LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 University of California. 
 
 C1RCULA TING BRA NC f r 
 
 Eeturn In 4w* weekf : or a week before the end of the term, 
 
THE RHINE. 
 
"DORN where blooms the Alpine rose, 
 *-* Cradled in the Boden See 
 Forth the infant river flows, 
 
 Leaping on in childish glee. 
 Coming to a riper age, 
 
 He crowns his rocky cup with wine, 
 And makes a gallant pilgrimage 
 
 To many a ruined tower and shrine. 
 
THE RHINE; 
 
 A TOUR 
 
 FROM PARIS TO MAYENCE 
 
 BY THE WAY OF 
 
 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, 
 
 WITH AN ACCOUNT OP ITS LEGENDS, ANTIQ- 
 UITIES, AND IMPORTANT HISTORIC 
 CAL EVENTS, 
 
 BY VICTOR HU 
 
 TRANSLATED BY D M , A I R D , 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO : 
 PAYOT, UPHAM & CO. 
 
 622 WASHINGTON STREET. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FROM PARIS TO FERTE-SOUS-JOUARRE. 
 
 Dammartin: its Literature and Curiosities. An Accident, 
 and its Result. A German Wagon. The Pleasures of 
 Country Traveling. The Philosophical Hunchback and 
 Reasoning Gendarme. Meaux and its Curiosities . . X 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MONTMIRAIL MONTMORT EPERNAY. 
 
 Montmirail Castle. Vaux Champs. The Rencontre, and 
 Reflections Thereupon. Montmort Castle. Made- 
 moiselle Jeannette. The Churches and Curiosities of 
 Epernay. Anecdote of Strozzi and Brisquet, Henry the 
 Second's Fool IX 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHALONS SAINTE MENEHOULD VARENNES. 
 
 The Reverie. The Arrest of Louis the Sixteenth. The Salu- 
 tation and its Effects. Notre Dame at Chalons. Ati- 
 
viii Contents. 
 
 quarian Forgetfulness. The Inscription. Watchman, 
 Wife, and Gnome Son. Abbey of Notre Dame de 
 1'Epine. Storm. Metz Hotel. Sleeping Canary. 
 Host and Hostess. Champagne, and the Signification of 
 Champenois. Madame Sabliere and La Fontaine . . 19 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FROM VILLIERS-COTTERETS TO LA FRONTIERS. 
 
 The Effects of Traveling. The Retrograde Movement. Re- 
 flection. The Secret of Stars. The Inscription " I. C." 
 The Cathedral where King Pepin was Crowned. The 
 Prisoner's Sad Rencontre. Rheims. Church at Me- 
 zieres. The Effects of a Bomb. Sedan and its Contents. 
 The Transpiring Events at Turenne's Birth. Conver- 
 sation of a Sir John Falstaff and his Better-Half . . 32 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GIVET. 
 
 Flemish Architects. Little Civet. The Inscription. Jose 
 Gutierez. The Peasant Girl 45 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE BANKS OF THE MEUSE DINANT NAMUR. 
 
 The Lesse. A Flemish Garden. The Mannequin. The 
 Tombstone. Athletic Demoiselles. Signboards, and 
 their Utility 5* 
 
Contents. ix 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BANKS OF THE MEUSE. HUY. LIEGE 
 
 A Chapel of the Tenth Century. Iron Works of Mr. 
 Cockerill ; their Singular Appearance. St. Paul's at 
 Liege. Palace of the Ecclesiastical Princes of Liege. 
 Significant Decorations of a Room at Liege . . 56 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE BANKS OF THE VESDRE. VERVIERS. 
 
 Railways. Miners at Work. Louis the Fourteenth . .66 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. THE TOMB OF CHARLEMAGNE. 
 
 Legend of the Wolf and Pine-Apple. Carlo Magno. 
 Barberousse. The Untombing of Charlemagne. Ex- 
 hibition of Relics. Arm-Chair of Charlemagne. The 
 Swiss Guide. Hotel de Ville, the Birthplace of Charle- 
 magne 69 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 COLOGNE. THE BANKS OF THE RHINE. ANDERNACH. 
 
 Duez. Cathedral of Cologne. The Peasantry. The 
 Strolling Musician. Personifiers of the Gods Goulu, 
 Gluton, Goinfre, and Gouliaf. Dome of the Cathedral 
 of Cologne. Epitaph. Tomb of the Three Wise Men 
 
 A* 
 
Contents 
 
 of the East. Destiny. -The Hotel de Ville. -The 
 Three Bas-Reliefs. The Epic Poet of Cologne. 
 Cologne at Night. Time and its Effects 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 APROPOS OF THE HOUSE OF " IBACH." 
 
 Man's Insignificancy. The House Ibach. Marie de Medicis, 
 Richelieu, and Louis the Thirteenth .... 103 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A FEW WORDS RESPECTING THE WALDRAF MUSEUM. 
 
 Schleis Kotten. " Stretching-Out-of-the-Hand System," or, 
 
 Traveling Contingencies. Recapitulation . . .no 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ANDERNACH. 
 
 A View from Andernach. Village of Luttersdorf. Cathe- 
 dral. Its Relics. Andernach Castle. Inscription. 
 The Tomb of Iloche. Gothic Church and Inscription . 118 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE RHINE.* 
 
 The Rhine at Evening. Contrast of the Rhine with other 
 Rivers. The First People who tock I csscssion of the 
 
Contents. xi 
 
 Banks of the Rhine. Titus and the Twenty-second 
 Legion. Mysterious Populations of the Rhine. Civil- 
 ization. Pepin-le-Bref, Charlemagne and Napoleon . 124 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE MOUSE. 
 
 Velmich. Legend of the Priest and the Silver Bell. Giant's 
 Tomb. Explanation of the Mouse. The Solitary In- 
 habitant of the Ruin 134 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE MOUSE. 
 
 Colossal Profile. The Duchy of M. de Nassau. Country 
 
 Sports ; their Punishment. A Mountebank . . . 142 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SAINT GOAR. 
 
 The Cat ; its Interior. Fabulous Rock of Lurley. The 
 Swiss Valley. The Fruit Girl. The Reichenberg. The 
 Barber's Village. Legend. The Rheinfels. Oberwesel. 
 French Hussar. A German Supper .... 145 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 BACHARACH. 
 
 Furstemberg, Sonnech, and Heimberg. Europe. A Happy 
 
 Little World. The Cemetery 154 
 
xii Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 "FIRE! FIRE!" 
 
 Lorch. An Incident. Combat of the Hydra and Dragon. 
 The Hotel P at Lorch 157 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 FROM LORCH TO BINGEN. 
 
 Traveling on Foot : Its Advantages and Pleasures. The 
 Strange Recontre. A Dangerous Spectator. The Ex- 
 plication. Actors on a Holiday. Marvelous Facts, and 
 their Connection with the " Holiday of a Menagerie." 
 Furstemberg Castle. The Three Brothers, Cadenet, 
 Luynes, and Bradnes. The Three Students. Sublimity 
 of Nature. Ruin. The Enigma. Falkenburg Castle. 
 The Blooming Group. Stella. Gantrum and Liba. 
 Mausethurm. Hatto, and the Legend of the Rats . . 165 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 LEGEND OF THE HANDSOME PECOPIN AND THE BEAU- 
 TIFUL BAULDOUR. 
 
 The Planet Venus and the Bird Phoenix. The Difference 
 Between the Ear of a Young Man and that of an Old 
 One. The Qualities Essential to Different Embassies. 
 Happy Effect of a Good Thought. The Devil is Wrong 
 in being a Gourmand. Amiable Proposition of an Old 
 Sage. The Wandering Christian. The Danger to 
 which we Expose Ourselves by Getting on a Strange 
 Horse. The Return. Bauldour 195 
 
Contents. xiii 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 BINGEN. 
 
 Houses at Bingen. Paradise Plain. The Klopp. Mdlle. 
 
 Bertin. The Sage 225 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 MAYENCE. 
 
 Cathedral; its Interior. Henry Frauenlob, the Tasso of 
 Mayence. Market-Place 233 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 FRANKFORT ON THE MAINE. 
 
 Jews at Frankfort. Slaughter-House. Roemer. Inhabit- 
 ants of the Steeple 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE RHINE 
 
 Raft* cm the Rhine. Secret Souvenirs. Oberwerth . . 242 
 
THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FROM PARIS TO FERTE-SOUS-JOUARRE. 
 
 Dammartin : its Literature and Curiosities. An Accident, and its 
 Result. A German Wagon. The Pleasures of Country 
 Traveling. The Philosophical Hunchback and Reasoning 
 Gendarme. Meaux and its Curiosities. 
 
 ABOUT two days ago I started from Paris. 
 Pursuing my way by the route of Meaux, 
 leaving St. Denis and Montmorency on the left, 
 I cast my eyes upon the rising ground at the 
 bottom of the plain, but a turning in the road 
 soon hid it from my sight. On long excursions, 
 I have a peculiar penchant for short stages, hate 
 to be encumbered with luggage, and love to be 
 alone in my carriage with the two friends of my 
 boyhood Virgil and Tacitus. 
 
 As I had traveled by Soissons a few years ago, 
 I took the Chalons road, which, owing to innova- 
 tors, or, as they style themselves, utilitarians, 
 has now but very little interest left. Nanteuil- 
 le-Haudoin boasts no longer of the castle built 
 by Francis the First ; the magnificent manor of 
 
 the Duke of Valois, at Villiers-Cotterets, has 
 1 
 
The Rhine. 
 
 been converted into a poor-house ; and there, as 
 almost everywhere, sculpture and painting the 
 mind of by-gone ages, the grace of the sixteenth 
 century have disappeared. The enormous tower 
 of Dammartin, from which Montmartre, nine 
 leagues distant, could be distinctly seen, has 
 been razed to the ground. Its lizard and vertical 
 form gave rise to the proverb, which I could 
 never well understand : 
 
 " // est comme le chdteau de Dammartin, qui 
 crtoe de rire" l 
 
 Since it has been deprived of its old bastille, in 
 which the Bishop of Meaux, when he quarreled 
 with the Count of Champagne, took refuge with 
 seven of his followers, Dammartin has ceased to 
 engender proverbs. It is now only remarkable 
 for literary compositions similar to this note, 
 which I copied verbatim from a book lying on the 
 table of an auberge : 
 
 "Dammartin (Seine -et-Marne) is a small 
 town, situated on a hill ; lace is the chief ar- 
 ticle of manufacture. Hotel: Saint e Anne. Cu- 
 riosities: the parish church, hall, 1600 inhabit- 
 ants." 
 
 The short space of time which those tyrants of 
 diligences, called conducteurs, allow for dinner, 
 would not permit me to ascertain if it was true 
 
 1 He is like Dammartin Castle, bursting with laughter. 
 
Pert 4 -sous- Jouarre. 
 
 that the sixteen hundred inhabitants of Dammar- 
 tin were really curiosities. 
 
 In the most lovely weather, and on the finest 
 road in the world, between Claye and Meaux, the 
 wheel of my vehicle broke. (I am one who al- 
 ways continues his journey, for, if the carriage re- 
 nounce me, I abandon the carriage.) At that in- 
 stant a small diligence passed, which was that of 
 Touchard. There was only one vacant seat I 
 took it, and in ten minutes after the accident I 
 was once more on my route, perched upon the 
 imperiale, between a hunchback and a gendarme. 
 
 Behold me now at Fert6-sous-Jouarre, a pretty 
 little town with its three bridges, its old mill 
 supported by five arches in the middle of the 
 river, and its handsome pavilion, of the time of 
 Louis the Thirteenth, which, it is said, belonged 
 to the Duke of Saint-Simon, and is now in the 
 hands of a grocer. 
 
 If, in fact, M. de Saint-Simon did possess that 
 old habitation, I very much doubt whether his 
 natal mansion of Ferte-Vidame ever had a more 
 lordly and stately appearance, or was better 
 adapted to his rank of Duke and Peer, than the 
 charming little castle of Fert6-sous-Jouarre. 
 
 In traveling, I do not seek for incidents ; my 
 desire is fresh scenes, which excite and create 
 ideas, and for that new objects suffice. Besides, 
 I am content with little. If I see trees, the 
 
The Rhine. 
 
 greensward, and have the open air, with a road 
 before and behind me, I am perfectly satisfied. 
 If the country is flat, I like an extended horizon ; 
 if it be mountainous, I like the landscapes, and 
 here one is ever presenting itself to the view. 
 Before me is a charming valley ; to the right and 
 left the strange caprices of the soil huge hills 
 bearing the marks of husbandry, and squares, 
 pleasing to the sight ; here and there groups of 
 low cottages, whose roofs seem to touch the 
 gound ; at the end of the valley a long line of 
 verdure, with a current of water, which is crossed 
 by a little stone bridge, partly dismantled by age, 
 that serves to unite the two highways. When I 
 was there, a wagon crossed it an enormous Ger- 
 man wagon, swelled, girt, and corded, which had 
 the appearance of the belly of Gargantua, drawn 
 upon four wheels by eight horses. Before me, 
 near the opposite hill, and shining in the rays 
 of the sun, the road takes its course, upon which 
 the shadows of the tall trees represent, in black, 
 a huge comb minus several teeth. 
 
 Ah, well ! the large trees, the shadow of a 
 comb, at which, perhaps, you are laughing, the 
 wagon, the old bridge, the low cottages create 
 pleasure, and make me happy. A valley such 
 as this, with a brilliant sun above, always pleases 
 me. I looked around and enjoyed the scene, but 
 my fellow - travelers were constantly yawning. 
 
The Gendarme and the Hunchback. J 
 
 When the change of horses takes place, every- 
 thing amuses me. After the cracking of the 
 whip, the noise of the horses' hoofs, and the 
 jingling of the harness, we stop at the door of 
 an auberge. A white hen is seen on the high- 
 way a black one amongst the brambles ; a har- 
 row or an old broken wheel in a corner ; and 
 children in the height of mirth, with comely, yet 
 far from clean faces, playing round a stack of 
 hay. Above my head is suspended Charles the 
 Fifth, Joseph the Second, or Napoleon great 
 Emperors, who are now no longer fit for any- 
 thing but to draw custom to an ale-house ! The 
 inn is full of voices : upon the step of the door 
 the grooms and the kitchen-maids are cracking 
 jokes and composing idyls, while the under- 
 strapper is drawing water. Profiting by my high 
 position upon the imperiale, I listened to the 
 conversation of the hunchback and the gen- 
 darme, then admired the little place, with all its 
 deformities and beauties. 
 
 Besides, my gendarme and hunchback were 
 philosophers. There was no pride in them. 
 They chatted familiarly together ; the former, 
 without disdaining the hunchback the latter, 
 without despising the gendarme. The hunch- 
 back paid a tax of six francs to Jouarre, the an- 
 cient Jovis ara, which he explained to the gen- 
 darme ; and when he was forced to give a sous to 
 
The Rhine. 
 
 cross the bridge over the Marne, he became en- 
 raged with the Government. The gendarme 
 paid no taxes, but related his story with naivetf. 
 In 1814 he fought like a lion at Montmirail: he 
 was then a conscrit. In 1830, in the days of July, 
 he took fright, and fled : he was then a gendarme. 
 That surprised le bossu, but it did not astonish 
 me. Conscrit, he was only twenty years of age, 
 poor and brave ; gendarme, he had a wife and 
 children, and a horse of his own ; he played the 
 coward. The same man, nevertheless, but not 
 the same phase in life. Life is a sort of meat, 
 which sauce alone renders palatable. No one is 
 more dauntless than a galley-slave. In this 
 world, it is not the skin that is prized it is the 
 coat. He who has nothing is fearless. 
 
 We must also admit that the two epochs were 
 very different. Whatever is in vogue acts upon 
 the soldier, as upon all mankind ; for the idea 
 which strikes us, either stimulates or discourages. 
 In 1830 a revolution broke out the soldier felt 
 himself under a load ; he was cast down in spirits 
 by the force of contemplation, which is equal to 
 the force of circumstances ; he was fighting by 
 the order of a stranger ; fighting for shadows 
 created by a disordered brain the dream of a 
 distempered mind brother against brother all 
 France against the Parisians. In 1814, on the 
 contrary, the conscrit struggled with foreign ene- 
 
Meaux. 
 
 mies, for things easily comprehended for him- 
 self, for his father, his mother, and his sisters 
 for the plow he had just left for the hut 
 which he saw smoking in the distance for the 
 land which he had trod in infancy for his suffer- 
 ing and bleeding country. In 1830 the soldier 
 knew not what he was fighting for; in 1814 he 
 he did more than know it he felt it ; he did 
 more than feel it he saw it. 
 
 Three things very much interested me at 
 Meaux. To the right, on entering the town, is 
 a curious gateway leading to an old church the 
 cathedral ; and behind it an old habitation, half 
 fortification and flanked with turrets. There is 
 also a court, into which I boldly entered, where I 
 perceived an old woman, who was busily knit- 
 ting. The good dame heeded me not, thus afford- 
 ing me an opportunity of studying a very hand- 
 some staircase of stone and wood-work, which, 
 supported upon two arches, and crowned by a 
 neat landing, led to an old dwelling. I had not 
 time to take a sketch, for which I am sorry, as it 
 was the first staircase of the kind I had ever 
 seen ; it appeared to me to be of the fifteenth 
 century. 
 
 The cathedral is a noble-looking building; its 
 erection was begun in the fourteenth century, 
 and continued to the fifteenth. Several repairs 
 have lately been made, but it is not yet finished, 
 
The Rhine. 
 
 for, of the two spires projected by the architect, 
 one only is completed ; the other, which has been 
 begun, is hidden under a covering of slate. The 
 middle doorway, and that on the right, are of 
 the fourteenth century; the one of the left is of 
 the fifteenth. They are all very handsome, though 
 time has left its impress upon their venerable ap- 
 pearance. I tried to decipher the bas-reliefs. 
 The pediment of the left doorway represents the 
 history of John the Baptist; but the rays of the 
 sun, which fell full on the facade, preventing me 
 from satisfying my curiosity. The interior of the 
 church is superb: upon the choir are large orgees, 
 and at its entry two beautiful altars of the fif- 
 teenth century ; but unfortunately, in the true 
 taste of the peasantry, they are daubed over with 
 yellow oil paintings. 
 
 To the left of the choir I saw a very pretty 
 marble statue of a warrior of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury. It was in a kneeling position, without 
 armor, and had no inscription. Opposite is an- 
 other; but this one bears an inscription and 
 much it requires it, to be able to discover, in the 
 hard and unmeaning marble, the stern counte- 
 nance of Benigne Bossuet. I saw his episcopal 
 throne, which is of very fine wainscoting, in the 
 style of Louis the Fourteenth ; but, being pressed 
 for time, I was not able to visit his famed cabinet 
 at the Bishop's. 
 
Pascatus, 
 
 Here is a strange fact. There was a theater at 
 Meaux before there was one at Paris, which, as is 
 written in a local manuscript, was constructed in 
 1547. Pieces of a mysterious nature were rep- 
 resented. A man of the name of Pascalus played 
 the Devil, and afterwards retained the name. In 
 1562 he delivered the city up to the Huguenots; 
 and in the year following the Catholics hung 
 him, partly because he had delivered up the city, 
 but chiefly on account of his appellation, " Le 
 Diable" At present there are twenty theaters in 
 Paris, but there is not a single one here. It is 
 said that the good people of Meaux boast of this 
 which is, to be proud that Meaux is not Paris. 
 
 This country abounds with the age of Louis 
 the Fourteenth here, the Duke of Saint Simon; 
 at Meaux, Bossuet ; at La Ferte-Milon, Racine ; 
 at Chateau-Thierry, La Fontaine all within a 
 range of twelve miles. The great seigneur is 
 neighbor to the great archbishop, and Tragedy is 
 elbowing Fable. 
 
 On going out of the cathedral, I found that the 
 sun had hid himself, which circumstance enabled 
 me to examine the facade. The pediment of the 
 central doorway is the most curious: the inferior 
 compartment represents Jeanne, wife of Philippe- 
 le-Bel, from the deniers of whom the church was 
 built after her death. The Queen of France, her 
 cathedral in her hand, is represented at the gates 
 
10 The 
 
 of Paradise; St. Peter has opened the folding- 
 doors to her: behind the Queen is the handsome 
 King Philippe, with a sad and rueful counte- 
 nance. The Queen, who is gorgeously attired 
 and exceedingly well sculptured, points out to St. 
 Peter the pauvre diable of a King, and, with a 
 side-look and shrug of the shoulder, seems to 
 say: 
 
 " Bah ! allow him to pass into the bargain." 
 
MontmiraiL i f 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MONTMIRAIL. MONTMORT. EPERNAY. 
 
 Montmirail Castle. Vaux Champs. The Recontre and Re- 
 flections Thereupon. Montmort Castle. Mademoiselle 
 Jeannette. The Churches and the Curiosities of Epernay. 
 Anecdote of Strozzi and Brisquet. Henry the Second's 
 Fool. 
 
 I HIRED the first carriage I met at Fert6- 
 sous-Jouarre, at the same time asking one 
 question "Are the wheels in good order?" 
 
 On being answered in the affirmative, I set out 
 for Montmirail. There is nothing of interest in 
 this little town, except a pleasing landscape at 
 the end of an avenue, and two beautiful walks 
 bordered with trees; all the buildings, the Chd- 
 teau excepted, have a paltry and mean appear- 
 ance. 
 
 On Monday, about five o'clock in the evening, 
 I left Montmirail, and, directing my way towards 
 Epernay, was an hour afterwards at Vaux-Champs. 
 A few moments before crossing the far-famed 
 field of battle, I met a cart rather strangely laden ; 
 it was drawn by a horse and an ass, and con- 
 tained pans, kettles, old trunks, straw-bottomed 
 chairs, with a heap of old furniture. In front, in 
 a sort of basket, were three children, almost in a 
 
12 The Rhine. 
 
 state of nudity; behind, in another, were several 
 hens. The driver wore a blouse, was walking, and 
 carried a child on his back ; a few steps from him 
 was a woman, bearing a child in her arms. They 
 were all hastening towards Montmirail, as if the 
 great battle of 1814 were on the eve of being 
 fought. 
 
 '* Yes," I said to myself, " twenty-five years 
 ago, how many poor families were seen flying 
 from place to place ! " 
 
 I was informed, however, that it was not a 
 removal it was an expatriation. It was not to 
 Montmirail they were going -it was to America; 
 they were not flying at the sound of the trumpet 
 of war they were hurrying from misery and 
 starvation. In a word, my dear friend, it was a 
 family of poor Alsacian peasants who were emi- 
 grating. They could not obtain a living in their 
 native land, but had been promised one in Ohio. 
 They were leaving their country, ignorant of the 
 sjjblime and beautiful verses that Virgil had 
 written upon them two thousand years ago. 
 
 These poor people were traveling in seeming 
 cheerfulness : the husband was making a thong 
 for his whip, the wife was singing, and the child- 
 ren playing. The furniture, however, had some- 
 thing about it of wretchedness and of disorder 
 which caused pain ; the hens even appeared to 
 me to feel their sad condition. 
 
The Emigrants. 13 
 
 The indifference of the heads of the family 
 astonished me. I really thought that, in leaving 
 the country in which we first see light, which 
 links our hearts to so many sweet associations, 
 we should, on taking a last look, shed a tear to 
 the memory of the scenes of our childhood to 
 the land which contained the mouldering ashes 
 of our forefathers : but these people seemed re- 
 gardless of all this; their minds were set upon 
 the country in which they hoped to obtain a live- 
 lihood. 
 
 I looked after them for some time. Where was 
 that jolting and tumbling group going? aye, 
 and where am I going? They came to a turn in 
 the road, and disappeared ; for some time I heard 
 the cracking of the whip, and the song of the 
 woman then all was quiet. A few minutes 
 afterwards I was in the glorious plains where the 
 Emperor had once been. The sun was setting, 
 the trees were casting their long shadows, the 
 furrows which could be traced here and there 
 had a lightish appearance, a bluish mist was at 
 the bottom of the ravine, the fields seemed 
 deserted ; nothing could be seen but two or three 
 plows in the distance, which appeared to the .eye 
 like huge grasshoppers. To my left was a stone- 
 quarry, where there were large millstones, some 
 white and new, others old and blackened : here, 
 were some lying pell-mell on the ground there, 
 
f4 The Rhine. 
 
 a few standing erect, like the men of an enor- 
 mous draught-board when upset. 
 
 I determined upon seeing the castle of Mont- 
 mort, which was about four leagues from Mont- 
 miral ; I took the Epernay road. There are six- 
 teen tall elms, perhaps the most beautiful in the 
 world, whose foliage hangs over the road and 
 rustles above the head of the passenger. In 
 traveling, there is no tree pleases me so much as 
 the elm ; it alone appears fantastical, and laughs 
 at its neighbor, overturning all as it bends its 
 head, and making all kinds of grimaces to the 
 passers-by in the evening. The foliage of the 
 young elm may be said to spring forth when your 
 eyes are fixed upon it. From Fert6 to the place 
 where the sixteen elms are seen, the rtfad is 
 bordered only with poplars, aspens, and walnut- 
 trees, which circumstance did not at all please 
 me. 
 
 The country is flat, the plain extending far 
 beyond the range of the eye. Suddenly, on leav- 
 a group of trees, we see on the right, half hidden 
 in a declivity, a number of turrets, weather-cocks, 
 and housetops it is the castle of Montmort. 
 
 My cabriolet stopped, and I alighted before 
 the door of the castle. It is an exquisite fortress 
 of the sixteenth century, built of brick, with 
 slate-work: it has a double enciente, a moat, a 
 three-arched bridge, and a village at its foot : all 
 
Montmort Castle. 
 
 around is pleasant, and the castle commands a 
 most extensive view. It has a winding staircase 
 for men, and a rampe for horses. Below, there is 
 also an old iron door, which leads to the em- 
 brasures of the tower, where I saw four small 
 engines of the fifteenth century. The garrison 
 of the fortress at present consists of an old ser- 
 vant, Mademoiselle Jeannette, who received me 
 with the greatest civility. Of the apartments of 
 the interior, there only remain a kitchen, a very 
 fine vaulted room with a large mantelpiece, the 
 great hall (which is now made a billiard-room), 
 and a charming little cabinet, with gilt wainscot- 
 ing. The great hall is a magnificent chamber: 
 the ceiling, with its beams painted, gilded, and 
 sculptured, is still entire ; the mantelpiece, sur- 
 mounted by two noble-looking statues, is of the 
 finest style of Henry the Third. The walls were 
 in former times covered with vast squares of 
 tapestry, on which were the portraits of the 
 family. At the revolution a few daring individ- 
 uals of the neighboring village tore down the 
 tapestries and burned them, which was a fatal 
 blow to feudalism ; the proprietor replaced them 
 with old engravings, representing views of Rome 
 and of the battles of the great Conde*. On leav- 
 ing, I gave thirty sous to Mademoiselle Jean- 
 nette, who was bewildered with my bounty. 
 Night was coming on when I left Montmort. 
 
1 6 The Rhine. 
 
 The road is one of the most detestable in the 
 world. It leads into a wood which I entered, 
 and consequently I saw nothing of Epernay but 
 colliers' huts, the smoke of which was forcing its 
 way among the branches of the trees ; the red 
 mouth of a distant furnace appeared for a few 
 moments, and the whistling wind agitated the 
 leaves around. Above my head, in the heavens, 
 the splendid chariot was making its voyage in the 
 midst of stars, while my poor pdtaefo was jogging 
 along among pebbles. 
 
 Epernay yes, it is the town for Champagne ; 
 nothing more, nothing less. 
 
 Three churches have succeeded each other ; 
 the first, a Roman church, was built in 1037, by 
 Thibaut the First Count of Champagne, and son 
 of Eudes ; the second, a church of the Renais- 
 sance, was built in 1540, by Pierre Strozzi, Mar- 
 shal of France, Seigneur d'Epernay, who was 
 killed at the seige of Thionville, in 1558; the 
 third, the present one, appeared to me to be 
 built from the design of Monsieur Poterlet-Gali- 
 chet, a worthy merchant, whose shop and name 
 are close to the church. All three are admirably 
 described and summed up by these names: 
 Thibaut the First, Count of Champagne ; Pierre 
 Strozzi, Marshal of France ; and Poterlet-Gali- 
 chet, grocer. 
 
 To tell you the truth, the last -mentioned 
 
Strossi and Brisquet. if 
 
 church is a hideous building, plastered white, 
 and has a heavy appearance, with triglyphs sup- 
 porting the architrave. There is nothing left of 
 the first church ; and of the second, but a few 
 large stained windows, and an exquisite facade. 
 One of the windows gives the history of Noah 
 with great naivett. The window -frames and 
 facade are daubed with the hideous plaster of 
 the new church. It seemed to me as if I saw 
 Odry, with his short white trousers, his blue 
 stockings, and his large shirt-collar, carrying the 
 casque and cuirass of Francis the First. 
 
 They wished to show me the curiosity of the 
 country a great wine-cellar, which contains one 
 hundred thousand bottles. On my way I came 
 in sight of a field of turnips, where poppies were 
 in flower and butterflies sporting in the rays of 
 the sun. I went no further the great cave 
 could well spare my visit. 
 
 I forgot to mention that Thibaut the First was 
 interred in his church, and Strozzi in his ; how- 
 ever, I should decidedly disapprove of M. Poter- 
 let-Galichet having a place in the present one. 
 
 Strozzi was rather what may be termed a brave 
 man. Brisquet, the Fool of Henry the Second, 
 amusing himself one day, greased, before the 
 whole court, a very handsome cloak that the 
 marshal had put on for the first time. This 
 excited much laughter, and Strozzi resorted to A, 
 
1 8 The Rhine. 
 
 most cruel revenge. For me, I would not have 
 laughed, nor would I have avenged myself. To 
 bedaub a velvet coat with grease ! I have never 
 been over-delighted with this pleasantry of the 
 sixteenth century. 
 
Varennes. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHALONS. SAINTE MENEHOULD. VARENNES. 
 
 The Reverie. The Arrest of Louis the Sixteenth. The Saluta- 
 tion and its Effects. Notre Dame at Chalons. Antiquarian 
 Forgetfulness. The Inscription. Watchman, Wife, and 
 Gnome Son. Abbey of Notre Dame de 1'Epine. Storm. 
 Metz Hotel. Sleeping Canary. Host and Hostess. Cham- 
 pagne and the Signification of Champenois. Madame Sab- 
 liere and La Fontaine. 
 
 \7ESTERDAY, at the decline of day, while 
 JL rny cabriolet was rapidly rolling by Sainte 
 Menehould, I was reading these sublime and 
 beautiful lines : 
 
 " Mugitusque bovum mollesque sub arbore somni. 
 ****** 
 Speluncs vivique lacus." 
 
 For some time, I rested my hand upon my 
 book, with a soul full of those vague ideas sad, 
 yet sweet which the rays of a setting sun gener- 
 ally awaken in my mind, when the noise of the 
 carriage-wheels on the causeway awoke me from 
 my reverie. We were entering a town ; but what 
 town was it ? The coachman's reply, " Varen- 
 nes." We traversed a street which had some- 
 thing grave and melancholy in its appearance ; 
 the doors and shutters of the houses were closed, 
 and grass was growing in the courts. Suddenly, 
 
20 The Rhine. 
 
 after having passed an old gateway of the time 
 of Louis the Thirteenth, we entered a square, 
 surrounded with small white houses, of one story 
 high. Louis the Sixteenth, on his flight in 1791, 
 was arrested in this square by Drouet, the post- 
 master of Sainte Menehould. There was then 
 no post at Varennes. I descended from my car- 
 riage, and for some time kept looking at this 
 little square, which, to the man who does not 
 think of past events, has a dull appearance ; but 
 to him who does, it has a sinister one. It is re- 
 ported here that Louis, when arrested, protested 
 so strongly that he was not the King (what 
 Charles the First would never have done), that 
 the people, half inclined to credit his statement, 
 were about to release him, when a Monsieur Eth6, 
 who had a secret hatred against the court, ap- 
 peared. This person, like a Judas Iscariot, said 
 to the King : 
 
 " Good day, Sire." 
 
 This was enough. The King was seized. There 
 were five of the royal family in the carriage with 
 him ; and the miserable, with these words, 
 effected their downfall. 
 
 " Bon jour, Sire" was for Louis the Sixteenth, 
 for Marie Antoinette, and for Madame Eliza- 
 beth, the guillotine ; for the Dauphin, the torture 
 of the Temple ; and for Madame Royale, exile 
 and the extermination of her race. 
 
The Grand Monarque. 21 
 
 Varennes is about fifteen leagues from Rheims 
 that is to say, for my coachman ; to the mind 
 there is an abyss the Revolution. 
 
 I put up for the night at a very ancient- 
 looking auberge, which had the portrait of Louis 
 Philippe above the door, with the words in- 
 scribed : 
 
 "Au Grand Monarque." 
 
 During the last hundred years, Louis the Fif- 
 teenth, Buonaparte, and Charles the Tenth, had 
 each figured in his turn. Louis the Sixteenth 
 was, perhaps, arrested at the Grand Monarque, 
 and, on looking up, saw the portrait of himself 
 Pauvre Grand Monarque ! 
 
 This morning I took a walk into the town, 
 which is very pleasantly situated on the banks 
 of a very pretty river. The old houses of the 
 high town, seen from the right bank, form a very 
 picturesque ampitheater ; but the church, which 
 is in the low town, is truly insignificant. It is 
 within sight of my inn, and I can see it from the 
 table at which I write. The steeple is dated 1766, 
 exactly a year before Madame Royale was born. 
 
 I visited the church ; and if I did not find all I 
 expected, I found what I did not expect that 
 is, a very pretty Notre Dame at Chalons. What 
 have the antiquaries been thinking of, when, 
 speaking of Sainte Etienne, they never breathed 
 a word about Notre Dame ? The Notre Dame 
 
22 TJie Rhine. 
 
 of Chalons is a Roman church, with arched roofs, 
 and a superb spire bearing the date of the four- 
 teenth century. In the middle is a lantern 
 crowned with small pinions. A beautiful coup 
 d'osil is afforded here (a pleasure which I en- 
 joyed) of the town, the Marne, and the sur- 
 rounding hills. The traveler may also admire 
 the splendid windows of Notre Dame, and a rich 
 portail of the thirteenth century. In 1793 the 
 people of this place broke the windows and 
 pulled down the statues ; they also destroyed the 
 lateral gateway of the cathedral, and all the 
 sculpture that was within their reach. Notre 
 Dame had four spires, three of which are de- 
 molished, testifying the height of stupidity, 
 which is nowhere so evident as here. The 
 French Revolution was a terrible one ; the revo- 
 lution Champenoise was attended with acts of the 
 greatest folly. 
 
 On the lantern I found engraved the inscrip- 
 tion, apparently in the writing of the sixteenth 
 century : 
 
 " Le 28 Aout, 1508, la paix a 6te publtee & Chal. . ." 
 
 This inscription, which is partly defaced, and 
 which no one has sought to decipher, is all that 
 remains of that great political act the conclu- 
 sion of peace between Henry the Third and the 
 Huguenots, by the intercession of the Duke of 
 Anjou, previously the Duke of Alen9on. The 
 
Chalons. 2$ 
 
 Duke of Anjou was the King's brother, and had 
 an eye upon the Pays Bas, and pretensions to the 
 hand of Elizabeth of England ; but the war with 
 the religious sects which succeeded thwarted him 
 in his plans. The peace, that happy event, pro- 
 claimed at Chalons in 1580, was forgotten by the 
 whole world on the 22nd of July, 1839. 
 
 The person who conducted me to this lantern 
 was the watchman of the town, who passed his 
 life in the guette, a little box with four small 
 windows. His box and ladder are to him a uni- 
 verse ; he is the eye of the town, always open, 
 always awake. Perpetual insomnia would be 
 somewhat impossible. True, his wife helps him. 
 Every night at twelve o'clock he goes to sleep 
 and she goes to watch ; at noon they again 
 change places thus performing their rounds at 
 each other's side without coming in contact, 
 except for a minute at noon and another at mid- 
 night. A little gnome, rather comically shaped, 
 whom they call their son, is the result of the 
 tangent. 
 
 There are three churches at Chalons: St. 
 Alpin, St. Jean, and St. Loup. 
 
 About two leagues from Chalons, upon the St. 
 Menehould road, the magnificent Abbey of Notre 
 Dame de 1'Epine suddenly presents itself. I re- 
 mained upwards of two hours in this church, 
 rambling round and round. The wind was blow- 
 
24 The Rhine. 
 
 ing strongly. I held my hat with both hands, 
 and stood, my eyes filled with dust, admiring the 
 beauties of the edifice. 
 
 I continued my route, and after traveling three 
 miles came to a village where the inhabitants 
 were celebrating, with music and dancing, the 
 fete of the place. On leaving, I perceived, on 
 the summit of a hill, a mean-looking white house, 
 upon the top of which was a telescope, shaped 
 like an enormous black insect, corresponding with 
 Notre Dame de 1'Epine. 
 
 The sun was setting, the twilight approaching, 
 and the sky cloudy ; from the plain I looked at 
 the hills, which were half covered with heath, 
 like a camail d'tveque, and, on turning my head, 
 saw a flock of geese that were cackling joyously. 
 
 "We are going to have rain," the coachman 
 said. 
 
 I looked up the half of the western sky was 
 shrouded in an immense black cloud ; the wind 
 became boisterous; the hemlock in flower was 
 leveled with the ground ; and the trees seemed 
 to speak in a voice of terror. A few moments 
 expired the rain poured down in torrents ; and 
 all was darkness, save a beam of light which 
 escaped from the declining sun. There was not 
 a creature to be heard or seen neither man 
 upon the road, nor bird in the air. Loud peals 
 of thunder shook the heavens, and brilliant 
 
Kitchen at Met 2. 25 
 
 flashes of lightning contrasted wildly with the 
 
 prevailing darkness. 
 
 ' A blast of wind at length dispersed the clouds 
 
 towards the east, and the sky became pure and 
 
 calm. 
 
 On arriving at Sainte Menehould the stars 
 were shining brightly. This is a picturesque 
 little town, with its houses built at random upon 
 the summit of a green hill, and surmounted by 
 tall trees. I saw one thing worthy of remark at 
 Sainte Menehould that is, the kitchen at the 
 hotel of Metz. It may well be termed a kitchen : 
 one of the walls is covered with pans, the other 
 with crockery ; in the middle, opposite the win- 
 dow, is a splendid fire and an enormous chim- 
 ney ; all kinds of baskets and lamps hang from 
 the ceiling ; by the chimney are the jacks, spits, 
 pot-hangers, kettles, and pans of all forms and 
 sizes ; the shining hearth reflects light in all 
 corners of the room, throwing a rosy hue on the 
 crockery, causing the edifice of copper to shine 
 like a wall of brass, while the ceiling is crowded 
 with fantastic shadows. If I were a Homer or a 
 Rabelais, I would say : 
 
 44 That kitchen is a world, and the fireplace is 
 its sun." 
 
 It is indeed a world a republic consisting of 
 men, women and children ; male and female ser- 
 vants, scullions, and waiters ; frying-pans over 
 
 2 
 
26 The Rhine. 
 
 chafing dishes, bounded by pots and kettles ; 
 children playing, cats and dogs mewing and 
 barking, with the master overlooking all ; mens 
 agit at molem. In a corner is a clock, which 
 gravely warns the occupants that time is ever on 
 the wing. 
 
 Among the innumerable things which hung 
 from the ceiling, there was one that interested 
 me more than all the others a small cage, in 
 which a canary was sleeping. The poor creature 
 seemed to me to be a most admirable emblem of 
 confidence ; notwithstanding the unwholesome- 
 ness of the den, the furnace, the frightful kitchen, 
 which is day and night filled with uproar, the 
 bird sleeps. A noise, indeed, is made around it 
 the men swear, the women quarrel, the chil- 
 dren cry, the dogs bark, the cats mew, the clock 
 strikes, the water-cock spouts, the bottles burst, 
 the diligences pass under the arched roof, making 
 a noise like thunder yet the eyelid of the feath- 
 ered inhabitants move not. 
 
 Apropos, I must declare that people generally 
 speak too harshly of inns, and I myself have often 
 been the first to do so. An auberge, take it all in 
 all, is a very good thing, and we are often very 
 glad to find one. Besides, I have often remarked 
 that there is almost in all auberges an agreeable 
 landlady ; as for the host, let turbulent travelers 
 have him give me the hostess. The former is 
 
Clermont. 27 
 
 a being of a morose and disagreeable nature, the 
 latter cheerful and amiable. Poor woman ! some- 
 times she is old, sometimes in bad health, and 
 very often exceedingly bulky. She comes and 
 goes ; is here and there this moment at the 
 heels of the servants, the next one chasing the 
 dogs ; she compliments the travelers, frowns at 
 the head servant; smiles to one, scolds another; 
 stirs the fire ; takes up this and sends away that ; 
 in fact, she is the soul of that great body called 
 an auberge, the host being fit for nothing but 
 drinking in a corner with wagoners. The fair 
 hostess of La Ville de Metz, at St. Menehould, is 
 a young woman about sixteen years of age, is 
 exceedingly active, and she conducts her house- 
 hold affairs with the greatest regularity and pre- 
 cision. The host, her father, is an exception to 
 the general run of inn-keepers, being a very in- 
 telligent and worthy man ; in all, this is an ex- 
 cellent auberge. 
 
 I left St. Menehould, and pursued my way to 
 Clermont. The road between those two towns 
 is charming ; on both sides is a forest of trees, 
 whose green leaves glitter in the sun, and cast 
 their detached and irregular shadows on the high- 
 way. The villages have something about them 
 of a Swiss and German appearance white stone 
 houses, with large slate roofs projecting three or 
 four feet from the wall. I felt that I was in the 
 
The Rhine. 
 
 neighborhood of mountains : the Ardennes, in 
 fact, are here. 
 
 Before arriving at Clermont we pass an ad- 
 mirable valley, where the Marne and the Meuse 
 meet. The road is betwixt two hills, and is so 
 steep that we see nothing before us but an abyss 
 of foliage. 
 
 Clermont is a very handsome village, headed 
 by a church, and surrounded with verdure. 
 
 I find that I have made use of the word 
 Champenois, which, by some proverbial accepta- 
 tion, is somewhat ironical ; you must not mis- 
 take the sense which I affix to it. The proverb 
 more familiar, perhaps, than it is applicable 
 speaks of Champagne as Madame la Sabliere 
 spoke of La Fontaine " That he was a man of 
 stupid genius," which expression is applied to 
 a genius of Champagne. That, however, neither 
 prevents La Fontaine from being an admirable 
 poet, nor Champagne from being a noble and 
 illustrious country. Virgil might have spoken 
 of it. as he did of Italy 
 
 " Alma parens frugum, 
 Alma virum." 
 
