Read Delphi Complete Works of Ann Radcliffe (Illustrated) Online
Authors: Ann Radcliffe
Delphi Complete Works of Ann Radcliffe (Illustrated) (301 page)
We saw this landscape under the happiest circumstances of season and weather; the woods and plants were in their midsummer bloom, and the mellow light of evening heightened the richness of their hues, and gave exquisite effect to one half of the amphitheatre we were passing, while the other half was in shadow. The air was scented by bean-blossoms, and by lime-trees then in flower, that bordered the road. If this plain had mingled pasture with its groves, it would have been truly Arcadian; but neither here, nor through the whole of this delightful valley, did we see a single pasture or meadow, except now and then in an island on the Rhine; deficiencies which are here supplied, to the lover of landscape, by the verdure of the woods and vines. In other parts of Germany they are more to be regretted, where, frequently, only corn and rock colour the land.
Fatigued at length by such prodigality of beauty, we were glad to be shrouded awhile from the view of it, among close boughs, and to see only the wide rivulets, with their rustic bridges of faggots and earth, that, descending from among the mountains, frequently crossed our way; or the simple peasant-girl, leading her cows to feed on the narrow stripe of grass that margined the road. The little bells, that jingled at their necks, would not suffer them to stray beyond her hearing. If we had not long since dismissed our surprise at the scarcity and bad quality of cheese and butter in Germany, we should have done so now, on perceiving this scanty method of pasturing the cattle, which future observation convinced us was the frequent practice.
About sun-set we reached the little village of Namedy, seated near the foot of a rock, round which the Rhine makes a sudden sweep, and, contracted by the bold precipices of Hammerstein on the opposite shore, its green current passes with astonishing rapidity and sounding strength. These circumstances of scenery, with the tall masts of vessels lying below the shrubby bank, on which the village stands, and seeming to heighten by comparison the stupendous rocks, that rose around them; the moving figures of boatmen and horses employed in towing a barge against the stream, in the bay beyond; and a group of peasants on the high quay, in the fore ground, watching their progress; the ancient castle of Hammerstein overlooking the whole — these were a combination of images, that formed one of the most interesting pictures we had seen.
The valley again expanding, the walls and turrets of Andernach, with its Roman tower rising independently at the foot of a mountain, and the ruins of its castle above, appeared athwart the perspective of the river, terminating the pass; for there the rocky boundary opened to plains and remote mountains. The light vapour, that rose from the water, and was tinged by the setting rays, spread a purple haze over the town and the cliffs, which, at this distance appeared to impend over it; colouring extremely beautiful, contrasted as it was by the clearer and deeper tints of rocks, wood and water nearer to the eye.
As we approached Andernach, its situation seemed to be perpetually changing, with the winding bank. Now it appeared seated on a low peninsula, that nearly crossed the Rhine, overhung by romantic rocks; but this vision vanished as we advanced, and we perceived the town lying along a curving shore, near the foot of the cliffs, which were finely fringed with wood, and at the entrance of extensive plains. Its towers seen afar, would be signs of a considerable place, to those who had not before been wearied of such symptoms by the towers of Neuss, and other German towns. From a wooded precipice over the river we had soon after a fine retrospective glimpse of the valley, its fantastic shores, and long mountainous distance, over which evening had drawn her sweetest colouring. As we pursued the pass, the heights on either hand gradually softened; the country beyond shewed remote mountains less wild and aspiring than those we had left, and the blooming tint, which had invested the distance, deepened to a dusky purple, and then vanished in the gloom of twilight. The progressive influence of the hour upon the landscape was interesting; and the shade of evening, under which we entered Andernach, harmonized with the desolation and silence of its old walls and the broken ground around them. We passed a drawbridge and a ruinous gateway, and were sufficiently fatigued to be somewhat anxious as to our accommodation. The English habit of considering, towards the end of the day’s journey, that you are not far from the cheerful reception, the ready attendance, and the conveniences of a substantial inn, will soon be lost in Germany. There, instead of being in good spirits, during the last stage, from such a prospect, you have to consider, whether you shall find a room, not absolutely disgusting, or a house with any eatable provision, or a landlady, who will give it you, before the delay and the fatigue of an hundred requests have rendered you almost incapable of receiving it. When your carriage stops at the inn, you will perhaps perceive, instead of the alacrity of an English waiter, or the civility of an English landlord, a huge figure, wrapt in a great coat, with a red worsted cap on his head, and a pipe in his mouth, stalking before the door. This is the landlord. He makes no alteration in his pace on perceiving you, or, if he stops, it is to eye you with curiosity; he seldom speaks, never bows, or assists you to alight; and perhaps stands surrounded by a troop of slovenly girls, his daughters, whom the sound of wheels has brought to the door, and who, as they lean indolently against it, gaze at you with rude curiosity and surprise.
