the moon shines bright o’er vale and hill,
o’er castle wall and donjon keep;
her beams they dance on every rill,
on every turret seem to sleep.
[208]
such was the hour and such the night on which the mad pfalz-graf, henry of cochem, slew his wife. thus runs the tale in the overture:—
[contents]
legend of cochem.
the pfalz-graf henry, called “the mad,” had a bitter quarrel with the archbishop of cologne, and had been worsted in combat with the archbishop’s troops; retiring, he shut himself up in his castle of cochem.
as the evening drew on, the pfalz-graf became more and more excited, and strode to and fro in his chamber. the light of the full moon still further added to his fury, and he raged like a lion confined in his den, constantly calling on the archbishop by name, and vowing vengeance against him.
his gentle wife approaching him sought to soothe him with her caresses, and addressed him with words of endearment. for a few moments he seemed to be calmer; but then starting up, he seized a great axe and struck his wife to the earth.
at seeing this monstrous deed, the attendants sprang forward; alas! too late, for the gentle lady was dead.
the madman was seized and taken to the archbishop of trèves, who had him confined in a cell, where he soon after died.
the town of cochem is hid by the trees on our left as we look at the castle: it contains about 2500 inhabitants, [209]and is a very clean, flourishing town. it contains very fair shops, and the hotel is good. it is very picturesque; its streets are steep and narrow, and the old walls and gate-towers add to its general appearance of age. on market-days it is crowded with people from all the adjoining villages, who sell their produce to dealers who supply the market of coblence. a little steamer bustles and puffs down the stream into coblence every day, and gets back again in the evening.
cochem is a good resting-place, as in its neighbourhood are found many interesting places, such as beilstein, marienbourg, clotten, treis, elz, &c.; and immediately around it the country walks are very numerous, varied in character, and beautiful.
sitting in the balcony of the inn, too, is very pleasant; the steamers, with their passing life, arrive and depart just opposite; the great fleets of barges are pulled past by dozens of horses, at which the drivers scream and crack their whips till the whole valley resounds; fishermen ply their trade, and at night-time light fires on the banks, that thus they may be able to see their prey in the water.
opposite is a small village, and behind this village are vineyards belonging to cochem; so the constant communication necessarily kept up makes the river appear very lively. boats also are generally being built or repaired, and the girls are washing linen or carrying water up from the stream.
between cochem and beilstein there is, at a turn [210]of the river, a beautiful cemetery, and a church with twin-spires. the cliffs and river sweep round the angle and shut in this retired nook, which, thus separated from the world, appears a fit resting-place for those whose waking will be in a world more glorious than this. there are on our river many cemeteries and graveyards, most beautifully placed; and the graves, with their simple crosses, seem the realisation of peace.
nearer to cochem is a very perfect echo; it repeats twice with great clearness, and is so long before answering that there is time to say quite a sentence. thus it invited us to “come again to-morrow;” and for many a morrow we visited and revisited the scenery here, the endless foot-paths over rocks and through vines, or forests, or fields, ever giving us new views and fresh combinations of beauty, and we found days pass into weeks with the greatest rapidity.
following the brook at the end of the town, we arrive at the foot of the hill on which the strong castle of winneburg stands, midst its own ruins. it has two sets of walls and moats, and must have been quite inaccessible in the old time. it is difficult to get into it now, even without anybody to poke a pike down one’s throat, or pour molten lead in your eyes.
its situation is fine, and from it part of cochem is seen, and the castle of cochem, which rises quite close to the town. it is curious how deceptive these places are in size. what seems from below to be a mere fragment of ruin, becomes, at your nearer approach, [211]a most extensive circuit of wall, with many roofless chambers and turrets; just as we never know the size of a tree until it is felled.
the legend of winneburg, called “the immured maiden,” merely relates that the master-builder who had contracted to finish the keep within a certain time failed in his contract; and being reproached by his employer, was about to jump into the moselle from the walls: but a stranger assured him, if he would allow him to build into the wall the little daughter he loved so dearly, he would finish the keep in a day. the rascal consented, and the devil built the little girl up in the foundation of this strong keep-tower.
we doubted the truth of this story, as the master-builder must have been a very active man to have jumped two miles and a half, which is the distance from winneburg to the moselle.
continuing our course from the hill on which winneburg stands, we enter a narrow part of the valley called the enterthal. this enterthal consists of a series of openings in the very high hills; the openings are exquisitely green lawns, surrounded by thick foliage and rock; through or round these openings runs the brook, heaping up stones and spreading into pools, or tumbling down headlong in its hurry to reach its gentle sovereign the moselle.
the path is rough, and constantly you have to hop from stone to stone across the brook. thus picking our steps, we came suddenly on a most aristocratic [212]fishing-party, consisting of the burgomaster and his attendants, clad in blue, with red stripes to their caps, and with naked legs. they seemed very successful in procuring trout for the official supper. their mode of fishing was not scientific or sportsman-like,—an odd-shaped net, which they poked under the banks, being the only tackle of this great man, who did not disdain to wet his own herr-burgomasterial legs in the pursuit.
after a long ramble an old mill is reached, and a good sketch found; indeed, the whole walk was a sort of diorama of beautiful moving pictures of rock, and tree, and water. the people we met in these valleys were by no means civil; and we found out at last that their incivility was caused by their thinking we were making plans to divert the course of the stream, or otherwise injure their properties.
english ladies were evidently quite new objects of curiosity to the people of cochem. on leaving the hotel, the ladies of our party immediately became objects to be pointed at, talked about, and stared out of countenance. if the streets had been empty before their appearance, there were always spies of some sort on the alert, who called to doors and windows those who made a perpetual peep-show of these wonderful strangers. every tea-table and wine-party also, as we were informed, discussed us, and wondered what could induce us to remain at cochem when we might be enjoying all the gaieties of trèves or coblence. although we passed weeks there their wonder never diminished, nor did their curiosity cease. they [213]seemed to have no idea of scenery being worth anything.