 Champagne is the birthplace, the country of 
 Amyot that bonhomme who took up the theme 
 of Plutarch, as La Fontaine did that of ysop ; 
 of Thibaut the Fourth, who boasted of nothing 
 more than being the father of Saint Louis ; of 
 
Champagne. 29 
 
 Charlier de Gerson, who was chancellor of the 
 university of Paris ; of Amadis, Jamyn, Colbert, 
 Diderot ; of two painters, Lantare and Valentin ; 
 of two sculptors, Girardon and Bouchardon ; of 
 two historians, Flodoard and Mabillon ; of two 
 cardinals full of genius, Henry de Lorraine and 
 Paul de Gondi : of two popes full of virtue, 
 Martin the Fourth and Urban the Fourth; of a 
 king full of glory, Philippe-Auguste. 
 
 Champagne is a powerful province, and there 
 is no town or village in it that has not something 
 remarkable. Rheims, which owns the cathedral 
 of cathedrals, was the place where Clovis was 
 baptized. It was at Andelot that the interview 
 between Gontran King of Bourgogne, and Childe- 
 bert King of Austrasie, took place. Hinemar 
 took refuge at Epernay, Abailard at Provim, 
 H61oise at Paraclet. The Gordiens triumphed 
 at Langres, and in the middle age its citizens 
 destroyed the seven formidable castles Chagney, 
 Saint Broing, Neuilly Cotton, Cobons, Bourg, 
 Humes, and Pailly. The league was concluded 
 at Joinville in 1584; Henry the Fourth was pro- 
 tected at Chalons in 1591 ; the Prince of Orange 
 was killed at Saint Dizier; Sezenne is the ancient 
 place of arms of the Dukes of Bourgogne ; Ligny 
 1'Abbaye was founded in the domains of Seigneur 
 Chatillon, by Saint Bernard, who promised the 
 seigneur as many perches of land in heaven as 
 
30 The Rhine. 
 
 the sire had given him upon earth. Mouzon is 
 the fief of the Abbot of Saint Hubert, who sends 
 six coursing dogs, and the same number of birds 
 of prey, every year to the King of France. 
 
 Champagne retains the empreinte of our ancient 
 kings Charles the Simple for the sirerie at 
 Attigny; Saint Louis and Louis the Fourteenth, 
 the devout king and the great king, first lifted 
 arms in Champagne ; the former in 1228, when 
 raising the siege of Troyes the latter in 1652, at 
 Sainte Menehould. 
 
 The ancient annals of Champagne are not less 
 glorious than the modern. The country is full 
 of sweet souvenirs Merove*e and the Francs, 
 Actius, and the Romans, Theodoric and the Visi- 
 goths, Mount Jules and the tomb of Jovinus. 
 Antiquity here lives, speaks, and cries out to the 
 traveller, " Sta, viator ! " 
 
 From the days of the Romans to the present 
 day, the town of Champagne, surrounded at times 
 by the Alains, the Su&ves, the Vandals, and the 
 Germans, would have been burnt to the ground, 
 rather than have been given over to the enemy. 
 They are built upon rocks, and have taken for 
 their device " Donee moveantur" 
 
 In 451 the Huns were destroyed in the plains 
 of Champagne; in 1814, if Godjiad willed it, the 
 Russians would also have met the same fate. 
 
 Never speak of this province but with respect. 
 
Champagne. 3 1 
 
 How many of its children have been sacrificed 
 for France! In 1813 the population of one dis- 
 trict of Marne consisted of 311,000. In 1830 it 
 had only 309,000; showing that fifteen years of 
 peace had not repai'red the loss. 
 
 But, to the explanation : When anyone applies 
 the word bete to Champagne, change the mean- 
 ing: it signifies naif, simple, rude, primitive, and 
 redoubtable in need. A bete may be a lion, or an 
 eagle. It is what Champagne was in 1814. 
 
32 The Rhine. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FROM VILLERS-COTTERETS TO LA FRONTIERE. 
 
 The Effects of Traveling. The Retrograde Movement. Reflec- 
 tion. The Secret of Stars. The Inscription " I. C." The 
 Cathedral where King Pepin was Crowned. The Prisoner's 
 sad Rencontre. Rheims. Church at Mezieres. The Effects 
 of a Bomb. Sedan and its Contents. The Transpiring 
 Events at Turenne's Birth. Conversation of a Sir John Fal- 
 staff and his Better Half. 
 
 I ARRIVED at Givet at four o'clock in the 
 morning, bruised by the jolting of a fright- 
 fnl vehicle, which the people here call a dili- 
 gence. I stretched myself, dressed as I was, 
 upon a bed, fell asleep, and awoke two hours 
 afterwards. On opening the window of my 
 chamber, with the idea of enjoying the view 
 which it might afford, the only objects which 
 caught my attention were the angle of a little 
 white cottage, a water-spout, and the wheel of a 
 cart. As for my room, it is an immense hall, 
 ornamented with no less than four beds. 
 
 A trifling incident, not worth relating, caused 
 me to make a retrograde movement from Va- 
 rennes to Villers-Cotterets ; and the day before 
 yesterday, in order to make up for lost time, I 
 took the diligence for Soissons. There was no 
 
33 
 
 passenger but myself, a circumstance which was 
 in no way disconcerting, as it gave me an oppor- 
 tunity of turning over at my ease the pages of 
 some of my favorite authors. 
 
 As I approached Soissons, day was fast fading, 
 and night had cast its sombre aspect over that 
 beautiful valley where the road, after passing the 
 the hamlet of La Felie, gradually descends, and 
 leads to the cathedral of Saint-Jean-des-Vignes. 
 Notwithstanding the fog which rose around, I 
 perceived the walls and roofs of the houses of 
 Soissons, with a half-moon peering from behind 
 them. I alighted, and, with a heart fully ac- 
 knowledging the sublimity of nature, gazed upon 
 the imposing scene. A grasshopper was chirping 
 in the neighboring field ; the trees by the road- 
 side were softly rustling ; and I saw, with the 
 mind's eye, Peace hovering over the plain, now 
 solitary and tranquil, where Caesar had con- 
 quered, Clovis had exercised his authority, and 
 where Napoleon had all but fallen. It shows 
 that men even Caesar, Clovis, and Napoleon 
 are only passing shadows ; and that war is a 
 fantasy which terminates with them ; whilst God 
 and Nature, which comes from God and 
 Peace, which comes from Nature are things of 
 eternity. 
 
 Determined on taking the S6dan mail, which 
 does not arrive at Soissons till midnight, I allowed 
 
34 The Rhine. 
 
 the diligence to proceed, knowing that I had 
 plenty of time before me. The trajet which 
 separated me from Soissons was only a charming 
 promenade. When a short distance from the 
 town, I sat down near a very pretty little house, 
 upon which the forge of a blacksmith shed a 
 faint light. I looked upwards : the heavens were 
 serene and beautiful; and the planets Jupiter, 
 Mars, and Saturn were shining in the south- 
 east. The first, whose course for three months 
 is somewhat complicated, was between the other 
 two, and was forming a perfectly straight line. 
 More to the east was Mars, fiery in his appear- 
 ance, and imitating the starry constellation by 
 a kind of flamboiement farouche. A little above, 
 shining softly, and with a white and peaceful ap- 
 pearance, was that monster-planet the frightful 
 and mysterious world which we call Saturn. On 
 the other side, at the extremity of the view, a 
 magnificent beacon reflected its light on the 
 sombre hills which separate Noyon from Soisson- 
 nais. As I was asking myself the utility of such 
 a light in these immense plains, I saw it leaving 
 the border of the hills, bounding through the 
 fog, and mounting near the zenith. That beacon 
 was Aldebaran, the three-colored sun, the enor- 
 mous purple, silvery, and blue star, which rises 
 majestically in the waste of the crepuscule. 
 
 O what a secret there is in these stars ! The 
 
The Heavenly Bodies. 35 
 
 poetical, the thinking, and the imaginative, have, 
 in turn, contemplated, studied, and admired them : 
 some, like Zoroaster, in bewilderment others, 
 like Pythagoras, with inexpressible awe. Seth 
 named the stars, as Adam did animals. The 
 Chaldeans and the Genethliaques, Esdras and 
 Zorobabel, Orpheus and Homer, Pherecide, 
 Xenophon, Hecataeus, Herodotus, and Thucydi- 
 des all eyes of the earth, so long shut, so long 
 deprived of light have been fixed from one age 
 to another on those orbs of heaven which are 
 always open, always lighted up, always living. The 
 same planets, the same stars, that fix our atten- 
 tion to-night, have been gazed at by all these 
 men. Job speaks of Orion and of the Pleiades ; 
 Plato listened and distinctly heard the vague 
 music of the spheres ; Pliny thought that the sun 
 was God, and that the spots on the moon were 
 the exhalations of the earth. The poets of 
 Tartary named the pole senisticol, which means 
 an iron nail; Rocoles says, "That the lion might 
 as well have been called the ape;" Pacuvius 
 would not credit astrologers, under the idea that 
 they would be equal to Jupiter : 
 
 " Nam si qui, quae eventura sunt, prsevideant, 
 ^Equiparent Jovi." 
 
 Favorinus asked himself this question : " Si vitae 
 mortisque hominum rerumque numanarum omnU 
 
36 The Rhine. 
 
 urn et ratio et causa in coelo et apud Stellas 
 foret?" Aulus-Gellius, sailing from Egine to 
 Pir6e, sat all night upon the poop, contemplating 
 the stars. " Nox fuit clemens mare, et anni czstas 
 ccelumque liquide serenum ; sedebamus ergo in 
 puppi simul universi et lucent ia sidera consider- 
 abamus" Horace himself that practical phi- 
 losopher the Voltaire of the age of Augustus 
 greater poet, it is true, than the Voltaire of Louis 
 the Fifteenth shuddered when looking at the 
 stars, and wrote these terrible lines : 
 
 " Hunc solem, et Stellas et decedentia certis, 
 Tempera momentis sunt qui formidine nulla 
 Imbuti spectant." 
 
 As for me, I do not fear the stars I love them : 
 still, I have never reflected without a certain con- 
 viction that the normal position of the heavens 
 is night; and what we call "day," arises from the 
 appearance of a bright illuminary. 
 
 We cannot always be looking at immensity; 
 ecstasy is akin to prayer; the latter breathes 
 consolation, but the former fatigues and ener- 
 vates. On taking mine eyes from above, I cast 
 them upon the wall facing me ; and even there 
 subject was afforded for meditation and thought. 
 On it were traces, almost entirely effaced, of an 
 ancient inscription. I could only make out I. C. 
 Without doubt, they referred either to Pagan or 
 Christian Rome to the city of strength, or to 
 
Saint-Jcan-des- Vignes. 37 
 
 that of faith. I remained my eyes fixed upon 
 the stone, which seemed to become animate 
 lost in vain hypotheses. When I. C. were first 
 known to men, they governed the world ; the 
 second time, they enlightened it Julius Caesar 
 and Jesus Christ. 
 
 Dante, on putting Brutus the murderer, and 
 Judas the traitor, together in the lowest ex- 
 tremity of hell, and causing them to be devoured 
 by Satan, must have been influenced by a similar 
 thought to that which engrossed my whole atten- 
 tion. 
 
 Three cities are now added to Soissons the 
 Noviodunum of the Gauls, the Augusta Suesson- 
 ium of the Romans, and the old Soissons of 
 Clovis, of Charles the Simple, and of the Duke 
 of Mayenne. Nothing now remains of Suesson- 
 ium but a few ruins ; among others, the ancient 
 temple, which has been converted into the chapel 
 of Saint Pierre. Old Soissons is more fortunate, 
 for it still possesses Saint-Jean-des-Vignes, its 
 ancient castle, and the cathedral where Pepin 
 was crowned in 752. 
 
 It was very dark when I entered Soissons ; 
 therefore, instead of looking for Noviodonum or 
 Suessonium, I regaled myself with a tolerably 
 good supper. Being refreshed, I went out and 
 wandered about the gigantic silhouette of Saint- 
 Jean-des-Vignes^ and it was twelve o'clock before 
 
38 The Rhine. 
 
 I returned to the anberge, when silence and dark- 
 ness prevailed. 
 
 Suddenly, however, a noise broke upon my 
 ear ; it was the arrival of the mail-coach, which 
 stopped a few paces from the inn. There was 
 only one vacant place, which I took; and was on 
 the point of installing myself, when a strange up- 
 roar cries of women, noise of wheels, and tramp- 
 ling of horses broke out in a dark narrow street 
 adjoining. Although the driver stated that he 
 would leave in five minutes, I hurried to the 
 spot ; and on entering the little street, saw, at 
 the base of a huge wall, which, had the odious 
 and chilling aspect peculiar to prisons, a low 
 arched door, that was open. A few paces farther 
 on, a mournful-looking vehicle, stationed be- 
 tween two gendarmes on horseback, was half hid 
 in the obscurity; and near the wicket four or five 
 men were struggling and endeavoring to force a 
 woman, who was screaming fearfully, into the 
 carnage. The dim light of a lantern, which was 
 carried by an old man, cast a lugubrious glare 
 upon the scene. The female, a robust country- 
 woman about thirty years of age, was fiercely 
 struggling with the men striking, scratching, 
 and shrieking ; and when the lamp shone upon 
 the wild countenance and disheveled hair of the 
 poor creature, it disclosed, melancholy to behold, 
 a striking picture of despair. She at last seized 
 
The Prisoners. 39 
 
 one of the iron bars of the wicket ; but the men, 
 with a violent effort, forced her from it, and 
 carried her to the cart. This vehicle, upon which 
 the lantern was then shining, had no windows, 
 small holes drilled in front supplied their place. 
 There was a door at the back part, which was 
 shut, and guarded by large bolts of iron. When 
 opened, the interior of the carriole disclosed a 
 sort of box, without light, almost without air. 
 It was divided into oblong compartments by a 
 thick board, the one having no communication 
 with the other, and the door shutting both at the 
 same time. One of the cells, that to the left, was 
 empty, but the right one was occupied. In the 
 angle, squatted like a wild beast, was a man if 
 a kind of spectre, with a broad face, a flat head, 
 large temples, grizzled hair, short legs, and 
 dressed in a pair of old, torn trousers and tat- 
 tered, coat, may be called one. The legs of the 
 wretched man were closely chained together ; a 
 shoe was on his right foot, while his left, which 
 was enveloped in linen stained with blood, was 
 partly exposed to view. This creature, hideous 
 to the sight, who was eating a piece of black 
 bread, paid no attention to what was going on 
 around him ; nor did he look up to see the 
 wretched companion that was brought him. The 
 poor woman was still struggling with the men, 
 who were endeavoring to thrust her into the 
 
40 The Rhine. 
 
 empty cell, and was crying out, " No, I shall not ! 
 Never never ! kill me sooner never! " 
 
 In one of her convulsions she cast her eyes 
 into the vehicle, and on perceiving the prisoner 
 she suddenly ceased crying, her legs trembled, 
 her whole frame shook, and she exclaimed, with 
 a stifled voice, but with an expression of anguish 
 that I shall never forget : 
 
 " Oh, that man ! " 
 
 The prisoner looked at her with a confused yet 
 ferocious air. I could resist no longer. It was 
 clear that she had committed some serious crime 
 perhaps robbery, perhaps worse ; that the gen- 
 darmes were transporting her from one place to 
 another in one of those odious vehicles meta- 
 phorically called by the gamins of Paris " paniers 
 b salade ; " but she was a woman, and I thought 
 it my duty to interfere. I called to the galley- 
 sergeant, but he paid no attention to me. A 
 worthy gendarme, however, stepped forward, and, 
 proud of his little authority, demanded my pass- 
 port. Unfortunately I had just locked up that 
 essentiel in my trunk, and, whilst entering into 
 explanations, the jailers made a powerful effort, 
 plunged the woman half-dead into the cart, shut 
 the door, pushed the bolts, and when I turned 
 round all had left, and nothing was heard but the 
 rattling of the wheels and the trampling of the 
 escort. 
 
Meziercs. 41 
 
 A few minutes afterwards I was comfort- 
 ably seated in a carriage drawn by four excellent 
 horses. I thought of the wretched woman, and 
 I contrasted, with an aching heart, my situation 
 with hers. In the midst of such thoughts I fell 
 asleep. 
 
 When I awoke, morning was breaking; we were 
 in a beautiful valley that of Braine-sur-Vesle. 
 Venus was shining above our heads, and its rays 
 cast a serenity and an inexpressible melancholy 
 upon the fields and woods it was a celestial eye, 
 which opened upon this sleeping and lovely 
 country. 
 
 From Rheims to Bethel there is nothing inter- 
 esting, and the latter place affords little worthy 
 of remark. 
 
 On arriving at Mezi&res I anxiously looked on 
 all sides for the ruins of the ancient castle of 
 Hellebarde, but could not perceive them. The 
 church of Mezi&res is of the fifteenth century, 
 and has, to the right and left of the choir, two 
 bas-reliefs of the time of Charles the Eighth. 
 On the north of the apside I perceived an inscrip- 
 tion upon the wall, which testified that Mezi&res 
 was cruelly assailed and bombarded by the Prus- 
 sians in 1815 ; and above it these words: 
 
 " Lector leva oculos ad fornicem et vide quasi 
 quoddam divines manus indicium" 
 
 I raised my eyes and saw a large rent in the 
 
42 The Rhine. 
 
 vault above my head, and in it an enormous 
 bomb, which, after having pierced the roof of 
 the church, the timber-work, and the masonry, 
 was thus stopped, as if by miracle, when about 
 to fall upon the pavement. Twenty-five years 
 have now expired, and still it remains in the 
 same position. That bomb, and that wide rent 
 which is above the head of the visitor, produce a 
 very strange effect, which is heightened upon 
 reflecting that the first bomb made use of in war 
 was at Mezi&res, in the year 1521. On the other 
 side of the church another inscription informs us 
 that the nuptials of Charles the Ninth with Eli/ 
 abeth of Austria were happily celebrated in this 
 church, on the i/th November, 1570, two years 
 before St. Bartholomew. The grand portail is 
 of this epoch, and, consequently, noble in ap- 
 pearance, and of a refined taste. 
 
 As for Mezi&res there are some very tall trees 
 upon its ramparts; the streets are clean, and 
 remarkable for their dullness; there is nothing 
 about the town that reminds us of Hellebarde 
 and Garinus, the founders; Balthazar, who ran- 
 sacked it ; Count Hugo, who ennobled it ; or of 
 Folques and Adalberon, who besieged it. 
 
 It was near noon when I arrived at S6dan, and, 
 instead of seeing monuments and edifices, I saw 
 what the town contains pretty women, hand- 
 some carabiniers, cannons, and trees and prairies 
 
SSdan. 43 
 
 along the Meuse. I tried to find some vestiges 
 of M. de Turenne, but did not succeed. The 
 pavilion where he was born is demolished, but a 
 black stone, with the following inscription, sup- 
 plies its place : 
 
 " Ici NAQUIT TURENNE 
 LE ii SEPTEMBRE MDCXI." 
 
 The date, which is in prominent gold letters, 
 struck me, and my mind reverted to that event- 
 ful period. In 1611 Sully retired; Henry the 
 Fourth was assassinated the preceding year ; 
 Louis the Thirteenth, who ought to have died 
 as his father did, on the I4th of May, was 
 then ten years old ; Richelieu was in his twenty- 
 sixth year ; the good people of Rouen called a 
 man Petit Pierre, who was afterwards named 
 by the universe le Grand Corneille ; Shakspeare 
 and Cervantes were living, so were Branthome 
 and Pierre Mathieu. In 161 1 Papirien Masson and 
 Jean Buss6e breathed their last ; Gustave Adolphe 
 succeeded the visionary monarch Charles the 
 Ninth of Sweden ; Philip the Third, in spite of 
 the advice of the Duke of Osunna, drove the 
 Moors from Spain ; and the German astronomer, 
 Jean Fabricius, discovered the spots on the sun. 
 Such are the events that were transpiring in 
 the world when Turenne was born. S6dan has 
 not been a pious guardian of his memory, nor, in 
 fact, has it in its annals any souvenirs of William 
 
The Rhine 
 
 de la March, the Boar of Ardennes, the frightful 
 predecessor of Turenne. 
 
 After having made a good breakfast in the 
 Hotel de la Croix d'Or, I decided on returning 
 on foot to Mezieres, and to take the coach for 
 Givet. The distance is five leagues, but the 
 road is truly picturesque, running along the 
 valley of the Meuse. About a league from 
 Sdan we meet Douchery, with its old wooden 
 bridge and fine trees ; villages, with smiling 
 urchins, chatelets, shrouded in massive verdure, 
 where sheep and oxen are grazing in the sun. 
 
 I arrived at Mezieres at seven in the evening, 
 and at eight, seated in a miserable coupt, between 
 a Sir John Falstaff and a female who might well 
 have passed for his better half, set out for Givet. 
 The two gros etres began to converse, and spoke 
 of events as striking as they were stirring such 
 as, " that it is now twenty- two years since I was 
 at Rocroy," " that M. Crochard, the secretary 
 of the under-prefecture, is his intimate friend," 
 " that, as it is twelve at night, the good Mons. 
 Crochard must be in bed." 
 
 Day dawned. We approached a drawbridge, 
 which was lowered, and shortly afterwards we 
 entered into a narrow street, that led into a 
 court, where servants came running with candles 
 in their hands, and grooms with lanterns. I 
 was at Givet. 
 
Flemish Architecture. 45 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GIVET. 
 
 Flemish Architects. Little Givet. The Inscription. Jose 
 Gutierez. The Peasant Girl. 
 
 THIS is an exceedingly pretty town, situ- 
 ated on the Meuse, which separates Great 
 from Little Givet, and is headed by a ridge of 
 rocks, at the summit of which is the fort of 
 Charlemont. The auberge, called the Hotel of 
 the Golden Mount, is very comfortable ; and 
 travelers may find refreshments there, which, 
 though not the most exquisite, are palatable to 
 the hungry, and a bed, though not the softest in 
 the world, highly acceptable to the weary. 
 
 The steeple of Little Givet is of simple con- 
 struction ; that of Great Givet is more compli- 
 cated more rechercht. The worthy architect, in 
 planning the latter, had, without doubt, recourse 
 to the following mode : He took a priest's 
 square cap, on which he placed bottom upwards, 
 a large plate ; above this plate a sugar-loaf 
 headed with a bottle, a steel spike thrust into its 
 neck ; and on the spike he perched a cock, the 
 purport of which was to inform its beholders the 
 way that the wind blew. Supposing that he took 
 
46 The Rhint 
 
 a day to each idea, he therefore must have rested 
 the seventh. This artist was certainly Flemish. 
 
 About two centuries ago Flemish architects 
 imagined that nothing could exceed in beauty 
 gigantic pieces of slate, resembling kitchen-ware, 
 so, when they had a steeple to build, they 
 profited by the occasion, and decked their towns 
 with a host of colossal plates. 
 
 Nevertheless, a view of Givet still has charms, 
 especially if taken towards evening from the 
 middle of the bridge. When I viewed it, night, 
 which helps to screen the foolish acts of man, 
 had begun to cast its mantle over the contour of 
 this singularly-built steeple ; smoke was hovering 
 about the roofs of the houses ; at my left, the 
 elms were softly rustling ; to my right, an ancient 
 tower was reflected on the bosom of the Meuse ; 
 further on, at the foot of the redoubtable rock 
 of Charlemont, I descried, like a white line, a 
 long edifice, which I found to be nothing more 
 than an uninhabited country house ; above the 
 town, the towers, and steeples, an immense ridge 
 of rocks hid the horizon from my sight ; and in 
 the distance, in a clear sky, the half-moon ap- 
 peared with so much purity with so much of 
 heaven in it that I imagined that God had ex- 
 posed to our view part of his nuptial ring to 
 testify his wedded affection to man. 
 
 Next day I determined to visit the venerable 
 
Jose Gutierez. 47 
 
 turret which crowned, in seeming respect, little 
 Givet. The road is steep, and commands the 
 services of both hands and feet. After some in- 
 considerable trouble, and no slight labor of all- 
 fours, I reached the foot of the tower, which is 
 fast falling into ruin, where I found a huge door 
 secured by a large padlock. I knocked and 
 shouted, but no one answered, so I was obliged 
 to descend without gratifying my curiosity. My 
 pains, however, were not altogether lost, for, on 
 passing the old edifice, I discovered among the 
 rubbish, which is daily crumbling into dust and 
 falling into the stream, a large stone, on which 
 were the vestiges of an inscription. I examined 
 them attentively, but could only make out the 
 following letters : 
 
 "LOQVE . . . SA . L . OMBRE 
 PARAS . . . MODI . SL . 
 ACAV . P . . . SOTROS." 
 
 Above these letters^ which seem to have been 
 scratched with a nail, the signature, " lOSE 
 GviTEREZ, ^643," remained entire. 
 
 Inscriptions, from boyhood, always interested 
 me ; and I assure you, this one opened up a vein 
 of thought and inquiry. What did this inscrip- 
 tion signify? in what language was it written? 
 By making some allowance for orthography, one 
 might imagine that it was French ; but, on con- 
 sidering that the words para and otros were 
 
48 The Rhine. 
 
 Spanish, I concluded that it must have been 
 written in Castilian. After some reflection, I 
 imagined that these were the original words : 
 
 41 LO QUE EMPESA EL HOMBRE 
 PARA SIMISMO DIGS LE 
 ACAVA PARA LOS OTROS." 
 
 "What man begins for himself, God finishes 
 for others." 
 
 But who was this Gutierez? The stone had 
 evidently been taken from the interior of the 
 tower. It was in 1643 that the battle of Rocroy 
 was fought. Was Jose Gutierez, then, one of the 
 vanquished ? had he, to while away the long and 
 tiresome days, written on the walls of the dun- 
 geon, the melancholy resume' of his life, and of 
 that of all mankind 
 
 " Ce que Vhomme commence pour lui, Dieu 
 fac/ieve pour les autres ? " 
 
 At five o'clock next morning, alone, and com- 
 fortably seated on the banquette of the diligence 
 Van Gend, I left la France by the route of 
 Namur. We proceeded by the only chain of 
 mountains of which Belgium can boast ; for the 
 Meuse, by continuing to flow in opposition to 
 the abaissement of the plateau of Ardennes, suc- 
 ceeded in forming a plain which is now called 
 Flanders a plain to which nature has refused 
 mountains for its protection, but which man has 
 studded with fortresses. 
 
The Peasant Girl. 49 
 
 After an ascension of half an hour, the horses 
 became fatigued, the condiicteur thirsty, and they 
 (I might say we), with one accord stopped before 
 a small wine-shop, in a poor but picturesque 
 village, built on the two sides of a ravine cut 
 through the mountains. This ravine, which is at 
 one time the bed of a torrent, and at another the 
 leading street of the village, is paved with the 
 granite of the surrounding mountains. When 
 we were passing, six harnessed horses proceeded, 
 or rather climbed, along that strange and fright- 
 fully steep street, drawing after them a large 
 empty vehicle with four wheels. If it had been 
 laden, I am pursuaded that it would have re- 
 quired twenty horses to have drawn it. I can in 
 no way account for the use of such carriages in 
 this ravine, if they are not meant to serve as 
 sketches for young Dutch painters, whom we met 
 here and there upon the road a bag upon their 
 back, and a stick in their hand. 
 
 What can a person do on the outside of a coach 
 but gaze at all that comes within his view? I 
 could not be better situated for such a purpose. 
 Before me was the greater portion of the valley 
 of the Meuse ; to the south were the two Givets, 
 graciously linked by their bridge ; to the west 
 was the tower of Egmont, half in ruins, which 
 was casting behind it an immense shadow; to the 
 north were the sombre trenches into which the 
 3 
 
50 The Rhine. 
 
 Meuse was emptying itself, whence a light blue 
 vapor arose. On turning my head, my eyes fell 
 upon a handsome peasant-girl, who was sitting 
 by the open window of a cottage, dressing her- 
 self; and above the hut of the paysanne, but 
 almost close to view, were the formidable bat- 
 teries of Charlemont, which crowned the frontiers 
 of France. 
 
 Whilst I was contemplating this coup dccil, the 
 peasant-girl lifted her eyes, and on perceiving 
 me, she smiled ; saluted me graciously ; then, 
 without shutting the window or appearing dis- 
 concerted, she continued her toilette. 
 
Liege. 51 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE BANKS OF THE MEUSE DINANT NAMUR. 
 
 The Lesse. A Flemish Garden. The Mannequin. The Tomb- 
 stone. Athletic Demoiselles. Signboards and their utility. 
 
 1HAVE arrived at Liege. The route from 
 Givet, following the course of the Meuse, is 
 highly picturesque; and it strikes me as singular 
 that so little has been said of the banks of this 
 river, for they are truly beautiful and romantic. 
 
 After passing the cabin of the peasant-girl, the 
 road is full of windings, and during a walk of 
 three-quarters of an hour we are in a thick forest, 
 interspersed with ravines and torrents. Then 
 a long plain intervenes, at the extremity of 
 which is a frightful yawning a tremendous 
 precipice, upwards of three hundred feet in 
 depth. At the foot of the precipice, amidst 
 the brambles which bordered it, the Meuse 
 is seen meandering peacefully, and on its 
 banks is a chatelet resembling a patisserie mani- 
 tre'e, or time-piece, of the days of Louis the 
 Fifteenth, with its decorated walls, and its Lilli- 
 putian and fantastical garden. Nothing is more 
 singularly striking and more ridiculous than this 
 the petty work of man, surrounded by Nature 
 in all her sublimity. One is apt to say that it is a 
 
52 The Rhine. 
 
 shocking demonstration of the bad taste of man, 
 brought into contrast with the sublime poetry of 
 God. 
 
 After the gulf, the plain begins again, for the 
 ravine of the Meuse divides it as the rut of a 
 wheel cuts the ground. 
 
 About a quarter of a league further on, the 
 road becomes very steep, and leads abruptly to 
 the river. The declivity here is charming. 
 Vine -branches encircle the hawthorn, which 
 crowd both sides of the road. The Meuse at 
 this point is straight, green in appearance, and 
 runs to the left between two banks thickly 
 studded with trees. A bridge is next seen, then 
 another river, smaller yet equally beautiful, 
 which empties itself into the Meuse. It is the 
 Lesse ; three leagues from which, in a cavity on 
 the right, is the famed grotto of Hansur Lesse. 
 
 On turning the road, a huge pyramidal rock, 
 sharpened like the spire of a cathedral, suddenly 
 appears. The condncteur told me that it was the 
 Roche a Bazar d. The road passes between the 
 mountain and this colossal borne, then turns 
 again, and at the foot of an enormous block of 
 granite, crowned with a citadel, a church, and a 
 long street of old houses meet the eye. It is 
 Dinant. 
 
 We stopped here about a quarter of an hour, 
 and observed a little garden in the diligence- 
 
Valley of the Meuse. 53 
 
 yard, which is sufficient to warn the traveler that 
 he is in Flanders. The flowers in it are very 
 pretty: in the midst are two painted statues, 
 the one represents a woman, or rather a man- 
 nequin, for it is clothed in an Indian gown, with 
 an old silk bonnet. On approaching, an indis- 
 tinct noise strikes the ear and a strange spurting 
 of water is perceived. We then discovered that 
 this female is a fountain. 
 
 After leaving Dinant, the valley extends, and 
 the Meuse gradually widens. On the right hand 
 of the river, the ruins of two ancient castles pre- 
 sent themselves ; the rocks are now only to be 
 seen here and there under a rich covering of 
 verdure ; and a housse of green velours, bordered 
 with flowers, covers the face of the country. 
 
 On this side are hop-fields, orchards, and trees 
 burdened with fruit; on that, the laden vine is 
 ever appearing, amongst whose leaves the feath- 
 ery tribe are joyously reveling. Here the cack- 
 ling of ducks is heard, there the chuckling of 
 hens. Young girls, their arms naked to the 
 shoulder, are seen jocosely walking along, with 
 laden baskets on their heads; and from time to 
 time a village churchyard meets the eye, con- 
 trasting strangely with the neighboring road so 
 full of joy, of beauty, and of life. 
 
 In one of those churchyards, whose dilapidated 
 walls leave exposed to view tall grass, green and 
 
54 The Rhine.- 
 
 blooming, mocking, as it were, the once vain 
 mortal that moulders beneath, I read on a tomb- 
 stone the following inscription 
 
 " O PIE, DEFUNCTIS MISERIS SUCCURRE, VIATOR ? " 
 
 No memento had ever such an effect upon me 
 as this one. Ordinarily, the dead warn there, 
 they supplicate. 
 
 After passing a hill, where the rocks, sculp- 
 tured by the rain, resembled the half-worn and 
 blackened stones of the old fountain of Luxem- 
 bourg, we begin to perceive our approximation 
 to Namur. Gentlemen's country seats begin to 
 mix with the abodes of peasants, and the villa is 
 no sooner passed than we come to a village. 
 
 The diligence stopped at one of these places, 
 where I had, on one side, a garden well orna- 
 mented with colonnades and Ionic temples ; on 
 the other, a cabaret, at the door of which a num- 
 ber of men and women were drinking ; and to 
 the right, upon a pedestal of white marble, 
 veined by the shadows of the branches, a Venus 
 de Medicis, half hid among leaves, as if ashamed 
 to be seen in her nudid state by a group of 
 peasants. 
 
 A few steps further on, were two or three 
 good-looking, athletic wenches, perched upon a 
 plum-tree of considerable height ; one of them 
 in a rather delicate attitude, but perfectly re- 
 
Namnr. 55 
 
 gardless of and unregarded by the peasants 
 underneath. 
 
 About an hour afterwards we arrived at Na- 
 mur, which is situated near the junction of the 
 Sombre and the Meuse. The women are pretty, 
 and the men are handsome, and they have some- 
 thing pleasing and affable in their cast of coun- 
 tenance. As to the town itself, there is nothing 
 remarkable in it ; nor has it anything in its gen- 
 eral appearance which speaks of its antiquity. 
 There are no monuments, no architecture, no 
 edifices worthy of notice ; in fact, Namur can 
 boast of nothing but mean-looking churches and 
 fountains, of the mauvais gout of Louis XV. 
 The town is crowned, gloomily and sadly, by the 
 citadel. However, I must say that I looked upon 
 these fortifications with a feeling of respect, for 
 they had once the honor of being attacked by 
 Vauban and defended by Cohorn. 
 
56 The Rhine. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BANKS OF THE MEUSE HUY LIEGE. 
 
 A Chapel of the Tenth Century. Iron Works of Mr. Cockerill ; 
 their singular appearance. St. Paul's at Liege. Palace of 
 the Ecclesiastical Princes of Liege. Significant decorations 
 of a room at Liege. 
 
 ON leaving Namur we entered a magnificent 
 avenue of trees, whose foliage serves to 
 hide from our view the town, with its mean and 
 uncouth steeples, which, seen at a distance, have 
 a grotesque and singular appearance. After pass- 
 ing those fine trees, the fresh breeze from the 
 Meuse reaches us, and the road begins to wend 
 cheerfully along the river side. The Meuse 
 widens by the junction of the Sombre, the 
 valley extends, and the double walls of rocks 
 reappear, resembling now and then, Cyclop 
 fortresses, great dungeons in ruins, and vast 
 Titaniques towers. 
 
 The rocks of the Meuse contain a great quan- 
 tity of iron. When viewed in the landscape, 
 they are of a beautiful color; but broken, they 
 change into that odious greyish-blue which 
 pervades all Belgium, That which is magnificent 
 in mountains loses the grandeur, when broken 
 and converted into houses 
 
57 
 
 
 "It is God who forms the rocks; man is the 
 builder of habitations." 
 
 We passed hastily through a little village 
 called Sanson, near which stand the ruins of a 
 castle, built, it is said, in the days of Clodion. 
 The rocks at this place represent the face of a 
 man, to which the conducteur never fails to direct 
 the attention of the traveler. We then came to 
 the Ardennes, where I observed what would be 
 highly appreciated by antiquaries a little rustic 
 church, still entire, of the tenth century. In an- 
 other village (I think it is Sclayen) is seen the 
 following inscription, in large characters, above 
 the principal door of the church : 
 
 " LES CHIENS HORS DE LA MAISON DE DIEU." 
 
 If I were the worthy curate, I should deem it 
 more important for men to enter, than dogs to 
 go out. 
 
 After passing the Ardennes, the mountains 
 become scattered, and the Meuse, no longer run- 
 ning by the roadside, crosses among prairies. 
 The country is still beautiful, but the cheminte de 
 Vusine that sad obelisk of our civilisation indus- 
 trielle too often strikes the eye. The road again 
 joins the river : we perceive vast fortifications, 
 like eagles' nests, perched upon rocks ; a fine 
 church of the fourteenth century; and an old 
 bridge with seven arches. We are at Huy. 
 3* 
 
The Rhine. 
 
 Huy and Dinant are the prettiest towns upon 
 the Meuse ; the former about half way between 
 Namur and Liege, the latter half way between 
 Namur and Givet. Huy, which is at present a 
 redoubtable citadel, was in former times a warlike 
 commune, and held out with valor a siege with 
 Liege, as Dinant did with Namur. In those 
 heroic times, cities, as kingdoms now, were 
 always declaring war against each other. 
 
 After leaving Huy, we from time to time see 
 on the banks of the river a zinc manufactory, 
 which, from its blackened aspect with smoke es- 
 caping through the creviced roofs, appears to us 
 as if a fire were breaking out, or like a house 
 after a fire has been nearly extinguished. By the 
 side of a bean field, in the perfume of a little 
 garden, a brick house with a slate turret, the vine 
 clinging to its walls, doves on the roof, and cages 
 at the windows, strikes the eye we then think 
 of Teniers and Mieris. 
 
 The shades of evening approached the wind 
 ceased blowing, the trees rustling and nothing 
 was heard but the rippling of the water. The 
 lights in the adjacent houses burnt dimly, and all 
 objects were becoming obscured. The passen- 
 gers yawned, and said, " We shall be at Liege in 
 an hour." At this moment a singular sight sud- 
 denly presented itself. At the foot of the hills, 
 which were scarcely perceptible, two round balls 
 
* The Furnaces. 
 
 of fire glared like the eyes of tigers. By the 
 roadside was a frightful dark chimney stalk, sur- 
 mounted by a huge flame, which cast a sombre 
 hue upon the adjoining rocks, forests, and ravines. 
 Nearer the entry of the valley, hidden in the 
 shade, was a mouth of live coal, which suddenly 
 opened and shut, and, in the midst of frightful 
 noises, spouted forth a tongue of fire. It was the 
 lighting of the furnaces. 
 
 After passing the place called Little Flemalle, 
 the sight was inexpressible was truly magnifi- 
 cent. All the valley seemed to be in a state of 
 conflagration smoke issuing from this place, and 
 flames arising from that ; in fact, we could im- 
 agine that a hostile army had ransacked the 
 country, and that twenty districts presented, in 
 that night of darkness, all the aspects and phases 
 of a conflagration some catching fire, some en- 
 veloped in smoke, and others surrounded with 
 flames. 
 
 This aspect of war is caused by peace this 
 frightful symbol of devastation is the effect of 
 industry. The furnaces of the iron works of Mr. 
 Cockerill, where cannon is cast of the largest 
 calibre, and steam engines of the highest power 
 are made, alone meet the eye. 
 
 A wild and violent noise comes from this chaos 
 of industry, I had the curiosity to approach one 
 of these frightful places, and I could not help 
 
60 The Rhine. 
 
 admiring the assiduity of the workmen. It was 
 a prodigious spectacle, to which the solemnity of 
 the hour lent a supernatural aspect. Wheels, 
 saws, boilers, cylinders, scales all those mon- 
 strous implements that are called machines, and 
 to which steam gives a frightful and noisy life 
 rattle, grind, shriek, hiss ; and at times, when the 
 blackened workmen thrust the hot iron into 
 the water, a moaning sound is heard like that 
 of hydras and dragons tormented in hell by 
 demons. 
 
 Liege is one of those old towns which are in 
 a fair way of becoming new deplorable trans- 
 formation ! one of those towns where things of 
 antiquity are disappearing, leaving in their places 
 white facades, enriched with painted statues ; 
 where the good old buildings, with slated roofs, 
 skylight windows, chiming bells, belfries, and 
 weathercocks, are falling into decay, while gazed 
 at with horror by some thick-headed citizen, who 
 is busy with a Constitutionnel, reading what he 
 does not understand, yet pompous with the sup- 
 posed knowledge which he has attained. The 
 Octroi, a Greek temple, represents a castle flanked 
 with towers, and thick set with pikes ; and the 
 long stalks of the furnaces supply the place of 
 the elegant steeples of the churches. The an- 
 
Liege. 61 
 
 cient city was, perhaps, noisy ; the modern one 
 is productive of smoke. 
 
 Liege has no longer the enormous cathedral of 
 the princestvcques, built by the illustrious Bishop 
 Notger in the year 1000, and demolished in 1795 
 by no one can tell whom ; but it can boast of 
 the iron works of Mr. Cockerill. 
 
 Neither has it any longer the convent of Do- 
 minicans sombre cloister of high fame ! noble 
 edifice of fine architecture ! but there is a theater 
 exactly on the same spot, decorated with pillars 
 and brass capitals, where operas are performed. 
 
 Liege, in the nineteenth century, is what it was 
 in the sixteenth. It vies with France in imple- 
 ments of war; with Versailles, in extravagance 
 of arms. But the old city of Saint Hubert, with 
 its church and fortress, its ecclesiastical and mili- 
 tary commune, has ceased to be a city of prayer 
 and of war ; it is one of buying and selling an 
 immense hive of industry. It has been trans- 
 formed into a rich commercial center; and has 
 put one of its arms in France, the other in Hol- 
 land, and is incessantly taking from the one and 
 receiving from the other. 
 
 Everything has been changed in this city ; 
 even its etymology has not escaped. The ancient 
 stream Legia bears now the appellation of Ri- 
 de-Coq Fontaine. 
 
 Notwithstanding, we must admit that Liege is 
 
62 The Rhine. 
 
 advantageously situated near the green brow of 
 the mountain of Sainte Walburge ; is divided by 
 the Meuse into the lower and upper towns ; is 
 interspersed with thirteen bridges, some of which 
 have rather an architectural appearance ; and is 
 surrounded with trees, hills, and prairies. It has 
 turrets, clocks, and portes-donjons, like that of 
 Saint Martin and Amerrcoeur, to excite the poet 
 or the antiquary, even though he be startled with 
 the noise, the smoke, and the flames of the manu- 
 factories around. 
 
 As it rained heavily, I only visited four 
 churches : Saint Paul's, the actuelle cathedral, 
 is a noble building of the fifteenth century, 
 having a Gothic cloister, with a charm ing portail 
 of the Renaissance, and surmounted by a belfry, 
 which, had it not been that some inapt architect 
 of our day spoiled all the angles, would be con- 
 sidered elegant. Saint Jean is a grave facade of 
 the sixteenth century, consisting of a large 
 square steeple, with a smaller one on each side. 
 Saint Hubert is rather a superior-looking build- 
 ing, whose lower galleries are of an excellent 
 ordre. Saint Denis, a curious church of the 
 tenth century, with a large steeple of the 
 eleventh. That steeple bears traces of having 
 been injured by fire. It was probably burnt 
 during the Norman outbreak. The Roman archi- 
 tecture has been ingeniously repaired, and the 
 
Liege. 63 
 
 steeple finished in brick. This is perfectly dis- 
 cernible, and has a most singular effect. 
 