The drivers in Germany are all bribed by the innkeepers, and, either by affecting to misunderstand you, or otherwise, will constantly stop at the door, where they are best paid. That this money comes out of your pocket the next morning is not the grievance; the evil is, that the worst inns give them the most, and a traveller, unless he exactly remembers his directions, is liable to be lodged in all the vilest rooms of a country, where the best hotels have no lodging so clean and no larder so wholesomely filled as those of every halfway house between London and Canterbury. When you are within the inn, the landlord, who is eager to keep, though not to accommodate you, will affirm, that his is the inn you ask for, or that the other sign is not in the place; and, as you soon learn to believe any thing of the wretchedness of the country, you are unwilling to give up one lodging, lest you should not find another.
Our driver, after passing a desolate, half filled place, into which the gate of Andernach opened, entered a narrow passage, which afterwards appeared to be one of the chief streets of the place. Here he found a miserable inn, and declared that there was no other; but, as we had seen one of a much better appearance, we were at length brought to that, and, though with some delay, were not ill accommodated, for the night.
Andernach is an ancient town, and it is believed, that a tower, which stands alone, at one end of the walls, was built by Drusus, of whom there are many traces in walls and castles, intended to defend the colonies, on this side of the Rhine, against the Germans, on the other. The fortifications can now be of little other use than to authorise the toll, which travellers pay, for entering a walled town; a tax, on account of which many of the walls are supported, though it is pretended, that the tax is to support the walls. By their means also, the Elector of Cologne collects here the last of four payments, which he demands for the privilege of passing the Rhine from Urdingen to Andernach; and this is the most Southern frontier town of his dominions on the western side of the Rhine, which soon after join those of the Elector of Treves. Their length from hence to Rheinberg is not less than ninety miles; the breadth probably never more than twenty.
There is some trade, at Andernach, in tiles, timber, and millstones, but the heaps of these commodities upon the beach are the only visible symptoms of the traffick; for you will not see one person in the place moving as if he had business to attract him, or one shop of a better appearance, than an English huckster’s, or one man in the dress of a creditable trader, or one house, which can be supposed to belong to persons in easy circumstances. The port contains, perhaps, half a dozen vessels, clinker built, in shape between a barge and a sloop; on the quay, you may see two or three fellows, harnessing half a dozen horses to a tow line, while twenty more watch their lingering manoeuvres, and this may probably be the morning’s business of the town. Those, who are concerned in it, say that they are engaged in
commerce.
This, or something like it, is the condition, as to trade, of all the towns we saw in Germany, one or two excepted. They are so far from having well filled, or spacious repositories, that you can scarcely tell at what houses there are any, till you are led within the door; you may then wait long after you are heard, or seen, before the owner, if he has any other engagement, thinks it necessary to approach you: if he has what you ask for, which he probably has not, unless it is something very ordinary, he tells the price and takes it, with as much sullenness, as if you were forcing the goods from him: if he has not, and can shew you only something very different, he then considers your enquiry as an intrusion, and appears to think himself injured by having had the trouble to answer you. What seems unaccountable in the manners of a German trader, is, that, though he is so careless in attending you, he looks as much distressed, as vexed, if you do not leave some money with him; but he probably knows, that you can be supplied no where else in the town, and, therefore, will not deny himself the indulgence of his temper. Even when you are satisfied, his manner is so ill, that he appears to consider you his dependent, by wanting something which he can refuse. After perceiving, that this is nearly general, the pain of making continual discoveries of idleness and malignity becomes so much greater than the inconvenience of wanting any thing short of necessaries, that you decline going into shops, and wait for some easier opportunities of supplying whatever you may lose upon the road.
IT is one post from Andernach hither, over a road, as good as any in England. Beyond the dominions of the Elector of Cologne, the face of the country, on this side of the Rhine, entirely changes its character. The rocks cease, at Andernach, and a rich plain commences, along which the road is led, at a greater distance from the Rhine, through corn lands and uninclosed orchards. About a mile from Andernach, on the other side of the river, the white town of Neuwiedt, the capital of a small Protestant principality, is seen; and the general report, that it is one of the most commercial places, on the Rhine, appeared to be true from the chearful neatness of the principal street, which faces towards the water. There were also about twenty small vessels, lying before it, and the quay seemed to be wide enough to serve as a spacious terrace to the houses. The Prince’s palace, an extensive stone building, with a lofty orangery along the shore, is at the end of this street, which, as well as the greatest part of the town, was built, or improved under the auspices of his father; a wise prince, distinguished by having negotiated, in
wretchedness
of a deficiency of game in the country, for the late Prince was guilty of such an innovation as to mitigate the severity of the laws respecting it.