luckily, this unpleasant curiosity was confined to the people of the town; in the country a hearty “guten tag,” or “gute nacht,” always greeted us, and the greatest readiness to direct or assist us was always shown by the peasants: one man was, it is true, exceedingly tickled at the idea of our asking the way to a valley which we were already in, and could scarcely answer for laughing. evidently, too, they in general fancied that so important a place as something-heim, or whatever the name of the place happened to be, ought to be well known to every one.
the castle of cochem affords a most agreeable retirement to those who are fond of reading, sketching, or musing through the summer’s day: unlike the ruins on the rhine, it is wholly uninfested by beggars, donkeys, or venders of faded flowers and wreaths. here you may walk up the hill and enter by a stone bridge into the outworks; perhaps a few sheep or goats, with an attendant boy, are there: if not, solitude holds his court amid the deserted walls. through the ruined window-arches the river is seen, and the town is immediately under us: vines cover one side of the steep hill, and a little chapel nestles itself into a corner where the rock shelters it from stones; above rise the mountains, covered with cherry and other trees to near the top, where young oaks supersede the less hardy fruit-trees: a soft green lawn fills the space surrounded by the outworks of the castle; [214]in the centre stands the massive keep, beside which is a smaller tower, and in the distance, winneburg is greyly visible.
cochem was one of the three castles given up to the countess of sponheim by archbishop baldwin, as a security for the heavy ransom she made him pay: this happened in 1328. about the same period the jews of cochem were massacred; the popular fury was raised against them by the story of the supposed murder of the child werner at oberwesel on rhine. the truth appears to be, that the jews had become richer than the other members of the communities in which they lived, and therefore envy roused the populace to fury with a fictitious story of murder, and by this means plundered the unfortunate hebrews, who no longer lived to protect their property.
cochem suffered terribly when it was taken by marshal boufflers, who, after devastating the palatinate, advanced against this town; thrice his troops were repulsed by the brave defenders, at length the superior numbers of the besiegers forced an entrance, but with a loss of 2500 men, among whom were six colonels: all the inhabitants that remained alive after the pillage were sent into other countries, and only a few ever found their way back. after the taking of the town the cruelties exercised by the french troops were only surpassed by tilly at magdebourg.
the assault took place on the fête of st. louis, [215]and boufflers sent the news of the taking and burning of cochem to louis xiv. as a pleasant gift, well suited to the occasion.
the chateau of winneburg was taken and sacked at the same time. this castle afterwards became the family seat of the metternichs.
for a long time after these outrages, it is said that those who had witnessed the dreadful scenes at the taking of cochem were wont to start up in their sleep, crying, “the french! the french!”
passing out of cochem, as we continue on our flowery path, we find ourselves in the shade of the kreuzberg mountain: it is covered with vineyards, which produce a small quantity of excellent wine.
the next town is clotten; between it and cochem a fine range of rocky precipices form an amphitheatre, that dwarfs even the gigantic works of the old romans. what ants we appear when from a rock we look down on our human mole-hills!
the church at clotten is remarkably well placed on an eminence, where its handsome proportions are seen to the greatest effect. the town is very dilapidated and irregularly built: there are some very picturesque houses in it still, but the old walls and gate-towers have nearly all disappeared to make room for the vines.
clotten castle.
clotten castle.
at a little distance from the town is the ruined tower, that alone survives of the former castle of [216]clotten; it is partially undermined, and a great hole broken into its centre. the castle of clotten was extensive, and very strong; at one time it was the residence of a queen, richenza of poland. she was the wife of miceslaus ii., and during her husband’s lifetime she managed all the affairs of the kingdom: at his death she was made regent during her young son’s minority, but the poles drove her out of their kingdom, and she took refuge with her son casimir in clotten: here she shut herself up, and casimir became a monk. some years after, a deputation from poland waited on casimir, and begged him to return to poland as king; this he did, the pope releasing [217]him from his vows on the whimsical condition that all the poles of good birth should cut their hair close to the point of the ear, in perpetual recollection of their king having been a monk.
richenza endeavoured to persuade her son not to accept the throne, but her arguments did not convince him of the vanity of royalty; she remained in this country, constantly residing at clotten castle, near which she built a hermitage with a chapel, to which she often retired.
a fine reach of the river is seen from the ruin, and behind it is a deep valley, in which one or two mills are just perceptible through the trees that envelope the course of the brook which turns their great wheels.
the spires of the churches are in general finely pointed, the one at our feet, as we stand here, is a fair example of their style of architecture. on sundays and fête-days they are crowded; often they are so full, that late-comers are obliged to stand in the doorway or outside: the crowd is made up of both men and women; the head-dresses of the latter are gay and graceful. the embroidered cloth or velvet covering the thick plaits of the unmarried girls, the close caps of the old women, and the smart streaming ribbons of the young wives, make the heads of the crowd like a bed of tulips.
the men always wear blue blouses and black hats, or plain cloth caps, so they are commonplace-looking enough: the boatmen are alone, of their sex, [218]picturesque; a red cap sets them off amazingly, and they seem to have a very good opinion of themselves, if we may judge by the ease with which they joke the m?dchen they pass on their voyage.
a good many fish are caught in the river, but they are generally small. all day long solitary men sit in boats, and at long intervals dip up and down nets that move on a pole at the end of a swivel: they must have immense patience, and consume, we should suppose, the greater part of their earnings in the tobacco that they constantly smoke. the casting-net also is much used, but then there must be two men, one to pole the boat into the rapids while the other swings in his net.