 As I was going from Saint Denis to Saint 
 Hubert by a labyrinth of old narrow streets, 
 ornamented here and there with madones, I sud- 
 denly came within view of a large dark stone 
 wall, and on close observation discovered that 
 the back facade indicated that it was a palace of 
 the middle age. An obscure door presented it- 
 self; I entered, and at the expiration of a few 
 moments found myself in a vast yard, which 
 turned out to be that of the palace of the Eccle- 
 siastic Princes of Liege. The ensemble of the 
 architecture is, perhaps, the most gloomy and 
 noble-looking that I ever saw. 
 
 There are four lofty granite facades, sur- 
 mounted by four prodigious slate roofs, with the 
 same number of galleries. Two of the facades, 
 which are perfectly entire, present the admirable 
 adjustment of ogives and arches which character- 
 ized the end of the fifteenth century and the 
 beginning of the sixteenth. The windows of 
 this clerical palace have meneaux like those of a 
 church. Unfortunately the two other facades, 
 which were destroyed by fire in 1734, have been 
 rebuilt in the pitiful style of that epoch, and tend 
 to detract from the general effect. It is now 105 
 years since the last bishop occupied this fine 
 structure. 
 
64 The Rhine. 
 
 The quadruple gallery that walls the yard is 
 admirably preserved. There is nothing more 
 pleasing to study than the pillars upon which the 
 ogives are placed : they are of gray granite, like 
 the rest of the palace. Whilst examining the four 
 rows, one half of the shaft of the pillar disap- 
 pears, sometimes at the top, then at the bottom, 
 under a rich swelling of arabesques. The swelling 
 is doubled in the west range of the pillars, and 
 the stalk disappears entirely. This speaks only 
 of the Flemish caprice of the sixteenth century ; 
 but what perplexes us is, that the chapiters of 
 these pillars, decorated with heads, foliage, 
 apocalyptical figures, dragons, and hieroglyphics, 
 seem to belong to the architecture of the 
 eleventh century; and it must be remembered 
 that the palace of Liege was commenced in 1508, 
 by Prince Erard de la Mark, who reigned thirty- 
 two years. 
 
 This grave edifice is at present a court of 
 justice ; booksellers, and toy-merchants' shops 
 are under all the arches, and vegetable stalls in 
 the courtyard. The black robes of the law prac- 
 titioners are seen in the midst of baskets of red 
 and green cabbages. Groups of Flemish mer- 
 chants, some merry, others morose, make fun 
 and quarrel before each pillar ; irritated pleaders 
 appear from all the windows ; and in that sombre 
 yard, formerly solitary and tranquil as a convent, 
 
Liege. 65 
 
 of which it has the appearance, the untired 
 tongue of the advocate mingles with the chatter, 
 the noise, and bavardage of the buyers and 
 sellers. 
 
 My room at Liege was ornamented with muslin 
 curtains, upon which were embroidered not 
 nosegays, but melons. There were also several 
 pictures, representing the triumph of the Allies 
 and our disasters in 1814. Behold the legende 
 printed at the bottom of one of these paint- 
 ings: 
 
 "Battle of Arcis-sur-Aube, 2ist March, 1814 
 The greater portion of the garrison of this place 
 composed of the garde ancienne, were taken 
 prisoners, and the Allies, on the 22nd of April, 
 triumphantly entered Paris." 
 
66 The Rhine. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE BANKS OF THE VESDRE. VERVIERS. 
 Railways. Miners at Work. Louis the Fourteenth. 
 
 "\ 7ESTERDAY morning, as the diligence was 
 j[ about to leave Liege for Aix-la-Chapelle, 
 a worthy citizen annoyed the passengers by re- 
 fusing to take the seat upon the impcriale which 
 the conductor pointed out as his. For the sake 
 of peace I offered him mine ; which the conde- 
 scending traveler, without evincing any reluc- 
 tance, or even thanking me, accepted, and the 
 heavy vehicle forthwith rolled tardily along. I 
 was pleased with the change. The road, though 
 no longer by the banks of the Meuse, but by 
 those of the Vesdre, is exceedingly beautiful. 
 
 The Vesdre is rapid, and runs through Verviers 
 and Chauffontaines, along the most charming 
 valley in the world. In August, especially if the 
 day be fine, with a blue sky over head, we have 
 either a ravine or a garden, and certainly always 
 a paradise. From the road the river is ever in 
 sight. It at one time passes through a pleasing 
 village, at another it skirts an old castle with 
 square turrets ; there the country suddenly 
 
Valley of the Vesdrc. 67 
 
 changes its aspect, and, on turning by a hillside, 
 the eye discovers, through an opening in a thick 
 tuft of trees, a low house, with a huge wheel by 
 its side. It is a water-mill. 
 
 Between Chauffontaines and Verviers the val- 
 ley is full of charms, and, the weather being pro- 
 pitious, added much to enliven the scene. Mar- 
 mosets were playing upon the garden steps ; the 
 breeze was shaking the leaves of the tall poplars, 
 and sounded like the music of peace, the har- 
 mony of nature ; handsome heifers, in groups of 
 three and four, were reposing on the greensward, 
 shaded by leafy blinds from the rays of the sun ; 
 then, far from all houses, and alone, a fine cow, 
 worthy of the regard of Argus, was peacefully 
 grazing. The soft notes of a flute floating on 
 the breeze were distinctly heard. 
 
 " Mercuri us septem mulcet arundinibus" 
 
 The railway that colossale entreprise, which 
 runs from Anvers to Liege, and is being ex- 
 tended to Verviers is cut through the solid 
 rock, and runs along the valley. Here we meet 
 a bridge, there a viaduct ; and at times we see in 
 the distance, at the foot of an immense rock, a 
 group of dark objects, resembling a hiUock of 
 ants, busily blasting the solid granite. 
 
 These ants, small though they be, perform the 
 work of giants. 
 
63 The Rhine. 
 
 When the fissure is wide and deep, a strange 
 sound proceeds from the interior; in fact, one 
 might imagine that the rock is making known its 
 grievances by the mouth which man has made. 
 
 Verviers is an insignificant little town, divided 
 into three quartiers, called Chick-Chack, Brasse- 
 Crotte, and Dardanelle. In passing, I observed 
 a little urchin, about six years of age, who, 
 seated on a door-step, was smoking his pipe, 
 with all the magisterial air of a Grand Turk. 
 The marmot fumier looked into my face, and 
 burst into a fit of laughter, which made me con- 
 ^clude that my appearance was to him rather 
 ridiculous. 
 
 After Verviers, the road skirts the Vesdre as 
 far as Simbourg: Simbourg that town of counts, 
 that patt which Louis the Fourteenth found had 
 a crust rather hard for mastication is at present 
 a dismantled fortress. 
 
Attractions of Aix-la-Chapelle. 69 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE THE TOMB OF CHARLEMAGNE. 
 
 Legend of the Wolf and Pine-Apple. Carlo-Magno. Barber- 
 ousse. The Untombing of Charlemagne. Exhibition of 
 Relics. Arm-chair of Charlemage. The Swiss Guide. 
 Hotel-de-Ville, the Birthplace of Charlemagne. 
 
 FOR an invalid, Aix-la-Chapelle is a mineral 
 fountain warm, cold, irony, and sulphur- 
 ous ; for the tourist, it is a place for redoubts and 
 concerts ; for the pilgrim, the place of relics, 
 where the gown of the Virgin Mary, the blood 
 of Jesus, the cloth which enveloped the head of 
 John the Baptist after his decapitation, are ex- 
 hibited every seven years ; for the antiquarian, it 
 is a noble abbey of filles a abbesse, connected 
 with the male convent, which was built by Saint 
 Gregory, son of Nicephore, Emperor of the East ; 
 for the hunter, it is the ancient valley of the 
 wild boars ; for the merchant, it is a fabrique of 
 cloth, needles, and pins ; and for him who is no 
 merchant, manufacturer, hunter, antiquary, pil- 
 grim, tourist, or invalid, it is the city of Charle- 
 magne. 
 
 Charlemagne was born at Aix-la-Chapelle, and 
 died there. He was born in the old place, of 
 which there now only remains the tower, and he 
 
70 The Rhine. 
 
 was buried in the church that he founded in 796, 
 two years after the death of his wife Frastrada. 
 Leon the Third consecrated it in 804, and 
 tradition says that two bishops of Tongres, who 
 were buried at Maestricht, arose from their 
 graves, in order to complete, at that ceremony, 
 365 bishops and archbishops representing the 
 days of the year. 
 
 This historical and legendary church, from 
 which the town has taken its name, has under- 
 gone, during the last thousand years, many 
 transformations. 
 
 No sooner had I entered Aix than I went to 
 the chapel. 
 
 The portail, built of grey-blue granite, is of 
 the time of Louis the Fifteenth, with doors of 
 the eighth century. To the right of the portail, 
 a large bronze ball, like a pine-apple, is placed 
 upon a granite pillar; and on the opposite side, 
 on another pillar, is a wolf, of the same metal, 
 which is half turned towards the bystanders, its 
 mouth half open and its teeth displayed. This 
 is the legend of the wolf and pine-apple, daily 
 recited by the old women of the place to the in- 
 quiring traveler : 
 
 " A long time ago, the good people of Aix-la- 
 Chapelle wished to build a church : money was 
 put aside for the purpose ; the foundation was 
 laid, the walls were built, and the timber work 
 
The Wolf and the Pine -Apple. 71 
 
 was commenced. For six months there was 
 nothing heard but a deafening noise of saws, 
 hammers, and axes; but at the expiration of 
 that period the money ran short. A call was 
 made upon the pilgrims for assistance, and a 
 plate was placed at the door of the church, but 
 scarcely a Hard was collected. What was to be 
 done? The senate assembled, and proposed, 
 argued, advised, and consulted. The workmen 
 refused to continue their labor. The grass, the 
 brambles, the ivy, and all the other insolent 
 weeds which surround ruins, clang to the new 
 stones of the abandoned edifice. Was there no 
 other alternative than that of discontinuing the 
 church ? The glorious senate of burgomasters 
 were in a state of consternation. 
 
 " One day, in the midst of their discussions, a 
 strange man, of tall stature and respectable ap- 
 pearance, entered. 
 
 " ' Good day, gentlemen. What is the subject 
 of discussion ? You seem bewildered. Ah, I 
 suppose your church weighs heavy at your 
 hearts. You do not know how to finish it. 
 People say that money is the chief requisite for 
 its completion.' 
 
 11 1 Stranger,' said one of the senate, * allez 
 vous en au diable f It would take a million of 
 money.' 
 
 " ' There is a million,' said the unknown, open- 
 
72 The Rhine. 
 
 ing the window, and pointing to a chariot drawn 
 by oxen, and guarded by twenty negroes armed 
 to the teeth. 
 
 " One of the burgomasters went with the 
 stranger to the carriage, took the first sack that 
 came to his hand, then both returned. It was laid 
 before the senate, and found to be full of gold. 
 
 " The bourgomestres looked with eyes ex- 
 pressive both of foolishness and surprise, and 
 demanded of the stranger who he was. 
 
 " ' My dear fellows, I am the man who has 
 money at command. What more do you require? 
 I inhabit the Black Forest, near the lake of 
 Wildsee, and not far from the ruins of Heiden- 
 stadt, the city of Pagans. I possess mines of 
 gold and silver, and at night I handle millions of 
 precious stones. But I have strange fancies in 
 fact, I am unhappy, a melancholy being, passing 
 my days in gazing into the transparent lake, 
 watching the tourniquet and the water tritons, 
 and observing the growth of the polygonum am- 
 phibium among the rocks. But a truce to ques- 
 tions and idle stories. I have opened my heart 
 profit by it! There is your million of money. 
 Will you accept it? ' 
 
 " ' Pardieu, ouij said the senate. { We shall 
 finish our church.' 
 
 " 'Well, it is yours,' the stranger said; 'but 
 remember, there is a condition.' 
 
The Wolf and the Pine -Apple. 73 
 
 " 'What is it?' 
 
 " ' Finish your church, gentlemen take all 
 this precious metal ; but promise me, in ex- 
 change, the first soul that enters into the church 
 on the day of its consecration.' 
 
 " 'You are the devil !' cried the senate. 
 
 11 * You are imbeciles,' replied Urian. 
 
 " The burgomasters began to cross themselves, 
 to turn pale, and tremble ; but Urian, who was a 
 queer fellow, shook the bag containing the gold, 
 laughed till he almost split his sides, and, soon 
 gaining the confidence of the worthy gentlemen, 
 a negotiation took place. The devil is a clever 
 fellow that is the reason that he is a devil. 
 
 " 'After all," he said, " I am the one who shall 
 lose by the bargain. You shall have your million 
 and your church : as for me, I shall only have a 
 soul.' 
 
 '"Whose soul, Sir?' demanded the frightened 
 senate. 
 
 " ' The first that comes that, perhaps, of some 
 canting hypocrite, who to appear devout, and to 
 show his zeal in the cause, will enter first. But, 
 my friends, your church promises well. The 
 plan pleases me ; and the edifice, in my opinion, 
 will be superb. I see with pleasure that your 
 architect prefers the trompe-sous-le-coin to that of 
 Montpellier. I do not dislike the arched vault, 
 but still I would have preferred a ridged one. I 
 
74 The Rhine. 
 
 acknowledge that he has made the doorway very 
 tastefully : but I am not sure if he has been care- 
 ful about the thickness of the parpain. What is 
 the name of your architect? Tell him from me, 
 that, to make a door well, there must be four 
 panels. Nevertheless, the church is of a very 
 good style, and well adjusted. It would be a pity 
 to leave off what has been so well begun. You 
 must finish your church. Come, my friends; the 
 million for you the soul for me. Is it not so?' 
 
 "'After all/ thought the citizens, 'we ought 
 to be satisfied that he contents himself with one 
 soul. He might, if he observed attentively, find 
 that there is scarcely one in the whole place that 
 does not belong to him.' 
 
 " The bargain was concluded the million was 
 locked up Urian disappeared in a blue flame 
 and two years afterwards the church was fin- 
 ished. 
 
 " You must know that all the senators took an 
 oath to keep the transaction a profound secret ; 
 and it must also be understood that each of them 
 on the very same evening related the affair to 
 his wife. When the church was complete, the 
 whole town thanks to the wives of the senators 
 knew the secret of the senate; and no one 
 would enter the church. This was an embarrass- 
 ment greater even than the first : the church was 
 erected, but no one would enter; it was finished, 
 
The Wolf and the Pine-Apple. 75 
 
 but it was empty. What good was a church of 
 this description ? 
 
 "The senate assembled, but they could do 
 nothing; and they called upon the Bishop of 
 Tongres, but he was equally puzzled. The 
 canons of the church were consulted ; but to no 
 avail. At last the monks were brought in. 
 
 " ' Pardien ! ' said one of them ; 'you seem to 
 stand on trifles ; you owe Urian the first soul 
 that passes the door of the church ; but he did 
 not stipulate as to the kind of soul. I assure 
 you this Urian is at the best an ass. Gen- 
 tlemen, after a severe struggle, a wolf was taken 
 alive in the valley of Borcette. Make it enter 
 the church. Urian must be contented ; he shall 
 have a soul, although only that of a wolf.' 
 
 " * Bravo ! bravo ! ' shouted the senate. 
 
 "At the dawn of the following day the bells 
 rang. 
 
 "'What!' cried the inhabitants ' to-day is 
 the consecration of the church, but who will dare 
 to enter first ?' 
 
 " I won't ! ' shouted one. ' Nor I !' ' Nor I !' 
 escaped from the lips of the others. 
 
 " At last the senate and the chapitre arrived, 
 followed by men carrying the wolf in a cage. A 
 signal was given to open the door of the church 
 and that of the cage simultaneously; the wolf, 
 half mad from fright, rushed into the empty 
 
;6 The Rhine. 
 
 church, where Urian was waiting, his mouth 
 open, and his eyes shut. Judge of his rage when 
 he discovered that he had swallowed a wolf. 
 He shouted tremendously, flew for some time 
 under the high arches, making a noise like a 
 tempest, and, on going out, gave the door a 
 furious kick, and rent it from top to bottom." 
 
 It is upon that account, say the old dames, 
 that a statue of the wolf has been placed on the 
 left side of the church, and an apple, which rep- 
 resents its poor soul, on the right. 
 
 I must add, before finishing the legend, that I 
 looked for the rent made by the heel of the devil, 
 but could not find it. 
 
 On approaching the chapel of the great portail 
 the effect is not striking ; the facade displays the 
 different styles of architecture Roman, Gothic, 
 and modern, without order, and consequently, 
 without grandeur ; but if, on the contrary, we 
 arrive at the chapel by Chevet, the result is 
 otherwise. The high abside of the fourteenth 
 century, in all its boldness and beauty, the rich 
 workmanship of its balustrades, the variety^ of 
 iis gargouilles, the sombre hue of the stones, and 
 the large, transparent windows strike the be- 
 holder with admiration. 
 
 Here, nevertheless, the aspect of the church 
 imposing though it is will be found far from 
 uniform. Between the abside and the portail, in 
 
Tomb of Charlemagne. 77 
 
 a kind of cavity, the dome of Otho III., built 
 over the tomb of Charlemagne in the tenth 
 century, is hid from view. After a few moments' 
 contemplation, a singular awe comes over us 
 when gazing at this extraordinary edifice an 
 edifice which, like the great work that Charle- 
 magne began, remains unfinished ; and which, 
 like his empire that spoke all languages, is com- 
 posed of architecture that represents all styles. 
 To the reflective, there is a strange analogy be- 
 tween that wonderful man and this great build- 
 ing. 
 
 After having passed the arched roof of the 
 portico, and left behind me the antique bronze 
 doors surmounted with lions' heads, a white 
 rotundo of two stories, in which all thefantatsus 
 of architecture are displayed, attracted my atten- 
 tion. At casting my eyes upon the ground, I 
 perceived a large block of black marble, with the 
 following inscription in brass letters: 
 
 "CAROLO MAGNO." 
 
 Nothing is more contemptible than to see, ex- 
 posed to view, the bastard graces that surround 
 this great Carlovingian name; angels resembling 
 distorted Cupids, palm-branches like colored 
 feathers, garlands of flowers, and knots of rib- 
 bons, are placed under the dome of Otho III., 
 and upon the tomb of Charlemagne. 
 
78 The Rhine. 
 
 The only thing here that evinces respect to 
 the shade of that great man is an immense lamp, 
 twelve feet in diameter, with forty-eight burners ; 
 which was presented, in the twelfth century, by 
 Barberousse. It is of brass, gilt with gold, has 
 the form of a crown, and is suspended from the 
 ceiling above the marble stone by an iron chain 
 about seventy feet in length. 
 
 It is evident that some other monument had 
 been erected to Charlemagne. There is nothing 
 to convince us that this marble, bordered with 
 brass, is of antiquity. As to the letters, " CAROLO 
 MAGNO," they are not of a later date than 1730. 
 
 Charlemagne is no longer under this stone. 
 In 1166 Frederick Barberousse whose gift, mag- 
 nificent though it was, does by no means com- 
 pensate for this sacrilege caused the remains of 
 that great emperor to be untombed. The Church 
 claimed the imperial skeleton, and, separating 
 the bones, made each a holy relic. In the adjoin- 
 ing sacristy, a vicar shows the people for three 
 francs seventy-five centimes the fixed price 
 the arm of Charlemagne that arm which held 
 for a time the reins of the world. Venerable 
 relic ! which has the following inscription, written 
 by some scribe of the twelfth century : 
 
 1 Brachium Sancti Carol! Magni." 
 
 After that I saw the skull of Charlemagne, 
 
Relics of Charlemagne. 79 
 
 that cranium which may be said to have been 
 the mould of Europe, and which a beadle had 
 the effrontery to strike with his finger. 
 
 All are kept in a wooden armory, with a few 
 angels, similar to those I have just mentioned, on 
 the top. Such is the tomb of the man whose 
 memory has outlived ten ages, and who, by his 
 greatness, has shed the rays of immortality 
 around his name. Sanctus, magnus, belong to 
 him two of the most august epithets which this 
 earth could bestow upon a human being. 
 
 There is one thing astonishing that is, the 
 largeness of the skull and arm. Charlemagne 
 was, in fact, colossal with respect to size of body 
 as well as extraordinary mental endowments. 
 The son of Pepin-le-Bref was in body, as in mind, 
 gigantic ; of great corporeal strength, and of 
 astounding intellect. 
 
 An inspection of this armory has a strange 
 effect upon the antiquary. Besides the skull and 
 arm, it contains the heart of Charlemagne ; the 
 cross which the emperor had round his neck in 
 his tomb ; a handsome ostensoir, of the Renais- 
 sance, given by Charles the Fifth, and spoiled, in 
 the last century, by tasteless ornaments ; fourteen 
 richly sculptured gold plates, which once orna- 
 mented the arm-chair of the emperor; an 
 ostensoir, given Philippe the Second ; the cord 
 which bound our Saviour; the sponge that was 
 
8o The Rhine. 
 
 used upon the cross ; the girdle of the Holy 
 Virgin, and that of the Redeemer. 
 
 In the midst of innumerable ornaments, heaped 
 up in the armory like mountains of gold and 
 precious stones, are two shrines of singular 
 beauty. One, the oldest, which is seldom opened, 
 contains the remaining bones of Charlemagne, 
 and the other, of the twelfth century, which 
 Frederick Barberousse gave to the church, holds 
 the relics, which are exhibited every seven years. 
 A single exhibition of this shrine, in 1696, at- 
 tracted 42,000 pilgrims, and drew, in ten days, 
 80,000 florins. 
 
 This shrine has only one key, which is in t-vo 
 pieces ; the one is in the possession of the 
 chapitre, the other in that of the magistrates of 
 the town. Sometimes it is opened on extra- 
 ordinary occasions, such as on the visit of a 
 monarch. 
 
 In a small armory, adjoining the one men- 
 tioned, I saw an exact imitation of the Germanic 
 crown of Charlemagne. That which he wore as 
 Emperor of Germany is at Vienna; the one as 
 King of France, at Rheims ; and the other, as 
 King of Lombardy, is at Menza, near Milan. 
 
 On going out of the sacristy, the beadle gave 
 orders to one of the menials, a Swiss, to show me 
 the interior of the chapel. The first object that 
 fixed my attention was the pulpit, presented by 
 
Tomb of Charlemagne* 
 
 the Emperor Henry the Second, which is ex- 
 travagantly ornamented and gilt, in the style of 
 the eleventh century. To the right of the altar, 
 the heart of M. Antoine Berdolet, the first and 
 last Bishop of Aux-la-Chapelle, is encased. That 
 church had but one Bishop he whom Buona- 
 parte named "Primus Aquisgranensis Episcopus" 
 
 In a dark room in the chapel, my conductor 
 opened another armory, which contained the sar- 
 cophagus of Charlemagne. It is a magnificent 
 coffin of white marble, upon which the carrying 
 off of Proserpine is sculptured. The fair girl is 
 represented as making desperate efforts to disen- 
 tangle herself from the grasp of Pluto, but the 
 god has seized her half-naked neck, and is forcing 
 her head against Minerva. Some of the nymphs, 
 the attendants of Proserpine, are in eager combat 
 with Furies, while others are endeavoring to 
 stop the car, which is drawn by two dragons. A 
 goddess has boldly seized one of them by the 
 wing, and the animal, to all appearance, is crying 
 hideously. This bas-relief is a poem, powerful 
 and startling like the pictures of Pagan Rome, 
 and like some of those of Rubens. 
 
 The tomb, before it became the sarcophagus 
 of Charlemagne, was, it is said, that of Augustus. 
 
 After mounting a narrow staircase, my guide 
 conducted me to a gallery which is called the 
 Hochmunster. In this place is the arm-chair of 
 
 4* 
 
The Rhine. 
 
 Charlemagne. It is low, exceedingly wide, with 
 a round back ; is formed of four pieces of white 
 marble, without ornaments or sculpture, and has 
 for a seat an oak board, covered with a cushion 
 of red velvet. There are six steps up to it, two 
 of which are of granite, the others of marble. 
 On this chair sat a crown upon his head, a 
 globe in one hand, a sceptre in the other, a 
 sword by his side, the imperial mantle over his 
 shoulders, the cross of Christ round his neck, and 
 his feet in the sarcophagus of Augustus, Carlo 
 Magno in his tomb, in which attitude he re- 
 mained for three hundred and fifty-two years 
 from 852 to 1166, when Frederick Barberousse, 
 coveting the chair for his coronation, entered the 
 tomb. Barberousse was an illustrious prince and 
 a valiant soldier ; and it must, therefore, have 
 been a moment singularly strange when this 
 crowned man stood before the crowned corpse 
 of Charlemagne the one in all the majesty of 
 empire, the other in all the majesty of death. 
 The soldier overcame the shades of greatness ; 
 the living became the despoliator of inanimate 
 worth. The chapel claimed the skeleton, and 
 Barberousse the marble chair, which afterwards 
 became the throne where thirty-six emperors 
 were crowned. Ferdinand the First was the last ; 
 Charles the Fifth preceded him. The German 
 emperors are now crowned at Frankfort. 
 
Frederick BarterouSM. 83 
 
 I remained spell-bound near this chair, so sim- 
 ple, yet so grand. I gazed upon the marble 
 steps, marked by the feet of those thirty-six 
 Caesars who had here seen the bursting forth 
 of their illustriousness, and who, each in his 
 turn, had ceased to be of the living. Thoughts 
 started in my mind, recollections flashed across 
 my memory. When Frederick Barberousse was 
 old, he determined for the second or third time 
 to engage in the Holy War. One day he 
 reached the banks of the beautiful river Cyd- 
 nus, and, being warm, took a fancy to bathe. 
 The man who could profane the tomb of 
 Charlemagne might well forget Alexander. He 
 entered the river ; the cold seized him. Alex- 
 ander was young, and survived ; Barberousse 
 was old, and lost his life. 
 
 It appears to me as probable, that, one day or 
 another, the pious thought will strike some saint, 
 king, or emperor, to take the remains of Charle- 
 magne from the armory where the sacristans 
 have placed them gathered all that still exists 
 of that great skeleton and place them once 
 more in the arm-chair, the Carlovingian diadem 
 upon the skull, the globe of the empire on the 
 arm, and the imperial mantle over the bones. 
 
 This would be a magnificent sight for him who 
 dared to look at the apparition. What thoughts 
 would crowd upon his mind when beholding the 
 
84 The Rhine. 
 
 son of Pepin in his tomb he, who equalled in 
 greatness Augustus or Sesostris: he, who in 
 fiction, is a knight-errant, like Roland a ma- 
 gician, like Merlin ; for religion, a saint, like 
 Peter or Jerome ; for philosophy, civilization 
 personifies him, and every thousand years as- 
 sumes a giant form to traverse some profound 
 abyss civil wars, barbarism, revolutions ; which 
 calls himself at one time Csesar, then Charle- 
 magne, and at another time Napoleon. 
 
 In 1804, when Buonaparte became known as 
 Napoleon, he visited Aix-la-Chapelle. Josephine, 
 who accompanied him, had the caprice to sit 
 down on this chair; but Napoleon, out of respect 
 for Charlemagne, took off his hat, and remained 
 for some time standing, and in silence. The fol- 
 lowing fact is somewhat remarkable, and struck 
 me forcibly: In 814 Charlemagne died; a thou- 
 sand years afterwards, most probably about the 
 same hour, Napoleon fell. 
 
 In that fatal year, 1814, the allied sovereigns 
 visited the tomb of the great Carolo. Alexander 
 of Russia, like Napoleon, took off his hat and 
 uniform ; Frederick William of Prussia kept on 
 his casquette de petite tenue ; Francis retained his 
 surtout and round bonnet. The King of Prussia 
 stood upon the marble steps, receiving informa- 
 tion from the prevot of the chapitre respecting 
 the coronation of the emperors of Germany ; 
 
The Swiss Guide. 85 
 
 the two emperors remained silent. Napoleon, 
 Josephine, Alexander, Frederick William, and 
 Francis, are now no more. 
 
 My guide, who gave me these details, was an 
 old French soldier. Formerly he shouldered his 
 musket, and marched at the sound of the drum ; 
 now, he carries a halberd in the clerical cere- 
 monies before the chapitre. This man, who 
 speaks to travelers of Charlemagne, has Napoleon 
 nearest his heart. When he spoke of the battles 
 in which he had fought, of his old comrades, and 
 of his colonel, the tears streamed from his eyes. 
 He knew that I was a Frenchman; and, on my 
 leaving, said, with a solemnity which I shall 
 never forget 
 
 "You can say, Sir, that you saw at Aix-la- 
 Chapelle an old soldier of the 36th Swiss regi- 
 ment." 
 
 Then, a moment afterwards, added 
 
 " You can also state that he belongs to three 
 nations Prussian by birth ; Swiss by profession ; 
 but his whole heart is French." 
 
 On quitting the chapel I was so much absorbed, 
 in reflection, that I all but passed a lovely facade 
 of the fourteenth century, ornamented with the 
 statues of seven emperors. I was awoke from my 
 reverie by the sudden bursts of laughter which 
 escaped from two travelers, the elder of whom, I 
 was told in the morning by my landlord, was 
 
86 The KJiint. 
 
 M. le Comte d'A., of the most noble family of 
 Artois. 
 
 " Here are names! " they cried. " It certainly 
 required a revolution to form such names as 
 these. Le Capitaine Lasoupe, and Colonel Grain- 
 dorge." 
 
 My poor Swiss had spoken to them, as he did 
 to me, about his old captain and colonel, for they 
 were so called. 
 
 A few minutes afterwards I was on my way to 
 the Hotel-de-Ville, the supposed birthplace of 
 Charlemagne, which, like the chapel, is an edifice 
 made of five or six others. In the middle of the 
 court there is a fountain of great antiquity, with 
 a bronze statue of Charlemagne. To the left and 
 right are two others both surmounted with 
 eagles, their heads half turned towards the grave 
 and tranquil emperor. 
 
 The evening was approaching. I had passed 
 the whole of the day among these grand and 
 austere souvenirs; and, therefore, deemed it 
 essential to take a walk in the open fields, to 
 breathe the fresh air, and to watch the rays of 
 the declining sun. I wandered along some 
 dilapidated walls, entered a field, then some 
 beautiful alleys, in one of which I seated myself. 
 Aix-la-Chapelle lay extended before me, partly 
 hid by the shades of evening, which were falling 
 around. By degrees the fogs gained the roofs 
 
t-lotcUc-Vilte. 87 
 
 of the houses, and shrouded the town steeples; 
 then nothing was seen but two huge masses the 
 Hotel-de-Ville and the chapel. All the emotions, 
 all the thoughts and visions which flitted across 
 my mind during the day, now crowded upon me. 
 The first of the two dark objects was to me only 
 the birthplace of a child ; the second was the 
 resting-place of greatness. At intervals, in the 
 midst of my reverie, I imagined that I saw the 
 shade of this giant, whom we call Charlemagne, 
 developing itself between this great cradle and 
 still greater tomb. 
 
88 The Rhine. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 COLOGNE THE BANKS OF THE RHINE ANDER- 
 NACH. 
 
 Duez. Cathedral of Cologne. The Peasantry. The Strolling 
 Musician. Personifiers of the gods Goulu, Gluton, Gonifre, 
 and Gouliaf. Dome of the Cathedral of Cologne. Epitaph. 
 Tomb of the Three Wise Men of the East. Destiny. 
 The Hotel-de-Ville. The Three Bas-Reliefs. The Epic 
 Poet of Cologne. Cologne at Night. Time and its Effects. 
 
 THE sun had set when we reached Cologne. 
 I gave my luggage to a porter, with or- 
 ders to carry it to an hotel at Uuez, a little town 
 on the opposite side of the Rhine ; and directed 
 my steps towards the cathedral. Rather than 
 ask my way, I wandered up and down the nar- 
 row streets, which night had all but obscured. 
 At last I entered a gateway leading to a court, 
 and came out on an open square dark and de- 
 serted. A magnificent spectacle now presented 
 itself. Before me, in the fantastic light of a 
 crtpusculaire sky, rose, in the midst of a group 
 of low houses, an enormous black mass, studded 
 with pinnacles and belfries. A little farther was 
 another, not quite so broad as the first, but 
 higher; a kind of square fortress, flanked at its 
 angles with four long detached towers, having 
 
Cologne Cathedral. 89 
 
 on its summit something resembling a huge 
 feather. On approaching, I discovered that it 
 was the cathedral of Cologne. 
 
 What appeared like a large feather was a 
 crane, to which sheets of lead were appended, 
 and which, from its workable appearance, in- 
 dicated to passers-by that this unfinished tem- 
 ple may one day be completed ; that the dream 
 of Engelbert de Berg, which was realized under 
 Conrad de Hochsteden, may, in an age or two, 
 be the greatest cathedral in the world. This 
 incomplete Iliad sees Homers in futurity. 
 
 The church was shut. I surveyed the steeples, 
 and was startled at their dimensions. What I 
 had taken for towers are the projections of the 
 buttresses. Though only the first story is com- 
 pleted, the building is already nearly as high as 
 the towers of Notre Dame at Paris. Should 
 the spire, according to the plan, be placed upon 
 this monstrous trunk, Strasburg would be, com- 
 paratively speaking, small by its side. It has 
 always struck me that nothing resembles ruin 
 more than an unfinished edifice. Briars, saxi- 
 frages, and pellitories indeed, all weeds that 
 root themselves in the crevices and at the base 
 of old buildings have besieged these vener- 
 able walls. Man only constructs what Nature 
 in time destroys. 
 
 All was quiet ; there was no one near to 
 
go The Rhine. 
 
 break the prevailing silence. I approached the 
 facade, as near as the gate would permit me, 
 and heard the countless shrubs gently rustling 
 in the night breeze. A light which appeared 
 at a neighboring window, cast its rays upon a 
 group of exquisite statues angels and saints, 
 reading or preaching, with a large open book 
 before them. Admirable prologue for a church, 
 which is nothing else than the Word made 
 marble, brass or stone ! Swallows have fear- 
 lessly taken up their abode here, and their sim- 
 ple yet curious masonry contrasts strangely with 
 the architecture of the building. 
 
 This was my first visit to the cathedral of 
 Cologne. 
 
 By-the-by, I have told nothing of the road 
 between it and Aix-la-Chapelle. In fact, very 
 little can be said ; a green plain, with an 
 occasional oak and a few poplar- trees, alone 
 meet the eye. In the villages, the old female 
 peasants, enveloped in long mantles, walk about 
 like spectres ; while the young, clothed in short 
 japons, are seen on their knees, washing the 
 door-steps. As for the men, they are decorated 
 with blue smock-frocks and high-crowned hats, 
 as if they were the peasants of a constitutional 
 country. 
 
 Scarcely a single person was seen on the 
 road ; the inclemency of the weather was, per- 
 
Cologne Cathedral. 91 
 
 haps, the cause. A poor strolling musician 
 passed a stick in one hand, and his cornet- 
 a-piston in the other. He was clothed in a 
 blue coat, a fancy waistcoat, and white trous- 
 ers, with bottoms turned up as high as the 
 legs of his boots. The pauvre diable, from 
 the knees upwards, was fitted out for a ball ; 
 his lower extremities, however, were better 
 suited for the road. In a little square village, 
 in front of an auberge, I admired four jolly- 
 looking travelers seated before a table loaded 
 with flesh, fish and wines. One was drinking, 
 another cutting, a third eating, a fourth de- 
 vouring like four personifications of Voracious- 
 ness and Gourmandism. It seemed to me as 
 if I beheld the gods Goulu, Glouton, Gonifre. 
 and Gouliaf, seated round a mountain of eat- 
 ables. 
 
 The following morning I again visited the 
 dome of the cathedral of Cologne. I exam- 
 ined the windows of this magnificent edifice, 
 which are of the time of Maximilian, painted 
 with all the extravagance of the German Re- 
 naissance. On one of them is a representation 
 of the genealogy of the Holy Virgin. At the 
 bottom of the picture, Adam, in the costume 
 of an emperor, is lying upon his back. A large 
 tree, which fills the whole pane, is growing out 
 of his stomach, and on the branches appear all 
 
92 T/ie Rhine. 
 
 the crowned ancestors of Mary : David play- 
 ing the harp, Solomon in pensiveness ; and at 
 the top of the tree a flower opens, and dis- 
 closes the Virgin carrying the infant Jesus. 
 
 A few steps farther on I read this epitaph, 
 which breathes sorrow and resignation : 
 
 " Inclitvs ante fvi comes emvndvs, 
 Vocitatvs, hie dece prostratvs, sub 
 Tegor vt volvi. Frishem, sancte, 
 Mevm fero, petre, tibi comitatvm 
 Et mihi redde statvm, te precor, 
 Etherevm Haec. Lapidvm massa 
 Comitis complectitvr ossa." 
 
 I entered the church and was struck with the 
 choir. There are pictures of all epochs and 
 of all forms ; innumerable marble statues of 
 bishops ; chevaliers of the time of the cru- 
 sades, their dogs lying lovingly at their feet ; 
 apostles clothed in golden robes ; and tapes- 
 tries painted from the designs of Rubens. 
 Everything, it must be said, is shamefully de- 
 molished. If some one constructed the exte- 
 rior of the cathedral of Cologne, I do not 
 know who has demolished the interior. There 
 is not a tomb entire, the figures being either 
 broken off or mutilated. The flies revel on 
 the venerable face of the Archbishop Philip of 
 Heinsburg, and the man called Conrad of 
 Hochsteden, the founder of the church, like 
 Gulliver, in the Lilliputian tale, cannot at 
 
Tomb of the Wise Men. 93 
 
 present crush the spiders that knit him to the 
 ground. Alas! the bronze arm is nothing to 
 the arm of flesh. I observed, in an obscure 
 corner, the dismantled statue of an old man 
 with a long beard ; I believe it is that of 
 Michael Angelo. 
 
 I will now mention the most venerable struc- 
 ture which this church contains : that of the 
 famed tomb of the Three Wise Men of the 
 East. 
 
 The room is of marble, is rather large, and 
 represents the styles of Louis the Thirteenth 
 and Louis the Fourteenth. On raising our 
 eyes, we perceive a bas-relief representing the 
 adoration of the three kings, and, underneath, 
 the inscription : 
 
 " Corpora ranctorum recubant hie terna magorum, 
 Ex his sublatum nihil est alibive locatum." 
 
 This, then, is the resting place of the three 
 poetic kings of the east. Indeed, there is no 
 legend that pleases me so much as this of the 
 Mille et Une Nuits. I approached the tomb, 
 and perceived, in the shade, a massive reli- 
 quaire, sparkling with pearls, diamonds, and 
 other precious stones, which seemed to relate 
 the history of these three kings, ab oriente 
 venerunt. In front of the tomb are three 
 lamps, the one bearing the name of Gasper, 
 
94 The Rhine. 
 
 the other Melchior, and the third Balthazar. 
 It is an ingenious idea to have somehow 
 illuminated the names of the three wise men 
 in front of the sepulchre. 
 
 On leaving, something pierced the sole of 
 my boot. I looked downwards, and found that 
 it was a large nail projecting from a square of 
 black marble, upon which I was walking. After 
 examining the stone, I remembered that Mary 
 of Medicis had desired that her heart should 
 be placed under the pavement of the cathe- 
 dral of Cologne, and before the tomb of the 
 three kings. Formerly a bronze or brass plate, 
 with an inscription, covered it ; but when the 
 French took Cologne, some revolutionist, or 
 perhaps a rapacious brazier, seized it, as had 
 been done by many others ; for a host of brass 
 nails, projecting from the marble, bespeak dep- 
 redations of a similar nature. Alas, poor queen ! 
 She first saw herself effaced from the heart of 
 Louis the Thirteenth, her son ; then from the 
 remembrance of Richelieu, her creature ; and 
 now she is effaced from the earth. 
 
 How strange are the freaks of destiny ! Mary 
 de Medicis, widow of Henry the Fourth, ex- 
 iled and abandoned, had a daughter, Henriette, 
 widow of Charles the First, who died at Cologne 
 in 1642, in the house where, sixty-five years 
 before, Rubens, her painter, was born. 
 
The Hotel-de-Ville. 95 
 
 The dome of Cologne, when seen by day, 
 appeared to me to have lost a little of its sub- 
 limity ; it no longer had what I call la grandeur 
 crepusculaire that the evening lends to huge 
 objects ; and I must say that the cathedral of 
 Beauvais, which is scarcely known, is not in- 
 ferior, either in size or in detail, to the cathe- 
 dral of Cologne. 
 
 The Hotel-de-Ville, situated near the cathe- 
 dral, is one of those singular edifices which have 
 been built at different times, and which consist 
 of all the styles of architecture seen in ancient 
 buildings. The mode in which these edifices 
 have been built forms rather an interesting 
 study. Nothing is regular no fixed plan has 
 been drawn out all has been built as necessity 
 required. 
 
 Thus the Hotel-de-Ville, which has, probably, 
 some Roman cave near its foundation, was, in 
 1250, only a structure similar to those of our 
 edifices built with pillars. For the convenience 
 of the night-watchman, and in order to sound 
 the alarum, a steeple was required, and in the 
 fourteenth century a tower was built. Under 
 Maximilian a taste for elegant structures was 
 everywhere spread, and the bishops of Cologne, 
 deeming it essential to dress their city-house 
 in new raiments, engaged an Italian architect, 
 a pupil, probably, of old Michael Angelo, and 
 
96 The Rhine. 
 
 a French sculptor, who adjusted on the black- 
 ened facade of the thirteenth century a tri- 
 umphant and magnificent porch. A few years 
 expired, and they stood sadly in want of a 
 promenoir by the side of the Registry. A back 
 court was built, and galleries erected, which 
 were sumptuously enlivened by heraldry and 
 bas-reliefs. These I had the pleasure of seeing ; 
 but, in a few years, no person will have the 
 same gratification, for, without anything be- 
 ing done to prevent it, they are fast falling 
 into ruins. At last, under Charles the Fifth, 
 a large room for sales and for the assemblies of 
 the citizens was required, and a tasteful build- 
 ing of stone and brick was added. Thus a 
 corps of the thirteenth century, a belfry of the 
 fourteenth, a porch and back-court of the time 
 of Maximilian, and a hall of that of Charles the 
 Fifth, linked together in an original and pleas- 
 ing manner, form the Hotel-de-Ville of Cologne. 
 
 I went up to the belfry ; and under a gloomy 
 sky, which harmonized with the edifice and with 
 my thoughts, I saw at my feet the whole of this 
 admirable town. 
 
 From Thurmchen to Bayenthurme, the town, 
 which extends upwards of a league on the 
 banks of the river, displays a whole host of win- 
 dows and facades. In the midst of roofs, tur- 
 rets and gables, the summits of twenty -four 
 
The Hotel-de-Ville. 97 
 
 churches strike the eye, all of different styles, 
 and each church, from its grandeur, worthy of 
 the name of cathedral. If we examine the 
 town en detail, all is stir, all is life. The 
 bridge is crowded with passengers and car- 
 riages ; the river is covered with sails. Here 
 and there clumps of trees caress, as it were, 
 the houses blackened by time ; and the old 
 stone hotels of the fifteenth century, with their 
 long frieze of sculptured flowers, fruit and 
 leaves, upon which the dove, when tired, rests 
 itself, relieve the monotony of the slate roofs 
 and brick fronts which surround them. 
 