The forest hills, that rise behind Neuwiedt and over the rocky margin of the river, extend themselves towards the more rugged mountains of Wetteravia, which are seen, a shapeless multitude, in the east.
The river is soon after lost to the view between high, sedgy banks; but, near Coblentz, the broad bay, which it makes in conjunction with the Moselle, is seen expanding between the walls of the city and the huge pyramidal precipice, on which stands the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, or rather which is itself formed into that fortress. The Moselle is here a noble river, by which the streams of a thousand hills, covered with vines, pour themselves into the Rhine. The antient stone bridge over it leads to the northern gate of Coblentz, and the entrance into the city is ornamented by several large chateau-like mansions, erected to command a view of the two rivers. A narrow street of high, but antient houses then commences, and runs through the place. Those, which branch from it extend, on each side, towards the walls, immediately within which there are others, that nearly follow their course and encompass the city. Being built between two rivers, its form is triangular, and only one side is entirely open to the land; a situation so convenient both for the purposes of commerce and war, that it could not be overlooked by the Romans, and was not much neglected by the moderns, till the industry of maritime countries and the complicated constitution of the Empire reduced Germany in the scale of nations. This was accordingly the station of the first legion, and the union of the two rivers gave it a name;
Confluentia.
At the commencement of the modern division of nations, the successors of Charlemagne frequently resided here, for the convenience of an intercourse between the other parts of the Empire and France; but, in the eleventh century, the whole territory of Treves regained the distinction, as a separate country, which the Romans had given it, by calling the inhabitants
Treveri.
Coblentz is a city of many spires, and has establishments of chapters and monasteries, which make the great pride of German capitals, and are sometimes the chief objects, that could distinguish them from the neglected villages of other countries. The streets are not all narrow, but few of them are straight; and the same pavement serves for the horses of the Elector and the feet of his subjects. The port, or beach, has the appearance of something more business than that of Andernach, being the resort of passage-vessels between Mentz and Cologne; but the broad quay, which has been raised above it, is chiefly useful as a promenade to the visitors of a close and gloomy town. Beyond the terrace stands the Elector’s palace, an elegant and spacious stone edifice, built to the height of three stories, and inclosing a court, which is large enough to be light as well as magnificent. The front towards the Rhine is simple, yet grand, the few ornaments being so well proportioned to its size, as neither to debase it by minuteness, nor encumber it by vastness. An entablature, displaying some allegorical figures in bas relief, is supported by six Doric columns, which contribute much to the majestic simplicity of the edifice. The palace was built, about ten years since, by the reigning Elector, who mentions, in an inscription, his attention to the architectural art; and a fountain, between the building and the town, is inscribed with a few words, which seem to acknowledge his subjects as beings of the same species with himself; CLEMENS WINCESLAUS VICINIS SUIS.
But the most striking parts of the view from this quay are the rock and fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, that present themselves immediately before it, on the other side of the river; notwithstanding the breadth of which they appear to rise almost perpendicularly over Coblentz. At the base of the rock stands a large building, formerly the palace of the Electors, who chose to reside under the immediate protection of the fortress, rather than in the midst of their capital. Adjoining it is the village of Ehrenbreitstein, between which and Coblentz a flying bridge is continually passing, and, with its train of subordinate boats, forms a very picturesque object from the quay. The fortress itself consists of several tier of low walls, built wherever there was a projection in the rock capable of supporting them, or wherever the rock could be hewn so as to afford room for cannon and soldiers. The stone, taken out of the mass, served for the formation of the walls, which, in some places, can scarcely be distinguished from the living rock. Above these tier, which are divided into several small parts, according to the conveniences afforded by the cliff, is built the castle, or citadel, covering its summit, and surrounded by walls more regularly continued, as well as higher. Small towers, somewhat in the antient form, defend the castle, which would be of little value, except for its height, and for the gradations of batteries between it and the river. Thus protected, it seems impregnable on that side, and is said to be not much weaker on the other; so that the garrison, if they should be willing to fire upon Coblentz, might make it impossible for an enemy to remain within it, except under the cover of very high entrenchments. This is the real defence of the city, for its walls would presently fall before heavy artillery; and this, it is believed, might be preserved as long as the garrison could be supplied with stores.
