. In the middle of these fractious scenes, there lay, as it were, calmly at anchor, two or three islands, covered with poplars and willows, upon one of which stood the ruins of the Mäusethurm, or tower of that stingy Bishop of Mainz, famous, or rather infamous, in the history of the Rhine, for having been gnawed to death by rats. On the opposite side of the river were to be seen the Rochus Capelle, a tower built to commemorate the cessation of the plague, the beautiful castle of Rheinstein, the residence of Prince Frederick of Prussia, the blue-slated town of Bingen, with its bridge crossing the Nahe, which, running at right angles, here delivers up its waters to the Rhine.
The difference in caste or colour between the two rivers at their point of meeting is very remarkable, the Rhine, being clear and green, the Nahe a deep muddy brown; however, they no sooner enter the chasm in the Taunus hills than the distinction is annihilated in the violent hubble-bubble commotions which ensue.
The view beyond these home objects now attracted my attention. The Prussian hills opposite were richly clothed with wood, while on their left lay prostrate the province of Darmstadt, a large brown flat space, studded, as far as the eye could reach, with villages, which, though distinctly remarkable in the foreground, were yet scarcely perceptible in the perspective. Behind my back was the duchy of Nassau, with several old ruined castles perched on the pinnacles of the wood-covered hills of the Niederwald.
During the whole time that I was placidly enjoying this beautiful picture around and beneath me, the bridal party of young people, equally happy in their way, were singing, laughing, or waltzing; and their cheerful accents, echoing from one old ruin to another, seemed for the moment to restore to these deserted walls that joy to which they had so long been a stranger.
Having at last mounted my mule, I attempted to bid my companions farewell; however, they insisted on accompanying me and my guide through the forest, singing their national airs in chorus as they went. Their footsteps kept pace with their tunes, and as they advanced, their young voices thrilled among the trees with great effect; sometimes the wild melody, like a stop-waltz, suddenly ceased, and they proceeded several paces in silence; then, again, it as unexpectedly burst upon the ear,—in short, like the children of all German schools, they had evidently been taught time and the complete management of their voices, a natural and pleasing accomplishment, which can scarcely be sufficiently admired.
From these young people themselves I did not attempt to extract their little history; but I learnt from my guide in a whisper (for which I thought there was no great occasion), that the young couple who hand in hand before me were leading the procession through the wood, were verlobt (affianced), that is to say, they were under sentence eventually to be married.
This quiet, jog-trot, half-and-half connubial arrangement is very common indeed all over Germany; and no sooner is it settled and approved of, than the young people are permitted to associate together at almost all times, notwithstanding it is often decreed to be prudent that many years should elapse before their marriage can possibly take place; in short, they are constantly obliged to wait until either their income rises sufficiently, or until butter, meat, bread, coffee, and tobacco, sufficiently fall.
As seated on my mule I followed these steady, well-behaved, and apparently well-educated young people through the forest, listening to their cheerful choruses, I could not, during one short interval of silence, help reflecting how differently such unions are managed in different countries on the globe.