 Round this great town mercantile from its 
 industry, mrHtary from its position, marine from 
 its river is a vast plain that borders Germany, 
 which the Rhine crosses at different places, 
 and is crowned on the northeast by historic 
 croupes that wonderful nest of legends and 
 traditions, called the " Seven Mountains." Thus 
 Holland and its commerce, Germany and its 
 poetry like the two great aspects of the hu- 
 man mind, the positive and the ideal shed 
 their light upon the horizon of Cologne ; a city 
 of business and of meditation. 
 
 After descending from the belfry, I stopped 
 
 in the yard before a handsome porch of the 
 
 Renaissance, the second story of which is 
 
 formed of a series of small triumphal archt---, 
 
 5 
 
98 The Rhine. 
 
 with inscriptions. The first is dedicated to 
 Caesar ; the second to Augustus ; the third to 
 Agrippa, the founder of Cologne ; the fourth to 
 Constantine, the Christian emperor ; the fifth 
 to Justine, the great legislator ; and the sixth 
 to Maximilian. Upon the facade, the poetic 
 sculptor has chased three bas-reliefs, repre- 
 senting the three lion-combatants, Milo of Cro- 
 tona, Pepin-le-Bref, and Daniel. At the two 
 extremities he has placed Milon de Crotone, 
 attacking the lions by strength of body ; and 
 Daniel subduing the lions by the power of 
 mind. Between these is Pepin-le-Bref, con- 
 quering his ferocious antagonist with that mix- 
 ture of moral and physical strength which dis- 
 tinguishes the soldier. Between pure strength 
 and pure thought, is courage ; between the 
 athlete and the prophet the hero. 
 
 Pepin, sword in hand, has plunged his left 
 arm, which is enveloped in his mantle, into 
 the mouth of the lion : the animal stands, with 
 extended claws, in that attitude which in her- 
 aldry represents the lion rampant. Pepin at- 
 tacks it bravely and vanquishes. Daniel is 
 standing motionless, his arms by his side, and 
 his eyes lifted up to Heaven, the lions lovingly 
 rolling at his feet. As for Milo de Crotona, 
 he defends himself against the lion, which is 
 in the act of devouring him. His blind pre- 
 
The Poet of Cologne. 99 
 
 sumption has put too much faith in muscle, 
 in corporeal strength. These three bas-reliefs 
 contain a world of meaning ; the last produces 
 a powerful effect. It is Nature avenging her- 
 self on the man whose only faith is in brute 
 force. 
 
 As I was about to leave the town-house this 
 spacious building, this dwelling, rich in legend- 
 ary lore as well as in historical facts a man, 
 in appearance older than he actually was, 
 crooked from disposition more than from the 
 influence of age, crossed the yard. The per- 
 son who conducted me to the belfry, in point- 
 ing him out, said : 
 
 " That man is a poet : he has composed sev- 
 eral epics against Napoleon, against the revo- 
 lution of 1830, and against the French. The 
 last, his chef d'ceuvre, beseeches an architect to 
 finish the church of Cologne in the same style 
 as the Pantheon in Paris." 
 
 Epics! granted! Nevertheless, this man, or 
 poet, is the most unwashed-looking animal that 
 ever I put eyes upon. I do not think we have 
 anything in France that will bear a comparison 
 with the epic poet of Cologne. 
 
 To make up for the opinion which this 
 strange -looking animal had formed of us, a 
 little old man, with a quick eye, came out of 
 a barber's shop, in one I do not know which 
 
loo The Rhine. 
 
 of the dark and obscure streets, and guessing 
 my country, from my appearance, came to me, 
 shouting out : 
 
 " Monsieur, Monsieur, fous, Francais ! oh, les 
 Francais ! ran ! plan ! plan ! plan ! ran, tan, plan ! 
 la querre a toute le monde ! Prafes ! Prafes ! 
 Napoleon, n'est-ce pas? La querre a toute 
 1'Europe ! Oh, les Francais, pien Prafes, Mon- 
 sieur. La paionette au qui a tous ces Priciens, 
 eine ponnea quilpite gomine a lena. Prafo les 
 Francais ! ran ! plan ! plan ! " 
 
 I must admit that this harrangue pleased me. 
 France is great in the recollection and in the 
 hopes of these people. All on the banks of 
 the Rhine love us I had almost said, wait 
 for us. 
 
 In the evening, as the stars were shining, I 
 took a walk upon the side of the river opposite 
 to Cologne. Before me was the whole town, 
 with its innumerable steeples figuring in detail 
 upon the pale western sky. To my left rose, 
 like the giant of Cologne, the high spire of 
 St. Martin's, with its two towers ; and, almost 
 in front, the sombre abside-cathedral, with its 
 many sharp-pointed spires, resembling a mon- 
 strous hedgehog, the crane forming the tail, 
 and near the base two lights, which appeared 
 like two eyes sparkling with fire. Nothing dis- 
 turbed the stillness of the night but the rustling 
 
of the waters at my feet, the heavy tramp of 
 a horse's hoofs upon the bridge, and the sound 
 of a blacksmith's hammer. A long stream of 
 fire that issued from the forge caused the ad- 
 joining windows to sparkle ; then, as if hasten- 
 ing to its opposite element, disappeared in the 
 water. 
 
 From this grand and sombre ensemble, my 
 thoughts took a melancholy turn, and, in a 
 kind of reverie, I said to myself, " The germaine 
 city has disappeared the city of Agrippa is no 
 longer but the town of St. Engelbert still 
 stands. How long will it be so? Decay, more 
 than a thousand years since, seized upon the 
 temple built by Saint Helena ; the church con- 
 structed by the Archbishop Anno is fast de- 
 caying. Cologne is demolished by its river. 
 Scarcely a day passes but some old stone, some 
 ancient relic, is detached by the commotion of 
 the steamboats. A town is not situated with 
 impunity upon the great artery of Europe. 
 Cologne, though not so old as Treves or So- 
 leure, has already been thrice deformed and 
 transformed, by the rapid and violent change 
 of ideas to which it has been subjected. All 
 is changing. The spirit of positivism and utili- 
 tarianism for which the grovelers of the pres- 
 ent day are such strong advocates penetrates 
 
102 The Rhine. 
 
 and destroys. Architecture, old and rever- 
 ential, gives way to modern "good taste" Alas! 
 old cities are fast disappearing. 
 
The Insignificance of Man. 103 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 APROPOS OF THE HOUSE " IBACH." 
 
 Man's Insignificancy. The House Ibach. Marie de Medicis, 
 Richelieu, and Louis the Thirteenth. 
 
 WHAT Nature does, perhaps Nature 
 knows; but one thing is certain, and I 
 am not the only one who says so, that men know 
 not what they do. Often in confronting history 
 with the material world, in the midst of those 
 comparisons which my mind draws between the 
 events hidden by God and which time and crea- 
 tion partly disclose, I have secretly shuddered, 
 when thinking that the forests, the lakes, the 
 mountains, the sky, the stars, and the ocean, are 
 things clear and terrible, abounding in light and 
 full of science, and look, as it were, in disdain 
 upon man that haughty, presumptuous thing, 
 whose arm is linked to impotence that piece of 
 vanity, blind in its own ignorance. The tree 
 may be conscious of its fruit ; but, to me, man 
 knows nothing of his destiny. 
 
 The life of man and his understanding are at 
 the mercy of a Divine power, called by some, 
 Providence, by others, Chance, which blends, 
 combines, and decomposes all ; which conceals 
 
104 The Rhine. 
 
 its workings in the clouds, and discloses the re- 
 sults in open day. We think we do one thing, 
 whilst we do another, urceus exit. History 
 affords copious proofs of this. When the hus- 
 band of Catherine de Medicis, and the lover of 
 Diane de Poitiers, allowed himself to be allured 
 by Philippe Due, the handsome Pihnontaise, it 
 was not only Diane d'Angouleme that he en- 
 gendered, but he brought about the reconcilia- 
 tion of his son Henry the Third with his cousin 
 Henry the Fourth. When Charles the Second 
 of England hid himself, after the battle of 
 Worcester, in the trunk of an oak, he only 
 thought of concealment something more was 
 the result; he named a constellation "The Royal 
 Oak," and gave Halley the opportunity of de- 
 tracting from the fame of Tycho. Strange that 
 the second husband of Madame de Maintenon 
 in revoking the Edict of Nantes, and the parlia- 
 ment of 1688 in expelling James the Second, 
 should bring about the singular battle of 
 Almanza, where, face to face, were the French 
 army, commanded by an Englishman, Marshal 
 Berwick, and the English army, commanded by 
 a Frenchman, Ruvigny, Lord Galloway. If 
 Louis the Thirteenth had not died on the I4th 
 of May, 1643, it would never have struck the old 
 Count de Fontana to attack Rocroy, which gave 
 an heroic prince of twenty-two the glorious op- 
 
Laubespine de Chdtcauneuf. 10$ 
 
 portunity of making the Duke d'Enghien the 
 great Cond6. 
 
 In the midst of all these strange and striking 
 facts which load our chronologies, what singular 
 and unforeseen occurrences ! what formidable 
 counter-blows! In 1664, Louis the Fourteenth, 
 after the offense done to his ambassador, Crequi, 
 caused the Corsicans to be banished from Rome; 
 a hundred and forty years afterwards Buonaparte 
 exiled the Bourbons from France ! 
 
 What shadows ! but still, what light appears 
 in the midst of the darkness! About 1612, when 
 Henry of Montmorency, then about seventeen 
 years of age, saw among the servants of his father 
 a pale and mean-looking menial, Laubespine de 
 Chateauneuf, bowing and scraping before him, 
 who could have whispered in his ears that this 
 page would become under-deacon ; that this 
 under-deacon would become the lord-keeper of 
 the great seal ; that this keeper of the great seal 
 would preside at the parliament of Toulouse ; 
 and that, at the expiration of twenty years, this 
 " deacon-president" would surlily demand from 
 the Pope permission to have his master, Henry 
 the Second, Duke of Montmorency, Marshal of 
 France, and peer of the kingdom, decapitated ? 
 When the president of Thou so carefully added 
 his clauses to the ninth edict of Louis the 
 Eleventh, who could have told the monarch that 
 5* 
 
lo6 The Rhine. 
 
 this very edict, with Laubardemont for a handle, 
 would be the hatchet with which Richelieu 
 would strike off the head of his son? 
 
 In the midst of all this chaos there are laws ; 
 confusion is only on the surface, order is at the 
 bottom. After long intervals, frightful facts 
 similar to those which astounded our fathers, 
 come like comets, in all their terror, upon our- 
 selves ; always the same ambushes the same mis- 
 fortunes; always foundering upon the same coasts. 
 The name alone changes the acts are still 
 committed. A few days before the fatal treaty 
 of 1814, the emperor might have said to his 
 thirteen marshals 
 
 Amen dico vobis quia unus vestrum me traditurus est. 
 
 A Caesar cherishes a Brutus ; a Charles the First 
 prevents a Cromwell from going to Jamaica; a 
 Louis the Sixteenth throws obstacles in the way 
 of a Mirabeau, who is desirous of setting out for 
 the Indies ; queens whose deeds are character- 
 ized by cruelty are punished by ungrateful sons ; 
 Agrippas beget Neros, who destroy those who 
 gave them birth ; a Mary of Medicis engenders 
 a Louis the Thirteenth, who banishes her. 
 
 You, without doubt, remark the strange turn 
 my thoughts have taken from one idea to 
 another to these two Italians to these two 
 women, Agrippina and Mary de Medicis, the 
 
The House " Ibach" 
 
 specters of Cologne. About sixteen hundred 
 years ago, the daughter of Germanicus, mother 
 of Nero, connected her name and memory with 
 Cologne, as did, at a later date, the wife of 
 Henry the Fourth and mother of Louis the 
 Thirteenth. The first, who was born there, died 
 by the poniard ; the second expired at Cologne, 
 from the effects of poison. 
 
 I visited, at Cologne, the house in which Mary 
 of France breathed her last the house Ibach 
 according to some, and Jabach according to 
 others ; but, instead of relating what I saw, I 
 will tell the thoughts that flashed across my 
 mind when there. Excuse me for not giving all 
 the local details, of which I am so fond ; in fact, 
 I am afraid that I have, ere this, fatigued my 
 reader with my festons and my astragales. The 
 unhappy queen died here, at the age of sixty- 
 eight, on the 3rd of July, 1642. She was exiled 
 for eight years from France, had wandered 
 everywhere, and was very expensive to the 
 countries in which she stopped. When at Lon- 
 don, Charles the First treated her with munifi- 
 cence, allowing her, the three years she resided 
 there, a hundred pounds sterling per day. After- 
 wards I must say it with regret Paris returned 
 that hospitality to Henrietta, daughter of Henry 
 the Fourth and widow of Charles the First, by 
 giving her a garret in the Louvre, where she 
 
lo8 The Rhine. 
 
 often remained in bed for want of the comforts 
 of a fire, anxiously expecting a few louis that 
 the coadjuteur had promised to lend her. Her 
 mother, the widow of Henry the Fourth, expe- 
 rienced the same misery at Cologne. 
 
 How strange and striking are these details ! 
 Marie de Medicis was not long dead when 
 Richelieu ceased to live, and Louis the Thir- 
 teenth expired the following year. For what 
 good was the inveterate hatred that existed be- 
 tween these three mortal beings ? for what end 
 so much intrigue, quarreling, and persecution? 
 God alone knows. All three died almost at the 
 same hour. 
 
 There is something remaining of a mysterious 
 nature about Mary de Medicis. I have always 
 been horrified at the terrible sentence that the 
 President Henault, probably without intention, 
 wrote upon this queen : 
 
 Elle ne fut pas assez surprise de la mort de Henri IV. 
 
 I must admit that all this tends to shed a lus- 
 ter upon that admirable epoch, the glorious reign 
 of Louis the Fourteenth. The darkness that 
 obscured the beginning of that century con- 
 trasted admirably with the brilliancy of its close. 
 Louis the Fourteenth was not only, as Riche- 
 lieu, powerful, but he was majestic ; not only, as 
 Cromwell, great, but in him was serenity. Louis 
 
Louis the Fourteenth. 109 
 
 the Fourteenth was not, perhaps, the genius in 
 the master, but genius surrounded him. This 
 may lessen a king in the eyes of some, but it 
 adds to the glory of his reign. As for me, as 
 you already know, I love that which is absolute, 
 which is perfect ; and therefore have always had 
 a profound respect for this grave and worthy 
 prince, so well born, so much loved, and so well 
 surrounded ; a king in his cradle, a king in the 
 tomb ; true sovereign in every acceptation of 
 the word ; central monarch of civilization ; pivot 
 of Europe ; seeing, so to speak, from tour to 
 tour, eight popes, five sultans, three emperors, 
 two kings of Spain, three kings of Portugal, four 
 kings and one queen of England, three kings of 
 Denmark, one queen and two kings of Sweden, 
 four kings of Poland, and four czars of Muscovy, 
 appear, shine forth, and disappear around his 
 throne ; polar star of an entire age, who, during 
 seventy-two years, saw all the constellations ma- 
 jestically perform their evolutions round him. 
 
HO The Rhine. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A FEW WORDS RESPECTING THE WALDRAF 
 MUSEUM. 
 
 Schleis Kotten " Stretching-out-of-the-hand System," or, Trav- 
 eling Contingencies. Recapitulation. 
 
 BESIDES the cathedral, the Hotel-de-Ville, 
 and the Ibach House, I visited Schleis 
 Kotten, the vestiges of the subterranean aque- 
 duct which, at the time of the Romans, led from 
 Cologne to Travers. Traces of it are at the 
 present day to be seen in thirty-two villages. 
 In Cologne I inspected the Waldraf Museum, 
 and am almost tempted to give you an inventory 
 of all I saw; but I will spare you. Suffice it to 
 know, that if I did not find the war-chariot 
 of the ancient Germans, the famed Egyptian 
 mummy, or the grand culverin founded at Co- 
 logne in 1400, I saw a very fine sarcophagus, and 
 the armory of Bernard Bishop of Galen. I was 
 also shown an enormous cuirass, which was said 
 to have been the property of Jean de Wert, a 
 general of the empire ; but I sought in vain for 
 his sword, which measured eight feet and a half 
 in length; his immense pike, likened to the pine 
 of Polyphemus; and his large helmet, that, as it 
 is said, took two men to raise it. 
 
The Waldraf Museum. i i i 
 
 The pleasure of seeing all these curiosities 
 museums, churches, town-houses, &c. is alloyed 
 by the everlasting extended hand pay, pay. 
 Upon the borders of the Rhine, as at other 
 places much frequented, the stranger is obliged 
 to have his hand in constant communion with 
 his pocket. The purse of the traveler that 
 precious article is to him everything, since hos- 
 pitality is no longer seen receiving the weary 
 traveler with soft words and cordial looks. I 
 will give you an idea of the extent to which the 
 stretching-out-of-the-hand is carried on among 
 the intelligent naturels of this country. Re- 
 member, there is no exaggeration only the 
 truth. 
 
 On entering a town, an understrapper ascer- 
 tains the hotel that you intend putting up at, 
 asks for your passport, takes it, and puts it into 
 his pocket. The horses stop ; you look round, 
 and find that you are in a courtyard that your 
 present journey is terminated. The driver, who 
 has not exchanged a word with any one during 
 the journey, alights, opens the door, and ex- 
 tends his hand with an air of modesty " Re- 
 member the driver." A minute elapses: the 
 postilion presents himself, and makes an ha- 
 rangue, which signifies, " Don't forget me." The 
 luggage is uncorded ; a tall, fleshless animal sets 
 your portmanteau gently upon the ground, with 
 
112 The Rhine. 
 
 your nightcap on the top of it ; so much trouble 
 " must be rewarded." Another creature, more 
 curious perhaps than the latter, puts your chat- 
 tels upon a wheelbarrow, asks the name of the 
 hotel you have fixed upon, then runs before you, 
 pushing his shapeless machine. No sooner ar- 
 rived at the hotel than the host approaches, and 
 begins a dialogue, which ought to be written in 
 all languages upon the doors of the respective 
 auberges. 
 
 " Good day, sir." 
 
 " If you have a spare room, I should like to 
 engage it." 
 
 " Very well, sir. Thomas, conduct the gentle- 
 man to No. 4." 
 
 " I should like something to eat." 
 
 " Immediately, sir, immediately." 
 
 You go to No. 4, where you find your luggage 
 has arrived. A man appears ; it is the person 
 who conveyed the luggage to the hotel. " The 
 porter, sir." A second makes his appearance; 
 what the devil does he want? It is the person 
 who carried your luggage into the room. You 
 say to him 
 
 " Very well ; I shall pay you, on leaving, with 
 the other servants." 
 
 " Monsieur," the man replies, with a suppli- 
 cating air, "I don't belong to the hotel." 
 
 There is no alternative " disburse." You 
 
The Travelers Purse. 113 
 
 take a walk ; a handsome church presents itself. 
 You cannot think of passing it : no, no, you 
 must go in, for it is not every day you meet such 
 a structure; you walk round, gazing at every- 
 thing; at last a door meets your view. Jesus 
 says, " Compelle intrare /' the priests ought to 
 keep the doors open, but the beadles shut them, 
 in order to gain a few sous. An old woman, who 
 has perceived your embarrassment, comes and 
 shows you a bell by the side of a small wicket ; 
 you ring, the wicket is opened, and the beadle 
 stands before you. 
 
 " Can I see the interior of the church?" 
 
 " Certainly," the old man replies, a sort of 
 grim smile lighting up his grave countenance. 
 
 He draws out a bunch of keys, and directs his 
 steps towards the principal entrance. Just as 
 you are about to go in, something seizes you by 
 the skirts of your coat; you turn round; it is the 
 obliging old woman, whom you have forgotten, 
 ungrateful wretch ! to reward "pay!" You at 
 last find yourself in the interior of the church ; 
 you contemplate, admire, and are struck with 
 wonder. 
 
 " Why is that picture covered with a green 
 cloth?" 
 
 " Because," the beadle replies, " it is the most 
 beautiful picture in the church." 
 
 "What!" you say, in astonishment, " the best 
 
114 The Rhine. 
 
 picture hidden ; elsewhere it is exposed to view. 
 Who is it by?" 
 
 " Rubens." 
 
 " I should like to see it." 
 
 The beadle leaves you, and in a few minutes 
 returns with an old pensive-looking individual 
 by his side; it is the churchwarden. This 
 worthy personage presses a spring, the curtain 
 draws, and you behold the picture. The paint- 
 ing seen, the curtain closes, and the church- 
 warden bows significantly " Pay, pay." On 
 continuing your walk in the church, preceded by 
 the beadle, you arrive at the door of the choir, 
 before which a man has taken up his stand in 
 " patient expectation." It is a Swiss who has 
 the charge of the choir. You walk round it, 
 and, on leaving, your attentive cicerone gra- 
 ciously salutes you " Only a trifle." You find 
 yourself again with the beadle, and soon after 
 pass before the sacristy. O, wonder of wonders ! 
 the door is open. You enter, and find a sexton. 
 The beadle retires, for the other must be left 
 alone with his prey. The sexton smiles, shows 
 you the urns, the ecclesiastical ornaments and 
 decorated windows, bishops' mitres, and, in a 
 box, a skeleton of some saint dressed as a 
 troubadour. You have seen the sacristy, there- 
 fore "must pay." The beadle again appears, 
 and leads you to the ladder that conducts to the 
 
The Traveler s Purse. 115 
 
 tower. A view from the steeple must be truly 
 delightful. You decide on going up. The 
 beadle pushes a door open ; you climb up about 
 thirty steps, then you find that a door which is 
 locked prevents you proceeding farther. You 
 look back, and are surprised that the beadle is 
 no longer with you that you are alone. What's 
 to be done? You knock; a face appears; it is 
 that of the bellman. He opens the door, for 
 which kind action " Pay." You proceed on 
 your way are delighted to find yourself alone 
 that the bellman has not followed. You then 
 begin to enjoy the pleasure of solitude, and 
 arrive with a light heart at the high platform of 
 the tower. 
 
 You look about, come and go, admire the 
 blue sky, the smiling country, and the im- 
 mense horizon. Suddenly you perceive an un- 
 known animal walking by your side : then your 
 ears are dinned with things you know, and, per- 
 haps, care little about. It turns out to be the 
 explicateur, who fills the high office of explaining 
 to the stranger the magnificence of the steeple, 
 the church, and the surrounding country. This 
 man is ordinarily a stutterer, sometimes deaf; 
 you do not listen to him; you forget him, in 
 contemplating the churches, the streets, the 
 trees, the rivers, and the hills. When you have 
 seen all, you think of descending, and direct 
 
16 The Rhine. 
 
 your steps to the top of the ladder. The bell- 
 man is there before you u Pay." 
 
 " Very well," you say, fingering your purse, 
 which is momentarily dissolving; "how much 
 must I give you ?" 
 
 " I am charged two francs for each person, 
 which sum goes to the church revenue; but, Sir, 
 you must give me something for my trouble." 
 
 You descend ; the beadle makes his appear- 
 ance, and conducts you with respect to the door 
 of the church. So much trouble cannot fail to 
 be well rewarded. 
 
 You return to your hotel, and have scarcely 
 entered when you see a person approaching you 
 with a familiar air, and who is totally a stranger 
 to you. It is the understrapper who took your 
 passport, and who now returns with it to be 
 paid. You dine ; the hour of your departure 
 comes, and a servant brings you in the bill Pay; 
 also a consideration for the trouble of taking the 
 money. An ostler carries your portmanteau to 
 the diligence you must remember him. You 
 get into the vehicle ; you set off; night falls : you 
 begin the same course to-morrow. 
 
 Let us recapitulate. Something to the driver, 
 a trifle to the postilion, the porter, the man who 
 does not belong to the hotel, to the old woman, 
 to Rubens, to the Swiss, to the sexton, to the 
 bellman, to the church revenue, to the beadle, to 
 
The Traveler s Purse. 117 
 
 the passport-keeper, to the servants, and to the 
 ostler. How many pays do you call that in a 
 day? Remember, every one must be silver; 
 copper is looked upon here with the greatest 
 contempt, even by a bricklayer's laborer. 
 
 To this ingenious people the traveler is a sack 
 of crowns, which the good inhabitants, in order 
 to reduce the bulk as soon as possible, are ever 
 sweating. The government itself occasionally 
 claims a share of the spoil ; it takes your trunk 
 and portmanteau, places them upon its shoulders, 
 and offers you its hand. In large towns the 
 porters pay to the royal treasury twelve sous two 
 Hards for each traveler. I was not a quarter of 
 an hour at Aix-la-Chapelle before I had given 
 my mite to the King of Prussia. 
 
ii8 The Rhine. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ANDERNACH. 
 
 A view from Andernach. Village of Luttersdorf. Cathedral. 
 Its Relics. Andernach Castle. Inscription. The Tomb of 
 Hoche. Gothic Church and Inscription. 
 
 A NDERNACH, where I have been stopping 
 JL\, for the last three days, is an ancient muni- 
 cipal town, situated upon the banks of the 
 Rhine. The coup-d'ceil from my window is truly 
 charming. Before me, at the foot of a high hill, 
 which obscures from my view part of the blue 
 sky, is a handsome tower of the thirteenth cen- 
 tury ; to my right the Rhine, and the charming 
 little white village of Leutersdorf, half hidden 
 among the trees; and to my left the four steeples 
 of a magnificent church. Under my window 
 children are playing, the noise of their prattlings 
 mingling with the quacking of geese and the 
 chuckling of hens. 
 
 I visited the church on the day of my arrival, 
 the interior of which is, notwithstanding the 
 hideous manner that some one has plastered it, 
 rather handsome. The Emperor Valentinian, 
 and a child of Frederick Barberousse, were in- 
 terred in this church, but neither inscriptions 
 
An Adventure. 119 
 
 nor tombstones indicated the place where they 
 were buried. Our Saviour at the tomb; a few 
 statues, life size, of the fifteenth century, and a 
 chevalier of the sixteenth, leaning against a wall; 
 several figures; the fragments of a mausoleum of 
 the Renaissance, were all that the smiling hump- 
 backed bellringer could show me for a little piece 
 of silvered copper which passes here for thirty sous. 
 
 I must tell a little adventure which I had 
 an incident that has left on my mind the im- 
 pression of a sombre dream. 
 
 On leaving the church I walked round the 
 city. The sun was setting behind the high 
 hills that, in seeming pride and pristine glory, 
 look down upon the Rhine, on the imperial 
 tomb of Valentinian, on the abbey of Saint 
 Thomas, and on the old walls of the feudal town 
 of the electors of Treves. 
 
 I pursued my way by the side of the moat 
 that skirts the dilapidated walls, the fallen stones 
 of which serve as seats and tables for half-naked 
 urchins to play upon, and in the evening for 
 young men to tell their fair bergeres the achings 
 of their wounded hearts. The formidable castle, 
 that was once the defense of Andernach, is now 
 an immense ruin ; and the court, once the seat 
 of war, is now covered with grass, upon which 
 women bleach in summer the cloth that they 
 have woven in winter. 
 
120 The Rhine. 
 
 After leaving the outer gate of Andernach, I 
 found myself on the banks of the Rhine. The 
 night was calm and serene, and nature had 
 lulled itself to sleep. Shepherdesses came to 
 drink from the clear stream, then in mirth ran 
 away to hide themselves among the osieries. 
 Before me a white village was all but lost in the 
 distance, and towards the east, at the extreme 
 border of the horizon, the full moon, red and 
 round like the eye of a Cyclop, appeared between 
 two clouds. 
 
 How often have I walked thus, unconscious of 
 all save the beauties which nature presented, 
 alive only to that dame who has so great a sway 
 over the sensitive mind ! I knew not where I 
 was, nor where I was straying ; and when I 
 awoke from my reverie I found myself at the 
 foot of a rising ground, crowned at the summit 
 by some stonework. I approached, and was 
 somewhat startled on finding a tomb. Whose 
 was it? I walked round, trying to discover the 
 name of the person whom it memorialized, and 
 at last perceived the following inscription in 
 brass letters : 
 
 L'armee de Sambre et Meuse a son General en Chef. 
 
 Above these two lines I saw, by the light of the 
 moon, which was shining brightly, the name 
 HOCHE. The letters had been taken away, but 
 had left their imprint on the granite. 
 
Tomb of Hoche. 121 
 
 That name, in this place, at such an hour, and 
 seen by such a light, had a strange, an inexpress- 
 ible effect upon me. Hoche was always a favorite 
 of mine: he, like Marceau, was one of those 
 young men who preluded Buonaparte in an at- 
 tempt which was all but successful. This, then, 
 I thought, is the resting-place of Hoche, and the 
 well-remembered date of the i8th of April, 1797, 
 flashed across my memory. 
 
 I looked around me, endeavoring, but in vain, 
 to identify the spot. To the north was a vast 
 plain ; to the south, about the distance of a gun- 
 shot, the Rhine ; and at my feet, at the base of 
 this tomb, was a small village. 
 
 At that moment a man passed a few steps 
 from the monument. I asked him the name of 
 the village, and he answered, while disappearing 
 behind a hedge, " Weiss Thurm." 
 
 These two words signify White Tower. I then 
 remembered Turris Alba of the Romans, and 
 was proud to find that Hoche had died in an 
 illustrious place. It was here that Caesar, two 
 thousand years ago, first crossed the Rhine. 
 
 It is impossible for me to tell my inward feel- 
 ings while contemplating the tomb of this great 
 man. Compassion seized my heart. Can such 
 be the resting place of this illustrious warrior, 
 seemingly forgotten by his countrymen, un- 
 heeded by the stranger! This tomb, built by 
 
122 The Rhine. 
 
 his army, is at the mercy of the passer-by. The 
 French General sleeps in a bean-field far from 
 his country, and Prussian bricklayers make what- 
 ever use it pleases them of this tomb ! 
 
 It seemed to me as if I heard a voice coming 
 from the heap of stones, saying, " France must 
 again possess the Rhine." 
 
 Andernach is a lovely place, with which I was 
 truly delighted. From the top of the hills the 
 eye embraces an immense circle, extending from 
 Sibengeburge to the crests of Ehrenbreitstein. 
 Here there is not a stone of an edifice that has 
 not its souvenir^ not a single view in the country 
 that has not its beauties and its graces ; and, 
 what is more, the countenances of the in- 
 habitants have that frank and open expression 
 which fails not to create delight in the heart of 
 the traveler. Andernach is a charming town, 
 notwithstanding Andernach is a deserted place. 
 Nobody goes where History, Nature, and Poetry 
 abound ; Coblentz, Bade, and Mannheim are 
 now the exclusive resort of sophisticated tour- 
 ists. 
 
 I went a second time to the church. The 
 Byzantine decoration of the steeples is rich, and 
 of a taste at once rude and exquisite. The 
 chapitres of the southern portal are very cu- 
 rious ; there is a representation of the Cruci- 
 fixion still perfectly visible uoon the pediment, 
 
Has- Re lief at Andernach. 123 
 
 and on the facade a bas-relief, representing Jesus 
 on his knees, with His arms widely extended: 
 on all sides of him lie scattered about, as if in a 
 frightful dream, the mantle of derision, the 
 sceptre of reeds, the crown of thorns, the rod, 
 the pincers, the hammer, the nails, the ladder, 
 the spear, the sponge filled with gall, the sinister 
 profile of the hardened thief, the livid counte- 
 nance of Judas ; and before the eyes of the Divine 
 Master is the cross, and at a little distance the 
 cock crowing, reminding him of the ingratitude 
 and abandonment of his friend. This last idea is 
 sublime ; there is depicted that moral sufferance 
 which is more acute than the physical. 
 
 The gigantic shadows of the two steeples 
 darken this sad elegy. Round the bas-relief the 
 sculptor has engraved the following expressive 
 words : 
 
 " O vos omnesqui transitis per viam, attendite et 
 videte si est dolor similis sicut dolor metis. 1538." 
 
 There is another handsome church at Ander- 
 nach, of Gothic structure, which is now trans- 
 formed into an immense stable for Prussian 
 cavalry. By the half-open door we perceive a 
 long row of horses, which are lost in the shadows 
 of the chapel. Above the door are the words, 
 " Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis ;" which is not 
 exactly an apropos inscription for the abode of 
 horses. 
 
124 The Rhine. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE RHINE. 
 
 The Rhine at Evening. Contrast of the Rhine with other 
 Rivers. The First People who took Possession of the 
 Banks of the Rhine. Titus and the Twenty-second Legion. 
 Mysterious Populations of the Rhine. Civilization. 
 Pepin-le-Bref, Charlemagne, and Napoleon. 
 
 I LOVE rivers; they do more than bear 
 merchandise ideas float along their surface. 
 Rivers, like clarions, sing to the ocean of the 
 beauty of the earth, the fertility of plans, and 
 the splendor of cities. 
 
 Of all rivers, I prefer the Rhine. It is now a 
 year, when passing the bridge of boats at Kehl, 
 since I first saw it. I remember that I felt a 
 certain respect, a sort of adoration, for this old, 
 this classic stream. I never think of rivers 
 those great works of Nature, which are also 
 great in History, without emotion. 
 
 I remember the Rhone at Valserine ; I saw it 
 in 1825, in a pleasant excursion to Switzerland, 
 which is one of the sweet, happy recollections of 
 my early life. I remember with what noise, with 
 what ferocious bellowing, the Rhone precipitated 
 itself into the gulf whilst the frail bridge upon 
 
The Rhine. 125 
 
 which I was standing was shaking beneath my 
 feet. Ah! well! since that time, the Rhone 
 brings to my mind the idea of a tiger, the 
 Rhine, that of a lion. 
 
 The evening on which I saw the Rhine for the 
 first time, I was impressed with the same idea. 
 For several minutes I stood contemplating this 
 proud and noble river violent, but not furious ; 
 wild, but still majestic. It was swollen, and was 
 magnificent in appearance, and was washing with 
 its yellow mane, or, as Boileau says, its " slimy 
 beard," the bridge of boats. Its two banks were 
 lost in the twilight, and though its roaring was 
 loud, still there was tranquillity. 
 
 Yes, the Rhine is a noble river feudal, re- 
 publican, imperial worthy, at the same time, 
 of France and of Germany. The whole history 
 of Europe is combined within its two great as- 
 pects in this flood of the warrior and of the 
 philosopher in this proud stream, which causes 
 France to bound with joy, and by whose pro- 
 found murmurings Germany is bewildered in 
 dreams. 
 
 The Rhine is unique: it combines the qualities 
 of every river. Like the Rhone, it is rapid ; 
 broad, like the Loire ; encased, like the Meuse ; 
 serpentine, like the Seine; limpid and green, like 
 the Somme ; historical, like the Tiber ; royal, 
 like the Danube; mysterious, like the Nile; 
 
126 The Rhine. 
 
 spangled with gold, like an American river ; and 
 like a river of Asia, abounding with phantoms 
 and fables. 
 
 Before the commencement of History, per- 
 haps before the existence of man, where the 
 Rhine now is there was a double chain of vol- 
 canos, which on their extinction left heaps of 
 lava and basalt lying parallel, like two long walls. 
 At the same epoch the gigantic crystallizations 
 formed the primitive mountains; the enormous 
 alluvions of which the secondary mountains con- 
 sist were dried up ; the frightful heap which is 
 now called the Alps grew gradually cold, and 
 snow accumulated on them, from which two 
 great streams issued, the one, flowing towards 
 the north, crossed the plains, encountered the 
 sides of the extinguished volcanos, and emptied 
 itself into the ocean ; the other, taking its course 
 westward, fell from mountain to mountain, 
 flowed along the side of the block of extin- 
 guished volcanos which is now called Ardeche, 
 and was finally lost in the Mediterranean. The 
 first of those inundations is the Rhine, and the 
 second the Rhone. 
 
 From historical records we find that the first 
 people who took possession of the banks of the 
 Rhine were the half-savage Celts, who were 
 afterwards named Gauls by the Romans. When 
 Rome was in its glory, Csesar crossed the Rhine, 
 
The Rhine. \2J 
 
 and shortly afterwards the whole of the river was 
 under the jurisdiction of his empire. When the 
 Twenty-second Legion returned from the siege 
 of Jerusalem, Titus sent it to the banks of the 
 Rhine, where it continued the work of Martius 
 Agrippa. The conquerors required a town to 
 join Melibocus to Taunus ; and Moguntiacum, 
 began by Martius, was founded by the Legion, 
 ' J -J built by Trajan, and embellished by Adrian. 
 Singular coincidence ! and which we must note 
 in passing. This Twenty-second Legion brought 
 with it Crescentius, who was the first that 
 carried the Word of God into the Rhingau, and 
 founded the new religion. God ordained that 
 these ignorant men, who had pulled down the 
 last stone of His temple upon the Jordan, should 
 lay the first of another upon the banks of the 
 Rhine. After Trajan and Adrian came Julian, 
 who erected a fortress upon the confluence of 
 the Rhine and the Moselle ; then Valentinian, 
 who built a number of castles. Thus, in a few 
 centuries, Roman colonies, like an immense 
 chain, linked the whole of the Rhine. 
 
 At length the time arrived when Rome was to 
 assume another aspect. The incursions of the 
 northern hordes were eventually too frequent and 
 too powerful for Rome ; so, about the sixth cen- 
 tury, the banks of the Rhine were strewed with 
 Roman ruins, as at present with feudal ones. 
 
128 The Rhine. 
 
 Charlemagne cleared away the rubbish, built 
 fortresses, and opposed the German hordes ; but, 
 notwithstanding all that he did, notwithstanding 
 his desire to do more, Rome died, and the phys- 
 iognomy of the Rhine was changed. 
 
 Already, as I before mentioned, an unper- 
 ceived germ was sprouting in the Rhingau. Re- 
 ligion, that divine eagle, began to spread its 
 wings, and deposited among the rocks an egg 
 that contained the germ of a world. Saint 
 Apollinaire, following the example of Crescen- 
 tius, who, in the year 70, preached the Word of 
 ^^^ God at Taunus, visited Rigomagum. Saint 
 Martin, Bishop of Tours, catechised Confluentia; 
 Saint Materne, before visiting Tongres, resided 
 at Cologne. At Treves, Christians began to 
 suffer the death of martyrdom, and their ashes 
 were swept away by the wind ; but these were 
 not lost, for they became seeds, which were 
 germinating in the fields during the passage of 
 the barbarians, although nothing at that time 
 was seen of them. 
 
 After an historical period the Rhine became 
 linked with the marvelous. Where the noise 
 of man is hushed, Nature lends a tongue to the 
 nests of birds, causes the caves to whisper, and 
 thousand voices of solitude to murmur: where 
 historical facts cease, imagination gives life to 
 shadows and realities to dreams. Fables took 
 
The Rhine. 
 
 root, grew, and blossomed in the voids of His- 
 tory, like weeds and brambles in the crevices of 
 a ruined palace. 
 
 Civilization, like the sun, has its nights and its 
 days, its plentitudes and its eclipses ; now it dis- 
 appears, but soon returns. 
 
 As soon as civilization again dawned upon 
 Taunus, there were upon the borders of the 
 Rhine a whole host of legends and fabulous 
 stories. Populations of mysterious beings, who 
 inhabited the now dismantled castles, had held 
 communion with the belles filles and beaux 
 chevaliers of the place. Spirits of the rocks ; 
 black hunters, crossing the thickets upon stags 
 with six horns ; the maid of the black fen ; the 
 six maidens of the red marshes ; Wodan, the god 
 with ten hands; the twelve black men; the 
 raven that croaked its song ; the devil who 
 placed his stone at Teufelstein and his ladder at 
 Teufelsleiter, and who had the effrontery to 
 preach publicly at Gernsbach, near the Black 
 Forest, but, happily, the Word of God was heard 
 at the other side of the stream; the demon 
 Urian, who crossed the Rhine at Dusseldorf, 
 having upon his back the banks that he had 
 taken from the sea-shore, with which he intended 
 to destroy Aix-la-Chapelle, but being fatigued 
 with his burden, and deceived by an old woman, 
 
 he stupidly dropped his load at the imperial city, 
 6* 
 
The Rhine. 
 
 where that bank is at present pointed out, and 
 bears the name of Loosberg. At that epoch, 
 which for us was plunged into a penumbra, when 
 magic lights were sparkling here and there, when 
 the rocks, the woods, the valleys, were tenanted 
 by apparitions; mysterious encounters, infernal 
 castles, melodious songs sung by invisible song- 
 stresses ; and frightful bursts of laughter emanat- 
 ing from mysterious beings, these, with a host 
 of other adventures, shrouded in impossibility, 
 and holding on by the heel of reality, are de- 
 tailed in the legends. 
 
 At last these phantoms disappeared as dawn 
 burst in upon them. Civilization again resumed 
 its sway, and fiction gave place to fact. The 
 Rhine assumed another aspect : abbeys and con- 
 vents increased ; churches were built along the 
 banks of the river. The ecclesiastic princes mul- 
 tiplied the edifices in the Rhingau, as the pre- 
 fects of Rome had done before them. 
 
 The sixteenth century approached : in the 
 fourteenth the Rhine witnessed the invention of 
 artillery; and on its bank, at Strasbourg, a print- 
 ing-office was first established. In 1400 the fa- 
 mous cannon, fourteen feet in length, was cast at 
 Cologne ; and in 1472 Vindelin de Spire printed 
 his Bible. A new world was making its appear- 
 ance ; and, strange to say, it was upon the banks 
 of the Rhine that those two mysterious tools 
 
The Rhine. 131 
 
 with which God unceasingly works out the civil- 
 ization of man, the catapult and the book 
 war and thought, took a new form. 
 
 The Rhine, in the destinies of Europe, has a 
 sort of providential signification. It is the great 
 moat which divides the north from the south. 
 The Rhine for thirty ages, has seen the forms 
 and reflected the shadows of almost all the 
 warriors who tilled the old continent with that 
 share which they call sword. Caesar crossed the 
 Rhine in going to the south ; Attila crossed it 
 when descending to the north. It was here that 
 Clovis gained the battle of Tolbiac ; and that 
 Charlemagne and Napoleon figured. Frederick 
 Barberousse, Rodolph de Hapsbourg, and Fred- 
 erick the First, were great, victorious, and 
 formidable when here. For the thinker, who is 
 conversant with History, two great eagles are 
 perpetually hovering over the Rhine that of 
 the Roman legions, and the eagle of the French 
 regiments. 
 
 The Rhine that noble flood, which the 
 Romans named Rhenus superbus, bore at one 
 time upon its surface bridges of boats, over 
 which the armies of Italy, Spain, and France 
 poured into Germany, and which, at a later date, 
 were made use of by the hordes of barbarians 
 when rushing into the ancient Roman world : 
 at another, oh its surface it floated peaceably the 
 
132 The Rhine. 
 
 fir-trees of Murg and of Saint Gall, the prophyry 
 and the marble of Bale, the salt of Karlshall, the 
 leather of Stromberg, the quicksilver of Lans- 
 berg, the wine of Johannisberg, the slates of 
 Coab, the cloth and earthenware of Wallendar, 
 the silks and linens of Cologne. It majestically 
 performs its double function of flood of war and 
 flood of peace, having, without interruption, 
 upon the ranges of hills which embank the most 
 notable portion of its course, oak-trees on one 
 side and vine-trees on the other signifying 
 strength and joy. 
 