We crossed the river from the quay to the fortress, by means of the very simple invention, a flying bridge. That, by which part of the passage of the Waal is made at Nimeguen, has been already mentioned; this is upon the same principle, but on a much larger scale. After the barges, upon which the platform is laid, are clear of the bank, the whole passage is effected with no other labour than that of the rudder. A strong cable, which is fastened to an anchor at each side of the river, is supported across it by a series of small boats; the bridge has two low masts, one on each barge, and these are connected at the top by a beam, over which the cable is passed, being confined so as that it cannot slip beyond them. When the bridge is launched, the rapidity of the current forces it down the Rhine as far as the cable will permit: having reached that point, the force, received from the current, gives it the only direction of which it is capable, that across the river, with the cable which holds it. The steersman manages two rudders, by which he assists in giving it this direction. The voyage requires nine or ten minutes, and the bridge is continually passing. The toll, which, for a foot passenger, is something less than a penny, is paid, for the benefit of the Elector, at an office, on the bank, and a sentinel always accompanies the bridge, to support his government, during the voyage.
The old palace of Ehrenbreitstein, deserted because of its dampness, and from the fear of its being overwhelmed by the rock, that sometimes scatters its fragments upon it, is now used as a barrack and hospital for soldiers. It is a large building, even more pleasantly situated than the new one, being opposite to the entrance of the Moselle into the Rhine; and its structure, which has been once magnificent, denotes scarcely any other decay, than all buildings will shew, after a few years’ neglect. The rock has allowed little room for a garden, but there are some ridiculous ornaments upon a very narrow strip of ground, which was probably intended for one.
The only entrance into the fortress, on this side, is by a road, cut in the solid rock, under four gateways. It is so steep, that we were compelled to decline the honour of admission, but ascended it far enough to judge of the view, commanded from the summit, and to be behind the batteries, of which some were mounted with large brass cannon. Coblentz lies beneath it, as open to inspection as a model upon a table. The sweeps of the Rhine and the meanders of the Moselle, the one binding the plain, the other intersecting it, lead the eye towards distant hills, that encircle the capacious level. The quay of the city, with the palace and the moving bridge, form an interesting picture immediately below, and we were unwilling to leave the rock for the dull and close streets of Coblentz. On our return, the extreme nakedness of the new palace, which is not sheltered by trees, on any side, withdrew our attention from the motley group of passengers, mingled with hay carts and other carriages, on the flying bridge.
The long residence of the emigrant princes and noblesse of France in this city is to be accounted for not by its general accommodations, or gaieties, of which it is nearly as deficient as the others of Germany; but first by the great hospitality of the Elector towards them, and then by the convenience of its situation for receiving intelligence from France, and for communicating with other countries. The Elector held frequent levies for the French nobility, and continued for them part of the splendour which they had enjoyed in their own country. The readiness for lending money upon property, or employments in France, was also so great, that those, who had not brought cash with them, were immediately supplied, and those, who had, were encouraged to continue their usual expences. We know it from some of the best possible authority, that, at the commencement of the march towards Longwy, money, at four per cent. was even pressed upon many, and that large sums were refused.
Here, and in the neighbourhood, between sixty and seventy squadrons of cavalry, consisting chiefly of those who had formerly enjoyed military, or other rank, were formed; each person being mounted and equipped chiefly at his own expence. We heard several anecdotes of the confidence, entertained in this army, of a speedy arrival in Paris; but, as the persons, to whom they relate, are now under the pressure of misfortune, there would be as little pleasure, as propriety in repeating them.
At Coblentz, we quitted, for a time, the left bank of the Rhine, in order to take the watering place of Selters, in our way to Mentz. Having crossed the river and ascended a steep road, near the fortress, we had fine glimpses of its walls, bastions and out-towers, and the heathy knolls, around them, with catches of distant country. The way continued to lie through the dominions of the Elector of Treves, which are here so distinguished for their wretchedness as to be named the
Siberia of Germany!
It is paved and called a
chaussée;
but those, who have not experienced its ruggedness, can have no idea of it, except by supposing the pavement of a street torn up by a plough, and then suffered to fix itself, as it had fallen. Always steep, either in ascent, or descent, it is not only the roughness, that prevents your exceeding the usual post-pace of three English miles an hour. Sometimes it runs along edges of mountains, that might almost be called precipices, and commands short views of other mountains and of vallies entirely covered with thick, but not lofty forests; sometimes it buries itself in the depths of such forests and glens; sometimes the turrets of an old chateau peep above these, but rather confirm than contradict the notion of their desolateness, having been evidently built for the purposes of the chace; and sometimes a mud village surprises you with a few inhabitants, emblems of the misery and savageness of the country.
These are the mountains of Wetteravia, the boundaries of many a former and far-seen prospect, then picturesque, sublime, or graceful, but now desolate, shaggy, and almost hideous; as in life, that, which is so grand as to charm at a distance, is often found to be forlorn, disgustful and comfortless by those, who approach it.