 For Homer the Rhine existed not ; for Virgil 
 it was only a frozen stream Frigora Rheni ; for 
 Shakspeare it was the "beautiful Rhine;" for 
 us it is, and will be to the day when it shall be- 
 come the grand question of Europe, a pictur- 
 esque river, the resort of the unemployed of 
 Ems, of Baden, and of Spa. 
 
 Petrarch visited Aix-la-Chapelle, but I do not 
 think he has spoken of the Rhine. 
 
 The left bank belongs naturally to France : 
 Providence, at three different periods, gave it its 
 two banks under Pepin-le-Bref, Charlemagne, 
 and Napoleon. The empire of Pepin-le-Bref com- 
 prised, properly speaking, France, with the ex- 
 ception of Aquitaine and Gascony, and Germany 
 as far as Bavaria. The empire of Charlemagne 
 was twice as large as that of Napoleon. 
 
The Rhine. 133 
 
 It is true that Napoleon had three empires, or, 
 more plainly speaking, was emperor in three 
 ways, immediately and directly of France, and, 
 by his brothers, of Italy, Westphalia, and Hol- 
 land. Taken in this sense, the empire of Na- 
 poleon was at least equal to that of Charle- 
 magne. 
 
 These emperors were Titans; they held for a 
 moment the universe in their hands, but Death 
 ultimately caused them to relax their hold. 
 
 The Rhine has had four distinct phases first, 
 the antedeluvian epoch, volcanos ; second, the 
 ancient historical epoch, in which Caesar shone ; 
 third, the marvelous epoch, in which Charle- 
 magne triumphed ; fourth, the modern historical 
 epoch, when Germany wrestled with France 
 when Napoleon for a time held his sway. 
 
 The Rhine providential flood seems to be a 
 symbolical stream. In its windings, in its course, 
 in the midst of all that it traverses, it is, so 
 speaking, the image of civilization to which it 
 has been so useful, and which it will still serve. 
 It flows from Constance to Rotterdam ; from the 
 country of eagles to the village of herrings; from 
 the city of popes, of councils, and of emperors, 
 to the counter of the merchant and of the 
 citizen ; from the great Alps themselves to that 
 immense body of water which we term octan* 
 
134 The Rhine. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE MOUSE. 
 
 .Velmich. Legend of the Priest and the Silver Bell. Giant's 
 Tomb. Explanation of the Mouse. The Solitary in- 
 habitants of the Ruin. 
 
 ON my leaving Cologne it rained the whole 
 of the morning. I had taken my passage to 
 Andernach by the Stadt Manheim ; but had not 
 proceeded far up the Rhine, when suddenly I 
 do not know by what caprice, for ordinarily upon 
 the lake of Constance the south-west winds, the 
 Favonius of Virgil and of Horace, bring storms 
 the immense opaque cloud which pended over 
 our heads, burst, and began to disperse itself in 
 all directions. Shortly after, a blue vault ap- 
 peared ; and bright warm rays caused the travel- 
 ers to leave the cabin and hurry to the deck. 
 
 At that moment we passed with vines on the 
 one side, and oaks on the other an old and 
 picturesque village on the right bank of the 
 river. It was that of Velmich, above which rose, 
 almost vertically, one of those enormous banks 
 of lava that resemble the cupola in its immeasur- 
 able proportions. Upon this volcanic mound 
 stands the ruin of a superb feudal fortress. On 
 
The Mouse. 
 
 the borders of the river a group of young women, 
 busily chatting, were bleaching their linen in the 
 rays of the sun. 
 
 This sight was too tempting. I could not 
 pass without paying the ruin a visit ; for I knew 
 that it was that of Velmich the least esteemed 
 and least frequented upon the Rhine. 
 
 For the traveler, it is difficult to approach, 
 and, some say, dangerous ; for the peasant, it 
 abounds with spectres, and is the subject of 
 frightful tales. It is infested with living flames, 
 which hide themselves by day in subterraneous 
 vaults, and at night become visible on the sum- 
 mit of the round tower. This enormous turret 
 is an immense pit, which descends far beneath 
 the level of the Rhine. A Seigneur of Velmich, 
 called Falkenstein, a name fatal in the legends, 
 threw into this aperture, unshriven, whomsoever 
 he pleased : it is the troubled souls of those that 
 were thus murdered who inhabit the castle. 
 There were at that epoch, in the steeple of 
 Velmich, a silver bell which was given by Wini- 
 fred, Bishop of Mayenne, the year 740, memor- 
 able time, when Constantine the Sixth was em- 
 peror of Rome. This bell was once rung for the 
 prayers of forty hours, when a lord of Velmich 
 was seriously ill. Falkenstein, who did not be- 
 lieved in God, and who even doubted the exist- 
 ence of the devil, being in want of money, cast 
 
136 The Rhine. 
 
 an envious look upon the handsome bell. He 
 caused it to be taken from the church and 
 brought to him. The prior of Velmich was much 
 affected at the sacrilege, and went, in sacerdotal 
 habiliments, preceded by two children of the 
 choir bearing the cross, to demand the bell. 
 Falkenstein burst into a fit of laughter, cry- 
 ing 
 
 "Ah, ah ! you wish to have your bell, do you? 
 Well, you shall have it; and I warrant it never 
 will leave you more ! " 
 
 Thereupon, the bell was tied round the priest's 
 neck, and both were thrown into the pit of the 
 tower. Then, upon the order of Falkenstein, 
 large stones were thrown into the pit, filling up 
 about six feet. A few days afterwards, Falk- 
 enstein fell ill ; and when night came, the doctor 
 and the astrologer, who were watching, heard 
 with terror the knell of the silver bell coming 
 from the depths of the earth. Next morning 
 Falkenstein died. Since that time, as regularly 
 as the years roll over, the silver bell is heard 
 ringing under the mountains, reminding the in- 
 habitants of the anniversary of the death of 
 Falkenstein. So runs the legend. 
 
 On the neighboring mountain that on the 
 other side of the torrent of Velmich is the 
 tomb of an ancient giant ; for the imagination 
 of man he who has seen volcanoes, the great 
 
The Mouse. 137 
 
 forges of nature has put Cyclops wherever the 
 mountains smoked, giving to every ALtna. its 
 Polyphemus. 
 
 I began to ascend the ruins between the 
 souvenir of Falkenstein and that of the giant. 
 I must tell you that the best way was pointed 
 out to me by the children of the village, for 
 which service I allowed them to take some of 
 the silver and copper coins of those people from 
 my purse ; things the most fantastic, yet still the 
 most intelligible in the world. 
 
 The road is steep, but not at all dangerous, 
 except to people subject to giddiness ; or, per- 
 haps, after excessive rains, when the ground and 
 rocks are slippery. One thing sure is, that this 
 ruin has one advantage over others upon the 
 Rhine that of being less frequented. 
 
 No officious person follows you in your ascent; 
 no exhibitor of spectres asks you to " remember 
 him;" no rusty door stops you on your way: 
 you climb, stride over the old ladder, hold on by 
 tufts of grass ; no one helps, nor no one annoys 
 you. At the expiration of twenty minutes I 
 reached the summit of the hill, and stopped at 
 the threshold of the ruin. Behind me was a 
 steep ladder formed of green turf; before me, a 
 lovely landscape ; at my feet, the village ; be- 
 yong the village, the Rhine, crowned by sombre 
 
138 The Rhine. 
 
 mountains and old castles ; and round and above 
 the mountains, a bright blue sky. 
 
 Having taken breath, I began to ascend the 
 steep staircase. At that instant the dismantled 
 fortress appeared to me with such a tattered as- 
 pect an aspect so wild and formidable that I 
 should not have been the least surprised to have 
 seen some supernatural form carrying flowers ; 
 for instance, Gela, the betrothed of Barberousse ; 
 or Hildegarde, the wife of Charlemagne, that 
 amiable empress, who was well acquainted with 
 the occult virtues of herbs and minerals, and 
 whose foot often trod the mountains when she 
 was in search of medicinal plants. I looked for 
 a moment towards the north wall, with a sort of 
 vague desire to see start from the stones a host 
 of hobgoblins, which are "all over the north," 
 as the gnome said to the Canon of Sayn, or the 
 three little old women, singing the legendary 
 song, 
 
 " Sur la tombe du g6ant 
 J'ai cueilli trois bris d'orties : 
 En fil les ai converties ; 
 Prenez, ma sceur, ce present." 
 
 But I was forced to content myself without 
 seeing or even hearing anything except the notes 
 of a blackbird, perched upon some adjoining 
 rock. 
 
 I entered the ruins. The round tower, al- 
 though the summit is partly dismantled, is of a 
 
The Mouse. 139 
 
 prodigious elevation. On all sides are immense 
 walls with shattered windows, rooms without 
 doors or roofs, floors without stairs, and stairs 
 without chambers. I have often admired the 
 carefulness with which Solitude keeps, incloses, 
 and defends that which man has once aban- 
 doned. She barricades and thicksets the thresh- 
 old with the strongest briers, the most stinging 
 plants, nettles, brambles, thorns showing more 
 nails and talons than are in a menagerie of 
 tigers. 
 
 But Nature is beautiful even in her strangest 
 freaks ; and the wild flowers some in bud, 
 others in blossom, and some garbed in au- 
 tumnal foliage present an entanglement at once 
 startling and beautiful. On this side are blue- 
 bells and scarlet berries ; on that are the haw- 
 thorn, gentian, strawberry, thyme, and sloe-tree. 
 To my right is a subterraneous passage, the roof 
 falling in ; and to my left is a tower without any 
 visible aperture. Secluded as this spot may 
 seem, the cheerful voices of washerwomen on the 
 Rhine are distinctly heard. I clambered from 
 bush to bush, explored each aperture, and tried 
 to penetrate each vault. 
 
 I forgot to tell you that this huge ruin is 
 called the Mouse. I will inform you how it re- 
 ceived that appellation : 
 
 In the twelfth century there was nothing here 
 
140 The Rhine. 
 
 but a small borough, which was watched, and 
 often molested, by a strong castle called the Cat. 
 Kuno de Falkenstein, who inherited this paltry 
 borough, razed it to the ground, and built a 
 castle much larger than the neighboring one ; 
 declaring that, " henceforth, it should be the 
 Mouse that would devour the Cat.'* 
 
 He was right. The Mouse, in fact, although 
 now in ruins, is a redoubtable godmother, with 
 its haunches of lava and basalt, and entrails 
 of extinguished volcano, which, with seeming 
 haughtiness, support it. I do not think that 
 any person has had occasion to laugh at that 
 mountain which brought forth the Mouse. 
 
 I wandered about the ruins ; first in one 
 room, then in another ; admiring at one time 
 a beautiful turret ; now descending into a 
 cave, groping my way through some subter- 
 raneous passage ; then finding myself looking 
 through an aperture that commanded a view 
 of the Rhine. 
 
 The sun at last began to disappear, which 
 is the time for spectres and phantoms. I was 
 still in the ruins. Indeed, it seemed to me as 
 if I had become a wild schoolboy. I wandered 
 everywhere ; I climbed up every acclivity ; I 
 turned over the large stones ; I ate wild mul- 
 berries ; I tried by my noise to bring the su- 
 pernatural inhabitants from their hiding-places; 
 
The Mouse. 141 
 
 and, as I trod among the thick grass and herbs, 
 I inhaled that acerb odor of the plants of old 
 ruins which I so much loved in my boyhood. 
 
 As the sun descended behind the mountains, 
 I thought of leaving, when I was startled by 
 something strange moving by my side. I 
 leaned forward. It was a lizard of an extra- 
 ordinary size about nine inches long, with 
 an immense belly, a short tail, a head like 
 that of a viper, and black as jet which was 
 gliding slowly towards an opening in an old 
 wall. That was the mysterious and solitary 
 inhabitant of the ruin an animal at the same 
 time real and fabulous a salamander, which 
 looked at me with mildness as it entered its 
 hole. 
 
142 The Rhine. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE MOUSE. 
 
 Colossal Profile. The Duchy of M. de Nassau. Country Sports : 
 Their Punishment. A Mountebank. 
 
 I COULD not leave this ruin ; several times 
 I began to descend, then reascended. Na- 
 ture, like a smiling mother, indulges us in our 
 dreams and in our caprices. 
 
 At length, when leaving the Mouse, the idea 
 struck me to apply my ear to the basement 
 of the large tower. I did so, trusting to hear 
 some noise, yet scarcely flattering myself that 
 Winifred's bell would deign to awake itself for 
 me. At that moment, O wonder of wonders! 
 I heard yes, heard with mine own ears a 
 vague, metallic sound, an indistinct humming 
 of a bell, gliding through the crepuscule. and, 
 seemingly, coming from beneath the tower. I 
 confess that this strange noise brought vividly 
 to my memory the speech of Hamlet to Ho- 
 ratio ; but suddenly I was recalled from the 
 world of chimeras to that of reality. I soon 
 discovered that it was the Ave Maria of some 
 village floating with the evening breeze. It 
 mattered not. All that I had to do was to 
 
The Mouse. 143 
 
 believe and say that I heard the mysterious 
 bell of Velmich tinkling under the mountain. 
 
 As I left the north moat, which is now a 
 thorny ravine, the Giant's Tomb suddenly pre- 
 sented itself. From the point where I stood, 
 the rock figures, at the base of the mountain, 
 close to the Rhine, the colossal profile of a 
 head, hanging backwards, with open mouth. 
 One is ready to believe that the giant, who, 
 according to the legend, lies there, crushed un- 
 der the weight of the mountain, was about to 
 raise the enormous mass, and that, on his head 
 appearing between the rocks, an Apollo, or a 
 St. Michael, put his foot upon the mountain, 
 and crushed the monster, who expired in that 
 posture, uttering a fearful shriek, which is lost 
 in the darkness of forty ages ; but the mouth 
 still remains open. 
 
 I must declare, that neither the giant, the 
 silver bell, nor the spectre of Falkenstein, pre- 
 vents the vine and weeds mounting from ter- 
 race to terrace near the Mouse. So much the 
 worse for the phantoms of this country of the 
 grape ; for the people do not hesitate to take 
 the vine that clusters round their dismantled 
 dwelling to procure themselves the wherewithal 
 to make wine. 
 
 But the stranger, even the most thirsty, must 
 be cautious how he plucks the fruit, to him for- 
 
144 The Rhine. 
 
 bidden. At Velmich we are in the duchy of 
 M. de Nassau, and the laws of Nassau are rigor- 
 ous respecting such country sports. The delin- 
 quent, if caught, is forced to pay a sum equiva- 
 lent to the depredations or " delights " of all 
 those who are lucky enough to escape. A short 
 time ago an English tourist plucked and ate a 
 plum, for which he had to pay fifty florins. 
 
 Wishing to proceed to Saint Goar, which is 
 upon the left bank, I inquired my way of the 
 village mountebank, who gave me directions in 
 a gibberish which, of course, I did not under- 
 stand; for, instead of going by the road that 
 runs by the river, I took that which leads to the 
 mountain. After walking for a considerable 
 time, I at length came in view of the Rhine ; 
 when, through the fog, I saw a group of houses, 
 with faint lights glimmering in the windows. It 
 was St. Goar. 
 
Saint Goar. 145 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SAINT GOAR. 
 
 The Cat. Its Interior. Fabulous Rock of Lurley. The Swiss 
 Valley. The Fruit Girl. The Reichenberg. The Barbers' 
 Village. vLegend. The Rheinfels. Oberwesel. French 
 Hussar. A German Supper. 
 
 A WEEK might be very agreeably spent at 
 St. Goar, which is a neat little town lying 
 between the Cat and the Mouse. To the left is 
 the Mouse, half enveloped in the fog of the 
 Rhine; and to the right is the Cat, a huge 
 dungeon, with the picturesque village of Saint 
 Goarshausen, lying at its base. The two formid- 
 able castles seem to be casting angry looks across 
 the country, their dilapidated windows present- 
 ing a most hideous aspect. In front, upon the 
 right bank of the river, and apparently ready to 
 incite the two adversaries, is the old colossal 
 spectre palace of the Landgraves of Hesse. 
 
 The Rhine at St. Goar, with its sombre em- 
 bankments, its shadows, its rippling waters, re- 
 sembles a lake of Jura more than it does a 
 river. 
 
 If we remain in the house, we have all day be- 
 fore us a view of the Rhine, with rafts floating 
 7 
 
146 TJte RJiine. 
 
 on its surface. Here sailing-vessels, there steam- 
 boats, which, when passing, make a noise re- 
 sembling that of a huge dog when swimming. 
 In the distance on the opposite bank, under the 
 shade of some beautiful walnut-trees, we see the 
 soldiers of M. de Nassau, dressed in red coats 
 and white trousers, performing their exercise, 
 while the rolling of the drum of a petty duke 
 strikes out ear. Under our windows, the women 
 of St. Goar, with their sky-blue bonnets, pass to 
 and fro ; and we hear the prattling and laughing 
 of children, who are diverting themselves on the 
 river's brink. 
 
 If we go out we can get across the Rhine for 
 six sous, the price of a Parisian omnibus; then 
 amusing ourselves by paying a visit to the Cat, 
 which is an interesting ruin. The interior is 
 completely dismantled. The lower room of the 
 tower is at present used as a storehouse. Several 
 vine-trees twine themselves round it, and even 
 grow upon the floor of the portait-gallery. In a 
 small room, the only one that has a window and 
 door, a picture representing Bohdan Chmielnicki 
 is nailed to the wall, with two or three portraits 
 of reigning princes hung round about it. 
 
 From the height of the Cat the eye encounters 
 the famed gulf of the Rhine, called the Bank. 
 Between the Bank and the square tower of Saint 
 Goarshausen there is only a narrow passage, the 
 
Or Jade of Lurley. 147 
 
 gulf being on one side, and the rock on the other. 
 A little beyond the Bank, in a wild and savage 
 turning, the fabulous rock of Lurley, with its 
 thousand granite seats, which give it the appear- 
 ance of a falling ladder, descends into the Rhine. 
 There is a celebrated echo here, that responds 
 seven times to all that is said and all that is 
 sung. If it were not to appear that I wished to 
 detract from the celebrity of the echo, I would 
 say that to me the repetition was never above 
 five times. It is probable that the Oreade of 
 Lurley, formerly courted by so many princes and 
 mythological counts, begins to get hoarse and 
 fatigued. The poor nymph has at present no 
 more than one admirer who has made himself, 
 on the opposite side of the Rhine, two chambers 
 in the rocks, where he passes his days in playing 
 the horn and in discharging his gun. The man 
 who gives the echo so much employment, is an 
 old brave French hussar. 
 
 The effect of the echo of Lurley is truly ex- 
 traordinary : a small boat, crossing the Rhine at 
 this place, makes a tremendous noise; and, 
 should we shut our eyes, we might believe that 
 it was a galley from Malta, with its fifty large 
 oars, each moved by four galley-slaves. 
 
 Before leaving Saint Goarshausen, we must go 
 and see, in an old street which runs parallel with 
 the Rhine, a charming little house of the Ger- 
 
148 The Rhine. 
 
 man Renaissance. Afterwards we turn to the 
 right, cross a bridge, and enter, amidst the noise 
 of a water-mill, the Swiss Valley, a superb ra- 
 vine, almost Alpine, formed by the high hill of 
 Petersberg, and by the brow of the Lurley. 
 
 The Swiss Valley is certainly a delightful 
 promenade. We ascend acclivities ; descend : 
 we meet high villages; plunge into dark and nar- 
 row passages, in one of which I saw the ground 
 that had lately been torn up by the tusks of a wild 
 boar ; or we proceed along the bottom of the ra- 
 vine, with rocks resembling the walls of Cyclops 
 on each side. Then, if we draw towards the 
 other road, which abounds with farms and mills, 
 all that meet the eye seem arranged and grouped 
 for Poussin to insert into a corner of his land- 
 scape : a shepherd, half naked, in a field with 
 his flock, contentedly whistling some air; a cart 
 drawn by oxen ; and pretty girls with bare feet. 
 I saw one who was indeed charming ; she was 
 seated near a fire, drying her fruit : she lifted up 
 her large blue eyes towards heaven eyes like 
 diamonds, and countenance darkened by the 
 heat of the sun. Her neck, which was partly 
 covered by a collar, was marked with small-pox, 
 and under her chin was a swelling. With that 
 detraction, joined to such beauty, one might 
 have taken her for an Indian idol, squatted near 
 its altar. 
 
The Reichenberg. 149 
 
 We cross a meadow ; the hares of the ravine 
 run here and there, and we suddenly behold, at 
 the top of a hill, an admirable ruin. It is the 
 Reiclienberg, in which, during the wars of "man- 
 ual rights," in the middle age, one of the most 
 redoubtable of those gentlemen bandits, who 
 bore the epithet of "the scourge of the coun- 
 try," lived. The neighboring village had cause 
 for lamentation, the emperor had reason for sum- 
 moning the brigand to his presence; but the man 
 of iron, secure in his granite house, heeded him 
 not, but continued his depredatious, his orgies of 
 rapine and plunder, and lived excommunicated 
 by the church, condemned by the Deity, tracked 
 by the emperor, until his white beard descended 
 to his stomach. I entered the Reichenberg. 
 There is nothing in that cave of Homeric thieves 
 but wild herbs: the windows are all dismantled, 
 and cows are seen grazing round the ruins. 
 
 Behind the hill of the Reichenberg are the 
 ruins of a town, which has all but disappeared, 
 and which bore the name of the "BARBERS' VIL- 
 LAGE." The following is the account given of 
 it : 
 
 The Devil, wishing to avenge himself on Fred- 
 erick Barberousse for his numerous crusades, 
 took it into his head to have the beard of the 
 crusader shaved. He made arrangements that 
 the emperor Barberousse, when passing through 
 
150 The Rhine. 
 
 Bacharach, should fall asleep, and, when in that 
 state, be shaved by one of the numerous barbers 
 of the village. A tricky fairy, as small as a grass- 
 hopper, went to a giant, and prayed him to lend 
 her a sack. The giant consented, and even gra- 
 ciously offered to accompany her, at which she 
 expressed her extreme delight. The fairy, after 
 walking by the side of such a huge creature, had, 
 no doubt, swelled herself into a tolerable bulk, 
 for, on arriving at Bacharach, she took the sleep- 
 ing barbers, one by one, and placed them in the 
 sack ; after which, she told the giant to put it 
 upon his back, and to take it away that it did 
 not matter where it was placed. It being night, 
 the giant did not perceive what the old woman 
 had done; he obeyed her, and strode off with his 
 accustomed strides. The barbers of Bacharach, 
 heaped one over another, awoke, and began to 
 move in the sack. The giant, through fright, in- 
 creased his pace. As he traversed the Reichen- 
 berg, one of the barbers, who had his razor in 
 his pocket, drew it out, and made so large a hole 
 in the sack that all the barbers fell out, scream- 
 ing frightfully. The giant, thunderstruck, im- 
 agining that he had a nest of devils on his back, 
 saved himself by means of his enormous legs. 
 When the emperor arrived at Bacharach there 
 was not a barber in the place; and, on Beelze- 
 bub coming to see the deed performed, a raven, 
 
The Rheinfels. 151 
 
 perched upon the gate of the town, said to his 
 grace the Devil 
 
 " My friend, in the middle of your face you 
 have something so large that you could not see it 
 even in a looking-glass that is, un pied de nez" 
 
 Since that time there has been no barber at 
 Bacharach ; and even to this day, it is impossible 
 to find a shop belonging to one of the fraternity. 
 As for those stolen by the fairies, they estab- 
 lished themselves where they fell, and built a 
 town upon the spot, which they called the " Bar- 
 bers' Village." Thus it is that the Emperor 
 Frederick the First preserved his beard and his 
 surname. 
 
 Besides the Mouse, the Cat, the Lurley, the 
 Swiss Valley, and the Reichenberg, there Is also 
 near St. Goar the once formidable castle that 
 shook before Louis the Fourteenth, and crum- 
 bled under Napoleon, the Rheinfels. 
 
 About a mile from St. Goar we perceive, at 
 the side of two mountains, a handsome feudal 
 town, with ancient streets, fourteen embattled 
 towers, and two large churches of Gothic struc- 
 ture. It is Oberwesel, a town of the Rhine, 
 which was often the seat of war. Its old walls 
 exhibit innumerable holes, the effects of the 
 cannon-ball. At present, Oberwesel, like an old 
 soldier, has become a vine-dresser. The red 
 wine here is excellent. 
 
152 The Rhine. 
 
 Like all other towns upon the Rhine, Ober- 
 wesel has near it a castle in ruins Schoenberg ; 
 where, in the tenth century, the seven laughing 
 and cruel girls lived, who were turned, in the 
 middle of the river, into seven rocks. 
 
 The road from St. Goar to Oberwesel is full of 
 attractions. It runs along the Rhine, which is at 
 times hidden from our view by hawthorn-trees 
 and willows. All here is still, all is tranquil, 
 save at intervals, when the pervading silence is 
 broken by a silvery salmon leaping to catch its 
 prey. 
 
 In the evening, after we have taken one of 
 those delightful walks which tend to open the 
 deep caverns of the stomach, we return to St. 
 Goar, and find, at the top of a long table, sur- 
 rounded by smokers, an excellent German sup- 
 per, with partridges larger than chickens. We 
 recruit our strength marvelously ; above all, if 
 our appetite be so good as to permit us to over- 
 look a few of the strange rencontres which often 
 take place on the same plate for instance, a 
 roast duck with an apple pie, or the head of a 
 wild boar with preserves. Just before the supper 
 draws to a close, a flourish of a trumpet, ming- 
 ling with the report of a gun, is suddenly heard. 
 We hurry to the window. It is the French 
 hussar, who is rousing from dormancy the echo 
 of St. Goar, which is not less marvelous than 
 
Echo of St. Goar. 1 5.3 
 
 that of Lurley. Each gunshot is equal to the 
 report of a cannon ; each blast of a trumpet 
 is echoed with singular distinctness in the pro- 
 found darkness of the valley. It is an exquisite 
 symphony, which seems to be mocking while it 
 pleases us. As it is impossible to believe that 
 this huge mountain can produce such an effect, 
 at the expiration of a few minutes we become 
 dupes of illusion, and the most grave thinker 
 is ready to swear that in those shades, under 
 some fantastic thicket, dwells a solitary a 
 supernatural being a sort of fairy a Titania, 
 who amuses herself by delicately parodying the 
 music of mortals, and throwing down the half 
 of a mountain every time she hears the report 
 of a gun. The effect would be still greater if we 
 could, for a short time, forget that we are at the 
 \vindow of an inn, and that that extraordinary 
 sensation has served as an extra plate to dessert. 
 But all passes away very naturally ; the per- 
 formance over, a waiter belonging to the auberge 
 enters, with a tin plate in his hand, which he pre- 
 sents to the inmates. Then all is finished ; and 
 each retires after having paid for his echo. 
 7* 
 
154 The Rhine. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 BACHARACH. 
 
 >nnech, and Heimberg. Europe. A Happy 
 Little World. The Cemetery. 
 
 THIS is one of the oldest, the prettiest, and 
 the most unknown towns in the world. At 
 my window are cages full of birds ; from the roof 
 of my room hangs an old-fashioned lantern ; and 
 in the corner is a ray of the sun, imperceptibly 
 but gradually advancing towards an old oak 
 table. 
 
 I remained three days at Bacharach, which is, 
 without exception, the most antique group of 
 human habitations that I have ever seen. One 
 might imagine that some giant, a vender of bric- 
 &-bac, purposing to open a shop upon the Rhine, 
 had taken a mountain for his counter, and 
 placed, from the bottom to the top, with a giant 
 taste, heaps of enormous curiosities. 
 
 This old, fairy town, in which romance and 
 legend abound, is peopled by inhabitants who 
 old and young, from the urchin to the grand- 
 father, from the young girl to the old dame 
 have, in their cast of features and in their 
 walk, something of the thirteenth century. 
 
155 
 
 From the summit of the Schloss we have an 
 immense view, and discover, in the embrasures' 
 of the mountain, five other castles in ruins; 
 upon the left bank of the river, Furstemberg, 
 Sonnech, and Heimberg; to the west, on the 
 other side of the Rhine, Goutenfels, full of re- 
 collections of Gustave Adolphe ; and, towards 
 the east, above the fabulous valley of Wisper- 
 thall, the manor, where the inhospitable Sibo 
 de Lorch refused to open the door to the 
 Gnomes on stormy nights. 
 
 At Bacharach a stranger is looked upon as a ! 
 phenomenon. The traveler is followed with eyes 
 expressive of bewilderment. In fact, no one, ex- 
 cept it be a poor painter, plodding his way on 
 foot, with a wallet upon his back, ever visits 
 this antique capital this town of melancholy. 
 
 I must not, however, forget to mention that in 
 the room adjoining mine hangs a picture pur- 
 porting to represent Europe. Two lovely girls, 
 their shoulders bare, and a handsome young 
 fellow, are singing. The following stanza is un- 
 derneath : 
 
 *' Enchanting Europe I where all-smiling France 
 Gives laws to fashion, graces to the dance; 
 Pleasure, fine arts, each sweet and lovely face, 
 Form the chief worship of thy happy race." 
 
 Under my window was an entire little world, 
 happy and charming a kind of court, adjoining 
 
156 The Rhine. 
 
 a Roman church, which we could approach by a 
 dilapidated stair. Three little boys and two 
 little girls were playing among the grass, which 
 reached their chins ; the girls every now and 
 then fighting voluntarily with the boys. The 
 ages of all five could not amount to more than 
 fifty years. Beyond the long grass were trees 
 loaded with fruit. In the midst of the leaves 
 were two scare-crows, dressed like Lubins of the 
 Comic Opera; and although, perhaps, they had 
 the effect of frightening the birds, they failed to 
 do that to the bergeronettes. In all corners of 
 the garden were flowers glittering in the rays of 
 the sun, and round these flowers were swarms of 
 bees and butterflies. The bees hummed, the 
 children chattered, the birds sang, and at a little 
 distance were two doves billing. 
 
 After having admired till night-fall this charm- 
 ing little garden, I took a fancy to visit the ruin 
 of the old church, which is dedicated to St. 
 Werner, who suffered martyrdom at Oberwesel. 
 I reached the first flight of steps, which were 
 covered with grass, looked round, admired the 
 heavens, from which sufficient light came to en- 
 able me to see the old palatine castle in ruins; 
 then my eyes fell upon my charming garden of 
 children, birds, doves, bees, butterflies, and music 
 my garden of life, of love, and of joy, and I 
 discovered that it was a cemetery. 
 
Lorch. 157 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " FIRE ! FIRE ! " 
 
 Lorch. An Incident. Combat of the Hydra and Dragon. 
 The Hotel P at Lorch. 
 
 WHEN twelve strikes at Bacharach we go 
 to bed we shut our eyes we try to 
 dispel the thoughts of day we come to that 
 state when we have, at the same time, some- 
 thing awake, and something asleep when the 
 fatigued body reposes, and when the wayward 
 mind is still at labor. When thus, between 
 the mind and body we are neither asleep nor 
 awake, a noise suddenly disturbs the shades of 
 night an inexpressible, a singular noise, a kind 
 of faint murmuring at once menacing and 
 plaintive, which mingles with the night wind, 
 and seems to come from the high cemetery 
 situated above the village. You awake, jump 
 up, and listen. What is that? It is the watch- 
 man blowing his trumpet to assure the in- 
 habitants that all is well, and that they may 
 sleep without fear. Be it so ; still, I think it im- 
 possible to adopt a more frightful method. 
 
 At Lorch a person might be awoke out of his 
 
The Rhine. 
 
 sleep in a manner still more dramatical ; but, my 
 friend, let me first tell you what sort of a place 
 Lorch is. 
 
 Lorch, a large borough, containing about 
 eighteen hundred inhabitants, is situated upon 
 the right bank of the Rhine, and extends as far 
 as the mouth of the Wisper. It is the valley of 
 legends, it is the country of fairies. Lorch 
 is situated at the foot of the Devil's Ladder, a 
 high rock, almost perpendicular, which the val- 
 iant Gilgen clambered when in search of his be- 
 trothed, who was hidden by the gnomes on the 
 summit of a mountain. It was at Lorch that the 
 fairy Ave invented so say the legends the art 
 of weaving, in order to clothe her lover Heppius. 
 The first red wine of the Rhine was made here. 
 Lorch existed before Charlemagne, and it has 
 left a date in its charter as far back as 732. 
 Henry the Third, Archbishop of Mayence, re- 
 sided here in 1348. At present there are neither 
 Roman cavaliers, nor fairies, nor archbishops ; 
 yet the little town is happy, the scenery is de- 
 lightful, and the inhabitants are hospitable. The 
 lovely house of the Renaissance, on the border of 
 the Rhine, has a facade as original and as rich in 
 its kind as that of the French manor of Meillan. 
 The fortress, teeming with legends of old Sibo, 
 protects, as it were, the borough from the his- 
 torical castle of Furstemburg, which menaces it 
 
Lorch. 159 
 
 with its huge tower. There is nothing more 
 charming than to see this smiling little colony of 
 peasants prospering beneath those two frightful 
 skeletons, which were once citadels. 
 
 A week ago, perhaps it was about one in the 
 morning, I was writing in my room, when sud- 
 denly I perceived the paper under my pen 
 become red, and, on lifting my eyes, I dis- 
 covered that the light did not proceed from my 
 lamp, but from my window, while a strange 
 humming noise rose around me. I hastened to 
 ascertain the cause. An immense volume of 
 flame and smoke was issuing from the roof above 
 my head, making a frightful noise. It was the 
 
 hotel P , the house adjoining mine, which 
 
 had taken fire. 
 
 In an instant the inmates of the auberge were 
 awake, all the village was astir, and the cry of 
 "Fire! fire!" was heard in every street. I shut 
 my window, and opened the door. The large 
 wooden staircase of my hotel, which had two 
 windows, almost touched the burning house, and 
 seemed also to be in flames. From the top to 
 the bottom of the stairs, a crowd of shadows, 
 loaded with divers things, was seen pressing, 
 jostling, and making way, with all possible speed, 
 either to the top or to the bottom. It was the 
 inmates of the auberge removing their effects, 
 one nearly naked, this one in drawers, that one 
 
160 The Rhine. 
 
 in his shirt ; they seemed scarcely awake. No 
 one cried out no one spoke. It was like the 
 humming of an ant-hillock. 
 
 As for me, for each thinks of himself at such 
 a time, I had little luggage. I lodged on the 
 first floor, therefore ran no other risk than that 
 of being forced to make my escape by the 
 window. 
 
 In the meanwhile, a storm arose, and the rain 
 came down in torrents. As it always happens, 
 the more haste the less speed. A moment of 
 frightful confusion ensued ; some wished to 
 enter, others to go out : drawers and tables, 
 attached to ropes, were lowered from the win- 
 dows ; and mattrasses, nightcaps, and bundles 
 of linen, were thrown from the top of the house 
 on to the pavement. Women were wringing 
 their hands in despair, and children crying. 
 Just as the fire gained the granary, the fire- 
 engines arrived. It is almost impossible to give 
 an idea of the rage with which the water at- 
 tacked its enemy. No sooner had the pipes 
 passed over the wall than a hissing sound was 
 heard ; and the flames, on which a stream of 
 molten steel seemed pouring, roared, became 
 erect, leaped frightfully, opened horrible mouths, 
 and with its innumerable tongues, licked at once 
 all the doors and windows of the burning edifice. 
 The vapor mingled with the smoke, volumes of 
 
Lorch. 161 
 
 which were dispersed with every breath of wind, 
 and lost themselves, twisting and wreathing, in 
 the darkness of the night, whilst the hissing of 
 the water responded to the roaring of the fire. 
 There is nothing more terrible and more grand 
 than the awful combat of the hydre and dragon. 
 
 The strength of the water forced up in col- 
 umns by the engines was extraordinary; the 
 slates and bricks on which it alighted, broke and 
 were scattered by its force. When the timber- 
 works gave way the sight was grand. Amidst 
 noise and smoke, myriads of sparks issued from 
 the flames. For a few minutes a chimney-stack 
 stood alone upon the house, like a kind of stone 
 tower; but no sooner was the pipe pointed to- 
 wards it than it fell heavily into the gulf. The 
 Rhine, the villages, the mountains, the ruins all 
 the spectres of the country were observable 
 amidst the smoke, and flames, and storm. It 
 was truly a frightful sight, yet it had something 
 of sublimity in it. 
 
 If looked at in detail, nothing more singular 
 than to see, at intervals, amongst smoke and 
 flame, heads of men appearing everywhere. 
 These men were directing the water-pipes on 
 the flames, which jumped, advanced, and re- 
 ceded. Large blocks of wood-work were de- 
 tached from the roof, and hung dangling by a 
 nail, while others fell amidst noise and sparks. 
 
1 62 The Rhine. 
 
 In the interior of the apartments the decorated 
 paper of the walls appeared and disappeared 
 with every blast of the wind. There was upon 
 the wall of the third floor a picture of Louis XV., 
 surrounded with shepherds and shepherdesses. 
 I watched this landscape with particular interest. 
 For some time it withstood the fire ; but at last 
 one body of flame entered the room, stretched 
 forth one of its tongues, and seized the land- 
 scape ; the females embraced the males; Tircis 
 cajoled Glycere ; then all disappeared in smoke. 
 
 A short distance from the auberge was a group 
 of half-naked English with pale countenances, 
 and looks expressive of bewilderment. They 
 were standing by the goods which had been 
 providentially saved. On their left was an as- 
 semblage of all the children of the place, who 
 laughed on seeing a block of wood precipitated 
 into the burning element, and clapped their 
 hands every time the water-works happened to 
 play amongst them. Such was the fire of the 
 hotel P , at Lorch. 
 
 A house on fire is at best a house burning; 
 but, what is still more melancholy, a man lost 
 his life at it, while in the act of doing good to 
 others. 
 
 About four o'clock in the morning the people 
 became what is generally termed masters of the 
 fire, and succeeded in confining the flames to the 
 
Lorch. 163 
 
 Hotel P , thus saving ours. A host of ser- 
 vants, brushing, scraping, rubbing, and sponging, 
 attacked the rooms, and in less than an hour our 
 inn was washed from top to bottom. One thing 
 is remarkable nothing was stolen ! All the 
 goods, removed in haste amidst the rain, in the 
 dead of the night, were scrupulously carried 
 back by the poor peasants of Lorch. 
 
 Next morning I was surprised to see, on the 
 ground-floor of the inn that was burnt, two or 
 three rooms perfectly entire, which did not seem 
 to be the least disordered by the fire that had 
 raged above them. Apropos of this fact, the fol- 
 lowing story passes current in this country. 
 
 A few years ago an Englishman arrived some- 
 what late at an inn at Braubach, supped, and 
 went to bed. In the middle of the night the 
 auberge took fire. The servants entered the 
 apartment of the Englishman, and finding him 
 asleep, awoke him, told him what happened, and 
 that he must make all speed out of the house. 
 
 "To the d 1 with you! " said the Englishman, 
 not at all pleased with his nocturnal visitants. 
 '*- You awake me for that ! Leave me alone ; I 
 am fatigued, and will not get up ! you seem to 
 be a parcel of fools, to imagine that I am going 
 to run through the fields in my shirt at such an 
 hour as this ! Nine hours is the amount of time 
 that I allow for rest. Put out the fire the best 
 
164 The Rhine. 
 
 way you can ! As for me, I am very well in bed, 
 where I intend to remain. Good night ! I will 
 see you to-morrow.'* 
 
 No sooner had he said so than he turned his 
 back upon the servants, and fell fast asleep. 
 What was to be done ? The fire gained ground ; 
 and the inmates, to save themselves, fled, after 
 shutting the door upon the Englishman, who 
 was soundly sleeping, and snoring tremendously. 
 The fire was terrible, but at last was, with great 
 difficulty, extinguished. Next morning, the men 
 who were clearing the rubbish came to the cham- 
 ber of the Englishman, opened the door, and 
 found him in bed. On perceiving them he said, 
 yawning 
 
 "Can you tell me if there is such a thing as a 
 boot-hook in this house?" 
 
 He rose, breakfasted heartily, and appeared 
 quite refreshed a circumstance greatly to the dis-' 
 pleasure of the lads of the place, who had made 
 up their minds to make what is called in the 
 valley of the Rhine a bourgmestre sec with the 
 Englishman that is a smoked corpse ; which 
 they show to strangers for a few liards. 
 
Tr creeling en Foot. 165 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 FROM L O R C II TO B I N G E N . 
 
 Traveling on Foot ; its Advantages aad Pleasures. The 
 Strange Reficontre. A Dangerous Spectator. The Expli- 
 cation. Actors on a Holiday. Marvelous Fact.-;, and their 
 Connection \vith the " Holiday of a Managerie." Furstcm- 
 burg Castle. The Three Brothers, Cadenet, Luynes, and 
 Bradnes. The Three Students. Sublimity of Nature. 
 Ruin. The Enigma. Falkenbnrg Castle. The Blooming 
 Group. Stella. Gantrum and Liba. Pvlausethurm. liatto 
 and the Legend of the Rats. 
 
 LORCH is about four French leagues from 
 Bingen. You are well aware of my taste. 
 Whenever an opportunity is offered, I never 
 neglect converting my excursion into a prom- 
 enade. 
 
 Nothing to me is more pleasing than traveling 
 on foot. We are free and joyous. No break- 
 ing down of wheels, no contingencies attendant 
 on carriages. We set out ; stop when it suits us; 
 breakfast at a farm or under a tree ; walk on, 
 and dream while walking for traveling cradles 
 reverie, reverie veils fatigue, and the beauty of 
 the country hides the length of the road. We 
 are not traveling we wander. Then we stop 
 under the shade of a tree, by the side of a little 
 
1 66 The Rhine. 
 
 rivulet, whose rippling waters harmonize with the 
 songs of the birds that load the branches over 
 our heads. I saw with compassion a diligence 
 pass before me, enveloped in dust, and contain- 
 ing tired, screwed-up and fatigued passengers. 
 Strange that those poor creatures, who are often 
 persons of mind, should willingly consent to be 
 shut up in a place where the harmony of the 
 country sounds only in noise, the sun appears to 
 them in clouds, and the roads in whirlwinds of 
 dust. They are not aware of the flowers that 
 are found in thickets, of the pearls that are 
 picked up amongst pebbles, of the Houris that 
 the fertile imagination discovers in landscapes ! 
 musa pedestris. Everything comes to the foot- 
 passenger. Adventures are ever passing before 
 his eyes. 
 
 I remember being, some seven or eight years 
 ago, at Claye, which is a few leagues from Paris. 
 I will transcribe the lines which I found in my 
 note-book, for they are connected with the story 
 that I am going to relate. 
 
 " A canal for a ground-floor, a cemetery for a 
 first, and a few houses for a second such is 
 Claye. The cemetery forms a terrace over the 
 canal ; thus affording the manes of the peasants 
 of Claye a probable chance of being serenaded 
 by the mail-packet which runs from Paris to 
 Meaux." 
 
A Dangerous Spectator. 167 
 
 I was returning to Paris on foot, and had set 
 out early: the trees of the forest of Bondy 
 tempted me to go by a road which had a sharp 
 turning, where I seated myself my back against 
 an oak, my feet hanging over a ditch and began 
 to write in my green-book the note which you 
 have just read. As I was finishing the fourth line 
 I lifted my eyes, and perceived, not many yards 
 from where I was, a bear, with its eye fixed upon 
 me. In broad daylight we have no nightmares, 
 nor can we be dupes enough to take the stump 
 of a tree for something supernatural. At night, 
 things may change in appearance ; but at noon, 
 with a May sun over our heads, we have no such 
 hallucinations. It was actually a bear a liv- 
 ing bear a hideous looking animal, which was 
 seated on its hind legs, with its fore paws crossed 
 over its belly. One of its ears was torn, as also 
 was its under-lip : it had only one eye, with 
 which it looked at me attentively. There was 
 no woodman at hand all around me was silent 
 and deserted. I must say that I felt a strange 
 sensation. Sometimes, when chance brings us 
 into contact with a strange dog, we manage to 
 get over the difficulty by shouting out " Fox," 
 "Solomon," or " Asor;" but what could we say 
 to a bear? Where did it come from ? Why such 
 a creature in the forest of Bondy, upon the high- 
 way from Paris to Claye? It was strange, un- 
 
1 68 The Rhine. 
 
 reasonable, and anything but pleasing. I moved 
 not; I must also say that the bear did not move, 
 a circumstance which appeared to me somewhat 
 lucky. It looked at me as tenderly as a bear 
 could well do with one eye ; it opened its mouth, 
 not in ferocity, but yawningly. This bear had 
 something of peace, of resignation, and of drow- 
 siness ; and I found a likeness in its physiog- 
 nomy to those old stagers that listen to trage- 
 dies. In fact, its countenance pleased me so 
 much that I resolved to put as good a face upon 
 the matter as I could. I therefore accepted it 
 for a spectator, and continued what I had begun. 
 I then wrote the fifth line in my book ; which 
 line is at a considerable distance from the fourth, 
 for, on beginning it, I had my eyes fixed upon 
 the eye of the bear. 
 
 Whilst I was writing a large fly lighted on the 
 bleeding ear of my spectator. It slowly lifted its 
 right paw, and passed it leisurely over its ear, as 
 a cat might do. The fly took to its wings ; the 
 bear looked after it: then he seized his hind legs 
 with his fore paws, and, as if satisfied with that 
 classic attitude, began again to watch me. I 
 admit that I observed his movements with no 
 slight degree of interest. 
 
 Just as I was about to begin the sixth line, I 
 heard a sound of feet on the high road, and sud- 
 denly I perceived another bear, a huge, black 
 
An Adventure. 169 
 
 animal, which had no sooner fixed its eyes upon 
 the former than it ran up to it and rolled gra- 
 ciously at its feet. The first was a she-bear, and 
 did not deign to look upon the black one ; and 
 fortunately the latter paid no attention to me. 
 
 I confess that at this new apparition, which 
 was somewhat perplexing, my hand trembled. I 
 was then writing, " Claye, a probable chance of 
 being serenaded" In my manuscript I see there 
 is a great space between the words "probable 
 chance" and " of being serenaded" That space 
 signifies " a second bear ! " 
 
 Two bears! What did all this mean? Judg- 
 ing from the direction the black one came, it was 
 natural to imagine that it was from Paris ; a city 
 little abounding with betes, at least of such sav- 
 age natures. 
 
 I remained petrified bewildered with my 
 eyes fixed upon the hideous animals, which be- 
 gan to roll lovingly in the dust. I rose, and was 
 making up my mind whether I should pick up 
 my cane, which had fallen into the ditch, when 
 another appeared, less in size, more deformed, 
 and bleeding like the first ; then came a fourth, a 
 fifth, and a sixth. The last four walked along 
 the road like soldiers on the march. This was 
 truly inexplicable. A moment afterwards I heard 
 the shouting of men, mingling with the barking 
 of dogs ; then I beheld ten or twelve bull-dogs, 
 
170 The Rhine. 
 
 and seven or eight men : the latter armed with 
 large sticks, tipped with iron, and carrying muz- 
 zles in their hands. One of them stopped, and, 
 whilst the others collected and muzzled the ani- 
 mals, he explained to me this strange enigma. 
 The master of the Circus of the Barriere du 
 Combat, profiting by the Easter devotions, was 
 sending his bears and dogs to Meaux, where he 
 intended giving a few exhibitions. All these an- 
 imals traveled on foot, and had been unmuzzled 
 at the last stage, to afford them an opportunity 
 of eating by the roadside. Whilst the keepers 
 were comfortably seated in a neighboring cabaret, 
 the bears, finding themselves alone, joyous of 
 liberty, stole a march upon their masters. 
 
 Such was one of the adventures of my pe- 
 destrian excursions the rencontre of " actors " 
 on a half-holiday. 
 
 Dante, in the commencement of his poem, 
 states that he met one day a panther in a wood ; 
 after which, a lion ; then a bear. If we give 
 credit to tradition, the Seven Wise Men of 
 Greece had similar adventures. Thales, of Milet, 
 was, for a long time, followed by a griffon ; Bias 
 de Priene walked side by side with a lynx; 
 Solon, of Athens, bravely confronted a mad bull; 
 Cleobulus, of Rhodes, met a lion ; and Chilo, of 
 Macedonia, a lioness. All these marvelous facts, 
 if properly examined, might be found to have 
 
From Lorch to Bingen. 171 
 
 some connection with the " holiday " of a 
 menagerie. If I had related my story of the 
 bears in a manner more redounding to my valor, 
 perhaps in a few hundred years I should have 
 passed for a second Orpheus. Dictus ob hoc 
 lenire tigres. You perceive, my friend, that poor 
 "acting" bears give rise to many prodigies. 
 Without offense to the ancient poets or Greek 
 philosophers, I must confess that, to me, a 
 strophe would be but a feeble weapon against a 
 leopard, or the power of a syllogism against a 
 hyena. Man has found the secret of degrading 
 the lion and the tiger of adding stupidity to 
 ferocity. Perhaps it is well : for, had it not 
 been so, I should have been devoured ; and the 
 Seven Wise Men of Greece would have shared 
 the same fate. 
 
 Since my boyhood I have always derived ex- 
 treme delight from traveling on foot, for in many 
 of my pedestrian trips I have met with adven- 
 tures which have left a pleasing impression be- 
 hind. 
 
 The other day, about half-past five in the 
 morning, after having given orders for my lug- 
 gage to be transported to Bingen, I left Lorch, 
 and took a boat to convey me to the other side 
 of the river. If you should ever be here, do the 
 same. The Roman and Gothic ruins of the 
 right bank are much more interesting to the 
 
1/2 The Rhine. 
 
 traveler than the slate-roofed houses of the left. 
 At six I was seated, after a somewhat difficult 
 ascent, upon the summit of a heap of extin- 
 guished lava, which overlooks Furstemburg 
 Castle and the valley of Diebach. After view- 
 ing the old castle, which in 1321, 1632, and 1689, 
 was the seat of European struggles, I de- 
 scended. I left the village, and was walking 
 joyously along, when I met three painters, with 
 whom I exchanged a friendly " good day." 
 Every time that I see three young men traveling 
 on foot, whose shining eye-balls reflect the fairy- 
 land of the future, I cannot prevent myself from 
 wishing that their chimeras may be realized, 
 and from thinking of the three brothers, Cade- 
 net, Luynes, and Brandes, who, two hundred 
 years ago, set out one beautiful morning for the 
 court of Henry IV., having amongst them only 
 one mantle, which each wore in turn. Fifteen 
 years afterwards, under Louis XIII., one of 
 them became Duke of Chaulnes ; the second, 
 Constable of France; and the third, Duke of 
 Luxembourg! Dream on, then, young men 
 persevere ! 
 
 Traveling by threes seems to be the fashkm 
 upon the borders of the Rhine, for I had scarcely 
 reached Neiderheimbach when I met three more 
 walking together. 
 
 They were evidently students of some of those 
 
Neiderheimbach. 1 73 
 
 noble universities which tend so much to civilize 
 Germany. They wore classic caps, had long 
 hair, tight frock-coats, sticks in their hands, 
 pipes in their mouths, and, like painters, wallets 
 on their backs. They appeared to be conversing 
 with warmth, and were apparently going to 
 Bacharach. In passing, one of them cried out, 
 on saluting me 
 
 "Die nobis domine, in qua par te cor ports animam 
 veteres locant philosophi? " 
 
 I returned the salutation, and replied,"/?/ corde 
 Plato, in sanquine Empedocles, inter duo supercilia 
 Lucretius." 
 
 The three young men smiled, and the eldest 
 shouted "Vivat Gallia regina!" I replied, 
 4< Vivat Germania mater!" We then saluted 
 each other, and passed on. 
 
 Above Neiderheimbach is the sombre forest 
 of Sann, where, hid among trees, are two 
 fortresses in ruins ; the one, that of Heimburg, 
 a Roman castle ; the other, Sonneck, once the 
 abode of brigands. The Emperor demolished 
 Sonneck in 1212; time has since crumbled Heim- 
 burg. A ruin still more awe-striking is hid 
 among the mountains it is called Falkenburg. 
 
 I had, as I have already stated, left the village 
 behind me. An ardent sun was above, but the 
 fresh bree/.e from the river cooled the air around. 
 To my right, between two rocks, was the narrow 
 
1/4 The Rhine. 
 
 entry of a charming ravine, abounding with 
 shadows. Swarms of little birds were chirping 
 joyously, and in love chasing each other amongst 
 the leaves ; a streamlet, swollen by the rains, 
 dashed, torrent-like, over the herbage, frightened 
 the insects, and, when falling from stone to stone, 
 formed little cascades among the pebbles. I dis- 
 covered along this stream, in the darkness which 
 the trees shed around, a road, that a thousand 
 wild flowers the water-lily, the amaranth, the 
 everlasting, the iris hide from the profane and 
 deck for the poet. There are moments when I 
 almost believe in the intelligence of inanimate 
 things : it appeared to me as if I heard a thou- 
 sand voices exclaim 
 
 " Where goest thou ? Seekest thou places 
 untrod by human foot, but where Divinity has 
 left its trace? Thou wishest thy soul to com- 
 mune with solitude ; thou wishest light and 
 shadow, murmurings and peace, changes and 
 serenity; thou wishest the place where the Word 
 is heard in silence, where thou seest life on the 
 surface and eternity at the bottom ; thou lovest 
 the desert ; thou hatest not man ; thou seekest 
 the greensward, the moss, the humid leaves, tall 
 branches, birds which warble, running waters, 
 perfume mingling with the air. Well, enter: 
 this is thy way." It required no considera- 
 tion. I entered the ravine. 
 
Sublimity of Nature. 175 
 
 To tell you all that I did there, or, rather, 
 what solitude did for me how the wasps buzzed 
 round the violets, how the wings of birds rustled 
 among the leaves that which startled in the 
 moss, that which chirped in the nest, the soft and 
 indistinct sound of vegetation, the beauty of the 
 bull-fly, the activity of the bee, the patience of 
 the spider, the opening of flowers, the lamenta- 
 tions, the distant cries, the struggling of insect 
 with insect, the exhalations of the rocks, which, 
 sighingly, reached the ear the rays of Heaven, 
 which pierced through the trees, the drops of 
 water that fell, like tears, from flowers the half 
 revelations which came from the calm, harmo- 
 nious, slow, and continued labor of all those 
 creatures and of all those things which are more 
 in connection with God than with man ; to tell 
 you all that, my friend, would be to express the 
 ineffable, to show the invisible, to paint infinity! 
 What did I do there ? I no longer know. As in 
 the ravine of Saint Goarshausen, I wandered, ru- 
 minated : and, in adoring, prayed ! What was I 
 thinking of? Do not ask me. There are mo- 
 ments when our thoughts float as drowned in a 
 thousand confused ideas. 
 
 I at last reached I do not know how the 
 summit of a very high hill, covered with short 
 broom. In all my excursions upon the banks of 
 the Rhine, I saw nothing so beautiful. As far as 
 
176 The Rhine. 
 
 the eye could reach were prairies, waters, and 
 magic forests resembling bunches of green feath- 
 ers. It was one of those places where we im- 
 agine we see the tail of that magnificent peacock 
 which we call Nature. 
 
 Behind the hill on which I was seated, on the 
 summit of a mount covered with fir and chestnut 
 trees, I perceived a sombre ruin, a colossal heap 
 of brown basalt, in the form of a citadel. What 
 castle was it? I could not tell, for I did not 
 know where I was. To examine a ruin at hand 
 is my manie ; therefore, at the expiration of a 
 quarter of an hour, I was wandering through it, 
 searching, foraging, and turning over huge stones, 
 with the hope of finding an inscription which 
 would throw some light upon this venerable 
 ruin. 
 
 On leaving the lower chamber, the corner of a 
 stone, one end buried in the rubbish, struck my 
 view. I immediately stooped, and with my hands 
 and feet cleared everything away, under the im- 
 pression of finding upon it the name of this mys- 
 terious ruin. On this large block of stone, the 
 figure of a man, clothed in armor, but without a 
 head, was sculptured, and under his feet were the 
 following lines: 
 "Vox TACVIT PERIIT LUX. Nox RVIT ET RVIT VMBRA VIR 
 
 CARET IN TVMBA QVO CARET EFFIGIES." 
 
 I was still in ignorance. This castle was an 
 
The Statue. 
 
 enigma. I had sought for words. I had found 
 them : that is, an inscription without a date an 
 epitaph without a name a statue without a 
 head. While buried in reflection, a distinct 
 sound of voices reached me. I listened. It was 
 a quick dialogue, a few words only of which I 
 could distinguish amid the shouts of laughter 
 and of joy. These were " Fall of the mountain 
 Subterranean passage Very bad footpath." On 
 rising from the tombstone, I beheld three young 
 girls, clothed in white, with fair faces, smiling 
 cheeks, and bright blue eyes. Nothing could be 
 more magical, more charming, for a reveur, so 
 situated, than this apparition. It would have 
 been pardonable for a poet to have taken them 
 for angels, or saints of Heaven ; I must affirm 
 that, to me, they were three English girls. 
 
 It suddenly crossed my mind that by profit- 
 ing by these angels I might find, without further 
 trouble, the name of the castle. They spoke 
 English ; therefore, I concluded that they be- 
 longed to that country. To give me counte- 
 nance, I opened my portfolio, called to my aid 
 the little English of which I was master, then 
 began to look into the ravine, murmuring to my- 
 self" Beautiful view ! Very fine ! Very pretty 
 waterfall!" &c., &c. 
 
 The young girls, surprised at my sudden ap- 
 pearance, began, while stifling their laughs, to 
 8* 
 
178 The Rhine. 
 
 whisper to each other. They looked charming, 
 but were evidently laughing at me. I sum- 
 moned up courage, advanced a few steps towards 
 the blooming group, which remained stationary, 
 and saluting, with my most gracious air, the 
 eldest of the three, uttered 
 
 " What, if you please, is the name of this 
 castle?" 
 
 The sweet girl smiled, looked at her two 
 companions, and, slightly blushing, replied in 
 French 
 
 " I believe, Sir, it is called Falkenburg. At 
 least, a French gentleman, who is now speaking 
 with my father in the Grand Tower, said so. If 
 you will take the trouble to go round that way, 
 Sir, you will meet them." These words, so much 
 to the point, and spoken with a pure French 
 accent, sufficed to convince me of my mistake ; 
 but the charming creature took the trouble of 
 adding 
 
 "We are not English, Sir; we are French; 
 and you are from France ! " 
 
 " How do you know, Miss," I replied, "that I 
 am a Frenchman?" 
 
 " By your English," the youngest replied. 
 
 The eldest sister looked at her with an air of 
 severity that is, if beauty, grace, youth, inno- 
 cence, and joy, can have a severe air. For my 
 part, I burst into a fit of laughter. 
 
The Stat^le. 179 
 
 "But, young ladies," I said, " you, yourselves, 
 were speaking English a few minutes ago." 
 
 " It was only for amusement," the younger 
 replied. 
 
 " For exercise," said the other chidingly. 
 
 This flat and motherly rectification was lost 
 upon the young girl, who ran gayly to the tomb- 
 stone, raising slightly her gown, on account of 
 the stones, and displaying the prettiest foot 
 imaginable. " Oh ! " she cried, " come and see 
 this. It is a statue it has no head it is a 
 man ! " 
 
 The other two joined their sister ; and a 
 minute afterwards all three were upon the tomb, 
 the sun reflecting their handsome profiles upon 
 the granite spectre. A few minutes ago, I was 
 asking myself the names of these young girls ; 
 and I cannot tell you what I felt when seeing, 
 thus together, these two mysteries, the one full 
 of horror, the other full of charms. 
 
 By listening to their soft whisperings, I dis- 
 covered the name of the second. She was the 
 prettiest a true princess for fairy tales. Her 
 long eyelashes half hid the bright apple of her 
 eye, that the pure light penetrated. She was 
 between her younger and her elder sister, as 
 pudeur between naivet6 and grace, bearing a 
 faint resemblance to both. She looked at me 
 twice, but spoke not; she was the only one of 
 
i8o The Rhine. 
 
 the three whose voice I had not heard, and the 
 only one whose name I knew. At one time her 
 younger sister said to her " Look, Stella!" I 
 at no former period so well understood all that 
 is limpid, luminous, and charming in that 
 name. 
 
 The youngest made these reflections in an 
 audible voice : " Poor man ! they have cut his 
 head off. It was then the time when they took 
 off the heads of men!" Then she exclaimed 
 "O! here's the epitaph. It is Latin: 'Vox 
 TACUIT PERIIT LUX.' It is difficult to read. I 
 should like to know what it says." 
 
 " Let us go for father," said the eldest ; " he 
 will explain it to us." Thereupon all three 
 bounded away like fawns. They did not even 
 deign to ask me ; and I was somewhat humbled 
 on thinking that my English had given them a 
 bad opinion of my Latin. I took a pencil, and 
 wrote beneath the inscription the following 
 translation of the distich : 
 
 Dans la nuit la voix se tue, 
 L'ombre eteignit le flambleau. 
 Ce qui manque & la statue 
 Manque & I'homme en son tombeau. 
 
 Just as I was finishing the last line I heard the 
 young girls shouting " This way, father this 
 way ! " I made my escape, however, before they 
 appeared. Did they see the explanation that I 
 
Falkenburg. 181 
 
 had left them? I do not know. I hastened to 
 a different part of the ruin, and saw them no 
 more. Neither did I hear anything further of 
 the mysterious decapitated chevalier. Sad des- 
 tiny! What crimes had that miserable man com- 
 mitted? Man had bereft him of life ; Providence 
 had added to that forgetfulness. His statue was 
 deprived of a head, his name is lost to legends, 
 and his history is no longer in the memory of 
 man ! His tombstone, also, will soon disappear. 
 Some vine-dressers of Sonneck, or of Rupperts- 
 berg, will take it, and trample upon the muti- 
 lated skeleton that it perhaps still covers, break 
 the stone in two, and make a seat of it, on which 
 peasants will sit, old women knit, and children 
 play. In our days, both in Germany and France, 
 ruins are of utility; with old palaces new huts 
 are constructed. 
 
 But, my friend, allow me to return to Falken- 
 burg. It is enough for me, in this nest of le- 
 gends, to speak of this old tower, still erect and 
 proud, though its interior be dilapidated. If you 
 do not know the adventures that transpired here 
 the legends that abound respecting this place 
 a recital of a few of them may amuse you. 
 One in particular, that of Gantram and Liba, 
 starts fresh in my memory. It was upon this 
 bridge that Gantram and Liba met two men car- 
 rying a coffin ; and on this stair that Liba threw 
 
1 82 The Rhine. 
 
 herself into her lover's arms, saying smilingly, 
 "A coffin! No, it is the nuptial bed that you 
 have seen ! " It was in this court, at present 
 filled with hemlock, in flower, that Gantram, 
 when conducting his bride to the altar, saw to 
 him alone visible a man clothed in black, and a 
 woman with a veil over her face, walking before 
 him. It was in this Roman chapel, now crumb- 
 ling, where living lizards now creep upon those 
 that are sculptured, that, when Gantram was put- 
 ting the wedding-ring upon the taper finger of 
 his bride, he suddenly felt the cold grasp of an 
 unknown hand it was that of the maiden of the 
 castle, who, while she combed her hair, had sung, 
 the night long, near an open and empty grave. 
 
 I remained several hours in these ruins a 
 thousand ideas crowded upon me. Spiritus loci / 
 My next chapter may contain them. Hunger also 
 came ; but, thanks to the French deer that a fair 
 voyageuse whom I met spoke to me about, I was 
 enabled to reach a village on the borders of the 
 Rhine, which is, I believe, called Trecktlings- 
 hausen the ancient Trajani Castrum. 
 
 All that is here in the shape of an auberge is a 
 taverne b btire ; and all that I found for dinner 
 was a tough leg of mutton, which a student, who 
 was smoking his pipe at the door, tried to dis- 
 suade me from eating, by saying that a hungry 
 Englishman, who had been an hour before me, 
 
Ma usethurm. \ 8 3 
 
 had tried to masticate it, but had left off in dis- 
 gust. I did not reply haughtily, as Marshal de 
 Crequi did before the fortress of Gayi " What 
 Barberousse cannot take, Barbegrise will take ;" 
 but I ate of the leg of mutton. 
 
 I set out as the sun was declining, and soon 
 left the Gothic chapel of St. Clement behind me. 
 My road lay along the base of several mountains. 
 on the summits of which were situated three cas- 
 tles Reichenstein, Rheinstein (both of which 
 were demolished by Rodolph of Habsburg, and 
 rebuilt by the Count Palatine, and Vaugtsberg, 
 inhabited in 1348 by Kuno of Falkenstein, and 
 repaired by Prince Frederick of Prussia). My 
 thoughts turned upon a ruin that I knew lay be- 
 tween the place where I was and Bingen a 
 strange, unsightly ruin, which, between the con- 
 flux of the Nahue and the Rhine, stands erect in 
 the middle of the river. 
 
 I remember from childhood a picture that 
 some German servant had hung above my bed : 
 it represented an old, isolated, dilapidated tower, 
 surrounded with water ; the heavens above it 
 were dark, and covered with heavy clouds. In 
 the evenings, after having offered up my prayers 
 to God, and before reposing, I looked attentively 
 at the picture. In the dead of the night I saw 
 it in my dreams, and then it was terrible. The 
 tower became enormous, the lightning flashed 
 
1 84 The Rhine. 
 
 from the clouds, the waters roared, the wind 
 whistled among the mountains, and seemed 
 every moment as if to pluck them from their 
 base. One day I asked the servant the name of 
 the tower, and she replied, making the sign of 
 the cross upon her forehead " Mausethurm." 
 Afterwards she told me the following story : 
 
 " At one time there lived at Mayence a cruel 
 archbishop named Hatto a miserly priest who, 
 she said, was " readier to open his hand to bless, 
 than to bestow in charity." That one bad har- 
 vest he purchased all the corn, in order to sell it 
 again at a high price ; money was the sole desire 
 of this wicked priest. That at length famine 
 became so great that the peasants in the villages 
 of the Rhine were dying of hunger that the 
 people assembled in the town of Mayence, weep- 
 ing, and demanding bread and that the arch- 
 bishop refused to give them any. The starving 
 people did not disperse, but surrounded the pal- 
 ace, uttering frightful groans. Hatto, annoyed 
 by the cries of starvation, caused his archers 
 to seize the men and women, old and young, 
 and to shut them up in a granary, to which 
 he set fire. " It was," added the old woman, 
 " a spectacle that might have caused the stones 
 to weep." Hatto did nothing but laugh, and as 
 the wretched sufferers were screaming in agony, 
 and were expiring in the flames, he exclaimed : 
 
Hat to and the Rats. 185 
 
 " Do you hear the squeaking of the rats? " 
 The next day the fatal granary was in ashes, 
 and there were no longer any inhabitants in 
 Mayence. The town seemed dead and deserted ; 
 when suddenly a swarm of rats sprang like the 
 worms in the ulcers of Assuerus from the ashes 
 of the granary, coming from under the ground, 
 appearing in every crevice, swarming the streets, 
 the citadel, the palace, the caves, the chambers, 
 and the alcoves. It was a scourge, an affliction, 
 a hideous fourmillement. Hatto, in despair, 
 quitted Mayence, and fled to the plains, but 
 the rats followed him ; he shut himself up in 
 Bingen, which was surrounded by walls, but the 
 rats gained access by creeping under them. 
 Then the despairing bishop caused a tower to 
 be erected in the middle of the Rhine, and took 
 refuge in it ; the rats swam over, climbed up the 
 tower, gnawed the doors and windows, the walls 
 and ceilings, and, at last, reaching the palace, 
 where the miserable archbishop was hid, de- 
 voured him. At present the malediction of 
 Heaven and of man is upon this tower, which 
 is called Mausethurm. It is deserted it is 
 crumbling into ruins in the middle of the 
 stream ; and sometimes at night a strange red 
 vapor is seen issuing from it resembling the 
 smoke of a furnace : it is the soul of Hatto, 
 which hovers round the place. 
 
1 86 The Rhine. 
 
 There is one thing remarkable. History, oc- 
 casionally, is immoral ; but legends are always 
 moral, and tend to virtue. In history the 
 powerful prosper, tyrants reign, the wicked con- 
 duct themselves with propriety, and monsters 
 do well ; a Sylla is transformed into an honor- 
 able man ; a Louis the Eleventh and a Cromwell 
 die in their beds. In tales, Hell is always visible. 
 There is not a fault that has not its punishment 
 not a crime, which leads not to inquietude 
 no wicked men but those who become wretched. 
 Man, who is the inventor of fiction, feels that he 
 has no right to make statements and leave to 
 vague supposition their consequences ; for he is 
 grouping in darkness is sure of nothing ; he re- 
 quires instruction and counsel, and dares not 
 relate events without drawing immediate conclu- 
 sions. God, who is the originator of history, 
 shows what he chooses, and knows the rest. 
 
 Mausethurm is a convenient word, for we may 
 find in it whatever we desire. There are in- 
 dividuals who believe themselves capable of 
 judging of everything, who chase poesy from 
 everything, and who say, as the man did to the 
 nightingale "Stupid beast! won't you cease to 
 make that noise." These people affirm that the 
 word Mausethurm is derived from maus or 
 mauth, which signifies ^custom-house; that in 
 the tenth century, before the bed of the river 
 
1 U^ 
 
 The Rat 7<w%. & A 187 
 
 
 
 was enlarged, the Rhine had only one passage, 
 and that the authorities of Bingen levied, by 
 means of this tower, a duty upon all vessels that 
 passed. For these grave thinkers these wise- 
 acres the cursed tower was a douane, and Hatto 
 was a custom-house officer. 
 
 According to the old women, with whom I 
 freely associated, Mausethurm is derived from 
 mans, or mus, which signifies a rat. The pre- 
 tended custom-house is the Rat Tower, and its 
 toll-keeper a spectre. 
 
 After all, these two opinions may be recon- 
 ciled. It is not altogether improbable, that 
 towards the sixteenth and seventeenth century, 
 after Luther, after Erasmus, several burgomssters 
 of nerve made use of the tower of Hatto for a 
 custom-house. Why not? Rome made a cus- 
 tom-house of the temple of Antonius, the 
 dogana. What Rome did to History, Bingen 
 might well do to Legend. 
 
 In that case Mauth might be right, and Mause 
 not be wrong. 
 
 Let that be as it may, one thing is certain 
 that since the old servant told me the story of 
 Hatto, Mausethurm has always been one of the 
 familiar visions of my mind. You are aware 
 that there are no men without their phantoms, 
 as there are none without their whims. 
 
 Night is the time of dreams ; at one time a 
 
1 88 The Rhine. 
 
 ray of light appears, then a flame of fire ; and, 
 according to the reflection, the same dream may 
 be a celestial glory, or an apparition of hell. 
 
 I must admit that the Rat Tower, in the 
 middle of its agitated waters, never appeared to 
 me but with a horrible aspect. Also shall I 
 avow it ? when chance, by whose fantasy I was 
 led, brought me to the banks of the Rhine, the 
 first thought that struck me was, not that I 
 should see the dome of Mayence, or the Cathe- 
 dral of Cologne, or the Poalz, but that I should 
 see the Rat Tower. 
 
 Judge then of my feelings, poor believing poet 
 and infatuated antiquary that I am ! Twilight 
 slowly succeeded day ; the hills became sombre, 
 the trees dark, and a few stars twinkled in the 
 heavens. I walked on, my eyes fixed on ob- 
 scurity ; I felt that I was approaching Mause- 
 thurm, and that in a few minutes that redoubt- 
 able ruin, which to me had, up to this day, been 
 only a dream, was about to become a reality. 
 
 I came to a turn in the road, and suddenly 
 stopped. At my feet was the Rhine, running 
 rapidly and murmuring among the bushes ; to 
 my right and left, mountains, or rather huge 
 dark heaps, whose summits were lost in a sky 
 in which a star was scarcely to be seen ; at the 
 base, for the horizon, an immense curtain of 
 darkness; in the middle of the flood, in the dis- 
 
Mausethurm. 189 
 
 tance, stood a large black tower, of a strange 
 form, from which a singular red light issued, re- 
 sembling the vapor of a furnace, casting a glare 
 upon the surrounding mountains, showing a 
 mournful-looking ruin on the left bank, and re- 
 flecting itself fantastically on the waters. There 
 was no human voice to be heard ; no, not even 
 the chirping of a bird. All was solitude a fear- 
 ful, and sad silence, troubled only by the monot- 
 onous murmurings of the Rhine. 
 
 My eyes were fixed upon Mausethurm. I 
 could not imagine it more frightful than it ap- 
 peared. All was there night, clouds, moun- 
 tains; the quivering of the reeds; the noise of 
 the flood, full of secret horror, like the roaring of 
 hydras under water ; the sad and faint blasts of 
 wind ; the shadows, abandonment, isolation ; all, 
 even to the vapor of the furnace upon the tower 
 the soul of Hatto ! 
 
 An idea crossed my mind, perhaps the most 
 simple, but which at that moment produced a 
 giddiness in my head. I wished at that hour, 
 without waiting till next day, or till daylight, to 
 go to the ruin. The apparition was before my 
 eyes, the night was dark, the phantom of the 
 archbishop was upon the tower. It was the time 
 to visit Mausethurm. 
 
 But how could I do it ? where could I find a 
 boat in such a place? To swim across the Rhine 
 
190 The Rhine. 
 
 would be to evince too great a taste for spectres. 
 Moreover, had I imagined myself a good 
 swimmer, and been fool enough for such an 
 act, the redoubtable gulf of Bingerloch, which 
 formerly swallowed up boats as sea-dogs swallow 
 herrings, and which is at this identical spot, 
 would have effectually deterred me. I was 
 somewhat embarrassed. 
 
 Continuing my way towards the ruin, I re- 
 member that the tinkling of the silver bell and 
 the spectres of the dungeon of Velmich did not 
 prevent the peasants from propping the vine 
 and exploring the ruins ; I concluded that near 
 a gulf, where fish necessarily abound, I should 
 probably meet with the cabin of some fisherman. 
 When vine-dressers brave Falkenstein and his 
 Mouse, fishermen might well dare Hatto and 
 his Rats. 
 
 I was not deceived. I continued, however, 
 walking for some time before I met anything ; 
 but at length reached a point of the bank where 
 the Nahue joins the Rhine. I began to give 
 up all hopes of meeting a waterman, but on 
 descending towards some osiers, I descried a 
 boat of a strange construction, in which a man, 
 enveloped in a covering, was sleeping. I went 
 into the boat, awoke the man, and pointed to 
 the tower; but he did not understand me. I 
 then showed him one of the large Saxony 
 
Mausethurm. 191 
 
 crowns, which are of the value of six francs 
 each: he understood me immediately; and a 
 few minutes afterwards, without exchanging a 
 word, we, spectre-like, were gliding towards 
 Mausethurm. 
 
 When in the middle of the flood, it seemed to 
 me as if the tower diminished in size, instead of 
 increasing. 
 
 It was the Rhine which made it appear less. 
 As I had taken the boat at a place which was 
 higher up than Mausethurm, we descended the 
 river, advancing rapidly. My eyes were fixed 
 upon the tower, from the summit of which the 
 vague light was still issuing, and which, at each 
 stroke of the oar, I saw distinctly increasing. 
 Suddenly I felt the bark sinking under me, as 
 if we were in a whirlpool, and the jerk caused 
 my stick to roll at my feet. I looked at my 
 companion, who, returning my gaze with a 
 sinister smile, which, seen by the supernatural 
 light of Mausethurm, had something frightful 
 in it, said " Bingerloch." We were upon the 
 gulf. The boat turned. The man rose, seized 
 the anchor with one hand and a cord with the 
 other, plunged the former into the surge, leaped 
 on the gunwale, and began to walk upon it. 
 This manoeuvre was accomplished with admir- 
 able dexterity and marvelous sang-froid. 
 
 We landed. I raised my eyes. A short dis- 
 
192 The Rhine. 
 
 tance from where I stood, on a little island not 
 observable from the land, was Mausethurm, an 
 enormous formidable castle, dilapidated and in 
 fragments, as if gnawed by the frightful rats of 
 the legend. 
 
 The faint light that I observed was a red 
 flame which shed rays along the mountains, 
 giving to every crevice the appearance of the 
 mouth of an enormous lantern. It also seemed 
 to me as if I heard in that fatal edifice, a strange 
 continued noise a sort of gnawing sound. 
 
 I looked at the waterman, told him to wait my 
 return, and walked towards the ruin. 
 
 It was truly the tower of Hatto the place of 
 rats. Mausethurm was before my eyes, and I 
 was about to enter. In directing my steps to- 
 wards a low door in the facade, through which 
 the wind from the river was whistling, I was 
 startled by some black living creature, which ran 
 rapidly by my feet. It appeared to me to be 
 a huge rat running towards the reeds. On 
 reaching the door, I ventured to look into the 
 room, from which the strange gnawing sound 
 and the extraordinary glare of light still came. 
 I will tell you what I saw : 
 
 In an angle opposite the door were two men 
 with their backs turned to me. One was in a 
 stooping posture, and the other seated upon a 
 kind of iron vise, which a person of discernment 
 
Mausethurm. 193 
 
 might have taken for an instrument of torture. 
 Their feet and arms were naked, their clothes 
 tattered, and each wore a leathern apron. One 
 was old his grey hair testified it ; the other was 
 young I saw his fair locks, which, from the re- 
 flection of a large, lighted furnace in the oppo- 
 site angle, appeared red. The old man wore, 
 like the Guelphs, his cowl inclined to the right ; 
 and the young one, like the Gibelins, had his 
 upon the left side. But they were neither Gib- 
 elins nor Guelphs, demons nor spectres. Two 
 blacksmiths were before me. The light the soul 
 of Hatto, changed by Hell into a living flame 
 was the fire and smoke of the chimney! the 
 gnawing sound, the sound of files ! 
 
 The two blacksmiths were worthy individuals. 
 They showed me the ruins ; pointed out the 
 place in which Hatto had taken shelter ; and 
 then lent me a lantern, with which I ranged 
 through the whole of the little island. 
 
 After having examined the ruin, I left Mause- 
 thurm. My waterman was fast asleep, but was 
 no sooner roused than we proceeded forthwith to 
 cross the Rhine, when I again heard the noise of 
 the two blacksmiths. 
 
 Half an hour aftewards I arrived at Bingen ; 
 was very hungry ; supped : after which, although 
 fatigued, although the inhabitants were asleep in 
 their beds, I explored the Klopp, an old castle in 
 
194 The Rhine. 
 
 ruins which overlooks Bingen, where I witnessed 
 a spectacle worthy of closing a day on which I 
 saw so many things, with so many ideas crossing 
 my mind. 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 LEGEND OF THE HANDSOME PECOPIN AND THE 
 BEAUTIFUL BAULDOUR. 
 
 The Planet Venus and the Bird Phoenix. The Difference be- 
 tween the Ear of a Young Man and that of an Old one. 
 The Qualities Essential to Different Embassies. Happy 
 Effect of a Good Thought. The Devil is Wrong in being 
 a Gourmand. Amiable Proposition of an Old Sage. The 
 Wandering Christian. The Danger to which we Expose 
 Ourselves by Getting on a Strange Horse. The Return. 
 Bauldour. 
 
 I PROMISED to relate one of the legends 
 of Falkenburg, perhaps the most interest- 
 ing that of the grave adventure of Guntram 
 and Liba ; but, after reflection, I think it would 
 be useless to do so, as you will find it in almost 
 any collection, written in a spirit far more en- 
 livening than I could tell it. However, I will 
 record one, which will be found nowhere else. 
 You may thank the old French soldier for it. 
 This follower of the republican army believes, at 
 present, in gnomes and fairies, as devotedly as he 
 formerly credited the puissance of the emperor. 
 Solitude has always this effect upon the mind ; it 
 develops the poetry which is inherent in man, 
 
196 The Rhine. 
 
 and makes him a believer in the wonderful and 
 supernatural. 
 
 LEGEND OF THE HANDSOME PECOPIN AND THE 
 BEAUTIFUL BAULDOUR. 
 
 The handsome Pecopin loved the beautiful 
 Bauldour, and the lovely Bauldour was enamored 
 of the gay Pecopin. He possessed all the quali- 
 ties of a lord and of a man ; and she was a queen 
 when at home, a holy virgin at church, a nymph 
 in the woods, and a fairy at work. 
 
 Pecopin was an excellent hunter, and Bauldour 
 was a good spinster. When he was absent, the 
 distaff amused and consoled her; and when the 
 sound of the horn, mingling with the noise of 
 the hounds, would strike her ear, she fancied she 
 could distinguish the words " Think of thy 
 lover." Besides, the wheel, which caused the 
 belle reveuse to stoop, was ever saying in a soft 
 and small voice " Think of him." 
 
 When the husband and lover are united in one 
 person, all goes well. Marry, then, the spinster 
 to the hunter, and fear nothing. 
 
 However, I must say that Pecopin was too 
 fond of hunting. When he was on horseback, 
 the falcon resting on his hand, or when he was 
 following the stag, he forgot everything. Who- 
 ever loves horses and dogs too much, displeases 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 197 
 
 woman ; and he who loves woman too much dis- 
 pleases God. Govern, therefore, your tastes, and 
 bridle your inclinations. 
 
 When Bauldour, that noble and lovely young 
 girl, that star of love, of youth and of beauty, 
 saw Pecopin caressing his dog, a huge animal, 
 with large nostrils, long ears, and a black mouth, 
 she was jealous of it. She entered her room dis- 
 concerted and sad, and there wept. Then she 
 scolded her servants, and after them her dwarf. 
 Woman's anger is like rain in a forest it falls 
 twice. Bis pluit. 
 
 In the evening Pecopin, blackened with pow- 
 der and weary with fatigue, returned to Baul- 
 dour, who pouted and murmured, with a tear in 
 the corner of her large, black eye. Pecopin 
 pressed her little hand, and she ceased murmur- 
 ing ; then he kissed her rosy lips, and she smiled. 
 She never suffered the chevalier to take her by 
 the waist. One evening he slightly pressed her 
 elbow, and her face colored up with blushes and 
 offended pride. She was betrothed and not mar- 
 ried. Modesty in woman is what bravery is in 
 man. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE BIRD PHOENIX AND VENUS. Pecopin 
 had in his hall at Sonneck a large gilt painting, 
 which represented the nine heavens, each with 
 
198 The Rhine. 
 
 its appropriate color and name affixed to it : 
 Saturn, leaden color; Jupiter, clear and brilliant; 
 Venus, the east on fire ; Mercury, sparkling ; the 
 Moon, with its silvery appearance ; the Sun, 
 shining flames. Pecopin erased the word Venus, 
 and substituted Bauldour. 
 
 The fair demoiselle had in her room large 
 tapestries, on which was an immense bird, the 
 size of an eagle, with a golden neck and a blue 
 tail. Above this marvelous animal was written 
 the Greek word " Phcenix." Bauldour effaced it, 
 and substituted " Pecopin." 
 
 The day fixed for the nuptials drew near. 
 Pecopin was full of joy, and Bauldour was 
 happy. 
 
 A week before the appointed day of marriage, 
 Bauldour was busily spinning at her window. 
 Her dwarf came to tell her that Pecopin was 
 coming up stairs, at which intelligence she rose 
 hurriedly to run to her betrothed, but her foot 
 got entangled with the thread, and she fell. Poor 
 Baldour rose ; she was not hurt, but remembering 
 that a similar accident happened at the castle to 
 Liba, she felt sad at heart. Pecopin entered 
 beaming with joy, spoke of their marriage and 
 of their happiness, and the cloud that hovered 
 round her soul vanished. 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 199 
 
 PART III. 
 
 THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE EAR OF A 
 YOUNG MAN AND THAT OF AN OLD ONE. 
 Next day Bauldour was spinning in her chamber, 
 and Pecopin was hunting In the woods. He had 
 no companion but his dog. In following the 
 chase, he came to the forest of Sonn, where 
 there are four large trees, an ash, an elm, a fir, 
 and an oak which are called by the people 
 " The Evangelists" As Pecopin passed under 
 the shade, four birds were perched upon the 
 trees a daw upon the ash, a blackbird upon the 
 elm, a magpie upon the fir, and a crow upon the 
 oak. These feathered creatures made a strange, 
 confused noise, and seemed as if they were 
 interrogating each other. A few steps further 
 on, an old man was seated on the stump of a 
 tree ; and as Pecopin passed he turned round and 
 said : 
 
 " Sir chevalier, do you know what the birds are 
 saying?" 
 
 " My good fellow, Pecopin replied, "what does 
 it matter to me?" 
 
 "Sir," said the peasant, "for the young the 
 blackbird whistles, the magpie chatters, and the 
 raven croaks ; for the old, the birds speak." 
 
 The chevalier burst out into a fit of laughter, 
 saying, " Pardieu ! you're raving." 
 
200 The Rhine. 
 
 "You are wrong, Sir Pecopin," said the old 
 man, gravely. 
 
 " You never saw me before ; how is It that you 
 know my name ? " 
 
 " From the birds," replied the peasant. 
 
 " You are an old fool, my worthy fellow," said 
 Pecopin, continuing his route. 
 
 About an hour afterwards Pecopin heard the 
 sound of a horn, and then perceived the Count 
 Palatine and his suite, who were out on a hunt- 
 ing excursion. 
 
 "Holla!" one of them cried out, on seeing 
 Pecopin, " my brave hunter won't you accom- 
 pany us?" He consented, and conducted him- 
 self so marvelously, by killing the different 
 animals they pursued, that the count gave him 
 a fief of Rhineck, enrolled him amongst his fol- 
 lowers, and prevailed upon him to go to Stah- 
 leck, to take the oath of allegiance. Pecopin 
 sent a message to Bauldour, announcing the in- 
 tention of the pfalzgraf. " Be not uneasy, my 
 beloved," he added ; " I will be with you next 
 month." The messenger set out, and Pecopin 
 retired with the prince and his followers to the 
 castle at Bacharach. 
 
 PART rv. 
 QUALITIES ESSENTIAL TO DIFFERENT EM- 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 26 1 
 
 BASSIES. Pecopin was a nobleman by blood, 
 by nature, and by outward appearance, and 
 pleased the pfalzgraf so much, that this prince 
 one day said to him : " My friend, I have an em- 
 bassy for my cousin of Bourgogne, and your 
 noble appearance and gallant behavior have in- 
 duced me to make you my ambassador." 
 
 Pecopin obeyed the wishes of his prince, and 
 went to Dijon, where the Duke received him 
 kindly; and he was soon after, on account of 
 his rank, sent on an embassy to the King of 
 France. One day the king said : " Pecopin, I 
 require a gentleman to go to Spain on urgent 
 business; but, finding none of my followers ca- 
 pable of undertaking such a task, I have fixed 
 upon you, on account of your mien and mind." 
 Pecopin again set out ; and when the negotiation 
 was terminated he went to the sultan to take his 
 leave. 
 
 " I receive your adieus with pleasure, for you 
 must set out immediately for Bagdad." 
 
 " For Bagdad ! " Pecopin replied, with as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 "Yes, chevalier," replied the Moorish prince, 
 " for I cannot sign the treaty with the King 
 of France without the consent of the Caliph of 
 Bagdad." 
 
 Pecopin went to Bagdad, where a strange ad- 
 venture happened to him. One day, while pass- 
 
202 The Rhine. 
 
 ing the walls of the seraglio, the sultan's favorite 
 perceived him ; and as he was handsome, bold, 
 and of a haughty air, she conceived a passion 
 for him and sent a black slave to speak to 
 him 
 
 " This talisman," she said, " is the gift of a 
 princess who loves you, but who will never see 
 you more. Take care of it, for as long as you 
 wear it you will never be old ; when you are in 
 dangers touch it and you will be saved." 
 Pecopin accepted the talisman, and attached it 
 to his neck-chain. " Now," the slave added, 
 " do not lose it, for whilst you have it in your 
 possession, you will always have the same youth- 
 ful appearance; but when you lose it, the in- 
 firmities of every year which has passed over 
 your head will instantly attack you. Adieu, 
 handsome giaour." Having said this the negress 
 left him. 
 
 The caliph had observed his favorite's slave 
 speaking with Pecopin, and was fired with 
 jealousy. He invited the stranger to a feast, 
 and at night conducted him to the summit of 
 a high tower. Pecopin, without suspicion, ad- 
 vanced near the parapet, which was very low, 
 when the caliph addressed him in these words : 
 
 "Chevalier the Count Palatine sent you to 
 the Duke of Bourgogne on account of your 
 renown; the Duke of Bourgogne sent you to 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 
 
 the King of France because you were of a noble 
 race ; the King of France sent you to the 
 Sovereign of Grenada on account of your wit ; 
 and he sent you to the Caliph of Bagdad because 
 you were dignified in appearance. As for me, on 
 account of thy fame, thy rank, thy wit, and thy 
 fine appearance, I send thee to the Devil," 
 
 On pronouncing the last word, the caliph 
 pushed Pecopin over the parapet. 
 
 PART V. 
 
 GOOD EFFECTS OF A GOOD THOUGHT. 
 When a man falls from a height, terrible ideas 
 flash across his brain life, which he is going to 
 leave ; and the regions of death, which he is 
 about to enter. In that awful moment Pecopin 
 thought of Bauldour put his hand to his heart, 
 and, without knowing, touched the talisman. 
 No sooner had his finger come in contact with 
 the magic stone, than he felt as if he were 
 supported with wings. He no longer fell he 
 flew, and continued to do so all night. Just as 
 day was breaking, the invisible hand that sup- 
 ported him placed him gently upon the sea- 
 shore. 
 
 ART VI. 
 
 THE DEVIL is WRONG IN BEING A GOUR- 
 MAND. At this time a singular and disagreeable 
 
204 The Rhine. 
 
 adventure happened to the Devil. It was cus- 
 tomary for Asmodeus to go about picking up all 
 the souls that belonged to him, putting them 
 into a bag and carrying them away upon his 
 back. One day, being more fortunate than usual, 
 he was filling his sack gayly, when, turning round, 
 he beheld an Angel, who was smiling at him. 
 The Devil shook up the bag, and continued 
 filling for some time. At last he stopped, and 
 seized hold of it to swing over his shoulder; but 
 the souls that he had crammed into it were so 
 numerous, and the iniquities with which they 
 were burdened weighed so heavily, that he could 
 not move it. He took both his hands, and made 
 a second attempt, which proved as futile as the 
 first. "O souls of lead!" the Devil exclaimed, 
 and then he began swearing. Again he looked 
 up, and he saw the Angel laughing at him. 
 
 " What are you doing there ? " cried the 
 Demon. 
 
 " You see well enough ; I was smiling a short 
 time ago; now I am laughing." 
 
 " O, celestial fowl ! huge innocent ! begone ! " 
 Asmodeus cried. 
 
 The Angel looked at him gravely, and said : 
 
 " Hear me, Dragon ; thou wilt not be able to 
 carry away that load of souls till a saint from 
 Paradise or a Christian from Heaven falls upon 
 the earth and helps thee to put it on thy 
 
Legend of Pccopln. 
 
 shoulders." That said, the Angel opened his 
 wings and flew away. 
 
 The Devil was very much disconcerted. 
 " What does that imbecile mean ? " he muttered 
 between his teeth. " A saint from Paradise, or 
 a Christian from Heaven ! I shall be forced to 
 remain a long time if I wait the coming of such 
 assistance. How, in the name of all the saints, 
 did I so cram my sack." 
 
 As the Devil stood by the side of his heavy 
 burden, heaping imprecations upon himself for 
 his own stupidity, he cast his eyes upwards, and 
 perceived a black speck in the heavens, which 
 every moment became larger and larger. The 
 Devil put his hands on his knees to take a better 
 view of it, and discovered that it was a man 
 an armed Christian, bearing a cross upon his 
 breast, falling from the clouds. 
 
 " What is it to me who sends him ? " ex- 
 claimed the Devil, jumping with joy ; " I am 
 saved ! I could not get over four saints a short 
 time ago, who laughed at the pitiful tale that I 
 told them ; but it will be easy for me to manage 
 this fellow." 
 
 Pecopin, on finding himself on terra firma, 
 looked round, and on perceiving the old man, 
 who was like a slave resting by the side of his 
 load, he accosted him thus: "Who are you, 
 friend ? and, pray, where am I ? " 
 
206 The Rhine. 
 
 The Devil whined out piteously 
 
 "You, Sir, are on the borders of the Red Sea, 
 and I am the most wretched of all miserable 
 beings. I have a very cruel master, who has 
 taken it into his head to build a mountain, and 
 he obliges me, an old man, to carry loads of sand 
 from the borders of the sea. I begin at the 
 break of day, and never leave off before sunset. 
 Yesterday I was returning with my sixth load, 
 when fatigue overcame me. I thought I would 
 rest myself, and afterwards found that I had not 
 strength to lift the load on my shoulders, and 
 therefore was obliged to remain here all night, 
 looking at my burden, and cursing my master for 
 his cruelty. My good Sir, for pity's sake help 
 me up with this load, that I may return to my 
 master. I am sure he will kill me." 
 
 Pecopin shook his head, saying, " Good man, 
 your story is an unlikely one." 
 
 " My dear Sir," the Devil replied, " what has 
 happened to you if told, would be as unlikely ; 
 yet it is true. Then," he continued, "what 
 harm would it do to you to help an infirm old 
 man to place his load upon his back? " 
 
 This was a just demand. Pecopin stooped, 
 seized the bag, and was placing it on the back 
 of the old man, who was leaning forward to re- 
 ceive the load. The Devil is vicious it was for 
 vice that he fell ; he was greedy, which passion 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 20? 
 
 often causes the loss of all. The idea struck 
 him of adding the soul of Pecopin to the others ; 
 but first of all he must kill Pecopin. 
 
 The Devil began to speak to some invisible 
 spirit, in a kind of jargon, half Italian, half 
 Spanish, which Pecopin fortunately understood : 
 
 " Bamus, non tier a occki, verbera, frappa, y 
 echa la pie dr a" 
 
 Suspicion flashed like lightning across the 
 the mind of Pecopin ; he raised his eyes, and 
 saw above his head an enormous stone that some 
 invisible hand held suspended in the air. 
 
 He stepped backwards, touched his talisman 
 with his left hand, seized his poniard with his 
 right, and plunged it violently into the bag. 
 The Devil cried hideously, and the souls, profit- 
 ing by the hole which Pecopin had made, flew 
 away, leaving behind them their dark deeds and 
 crimes, which, by their natural attraction to the 
 demon, fixed upon his back ; thus it is that the 
 Devil is always represented with a hump. 
 
 At the moment that Pecopin stepped back- 
 wards, the invisible giant dropped the stone, 
 which fell upon the foot of the Devil, and 
 crushed it; and from that day Asmodeus has 
 always been club-footed. 
 
 The Devil, like Jove, has thunder at his com- 
 mand, but it is of a more frightful nature, com- 
 ing from the earth and uprooting trees. Pecopin 
 
208 The Rhine. 
 
 felt the ground tremble beneath him ; a dense 
 cloud rose around, and a noise met his ear: it 
 appeared to him that he fell, and rolled along 
 the earth like a withered leaf when blown by the 
 wind. He fainted. 
 
 PART VII. 
 
 AMIABLE PROPOSITIONS OF AN OLD SAGE. 
 When Pecopin recovered, he heard a soft voice 
 saying, "Phi sma" which is Arabian, and signi- 
 fies " He is in Heaven." Another person placed 
 his hand upon his chest, and replied, " Lo, lo, 
 machi mouth" which means " No, no, he is not 
 dead." Pecopin opened his eyes, and saw an old 
 man and a young girl kneeling by his side: the 
 countenance of the former was as dark as night ; 
 he had a long, white beard, and was enveloped 
 in a scarf of green silk ; the young girl was of a 
 copper color, had large, hazel eyes, lips of coral, 
 and gold rings hanging from her nose and ears. 
 She was exceedingly handsome. 
 
 Pecopin was no longer by the seaside. The 
 blast of Hell had borne him into a valley filled 
 with rocks and trees of a strange form. He rose. 
 The old man and the handsome female looked at 
 him affectionately. He approached one of the 
 trees ; the leaves contracted, the branches re- 
 ceded, and the flowers, which were pale white, 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 209 
 
 became red. Pecopin recognized the mimosa, or 
 " tree of shame," and concluded that he had left 
 India, and was now in the famed country of 
 Pudiferan. 
 
 The old man beckoned to Pecopin to follow, 
 and in a few minutes all three were seated npon 
 a mat in a cabin built of palm-leaves, the interior 
 of which was filled with precious stones, that 
 shone like a heated furnace. The old man looked 
 at Pecopin, and said in German 
 
 " My son, I am the man who knows every- 
 thing the great Ethiopian lapidary, the taleb of 
 the Arabs. I am the first that ever penetrated 
 this desert ; thou art the second. I have passed 
 my life in gleaning from nature the science of 
 things, and filling them with the science of the 
 soul. Thanks to me and to my lessons ; thanks 
 to the rays which, in this valley of animate stone, 
 of thinking plants, and of wise animals, have 
 fallen for a hundred years from my eyeballs ! It 
 was I who pointed out to beasts their true medi- 
 cine, of which man stands so much in need. Till 
 now I have only had beasts for disciples, but have 
 long wished for a man. Thou art come ; then be 
 my son. I am old. I will leave thee my cabin, 
 my precious stones, my valley, and my science. 
 Thou shalt marry my daughter, who is called 
 Aissab, and who is good and beautiful. We 
 shall pass our days happily in picking up 
 
210 The Rhine. 
 
 diamonds and eating the roots of plants. Be 
 my son." 
 
 "Thanks, my venerable seignor," Pecopin said; 
 " I accept with joy your kind offer." 
 
 When night came he made his escape. 
 
 PART VIII. 
 
 THE WANDERING CHRISTIAN. To tell all the 
 adventures of Pecopin would be to relate the 
 voyage of the world. At one time he was walk- 
 ing with naked feet on the sea-shore; at another, 
 in sandals, climbing a mountain ; now riding upon 
 an ass, afterwards seated on a zebra or an ele- 
 phant. He lost in the desert, like Jerome Cos- 
 tilla, four of his toes ; and, like Mendez Pinto, 
 was sold twenty times. He clambered up moun- 
 tains whose summits were hidden in the clouds, 
 and, on approaching their tops, vomited blood 
 and phlegm. He came to that island which no 
 one when seeking can find, and to which chance 
 only can bring one. In Scythia he killed a grif- 
 fin which the people had long been endeavoring 
 to destroy, in order to possess the gold guarded 
 by that animal ; for which act they wished to 
 make him their king, but he declined their offer. 
 Amidst all his adventures, all his daring deeds, 
 his miseries, and troubles, the brave and faithful 
 Pecopin had only one end in view to find Ger- 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 211 
 
 many to enter Falkenburg, with the hope of 
 seeing Bauldour. 
 
 He counted with a sad heart the days as they 
 passed, and, on reaching the north of France, 
 found that five years had elapsed since he had 
 seen Bauldour. He sat down upon a stone by 
 the roadside ; his thoughts wandered to his 
 beloved ; something fell upon his hand ; he 
 started it was a tear that had dropped from 
 his cheek. 
 
 " Five years," he thought, " is a long time ; 
 but I will see her now." Then, though his feet 
 were lacerated with the stones, and his clothes 
 torn, he proceeded with a light heart on his 
 journey. 
 
 After traveling all day among rocks, trying to 
 discover a passage which descended to the 
 Rhine, he arrived at a wood, which, without 
 hesitation, he entered ; and after walking for 
 upwards of an hour, found himself near a ditch. 
 Tired, and dying of hunger and thirst, he sank 
 down upon the grass, lifted his eyes upwards, 
 and perceived a flock of sheldrakes soaring above 
 him. 
 
 In agony of soul, he was asking himself 
 where he was, when the sound of some one sing- 
 ing in the distance floated on the evening breeze. 
 Pecopin raised himself on his elbow, listened 
 attentively, and distinguished these words : 
 
212 The Rhine. 
 
 Mon petit lac engendre, en 1'ombre qui 1'abrite, 
 La riante Amphitrite et le noir Neptunus ; 
 Mon humble 6tang nourrit, sur des monts inconnus, 
 L'empereur Neptunus et la reine Amphitrite, 
 
 Je suis le nain, grand-pere des grants. 
 
 Ma goutte d'eau produit deux oceans. 
 
 Je verse de mes rocs, que n'effleure aucun aile, 
 Un flueve bieu pour elle, un fleuve vert pour lui, 
 J'epanche de ma grotte, ou jamais feu n'a lui, 
 Le fleuve vert pour lui, Ir fleuve bleu pour elle. 
 
 Je suis le nain, grand-pere des geants. 
 
 Ma goutte d'eau produit deux oceans. 
 
 Unc fine emeraude est dans mon sable jaune. 
 Un pur saphir se cache en mon humide 6crin. 
 Mon emeraude fond et devient le beau Rhin ; 
 Mon saphir se dissout, ruisselle et fait le Rhone. 
 
 Je suis le nain, grand-pere des grants. 
 
 Ma goutte d'eau produit deux oceans. 
 
 Pecopin could no longer doubt the sad con- 
 viction that crossed his mind. Poor, hungry, 
 and fatigued traveler ! he was in the fatal Wood 
 of the Lost Path, which is full of labyrinths, and 
 where the dwarf Roulon is ever seen deceiving 
 the traveler, who, if once within the wood is 
 never known to leave it. 
 
 The voice was that of Roulon ; the song was 
 that of the wicked dwarf of the Bois des Pas 
 Perdus. 
 
 Pecopin, in despair, threw himself on the 
 ground, crying " Alas! all is over. I shall never 
 more behold Bauldour." 
 
 " You are wrong, if you serve me," said some 
 one from behind. 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 213 
 
 Pecopin looked up, and beheld an old gentle- 
 man equipped for the chase. It was not the 
 dwarf Roulon, which circumstance made his 
 heart leap with joy. 
 
 "What do you want with me?" Pecopin de- 
 manded. 
 
 " To take thee to Bauldour," replied the old 
 man, smiling. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " After you have spent a night in the chase." 
 
 " But I am dying with hunger," Pecopin re- 
 plied. " I am not able to get on horseback." 
 
 The old gentleman took a bottle from his 
 pocket and presented it to Pecopin, who no 
 sooner swallowed two or three mouthfuls than 
 he felt invigorated, and cried 
 
 " To the chase with all my heart. But shall I 
 really see Bauldour to-morrow?" 
 
 " Before the sun rises you shall be at the gates 
 of Falkenburg." 
 
 " Hollo, gentlemen ! hollo ! " the old man 
 cried, " To the chase ! " 
 
 On turning round, Pecopin perceived that his 
 companion was humpbacked ; and when he 
 walked, he discovered that he was club-footed. 
 
 At the call of the old man a host of gentle- 
 men, clothed like princes, and mounted like 
 kings, came from a thicket, and ranged them- 
 selves round him. He seemed to be their 
 
214 The Rhine. 
 
 master. All were armed with knives and spears, 
 the old man alone having a horn. The night 
 was dark ; but suddenly two hundred servants 
 appeared carrying torches. 
 
 " Ebbene" said the master, "ubisunt los per- 
 ros f " 
 
 This mixture of Italian, Latin, and Spanish 
 was not at all agreeable to Pecopin. 
 
 The old man then said with impatience 
 
 "The dogs! the dogs!" and in less than a 
 minute a pack came howling and barking to the 
 spot. 
 
 Pecopin thought there was something extra- 
 ordinary in all that he saw, and was beginning to 
 consider whether he should follow in the chase, 
 when the old man addressed him 
 
 " Well, chevalier, what do you think of our 
 dogs?" 
 
 " My good Sir," Pecopin replied, " to follow 
 such animals we must have most wonderful 
 horses." 
 
 The old man without replying, raised the horn 
 to his mouth and blew it ; a noise was heard 
 among the trees, and two magnificent horses, 
 black as jet, appeared. 
 
 " Well, seigneur," said the old man, smiling, 
 " which of the two do you prefer? " 
 
 Pecopin did not reply, but leaped upon one 
 of them. The old man asked him if he was well 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 21$ 
 
 saddled ; and, on being answered in the affirma- 
 tive, he burst into a fit of laughter, jumped like a 
 tiger upon the other, which trembled fearfully, 
 and began to blow the horn so violently, that 
 Pecopin, deafened with the noise, believed that 
 this singular individual had thunder in his chest. 
 
 PART IX. 
 
 THE DANGER TO WHICH WE EXPOSE OUR- 
 SELVES BY GETTING ON A HORSE THAT WE DO 
 NOT KNOW. At the sound of the horn a thou- 
 sand strange lights started up in the forest ; 
 strange shadows were seen everywhere ; and the 
 words, " To the chase," were heard mingling 
 with the barking of the dogs, the neighing of 
 horses, and the shaking of the trees. Pecopin's 
 horse, accompanied by that of the old man, 
 started off at a violent gallop, making every step 
 resound in the lover's brain, as if the horse's 
 hoofs had come in contact with his skull. It 
 was a gallop, rapid, supernatural, which almost 
 deprived him of reason, for he was only sensible 
 to the frightful noise around the whistling of 
 the wind, the rustling of leaves, the barking and 
 howling of dogs, and the neighing of horses. 
 
 Suddenly all was silent, save the sonnd of 
 the old man's horn in the distance. Pecopin 
 knew not where he was. He looked round, and 
 
216 The Rhine. 
 
 perceived his reflection in what he thought was 
 the White Lake, then in the Black one ; but saw 
 it as the swallows see their shadows while gliding 
 over the surface of a pond. In the midst of this 
 course he raised his hand to his talisman, and 
 suddenly he was enveloped in darkness, while his 
 horse began to gallop with renewed fury. At 
 this terrible moment Pecopin commended his 
 soul to God, and his heart to his mistress. He 
 continued for some time thus, flying, as it were, 
 through the air, when the thought struck him 
 that death was preferable to such torment. He 
 tried to throw himself from his horse, but he 
 discovered that some iron hand held him by the 
 feet. 
 
 The distant cries, the barking of dogs, the 
 neighing of horses, mingling with the blasts of 
 the old man's horn, again resonnded frightfully 
 in his ears. The poor chevalier closed his eyes 
 and resigned himself to his fate. When he 
 opened them, the heat of a tropical night struck 
 his countenance ! the roarings of tigers and lions 
 reached his ear; and he saw huge ruins and 
 strange trees. Pecopin was in an Indian forest 
 he again shut his eyes. 
 
 Suddenly his horse stopped, the noise ceased, 
 and all was quiet. 
 
 Pecopin, who had remained for some time with 
 his eyes shut, opened them, and found himself 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 217 
 
 before the facade of a sombre and colossal 
 edifice. 
 
 The old man's horn resounded through the 
 building, the doors of the castle opened vio- 
 lently, as if by a blast of wind, and Pecopin, on 
 his horse, entered a magnificent room, splendidly 
 lighted. He cast his eyes towards the extremity 
 of the hall, and saw a number of guests, of 
 strange appearance, seated at table. No one 
 spoke ; no one ate ; nor did any of them look at 
 him. There was an empty seat at the head of 
 the table, which indicated that they were waiting 
 their superior's arrival. 
 
 Pecopin discovered among this motley group 
 the giant Nimrod ; King Mithrobusane ; the 
 tyrant Machanidas ; the Roman Consul, ^Emilius 
 Barbula the Second ; Rollo, King of the sea ; 
 Zuentibold, the unworthy son of the great Ar- 
 nolphe, King of Lorraine ; Athelstan, King of 
 England ; Aigrold, King of Denmark. By the 
 side of Nimrod, Cyrus, the founder of the Per- 
 sian empire, was seated, leaning on his elbow. 
 
 The old man's horn was again heard ; a large 
 door, opposite the one by which Pecopin had en- 
 tered, opened, and innumerable valets appeared, 
 carrying an immense golden plate, in the mid- 
 dle of which was a stag with sixteen horns, 
 roasted and smoking. The old man entered 
 
 and took his seat ; and after observing the 
 10 
 
2i8 The Rhine. 
 
 grave looks of his guests, burst into a fit of 
 laughter, saying 
 
 " H ombres y mugeres, or ca vosotros belle sig- 
 nore domini et domina, amigos mios, comment va 
 la besogne" 
 
 " You come very late," said one of the guests. 
 
 " That is because I have a friend that is fond 
 of hunting; I wished to show him one of our 
 excursions." 
 
 " Yes ; but look," Nimrod said, pointing to a 
 little crevice which exposed the break of day. 
 
 " Well, we must make haste," the old man 
 said, making a sign to the valets to approach and 
 deposit their load upon the table. Pecopin at 
 this moment drew his sword, sunk his spurs into 
 the sides of his horse, which moved forward, and 
 said with a loud voice 
 
 " Pardieu ! whoever ye may be spectres, de- 
 mons, or emperors I forbid ye to move ; or, by 
 all that is holy, you shall feel, as well as that old 
 man, the weight of a living cavalier's sword upon 
 the heads of phantoms. I am in the cave of 
 shadows; but I shall do things real and terrible. 
 Thou hast lied, miserable old man. Defend thy- 
 self; or, by the mass, I will cleave thy head, 
 wert thou King Pluto in person." 
 
 " What's the matter, my dear Sir ? " the old 
 man replied, smiling. "You are going to sup 
 with us." 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 219 
 
 The grimace which accompanied this gracious 
 invitation exasperated Pecopin, who cried 
 
 " Defend yourself, old villain ! You made me 
 a promise, and you shall pay dearly for breaking 
 it." 
 
 " Ho, ho, my worthy friend ! I have not done 
 so ; you must wait a little.'* 
 
 "Thou promisedst to take me to Bauldour; 
 thou knowest that she is my betrothed." 
 
 " Well, since you will have it, be it so. Bad 
 examples are shown by males and females above 
 to those below. The sun and moon are wedded, 
 but they are a disconsolate couple, for they are 
 never together." 
 
 " A truce to raillery ! " Pecopin cried, burst- 
 ing with rage, " or I will exterminate thee and 
 thy demons, and purge thy cavern." 
 
 The old man replied, laughing, " Purge, my 
 friend. Here is the prescription senna, rhu- 
 barb, and Epsom salts." 
 
 Pecopin in fury leveled a blow at the old 
 man's head, but his horse drew back, trembling. 
 At this moment a gleam of light stole through 
 a crevice, the cock crowed, and all disappeared. 
 Pecopin, on his horse gliding from beneath him, 
 found himself standing, sword in hand, in a 
 ravine near an old castle. Day broke ; he lifted 
 his eyes, and leaped with joy. It was the castle 
 of Falkenburg. He sheathed his sword, and 
 
220 The Rhine. 
 
 was beginning to walk cheerfully towards the 
 manor, when he heard some one say : 
 
 " Well, Chevalier de Sonneck, have I kept my 
 word ? " 
 
 Pecopin turned round, and saw the little 
 hunchback that he had met in the wood, who 
 in irony asked him if he knew him. Pecopin 
 said that he did, and thanked him for thus bring- 
 ing him to his Bauldour. 
 
 " Wait a little," the old man said. " You were 
 in too great a hurry in accusing me ; you are 
 in too great a hurry in returning me thanks. 
 Listen. You are my creditor ; I owe thee two 
 things the hump on my back and my club- 
 foot ; but I am a good debtor. I found out thy 
 inclinations, and I thought it would be a pity to 
 debar such a good hunter as thou art from par- 
 taking in the night chase." 
 
 Pecopin involuntarily shuddered, and the 
 Devil added : 
 
 " If thou hadst not had thy talisman, I would 
 have taken charge of thee ; but I am as well 
 pleased that things have turned out as they have 
 done." 
 
 "Tell me, demon," Pecopin said; " is Baul- 
 dour dead, or married, or has she taken the 
 veil?" 
 
 " No ; " the demon replied, with a sinister grin. 
 
 " She is at Falkenburg, and still loves me ? " 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 22 1 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " In that case," Pecopin said, respiring as if a 
 load had been taken from his chest, "whoever 
 thou art, and whatever may happen, I thank thee." 
 
 "Dost thou?" the Devil replied. "Then, if 
 thou art satisfied, so am I." On saying these 
 words, he disappeared. 
 
 Pecopin shrugged his shoulders, and said to 
 himself, smilingly: 
 
 " Bauldour lives ; she is free, and still loves 
 me. What have I to fear? When I met the de- 
 mon yesterday evening, five years had expired 
 since I left her, and it is now only a day more." 
 
 He approached the castle, recognized with joy 
 each projection of the bridge, and felt happy. 
 The threshold of the house in which our boyish 
 have been spent, like the countenance of an 
 offectionate mother, smiles upon us, when re- 
 turning after a years' absence, with all the vigor 
 of manhood. 
 
 As he was crossing the bridge, he observed a 
 beautiful oak, whose top overlooked the parapet. 
 "That is strange," he said to himself; "there 
 was no tree there." Then he remembered that, 
 two or three week before he left, Bauldour and 
 he had amused themselves by throwing acorns at 
 each other, and that at this spot one had fallen 
 into the ditch. 
 
 "The Devil!" he exclaimed; "an acorn be- 
 
222 The Rhine. 
 
 come a tall oak in five years ! this is certainly a 
 fertile soil ! " 
 
 Four birds were perched upon this tree, trying 
 which could make the most, noise. Pecopin 
 looked up, and saw a daw, a blackbird, a magpie, 
 and a crow ; he hurried on his thoughts were 
 on Bauldour. 
 
 He arrived at the staircase, and was ascending 
 quickly, when he heard some one laughing be- 
 hind him, but on turning round, could see no- 
 thing. He reached the door, in which was the 
 key; his heart beat violently; he listened, and 
 the sound of a wheel struck his ear. Was it 
 that of Bauldour? Pecopin, trembling, turned 
 the key, opened the door, entered, and beheld 
 an old woman, decrepid and worn down by age, 
 her face covered with a thousand wrinkles, long 
 grey hair, escaping here and there from her cap, 
 her eyebrows white, and gums toothless. This 
 venerable, yet frightful object was seated near 
 the window, her eyes fixed upon the wheel at 
 which she was spinning, with the thread betwixt 
 her long thin fingers. 
 
 The old lady was apparently very deaf, for, 
 notwithstanding the noise that Pecopin made in 
 entering, she did not move. Nevertheless, the 
 chevalier took off* his hat, as it becomes a man 
 before a person of advanced age, and, going near 
 her, said, " Madame, where is Bauldour?" 
 
Legend of Pecopin. 22$ 
 
 The old dame lifted her eyes, and fixed them 
 on Pecopin ; the thread dropped from her trem- 
 bling hand ; she screamed, and said with a feeble 
 voice 
 
 " Oh Heaven ! Pecopin ? What would you ? 
 Masses for your troubled soul? or why is it that, 
 being so long dead, your shadow still walks 
 abroad ? " 
 
 " Pardieu ! my good lady," Pecopin replied, 
 laughing and speaking very loud, so that, if 
 Bauldour was in the next room, she might hear 
 him ; " Pardieu ! I am not dead ! It is not my 
 ghost which stands before you. I am of good 
 solid flesh and bone, and have come back, not to 
 have masses said for my soul, but for a kiss from 
 my betrothed, whom I love more than ever." 
 
 As he finished the last words, the old lady 
 threw herself into his arms. It was Bauldour! 
 The night-chase with the Devil had lasted a 
 hundred years ! 
 
 Pecopin, distracted, left the apartment, ran 
 down stairs, crossed the court, flew to the moun- 
 tain, and took refuge in the forest of Sonneck. 
 Like a madman, he wandered about the woods 
 all day: and when evening came, seeing that he 
 was approaching the turrets of his own castle, he 
 tore off the rich clothes which the Devil had 
 given him, and threw them into the torrent of 
 Sonneck. Suddenly, his knees trembled, his 
 
224 The Rhine. 
 
 hands shook, and to prevent himself from fall- 
 ing, he leaned against a tree. In Pecopin's excess 
 of grief, he had unconsciously seized the talis- 
 man, and thrown it, with his clothes, into the 
 torrent. The words of the Sultana's slave 
 proved true. In one minute Pecopin had all 
 the infirmities attendant upon extreme old age. 
 At that moment, he heard a burst of laughter; 
 he looked round, but could see no one. 
 
 Pecopin, in pain and dejection, supporting 
 himself on a stick, was returning to his castle, 
 when he perceived a jackdaw, a blackbird, a 
 magpie, and a crow, seated on the roof of the 
 out-house. He remembered the words of the 
 old man " For the young the blackbird 
 whistles, the magpie chatters, and the crow 
 croaks, the hens cackle, and the doves coo ; for 
 the old man, the birds speak." He listened at- 
 tentively, and the following is the dialogue he 
 heard : 
 
 BLACKBIRD. Enfin mon beau chasseur, te voila de retour. 
 JACKDAW. Tel qui part pour un an croit partir pour un jour. 
 CROW. Tu fis la chasse a 1'aigle, ou milan, ou vautour. 
 MAGPIE. Mieux eut value la faire au doux oiseau d'amour ! 
 HEN. Pecopin ! Pecopin ! 
 DOVE. Bauldour! Bauldour! Bauldour ! 
 
Bingen. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 BINGEN. 
 
 Houses at Bingen. Paradise Plain. The Klopp. Mdlle. 
 Berlin. The Sage. 
 
 BINGEN is an exceedingly pretty place, 
 having at once the sombre look of an 
 ancient town, and the cheering aspect of a new 
 one. From the days of Consul Drusus to those 
 of the Emperor Charlemagne, from Charlemagne 
 to Archbishop Willigis, from Willigis to the 
 merchant Montemagno, and from Montemagno 
 to the visionary Holzhausen, the town gradually 
 increased in the number of its houses, as the 
 dew gathers drop by drop in the cup of a lily. 
 Excuse this comparison ; for, though flowery, it 
 has truth to back it, and faithfully illustrates the 
 mode in which a town near the conflux of two 
 rivers is constructed. The irregularity of the 
 houses in fact everything, tends to make Bingen 
 a kind of antithesis, both with respect to build- 
 ings and the scenery which surrounds them. 
 The town, bounded on the left by the Nahue, 
 and by the Rhine on the right, develops itself in 
 a triangular form near a Gothic church, which is 
 backed by a Roman citadel. In this citadel, 
 
 10* 
 
226 The Rhine'. 
 
 which bears the date of the first century, and has 
 long been the haunt of bandits, there is a garden; 
 and in the church, which is of the fifteenth 
 century, is the tomb of Barth61emy de Holz- 
 hausen. In the direction of Mayence, the famed 
 Paradise Plain opens upon the Ringau ; and in 
 that of Coblentz, the dark mountains of Leyen 
 seem to frown on the surrounding scenery. Here 
 Nature smiles like a lovely woman extended un- 
 adorned on the greensward; there, like a slum- 
 bering giant, she excites a feeling of awe. 
 
 The more we examine this beautiful place, the 
 more the antithesis is multiplied under our looks 
 and thoughts. It assumes a thousand different 
 forms; and as the Nahue flows through the 
 arches of the stone bridge, upon the parapet of 
 which the lion of Hesse turns its back to the 
 eagle of Prussia, the green arm of the Rhine 
 sei/es suddenly the fair and indolent stream, and 
 plunges it into the Bingerloch. 
 
 To sit down towards the evening on the sum- 
 mit of the Klopp, to see the town at its base, 
 with an immense horizon on all sides, the moun- 
 tains overshadowing all to see the slated roofs 
 smoking, the shadows lengthening, and the 
 scenery breathing to life the verses of Virgil to 
 respire at once the wind which rustles the leaves, 
 the breeze of the flood, and the gale of the 
 mountain is an exquisite and inexpressible 
 
The Ktopp. 
 
 pleasure, full of secret enjoyment, which is veiled 
 by the grandeur of the spectacle, by the intensity 
 of contemplation. At the windows of huts, 
 young women, their eyes fixed upon their work, 
 are gaily singing ; among the weeds that grow 
 round the ruins birds whistle and pair; barks are 
 crossing the river, and the sound of oars splash- 
 ing in the water, and unfurling of sails, reaches 
 our ears. The washerwomen of the Rhine spread 
 their clothes on the bushes; and those of the 
 Nahue, their legs and feet naked, beat their linen 
 upon floating rafts, and laugh at some poor artist 
 as he sketches Ehrenfels. 
 
 The sun sets, night comes on, the slated roofs 
 of the houses appear as one, the mountains con- 
 gregate and take the aspect of an immense dark 
 body ; and the washerwomen, with bundles on 
 their heads, return cheerfully to their cabins : the 
 noise subsides, the voices are hushed ; a faint 
 light, resembling the reflections of the other 
 world upon the countenance of a dying man, is 
 for a short time observable on the Ehrenfels ; 
 then all is dark, except the tower of Hatto, 
 which, though scarcely seen in the day, makes its 
 appearance at night, amidst a light smoke and 
 the reverberation of the forge. 
 
 A few days ago I was seated on the platform 
 at Klopp, and in a reverie had allowed my 
 thoughts to wander at freedom. Suddenly, a 
 
228 Tke Rhine. 
 
 small skylight window under my feet was opened, 
 and I perceived a young girl appear at the win- 
 dow, who was singing to a slow and plaintive air, 
 in a clear, rich voice, the following stanza : 
 
 " Plas mi cavalier Frances 
 la dona catalana 
 E 1'onraz del ginoes 
 E la court de castelana 
 Lou cantaz proveacales 
 E la danza trevisana 
 E lou corps aragones 
 La mans a kara d'angles 
 E lou donzel de Toscana." 
 
 I immediately recognized the joyful verses of 
 Frederick Barberousse. It would be impossible 
 for me to describe the effect they had upon me 
 when heard in this ancient ruin, in the midst of 
 obscurity that song of the emperors, sung by a 
 young girl ; these Roman verses, accented by a 
 German tongue ; that gayety of by-gone times 
 changed into melancholy ; that ray of the Cru- 
 sades piercing the shadow of the present, and 
 throwing its light upon me, poor, bewildered 
 dreamer. 
 
 Since I have spoken upon the music which I 
 heard upon the Rhine, why not mention that 
 which I heard when at Bacharach ? Several stu- 
 dents, seated upon the trunk of a tree, sang to 
 German words that admirable air in " Quas- 
 imode," which is the most beautiful and most 
 
Curiosities of Bingen. 229 
 
 original in Mademoiselle Berlin's opera. The 
 future, doubt it not, my friend, will render jus- 
 tice to that remarkable opera, which on its ap- 
 pearance was unfairly attacked and unjustly dealt 
 with. The public, too often duped by ungener- 
 ous criticisms, by the malice of rivalry, with re- 
 spect to works of genius, will think for itself, and 
 will one day admire that soft and profound 
 music, so pathetic and powerful, at moments 
 melancholy, yet pleasing music, so to speak, 
 where, in each note, is mixed that which is most 
 tender and most grave the heart of a lady and 
 the mind of a sage. Germany has already ren- 
 dered her justice, France will soon follow her 
 example. 
 
 As I care little about what are termed local 
 curiosities, I must admit that I did not see the 
 miraculous horn, nor the nuptial bed, nor the 
 iron chair of Broemser. To make amends, I 
 visited the square dungeon of Rudesheim, the 
 Roman caves, and saw lanterns of the thirteenth 
 century and numerous sepulchral urns. 
 
 In the room where I was accustomed to dine 
 at Bingen, I saw two individuals seated at op- 
 posite tables. There was such a contrast, both 
 in their appearance and in their repast, that it 
 could not fail to excite attention. The one was 
 a huge Bavarian major, who spoke a little 
 French, and who allowed dish after dish to be 
 
230 The Rhint. 
 
 taken away without scarcely touching them ; the 
 other was a poor looking devil, seated before a 
 plate of choucroute, who, after having his meagre 
 pittance, finished his dinner by devouring with 
 his eyes the loaded plates of his neighbor. The 
 words of Albancourt struck me forcibly when 
 looking at that living parable : " La Providence 
 met voluntiers V argent d*un cot 4 et Vappetit de 
 rautre." 
 
 The poor fellow was a young savant, pale, 
 grave, and melancholy. It was said that he was 
 in love with one of the servants of the auberge, 
 which is rather strange, for to me a savant in 
 love is a problem. How is it possible that the 
 studies, the dull experiments, and minute ob- 
 servations which compose the life of a sage, can 
 agree with the hope, disappointment, jealousy, 
 rage, and loss of time which attend the tender 
 passion? Imagine how Doctor Huxham could 
 have loved, who, in his excellent treatise " De 
 ^Ere et Morbis Epidemicis," has told, month after 
 month, the quantity of rain that fell at Ply- 
 mouth during the period of twenty-two years. 
 Imagine Romeo looking through a microscope, 
 and counting the seventeen thousand facettes of 
 the eye of a fly; Don Juan with an apron on, 
 analyzing the paratar trovinate of potash ; and 
 Othello, in a stooping posture, looking for gail- 
 lonelles in the fossils of China. 
 
The Sagt. 231 
 
 However, in spite of all laws, this poor devil 
 was in love. At times he spoke French, which 
 was far superior to the major's, and his address 
 was more gentlemanly yet he had not a stiver. 
 Sometimes my young savant drank, during the 
 hours at table d'hote, a bottle of small beer, 
 while his eye surveyed in envy the opening and 
 shutting the mouths of the inmates of the hotel 
 Victoria. The society here was rather mixed, 
 and not at all harmonious. At the end of the 
 table was an old English dame, and by her side 
 three pretty children: she was apparently a 
 governess or an aunt, whose consequential airs 
 raised in my heart a feeling of sympathy for the 
 pretty little ones. The major was seated near 
 her, to whom, for politeness, he addressed his 
 conversation, at one time describing an engage- 
 ment, at another telling her he was going to 
 Baden, because everybody went there. On his 
 right hand was an advocate ; and next to the 
 advocate was an old man, whose thin gray hair 
 and reverential mien had that mild appearance 
 which a near approach to the grave gives, and 
 which cites in every look the beautiful verses 
 of Homer. In front of the old gentleman was 
 my young sage, who spoke pompously of the 
 " harrangues " that were brought from the sea. 
 To me " harens" (herrings) would have been more 
 likely to have come from such a quarter. 
 
232 The Rhine. 
 
 One day I invited him to dine with me, which 
 invitation was cordially accepted the more so, 
 perhaps, because the poor fellow had not break- 
 fasted. We chatted a little, took a walk, and 
 afterwards visited the Island of Rats, which 
 pleased my companion very much ; for a good 
 dinner, a gratuitous sail, and a chit-chat with the 
 worthy blacksmiths, were things which were not 
 of an everyday occurrence with him. Such were 
 my adventures at Bingen. 
 
Mayence 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 MAYENCE. 
 
 Cathedral. Its Interior. Henry Frauenlob, the Tasso of May- 
 ence. Market Place. 
 
 MAYENCE and Frankfort, like Versailles 
 and Paris, may, at the present time, be 
 called one town. In the middle age there was a 
 distance of eight leagues between them, which 
 was then considered a long journey ; now, an 
 hour and a quarter will suffice to transport you 
 from one to the other. The buildings of Frank- 
 fort and Mayence, like those of Li&ge, have been 
 devastated by modern good taste, and old and 
 venerable edifices are rapidly disappearing, 
 giving place to frightful groups of white houses. 
 I expected to see, at Mayence, Martinsburg, 
 which, up to the seventeenth century, was the 
 feudal residence of the ecclesiastical electors ; 
 but the French made an hospital of it, which 
 was afterwards razed to the ground to make 
 room for the Porte Franc ; the merchant's hotel, 
 built in 1317 by the famed League, and which 
 was splendidly decorated with the statues of 
 seven electors, and surmounted by two colossal 
 
234 The Rhine. 
 
 _ 
 
 figures, bearing the crown of the empire, also 
 shared the same fate. Mayence, however, 
 though plunged into the Renaissance, possesses 
 that which marks its antiquity a venerable 
 cathedral, which was commenced in 978, and 
 finished in 1009. Part of this suberb structure 
 was burnt in 1190, and since that period has, 
 from century to century, undergone some 
 change. 
 
 I explored its interior, and was struck with 
 awe on beholding innumerable tombs, bearing 
 dates as far back as the eighteenth century. 
 Under the galleries of the cloister I observed an 
 obscure monument, a bas-relief of the fourteenth 
 century, and tried, in vain, to guess the enigma. 
 On one side are two men in chains, wildness in 
 their looks, and despair in their attitudes ; on the 
 other, an emperor, accompanied by a bishop, and 
 surrounded by a number of people, triumphing. 
 Is it Barberousse ? Is it Louis of Bavaria? Does 
 it speak of the revolt of 1160, or of the war be- 
 tween Mayence and Frankfort in 1332? I could 
 not tell, and therefore passed by. 
 
 As I was leaving the galleries, I discovered in 
 the shade a sculptured head, half protruding 
 from the wall, surmounted by a crown of flower- 
 work, similar to that worn by the kings of the 
 eleventh century. I looked at it : it had a mild 
 countenance ; yet it possessed something of se- 
 
Mayence. 23$ 
 
 verity in it a face imprinted with that august 
 beauty which the workings of a great mind give 
 to the countenance of man. The hand of some 
 peasant had chalked the name "Frauenlob" 
 above it, and I instantly remembered the Tasso 
 of Mayence, so calumniated during his life, so 
 venerated after his death. When Henry Frauen- 
 lob died, which was in the year 1318, the females 
 who had insulted him in life carried his coffin to 
 the tomb, which procession is chiseled on the 
 tombstone beneath. I again looked at that noble 
 head. The sculptor had left the eyes open ; and 
 thus, in that church of sepulchres in that clois- 
 ter of the dead the poet alone sees ; he only is 
 represented standing, and observing all. 
 
 The market-place, which is by the side of the 
 cathedral, has rather an amusing and pleasing 
 aspect. In the middle is a pretty triangular 
 fountain of the German Renaissance, which, be- 
 sides having sceptres, nymphs, angels, dolphins, 
 and mermaids, serves as a pedestal to the Virgin 
 Mary. Upon one of the faces is the following 
 pentameter: 
 
 "Albertus princeps civibus ipse suis." 
 
 This fountain was erected by Albert de Braden- 
 burg, who reigned in 1540, in commemoration of 
 the capture of Francis the First by Charles the 
 Fifth. 
 
236 77*6- Rhine. 
 
 Mayence, white though it be, receives not the 
 respect of a mercantile city. The river here is 
 not less crowded with sails, the town not less in- 
 cumbered with bales, nor more free from bustle, 
 than formerly. People walk, speak, push, sell, 
 buy, sing, and cry ; in fact, in all the quarters of 
 the town, in every house, life seems to predom- 
 inate. At night the buzz and noise cease, and 
 nothing is heard at Mayence but the murmurings 
 of the Rhine, and the everlasting noise of seven- 
 teen water mills, which are fixed to the piles of 
 the bridge of Charlemagne. 
 
Frankfort. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 FRANKFORT ON THE MAINE. 
 
 Jews at Frankfort. Slaughter-House. Roemer. Inhabitants 
 of the Steeple. 
 
 I ARRIVED at Frankfort on a Saturday; 
 and after walking for some time in search 
 of the beauties of my old favorite town, I came 
 to a singular street, with two long ranges of 
 high, sombre, and sinister-looking houses, cling- 
 ing to each other, as it were, with terror. Not a 
 door was open, not a window that was not se- 
 cured with iron gratings. There was no singing, 
 no merry voices ; no a dismal silence reigned 
 over all. One or two men passed, who looked at 
 me with an air of suspicion and discontent, and 
 through the bars of iron of the third-floor win- 
 dows I observed several females, whose counte- 
 nances were of a brown color, and who looked 
 with stealth, to see who was passing. I was in 
 the street of the Jews ; it was their Sabbath. 
 
 At Frankfort there are still Jews and Chris- 
 tians true Christians who hate the Jews, and 
 Jews who hate the Christians. 
 
 Perhaps in no town in the world are there so 
 
238 The Rhine. 
 
 many statues and figures about the streets as 
 at Frankfort. Whichever way we turn, statues 
 of all epochs, of all styles, and of all sexes, are 
 sure to meet the eye ; horned satyrs, nymphs, 
 dwarfs, giants, sphinxes, dragons, devils : in fact, 
 an unfortunate world of supernatural beings is to 
 be seen here. 
 
 One of the curiosities of Frankfort is the 
 Slaughter-house. It is impossible to see older 
 and blacker houses decorated with more splen- 
 did legs of mutton and loins of beef. Glut- 
 tonous and jovial-looking figures are curiously 
 sculptured upon the facades, and the openings 
 of the ' ground-floors seem like huge mouths, 
 ready to devour innumerable cattle, either living 
 or dead. The blood-bedaubed butcher chats 
 freely with the rosy-cheeked bouchfres under 
 garlands of gigots, and before a red stream, on 
 which two fountains are playing, as it runs smok- 
 ing through the middle of the street. When I 
 was there, frightful cries was heard in all direc- 
 tions : it was a massacre of sucking-pigs that was 
 taking place. Servants, with baskets on their 
 arms, were laughing amidst the general uproar, 
 and casting amorous looks towards some stal- 
 wart youths, with knives in their hands, who 
 were ready to obey the demands of their cus- 
 tomers ; here, some bargaining; there, others 
 quarreling. A butcher passed carrying a suck- 
 
Frankfort. 239 
 
 ing-pig by the hind legs, which I would have 
 purchased had I known what to do with it. 
 The poor little creature squeaked not ; it was 
 ignorant of its impending fate, and knew not 
 what was about to take place. A pretty little 
 girl, about four years of age, was looking at it 
 with compassion ; and seemed to beseech me 
 with her soft eyes -to purchase the little thing 
 and save it from immediate death. I did not do 
 what that charming eye told me ; I disobeyed 
 her demand, so sweetly expressed ; but I re- 
 proached myself afterwards for not gratifying the 
 wishes of that innocent child. 
 
 After leaving the Slaughter-house, we enter 
 a large square, worthy of Flanders, and which 
 excites the curiosity of all travelers. It com- 
 prises all the styles of architecture of the Re- 
 naissance, and is ornamented according to the 
 taste of that epoch, Near the middle of the 
 square are two fountains the one of the Re- 
 naissance, and the other of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, upon the tops of which are the statues of 
 Minerva and Judith, the Homeric and Biblical 
 viragos ; the former bearing the head of Medusa, 
 the latter that of Holofernes. 
 
 Opposite this fountain is the Roemer, where 
 Emperors were proclaimed. I entered, and 
 wandered along a large hall with a long stair- 
 case, then amongst innumerable corridors. After 
 
240 The Rhine. 
 
 visiting the elector's hall, I came to the col- 
 legiate church of Frankfort, which is dedicated 
 to St. Barthelemy. The view here was charm- 
 ing. Over my head was a lovely sun ; at my 
 feet, the town of Frankfort ; to my left, the 
 Roemer; and to my right, the black and narrow 
 street of the Jews. Whilst buried in a profound 
 reverie, the clouds gathered above me, and, 
 chased by the wind, rolled about the heavens, 
 covering and uncovering at each instant shreds 
 of azure, while heavy drops of rain began to fall 
 upon the earth, and lightning to flash from the 
 heavens. I thought I was alone upon the tower, 
 and would have remained there all day, but sud- 
 denly a rustling noise startled me, and on look- 
 ing round I perceived a young girl, about four- 
 teen years of age, looking at me from a small 
 window. I advanced a few steps, and after pass- 
 ing the angle of the Pfarrthurm, I found myself 
 amongst the inhabitants of the steeple a little 
 world, smiling and happy. A young girl was 
 knitting; an old woman, probably her mother, 
 spinning; doves were cooing on the top of the 
 steeple ; and an hospitable monkey, on perceiv- 
 ing me, extended its little paw from the bottom 
 of its cage. Add to this the peace of elevated 
 places, where nothing is heard but the murmuring 
 of the winds, and from whence we see the beauty 
 of the surrounding country. In a part of the 
 
Frankfort. 241 
 
 tower the old woman had made a fire, on which 
 she was cooking a humble repast. How this 
 little family came there, and for what end, I do 
 not know; but they interested me much. This 
 proud city, once engaged in so many wars, 
 this city, which dethroned so many Caesars, 
 this city, whose walls were like an armor, is at 
 present crowned by the hearth of a poor old 
 woman. 
 
 ii 
 
242 The Rhine. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE RHINE. 
 Rafts on the Rhine. Secret Souvenirs. Oberwerth. 
 
 THE Rhine assumes all aspects at one 
 time broad, then narrow. It is trans- 
 parent, tranquil, and rapid ; it is a torrent at 
 Schaffouse, a gulf at Laufen, a river at Sickingen, 
 a flood at Mayence, a lake at St. Goar, and a 
 marsh at Leyde. 
 
 The Rhine is calm, at least towards evening, 
 and appears as if sleeping a phenomenon more 
 apparent than real, and which is visible upon all 
 great rivers. The part of the Rhine the most 
 celebrated and admired, the most curious for 
 the historian, and the loveliest for the poet, is 
 that which traverses, from Bingen to Kcenigs- 
 winter, that dark chaos of volcanic mounds 
 which the Romans termed the Alpes dcs Cattes. 
 
 From Mayence to Bingen, as from Kcenigs- 
 winter to Cologne, there are seven leagues of 
 rich smiling plains, with handsome villages, on 
 the river's brink; but the great encaissement of 
 the Rhine begins at Bingen by the Rupertsberg 
 
The Rhine. 243 
 
 and Niederwald, and terminates at Kcenigswinter 
 at the base of the Seven Mountains. 
 
 At each turning of the river, a group of 
 houses a town or borough develops itself, 
 with a huge tower in ruins peering over it. 
 These hamlets present an imposing aspect ; 
 young women are seen busily washing and sing- 
 ing, with children playing round them ; the 
 basket-maker at work on the door-step of his 
 hut ; the fisherman mending his net in his boat ; 
 all perform what God has ordered man as 
 well as the orb of day. 
 
 At the time of the Romans and of the Bar- 
 barians the Rhine was termed the "street" of 
 soldiers ; in the middle ages, when the river was 
 bordered with ecclesiastical states, and, from its 
 source to its mouth, was under the control of 
 the Abbot of St. Gall, the Bishops of Constance, 
 Bale, Spire, Worms, the Archbishop-Electors of 
 Mayence, Treves, and Cologne, the Rhine was 
 called "the street of the priests;" at present it 
 is that of the merchants. 
 
 The traveler who ascends the river sees it, so 
 to speak, coming to him, and then the sight is 
 full of charms. At each instant he meets some- 
 thing which passes him ; at one time, a vessel 
 crowded with peasants, especially if it be Sun- 
 day ; at another, a steamboat ; then a long, two- 
 masted vessel laden with merchandise, its pilot 
 
244 The Rhine. 
 
 attentive and serious, its sailors busy, with 
 women seated near the door of the cabin ; here, 
 a heavy-looking boat, dragging two or three 
 after it ; there, a little horse, drawing a huge 
 bark, as an ant drags a dead beetle. Suddenly 
 there is a winding in the river ; and formerly, on 
 turning, an immense raft, a floating house, pre- 
 sented itself, the oars splash on both sides. On 
 the ponderous machine were cattle of all kinds, 
 some bleating, and others bellowing, when they 
 perceived the heifers peaceably grazing on the 
 banks. The master came and went, looked at 
 this, then at that, while the sailors busily per- 
 formed their respective duties. A whole village 
 seemed to live on this float on this prodigious 
 construction of fir. 
 
 It is, perhaps, difficult to imagine such an 
 island of wood coming and going from Namedy 
 to Dordrecht, along the windings and turnings, 
 the falls and serpentine meanderings of the 
 Rhine. Wrecks, it is true, frequently take place, 
 which gave rise to the saying, " that a float mer- 
 chant ought to have three capitals the first 
 upon the Rhine, the second on land, and the 
 third in his pocket." The conducting of each 
 of these enormous constructions was left entirely 
 to the charge of one man. At the end of the 
 last century, the great maitre flotteur of Rudes- 
 heim was called " Old Jung." He died: 
 
The Rhine. 245 
 
 since that time these great floats have disap- 
 peared. 
 
 At present, twenty-five steamers are engaged 
 on the Rhine, nineteen of which belong to the 
 Cologne Steam Company, and are constantly 
 plying from Strasburg to Dusseldorf; they are 
 known by their white and black funnels. The 
 remaining six belong to the Dusseldorf Com- 
 pany, which have tri-colored funnels, and ply 
 from Mayence to Rotterdam. The ancient 
 mode of navigating the Rhine, which was by 
 vessels with sails, contrasts strangely with the 
 present. The steamboats, with life in their ap- 
 pearance, rapid, comfortable, and painted with 
 the colors of all nations, have for invocation the 
 names of princes and cities : Ludwig II., Gross, 
 Herzog von Hessen, Konigin, Victoria, Herzog 
 von Nassau, Prinzessin Mariann, Gross Herzog 
 von Baden, Stadt Manheim, Stadt Coblentz. 
 The sailing vessels glide slowly along, and have 
 at their prows grave and reverential names, such 
 as Pius, Columbus, Amor Sancta Maria, Gratia 
 Dei. The steamboat is varnished and gold 
 lettered ; the sailing vessel is bedaubed with 
 pitch. The one pursues its way beseeching of 
 men ; the other continues its course in prayer. 
 The one depends upon man ; the other places its 
 reliance in God food, and that which is the gift 
 of Heaven, being its cargo. 
 
246 The Rhine. 
 
 From Cologne to Mayence there are forty-nine 
 islands, covered with thick verdure, which hide 
 the smoking roofs, and shade the barks in their 
 charming havens, each bearing some secret sou- 
 venir. Graupenwerth, where the Hollanders 
 constructed a fort, and called it " the Priest's 
 Bonnet ; " Pfaffenmuth, a fort which the Span- 
 iards took, and gave it the name of " Isabella ; " 
 Graswerth, the island of grass, where Jean Phil- 
 ippe de Reichenberg wrote his " Antiquitates 
 Saynenses ; Niederwerth, formerly so rich with 
 the gifts of the Margrave Archbishop, Jean II. ; 
 Urmitzer Insel, which was well known to Caesar ; 
 and Nonnenswerth, the spot frequented by 
 Roland. 
 
 The souvenirs of the banks of the Rhine seem 
 to have responded to those of the islands, and 
 whatever took place on one side was sure to have 
 given rise to something else on the opposite one. 
 Permit me to run over a few of them. The coffin 
 of Saint Nizza, granddaughter of Louis-le-De- 
 bonnaire, is at Cologne ; the tomb of Saint Ida, 
 cousin of Charles Martel, is at Cologne. Saint 
 Genevieve lived in the woods at Fraunkirch, near 
 a mineral fountain, which is still seen, adjoining 
 a chapel that was built to her memory. It was 
 Schinderhannes who, with a pistol in his hand, 
 forced a band of Jews to take off their shoes; 
 then, after mixing them, ordered each person to 
 
Souvenirs. 247 
 
 take the first pair he could find and be off, for he 
 would put the last to instant death. The terri- 
 fied Jews did so, and fled precipitately, some 
 stumbling, others limping and hobbling, making 
 a strange, clattering noise, which excited the 
 laughter of Jean 1'Ecorcheur. 
 
 When the traveler has passed Coblentz, and 
 left behind him the graceful island of Oberwerth, 
 the mouth of the Lahn strikes his attention. 
 The sight here is admirable. The two crumbling 
 towers of Johanniskirch, which vaguely resemble 
 Jumeiges, rise, as it were, from the water's brink. 
 To the right, above the borough of Cappellan, 
 the magnificent fortress of Stolzenfels stands, 
 upon the brow of a huge rock; and to the left, 
 at the bottom of the horizon, the clouds and the 
 setting sun mingle with the sombre ruins of 
 Lahneck, which abound with enigmas for the his- 
 torian, and darkness for the antiquary. On each 
 side of the Lahn is a pretty town, Niederlahn- 
 stein and Oberlahnstein, which seem smiling at 
 each other. A few stone-throws from the oriental 
 gate of Oberlahnstein, the trees of an orchard 
 disclose, and at the same time hide, a small 
 chapel of the fourteenth century, which is sur- 
 mounted by a mean-looking steeple. The depo- 
 sition of Wencesles took place here. 
 
 In front of this chapel, upon the opposite 
 bank, is ancient Kcenigsstuhl, which, not more 
 
248 The Rhine. 
 
 than half a century ago, was the seat of royalty, 
 and where the emperors were elected by the 
 seven electors of Germany. At present, four 
 stones mark the place where it formerly stood, 
 After leaving this place, the traveler proceeds to- 
 wards Braubach ; passes Boppart, Welmich, Saint 
 Goar, Oberwesel ; and suddenly comes to an im- 
 mense rock, surmounted by an enormous tower 
 on the right bank of the river. At the base of 
 the rock is a pretty little town with a Roman 
 church in the center; and opposite in the middle 
 of the Rhine is a strange, oblong edifice, whose 
 back and front resemble the prow and poop of a 
 vessel, and whose large and low windows are like 
 hatches and port-holes. 
 
 The tower is the Gutenfels ; this town is Caub; 
 this stone ship eternally on the Rhine, and 
 always at anchor is the Palace, or Pfalz. To 
 enter this symbolic residence, which is built upon 
 a bank of marble, called " the Rock of the Pala- 
 tine Counts," we must ascend a ladder that rests 
 upon a drawbridge, a portion of which is still to 
 be seen. 
 
 From Taunus to the Seven Mountains there 
 are fourteen castles on the right bank of the 
 river, and fifteen on the left, making in all twen- 
 ty-nine, which bear the souvenirs of volcanoes, 
 the traces of war, and the devastations of time. 
 Four of these castles were built in the eleventh 
 
Ancient Castles. 249 
 
 century Ehrenfels, by the Archbishop of Sieg- 
 fried ; Stahleck, by the Counts Palatine ; Sayn, 
 by Frederick, first Count of Sayn, and vanquisher 
 of the Moors of Spain ; and the others at a later 
 period. 
 
 This long and double row of venerable edifices, 
 at once poetic and military, which bear upon 
 their front all the epochs of the Rhine, every 
 one having its sieges and its legends, begins at 
 Bingen, by the Ehrenfels on the right, and by 
 the Rat Tower on the left, and finishes at 
 Kcenigswinter, by the Rolandseck on the left, 
 and the Drachenfels on the right. 
 
 The number which I have given only includes 
 those castles that are on the banks of the Rhine, 
 and which every traveler will see in passing ; but 
 should he explore the valleys and ascend the 
 mountains, he will meet a ruin at every step ; 
 and if he ascend the Seven Mountains, he will 
 find an abbey, Schomburg, and six castles the 
 Drachenfels, Wolkenberg, Lowenberg, Nonnes- 
 tromberg, and the GElberg, the last of which 
 was built by Valentinian, in the year 368. 
 
 In the plain near Mayence is Frauenstein, 
 which was built in the twelfth century, Scarfen- 
 stein and Greifenklau ; and on the Cologne side 
 is the admirable castle of Godesberg.- 
 
 These ancient castles which border the Rhine, 
 
 these colossal bounds, built by Ftodalitt, fill the 
 ii* 
 
The Rhine. 
 
 country with reveries and pleasant associations. 
 They have been mute witnesses of bygone ages 
 prominent features in great actions ; and their 
 walls have echoed the cries of war and the mur- 
 murings of peace. They stand there like eternal 
 monuments of the dark dramas which, since the 
 tenth century, have been played on the Rhine. 
 They have witnessed, so to speak, monks of all 
 orders, men of all ranks ; and there is not an 
 historical fact in the lives of those men who 
 took a prominent part on the Rhine that is not 
 designed on their venerable walls. They have 
 listened to the voice of Petrarch : they saw, in 
 1415, the eastern bishops, proud and haughty, 
 going to the assembly of divines at Constance, 
 to try Jean Huss; in 1441, going to the council 
 of Bale, to depose Eugene IV.; and, in 1519, 
 to the diet of Worms, to interrogate Luther: 
 they witnessed, floating on the Rhine, the body 
 of Saint Werner, who fell a martyr to the Jews 
 in 1287. In fact, all the great events, from the 
 ninth to the nineteenth century, that transpired 
 on the banks of the flood have, as it were, come 
 under their notice. They are mute recorders of 
 the thing that were of Pepin, of Charlemagne, 
 of Charles the Fifth, and of Napoleon. All the 
 great events which time after time, shook and 
 frightened Europe, have, like the lightning's 
 flash, lighted up these old walls. At present it 
 
Ancient Castles. 
 
 is the moon and the sun that shed their light 
 upon these ancient edifices, famed in story and 
 gnawed by time, whose walls are falling, stone 
 by stone, into the Rhine, and whose dates are 
 fast dwindling into oblivion. 
 
 O, noble towers ! O, poor paralyzed giants ! 
 A steamboat filled with merchants and with 
 peasants, when passing, hurls its smoke in thy 
 faces. 
 
INDEX. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Abailard, 29 
 
 Abbey of Notre Dame de 1'Epine, ... 23 
 
 Abbey of Saint Thomas, 119 
 
 Actius, 30 
 
 Agrippa, Founder of Cologne, . . . .98 
 
 Agrippina, 106 
 
 Aix-la-Chapelle, Napoleon I. at . . .84 
 First Bishop of, . . . 81 
 Relics at, ... 69, 79 
 Charlemagne born at, . 69 
 Chapel at, . . . .70 
 Legend of the Wolf at, . 70 
 Tomb of Charlemagne at, -77 
 Hotel-de-Ville at, . . 86 
 Alexander I. at the Tomb of Charlemagne, . 84 
 
 Almanza, Battle of, 104 
 
 Alains, The, 30 
 
 Amadis, ........ 29 
 
 Andelot, 29 
 
 Andernach, Town of, 118 
 
 Anjou, Duke of, 22 
 
256 Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 Antoine Berdolet, . . . . . . 81 
 
 Antoinette, Marie, 20 
 
 Apollinaire, Saint, 128 
 
 Archbishop Hatto, Legend of, . . . .184 
 Arcis-sur-Aube, Battle of, .... 65 
 Ardennes, The Boar of, . . . .44 
 
 Forest of, 57 
 
 Arm, The, of Charlemagne, . . . .78 
 
 Attigny, Village of, 30 
 
 Aulus-Gellius, 36 
 
 Austria, Elizabeth of, 42 
 
 B. 
 
 Bacharach, Town of, 154 
 
 Banks of the Meuse, 51 
 
 Barbers' Village, Legend f, 149 
 
 Barberousse, Frederick, .... 78, 82 
 
 Barthelemy de Holzhausen, Tomb of, . . 226 
 Battle of Montmirail, ..... 6 
 
 Almanza, 104 
 
 Rocray, 48 
 
 Tolbiac, . . . . . .131 
 
 Arcis-sur-Aube, . . . . 59 
 
 Bauldour, Legend of Pecopin and, . . .195 
 
 Bazard, Roche a, 52 
 
 Bell of Velmich, Legend of, . . .135 
 
 Berdolet, Antoine, 81 
 
 Bernard, Saint, 29 
 
Index. 257 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Berwick, Marshal, 104 
 
 Bingen, Town of, . . . . . .225 
 
 Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, .... 9 
 
 Bouchardon, ....... 29 
 
 Bourg, Castle of, 29 
 
 Buonaparte, Napoleon. See Napoleon I. 
 
 Boar of Ardennes, ...... 44 
 
 Bourgoyne, Dukes of, 29 
 
 Brisquet, The Court Fool, . . . . 17 
 
 Brutus, 37 
 
 Braine-sur-Vesle, Town of, . . . . 41 
 Bussee, Jean, 43 
 
 C. 
 
 Caesar, Julius, .... 33 
 
 Cardinal Richelieu, ... ... 43 
 
 Cardinal Richelieu. See Richelieu. 
 
 Castle of Cobons, 29 
 
 Bourg, 29 
 
 Humes, ...... 29 
 
 Nuilly Cotton, .... 29 
 
 Saint Broing, . . . . .29 
 
 Chagney, 29 
 
 Hellebarde, 41 
 
 Castles of the Rhine, 246 
 
 Castle of " The Cat," 145 
 
 " The Mouse," .... 145 
 Rheinfels, . . . . . .151 
 
258 Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Castle of Schoenberg, . . . . .152 
 Furstemberg, . . . . 155 
 
 Heimberg, 155 
 
 Goutenfels, 155 
 
 Cathedral of Meaux, 7 
 
 Mayence, ..... 234 
 
 Cologne, 88 
 
 Cat, The Castle of the, 145 
 
 Catherine de Medicis, ..... 104 
 Chagney, Castle of, ..... 29 
 
 Chair, The, of Charlemagne, . . . .81 
 Chalons, Church at, . . . . . 21 
 Champagne, Province of, . . . . .29 
 Chapel at Aix-la-Chapelle, .... 70 
 
 Chapel of Saint Clement, 183 
 
 Saint Genevieve, .... 246 
 Charlemagne Born at Aix-la-Chapelle, . . 69 
 
 Tomb of, 77 
 
 Arm of, .... 78 
 
 Skull of, 78 
 
 Heart of, . . . . .79 
 
 Crown of, 80 
 
 Chair of, . . . . .81 
 Sarcophagus of, . . . 8 r 
 
 Charles the Simple, 30 
 
 Charles I., 106 
 
 Charles II., 104 
 
 Charles V., 5 
 
 Charles IX., 42 
 
Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Charles IX. (Sweden), ... . . .43 
 
 Charles X., 21 
 
 Chateau, Thierry, 9 
 
 Chateauneuf, Laubespine de, . . .105 
 
 Chatillon, Seigneur, ...... 29 
 
 Childebert, 29 
 
 Church of Saint Werner, 156 
 
 Saint Martin at Cologne, . . 100 
 
 Church at Andernach, . . . .118,122 
 
 Chalons, . . . . . 21 
 
 City of Mayence, 233 
 
 Aix-la-Chapelle, .... 69 
 
 Liege, 5 1 
 
 Huy, 57 
 
 Dinant, 58 
 
 Treves, 128 
 
 Claye, 3 
 
 Clermont, Village of, 28 
 
 Clodion, . . -57 
 
 Clovis, 29, 33 
 
 Cobons, Castle of, ...... 29 
 
 Coffin of Saint Nizza, 246 
 
 Cohorn, 55 
 
 Colbert, 29' 
 
 Cologne, Hotel-de-Ville, 95 
 
 Cathedral of, 88 
 
 Count Thibaut, 16 
 
 de Fontana, ...... 104 
 
 de Mirabeau, 106 
 
260 Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Count Falkcnstein, 136 
 
 Corneille, Pierre, 43 
 
 Crescentius, 127 
 
 Crequi, Marshal de, . . . . . .183 
 
 Cromwell, Oliver, 106 
 
 Crown of Charlemagne, .... 80 
 
 D. 
 
 Dammartin, Tower of, 2, 3 
 
 Dante, 37 
 
 Dauphin, The, 20 
 
 Description of the Rhine, 242 
 
 of the Chapel at Aix-la-Chapelle, 76 
 
 of Liege, 60 
 
 Devil's Ladder, The 158 
 
 Diane de Poitiers, 104 
 
 Diderot, 29 
 
 Dinant, 5 2 
 
 City of, 5 8 
 
 Douchery, 44 
 
 Due, Philippe, .... .104 
 
 Duez, Town of, 88 
 
 Duke de Sully, 43 
 
 of Osunna, 43 
 
 of Anjou, 22 
 
 Dukes of Bourgoyne, ... .29 
 
Index. 26 1 
 
 PAGE 
 E. 
 
 Edict of Nantes, 104 
 
 Effigy of Philippe-le-Bel, .... 9 
 
 Egmont, Tower of, 49 
 
 Elizabeth, Madame, ..... 20 
 Queen, . . . . - . .23 
 
 of Austria, 42 
 
 Emperor Nicephore, 69 
 
 Ferdinand I., 82 
 
 Enghien, Duke d', 105 
 
 Epernay, Town of, n, 12, 16 
 
 Churches at, . . . 16,17,29 
 Erard de la Mark, ...... 64 
 
 Ethe, M., 20 
 
 F. 
 
 Fabricius, Jean, . . . . . . 43 
 
 Falkenburg, Ruins of, ... 173, 176, 181 
 
 Legend of the, . . . .195 
 Falkenstein, Ruins of, 137 
 
 Count, ..... 136 
 
 Frauenlob, Henry, 235 
 
 Favorinus, 35 
 
 Ferdinand I., Emperor, . . . .82 
 
 Ferte-sous-Jouarre, 3, n 
 
 Ferte-Vidame, 3 
 
262 Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Flodoard, 29 
 
 Fontana, Count de, 104 
 
 Forest of the Ardennes, . . . . . 57 
 Francis II. at Tomb of Charlemagne, . . 84 
 Frankfort-on-the-Main, . . . . .237 
 Frastrada, Wife of Charlemagne, . . .70 
 
 Frederick Barberousse, 78 
 
 Furstemberg, Castle of, 155 
 
 G. 
 
 Galloway, Lord, 104 
 
 Gargantua, ....... 4 
 
 Germanicus, 107 
 
 Germans, The, 3 C 
 
 Gerson, Charlier de, 29 
 
 Girardon, 29 
 
 Givet, . . " . . . . . - 44, 45 
 
 Town of, 32 
 
 Gondi, Paul de, 29 
 
 Gontran, King, 29 
 
 Goutenfels, Ruins of, i55 
 
 Gordiens, The, 29 
 
 Gregory, Saint, 69 
 
 Grotto of Hansur-Lesse, 52 
 
 Gustavus Adolphus, ..... 43 
 
 Gutierez, Jose, ... 4$ 
 
Index. 263 
 
 PAGE 
 H. 
 
 Hanault, President, ...... 108 
 
 Hansur-Lesse, Grotto of, . . . . 52 
 
 Hatto, Archbishop, Legend of, . . . .184 
 
 Heart of Charlemagne, 79 
 
 Heimberg, Ruins of, ... . 155, 173 
 
 Heloise, ........ 29 
 
 Hellebarde, Castle of, 41 
 
 Henriette, Widow of Charles I., . . 94, 107 
 Henry III., ....... 22, 104 
 
 Henry IV., .... 29, 43, 94, 104, 107 
 
 Henry Frauenlob, 235 
 
 Hinemar, ...;.... 29 
 Hoche, Tomb of, ... . . 120 
 
 Homer and the Rhine, 132 
 
 Horace, ........ 36 
 
 House " Ibach," The, ..... 103 
 
 Hotel-de-Ville at Aix-la-Chapelle, ... 86 
 at Cologne, .... 95 
 
 Huguenots, The, 22 
 
 Humes, Castle of, 29 
 
 Heins, The, . 30 
 
 Huy, City of, -57 
 
 I. 
 
 Ibach," The House, 103 
 
 Invasion of France, 1814, . . . . 6, 7 
 Islands of the Rhine, ... .246 
 
264 Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 J. 
 
 Jabach. See " Ibach." 
 
 James II., 104 
 
 Jamyn, . 29 
 
 Jean Bussee, 43 
 
 Jean Fabricius, ... 43 
 
 Jean de Wert, no 
 
 Jeanne, Queen, ...... 9 
 
 Joinville, Town of, . . . .29 
 
 Jose Gutierez, 4# 
 
 Joseph II., 5 
 
 Josephine at the Tomb of Charlemagne, . 84 
 
 Jovinus, Tomb of, 30 
 
 Judas, 37 
 
 Jules, Mount, 30 
 
 Julius Caesar, 33 
 
 K. 
 
 Klopp, Castle of, ip3 
 
 Ruins of, 193 
 
 Kcenigstuhl, The, 247 
 
 Ladder, The Devil's, i5 8 
 
 La Felic, 33 
 
 La Fontaine 9-- ^ 
 
PAGE 
 
 La Sabliere, Madame, 28 
 
 Laubespine de Chateauneuf, .... 105 
 
 Laugres, 29 
 
 Lautare, ........ 29 
 
 Legend of Archbishop Hatto, . . . .184 
 
 of the Bell of Velmich, . . . 135 
 of the Barber's Village, . . .149 
 of the Falkenburg, .... 195 
 
 ., of "The Mouse," 140 
 
 of Pecopin and Bauldour, . . 195 
 
 of the Wolf, 70 
 
 Legends of the Rhine, 129 
 
 Legion, The Twenty-second, . . . .127 
 
 Leon III., 70 
 
 Lesse, River, 52 
 
 Leutersdorf, Village of, 118 
 
 Liege, City of, 51 
 
 Description of, 60 
 
 Ligny 1'Abbaye, 29 
 
 Lovsberg, 130 
 
 Larch, Sibo de, 155 
 
 Lorch, Village, . . . . . . 158 
 
 Lorraine, Henry de, ...... 29 
 
 Louis Philippe, . . . . . . 21 
 
 Louis IX., ........ 30 
 
 Louis XIII., . . . 43, 94, 104, 106, 107, 108 
 
 Louis XIV., The Age of, 9 
 
 Louis XIV., 30, 105, 108 
 
 Louis XV., 21 
 
 12 
 
266 Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Louis XVI., 20, 24, 106 
 
 Lurley, Rock of, ...... 147 
 
 M. 
 
 Mabillon, 29 
 
 Madame Elizabeth, .... .20 
 
 La Sabliere, 28 
 
 de Maintenon, 104 
 
 Royal, . . . . . 20 
 
 Maintenon, Madame de, ..... 104 
 
 March, William de la, 44 
 
 Maria de Medicis. See Medicis. 
 
 Marie de Medicis, ..... 94, 106 
 
 Marie Antoinette, 20 
 
 Mark, Erard de la, 64 
 
 Market Place of Mayence, fJ 236 
 
 Marne, the River, 6, 28 
 
 Marshal Turenne, . . . . . -43 
 Berwick, ..... . 104 
 
 de Crequi, 183 
 
 Martin IV., 29 
 
 Saint, 128 
 
 Materne, Saint, . . . . . .128 
 
 Mausethurm, Tower of, . . . .186 
 
 Mayence, City of, 233 
 
 Cathedral of, 234 
 
 Market Place of, . . . 236 
 Meaux, Town of, i, 2, 3, 7 
 
Index. 267 
 
 PAGE 
 Meaux, Cathedral of, . . . . . .7 
 
 Theater at, . . . . . . 9 
 
 Medicis, Marie de, . . 94, 106, 107, 108 
 
 Catherine de, 104 
 
 Merovee, ........ 30 
 
 Menehould. See Saint Menehould. 
 
 Meuse, The River, 28 
 
 Separates Givet, 45 
 
 Valley of the, 49 
 
 Banks of the, . . . . . 51 
 
 Junction with the Sombre, . . -55 
 
 Mezieres, Village of, . . 41 
 
 Mezieres, 44 
 
 Mirabeau, Count de, 106 
 
 Moguntiacum, . . . . . . .127 
 
 Montmartre, ....... 2 
 
 Montmirail, Battle of, 6 
 
 Montmirail, n, 14 
 
 Montmorency, Town of, i 
 
 Henry of, .... 105 
 Montmort, Village of, . . . . .14 
 
 Castle of, 14 
 
 Mount Jules, 30 
 
 Mountains, The Seven, 97 
 
 Mouzon, Town of, 30 
 
 Museum, Waldraf, . no 
 
268 Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 N. 
 
 Namur, . 48, 54, 55 
 
 Nanteuil-le-Haudoin, i 
 
 Nantes, Edict of, 104 
 
 Napoleon I., . . 5, 33, 105 
 
 at Aix-la-Chapelle, . . . . 2 
 Napoleon Bonaparte. See Napoleon I. 
 
 Neuilly Cotton, Castle of, 29 
 
 Nicephore, Emperor, 69 
 
 Notre Dame de 1'Epine, Abbey of, . . . 23 
 Noyon, 34 
 
 O. 
 
 Oberwesel, Town of, 151 
 
 Oliver Cromwell, 106 
 
 Orange, Prince of, 29 
 
 Osunna, Duke of, 43 
 
 Pacuvius, 35 
 
 Pailly, 29 
 
 Papirien Masson, ...... 43 
 
 Paraclet, Village of, . . . . . 29 
 
 Paradise Plain, The, 226 
 
 Pascalus, an Actor, 9 
 
Index. 269 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Pecopin and Bauldour, Legend of, . . .195 
 
 Pepin, . . 37 
 
 Philip III., . . 43 
 
 Philippe-Auguste, 29 
 
 Philippe-le-Bel, Effigy of, 9 
 
 Philippe Due, 104 
 
 Pierre Corneille, 43 
 
 Pierre Strozzi, . . . . . 16 
 
 Plain, The Paradise, 226 
 
 Plato, 35 
 
 Pliny, ... ..... 35 
 
 Poets of Tartary, 35 
 
 Poitiers, Diane de, . 104 
 
 President Hanault, 108 
 
 Prince of Orange, 29 
 
 Provium, Village of, ..... 29 
 
 Province of Champagne, 29 
 
 Q. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth, 23 
 
 Queen Jeanne, ..... 9 
 
 R. 
 
 Racine, 9 
 
 Rat Tower, The, 187 
 
 See Hatto. 
 
2/O Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 Relics at Aix-la-Chapelle, . . . 69, 79 
 
 Revolution of 1830, 6 
 
 Rheims, City of, 21, 29 
 
 Rheinfels, Castle of, 151 
 
 Rhine, Legends of, 129 
 
 Reflections on, . . . . .124 
 
 Description of the, 242 
 
 Islands of the, 246 
 
 Castles of the, 248 
 
 Richelieu, Cardinal, . . .43, 94, 106, 108 
 
 Rigomagum, 128 
 
 River Lesse, . . . . . . . 52 
 
 Meuse, The, 28 
 
 Marne, The, . . . . . . 6, 28 
 Rhine, The. See Rhine. 
 
 Vesdre, The, 66 
 
 Ruvigny (Lord Galloway), . . . 104 
 
 Roche a Bazard, . . . . . . 52 
 
 Rock of Lurley, .... . 147 
 
 Rocoles, ........ 35 
 
 Rocroy, Battle of, ... . 48, 104 
 
 Rome and the Rhine, . . . . .127 
 
 Royale, Madame, ... . 20 
 
 Rubens, Birth of, 94 
 
 Ruins of Falkenburg, . . . 173, 176, 181 
 
 Falkenstein, 137 
 
 Furstemburg, . . . . 155 
 
 Goutenfels, 155 
 
 Heimberg, .... 155, 173 
 
Index. 271 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Ruins of the Klopp, . . . . .193 
 
 " The Mouse," . . . 139,142 
 Rheinfels, . . . . . . 151 
 
 Schcenberg, . . . . 152 
 
 Sonnech, ..... 155 
 
 Sonneck, . . . . . 173 
 
 Russians, The, 30 
 
 Saint Apollinaire, 128 
 
 Bernard, ....... 29 
 
 Broing, Castle of, .... 29 
 
 Dezier, 29 
 
 Genevieve, Chapel of, . . . .246 
 Gregory, ....... 69 
 
 Hubert, Abbot of, 30 
 
 Ida, Tomb of, 246 
 
 Jean-des-Vignes, ..... 33 
 
 Louis. See Louis IX. 
 
 Menehould, Town of, . . 19, 24, 25, 27, 30 
 
 Martin, 128 
 
 Materne, 128 
 
 Nizza, Coffin of, 246 
 
 Simon, 3, 9 
 
 Thomas, Abbey of, . . . . .119 
 
 San son, Village of, . . . . 57 
 
 Sarcophagus of Charlemagne, . .81 
 
 Schleis, Kotten, no 
 
 Sedan, Town of, . . . 42, 43, 44 
 
 Seven Mountains, The, . 97 
 
 Sezenne, . 29 
 
272 Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Shakspeare and the Rhine, . . . . 132 
 
 Shcenberg, Ruins of, 152 
 
 Sibo de Larch, 155 
 
 Simbourg, Town of, 68 
 
 Skull of Charlemagne, 78 
 
 Soissons, Town of, . . i, 32, 33, 37 
 
 Sombre, Junction with the Meuse, . . . 55 
 Sonnech, Castle of, ...... 155 
 
 Sonneck, Ruins of, . . . . . .173 
 
 Spain, Philip III., King of, .... 43 
 
 Spire, Vindelin de, ...... 130 
 
 Saint Clement, Chapel of, . . . . .183 
 
 Denis, Town of, . . . . . i 
 
 Goar, Town of, . . . . . 144, 145 
 
 Martin, Church of, at Cologne, . . 100 
 
 Werner, Church of, 156 
 
 Strozzi, Pierre, 16 
 
 Suessonium, ....... 37 
 
 Sueves, The, 30 
 
 Sully, Duke de, 43 
 
 Sweden, Gustavus Adolphus, King of, . . 43 
 Charles IX., King of, . . . -43 
 
 Tolbiac, Battle of, 131 
 
 Taunus, . . ..... 128 
 
 Tartary, Ports of 35 
 
Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Dauphin, ....... 20 
 
 " The Mouse," Ruins of, .... 139, 142 
 
 Theater at Meaux 9 
 
 Paris, 9 
 
 Theodoric, . 30 
 
 Thibaut, Count, 16 
 
 Thibaut IV., 28 
 
 Thou, President of, 105 
 
 Three Wise Men of the East, Town of, . . 93 
 
 Tomb of Barthelemy de Holzhausen, . . 226 
 
 Charlemagne, . . . . . 77 
 
 Napoleon I at, . 84 
 
 Josephine at, . . 84 
 
 Alexander I., at, . . 84 
 
 Frederick William I. at, 84 
 
 Hoche, 120 
 
 Jovinus, 30 
 
 Marie de Medicis, . . . .94 
 
 Saint Ida, . . . . . . 246 
 
 The Three Wise Men of the East, . 93 
 
 Tongres, 128 
 
 Touchard, ........ 3 
 
 Tower of Dammartin, 2, 3 
 
 Egmont, 49 
 
 Mausethurm, 186 
 
 The Rat, 187 
 
 See Hatto. 
 
 Town of Andefnach, 118 
 
 Bacharach, . . . . . .154 
 
Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Town of Bingen, 225 
 
 Braint Sur-Vesle, . . . .41 
 
 Duez, 88 
 
 Epernay, . . . . . .11 
 
 Givet, . . . . . 32 
 
 Meaux, i 
 
 Montmorency, .... . i 
 
 Mouzon, . . . . . .30 
 
 Oberwesel, 151 
 
 St. Denis, i 
 
 Sainte Menehould, .... 19 
 
 Sedan, 42, 43 
 
 Simbourg, 68 
 
 Soissons, ...... 37 
 
 St. Goar, 144, 145 
 
 Varennes, 32 
 
 Verviers, 68 
 
 Treves, City of, 128 
 
 Troyes, 30 
 
 Turenne, Marshal 43 
 
 Twenty-Second Legion, 127 
 
 Valentin, 29 
 
 Valentinian, . . . . . . .118 
 
 Valley of the Meuse, 49 
 
 Valley of Wisperthall, 155 
 
Index. 27$ 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Vandals, The, 30 
 
 Varennes, 19 
 
 Varennes, Town of, . . . . . 32 
 
 Vauban, 55 
 
 Vaux Champs, . . . . . . 17 
 
 Velmich, Village of, ..... 134 
 
 Verviers, Town of, 68 
 
 Vesdre, The River, ...... 66 
 
 Village of Larch, 168 
 
 Mezieres, 41 
 
 Montmarte, 14 
 
 Sanson, ...... 57 
 
 Velmich, . . . . . .134 
 
 Weiss Thurm, . . . .121 
 
 Villers-Oottcrets, i, 32 
 
 Vindelin de Spire, ...... 130 
 
 Virgil and the Rhine, ..... 132 
 
 W. 
 
 Waldraf Museum, no 
 
 Weiss Thurm, Village of, . . . . .120 
 
 Wert, Jean de, no 
 
 William de la March, 44 
 
 Wisperthall, Valley of, 155 
 
 Wolf Legend of the, 70 
 
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