Three more castles now claim our attention; they were all places of
great importance. Bischofstein appears to have been, as its name
denotes, garrisoned for the Bishop (of Trèves), while Thuron and
Ehrenburg were held by adherents of the Count Palatine, or other
enemies of the Elector of Trèves.
Pursuing our course down the river, we left Moselkern by a path
running through gardens, whose hedgerows are vines trained on
a lattice-work. We found the peasants digging up fine potatoes,
so congratulated them on their crop, and also on the appearance of
the grape bunches; but people are never satisfied, and they said,
"Yes, it is very good for the wine, and the corn, and potatoes,
but the garden greens are all burnt up with the sun:" we thought of
the wretched farmer, whose potatoes were all so large there were no
little ones for the pigs.
Bischofstein is finely placed on a spur of the rugged mountain;
beneath it is a chapel and farmhouse: vines grow in the castle-yard,
and wherever a shelf of level ground can be made into soil fit for
their cultivation.
There is a great white stripe round the middle of the tower, which the
popular belief attributes to a deluge which submerged all the valley,
and only stayed its course when half up the tower of this castle;
the account given in the following tale is more probable:--
THE BISHOP'S SERMON.
The country round Bischofstein was swarming with robber-knights and
pillagers of every degree, to such an extent, that the Archbishop
Johann of Trèves sent out a strong band of knights, who took up their
abode in the castle of Bischofstein.
The knights stayed the ravages, and soon the robbers found their
occupation gone, and good living on plunder a thing of the past;
so they took counsel together as to what should be done.
The robbers determined that Bischofstein must be taken and the knights
in its garrison slain; therefore, with the utmost secrecy, a plan was
concocted by which they succeeded in entering the castle by stealth:
thus they were able to seize on the knights and their servants,
and they slew every one.
A poor peasant who was in the fort contrived to escape, and he carried
the tidings to the Archbishop, who sent out an army, which arrived
at the fort and found all the robbers sleeping, quite drunk: these
they quickly despatched, and the fort was regarrisoned.
Then the Bishop Johann caused a white line to be made round the wall of
the tower, that all rogues should see, and by noting the fate of the
robbers preserve themselves from the stern hand of justice. "Thus,"
said the Bishop, "I preach them a sermon by which evildoers from sin
may be saved; if they heed not this warning, the sword must preach
in its turn."
Hatzeport, which we pass on the way to the castle of Ehrenburg,
is a well-built, well-to-do place, with a fine church. It stands at
the entrance of one of the innumerable valleys that break the great
ridges of mountain that shut in the course of our river.
Crossing from thence to the village of Brodenbach, we enter a gorge
of the hills which conducts us to the beautiful valley, at the far
end of which the castle of Ehrenburg seems hanging in air.
The contrast of the sweet smiling valley, with its brook murmuring
along, makes the stern fortress more gloomy. Leaving the valley,
we gradually ascend by a footpath, until at length we reach where
the draw-bridge formerly stood; now there is but the stone pillar
that used to sustain it.
Some rough steps lead up to the gate-tower, and a ring at the bell
brought a chubby-faced child, that looked much out of place amid the
ruins. We entered, and an old dreamy man took the place of the child;
he led us through a ruined garden that surrounded a tower of immense
thickness, entering which he slowly led us by a winding road, that
would admit six men to mount abreast, up to the summit of the tower.
To our surprise we now were on a piece of level ground; this tower,
which was the only entrance, having been built on a lower ledge
of rock.
The garden we were in was neatly kept and full of vegetables; at its
extremity stood the castle, from the centre of which, and on a still
higher piece of rock, the donjon keep, with its twin towers, rose up:
these towers are circular, and joined by a double wall.
All round outside the walls was air; the valley seemed far away:
for hundreds of feet, a pebble that we dropped fell down, striking
nothing till it came into the depths of the valley. Much of the ruin
still remains, and the old man showed us how we might ascend to the
top of the twin towers.
There we sat wrapped in solitude, the valleys far beneath us, and
the hills spread out like a raised map, with here a tint of green
where trees should be, and there a grey patch for rock, while over
them shone out a bit of molten silver where our river flowed: so
was the whole country charted out for us, and here for hours we sat,
our senses drinking with delight from the pure well of fresh, sweet
pleasure raised by our most novel situation.
The old man sat still beneath us; and the records in our hand told
us what the old guide could not, the legends of the place.
The Knights of Ehrenburg were vassals of the great Counts of Sponheim,
and very powerful in council and war; the last of the race was Count
Frederick, who, according to the Chronicle of Limburg, burnt down
a great part of Coblence: his reason for so doing appears in the
following legend:--
THE LAST KNIGHT OF EHRENBURG.
Count Frederick of Ehrenburg was the last of his race, his father had
died while he was yet young. Feeling his castle to be lonely without
a companion, he looked far and near to find a fair lady whom he might
love and bring home to be mistress of Ehrenburg.
Having found a suitable lady, he begged her hand from her father,
saying that he would give her his castle, his name, and his sword as
a dower; but the grim old warrior replied, that though his castle was
strong and name great, yet his sword was too bright, too glittering,
and new; and added, that his daughter's husband must be able to show
some marks of hard fighting on sword or on person. The old warrior
further suggested that the young Count should burn Coblence, as he
had a feud with that town.
Count Frederick retired and collected his friends, with whom he made
many inroads on the burghers of Coblence, and at length he succeeded
in burning a part of the town.
He immediately repaired to his loved lady's castle, when, to his
great annoyance, he found the fair one was flown. Having heard of
her father's wicked promise, that he would give her in marriage when
Coblence was burnt, she had retired from the world, and in a nunnery
was endeavouring to atone for the crime of her father.
The young Count raged and swore, and eventually took to his bosom
a different lady, but no children were granted them, so he was the
last of his race.
The records go on to relate how this last Count, having no son of his
own, adopted one of the sons of a friend; this boy's name was Walter,
and he met with the adventure described in the tale called--
THE TIMELY WARNING.
It was Carnival in Coblence--all the world was there; the streets
were thronged with masks, shows and processions were in all the public
places; music, dancing, and merriment, reigned supreme.
Walter, the adopted son of the Count of Ehrenburg, longed to visit
the gay scene, but the Count had never yet permitted him to go so far
away; at length, by dint of importunity, he got leave to set out, but
was strongly cautioned to meddle with no one, and avoid all disputes
or quarrels: with two stout men-at-arms he went forth.
When arrived at Coblence, he went first to an hotel by the shore;
in the windows of this hotel stood the young Count of Isenburg with
a beautiful girl, and many of the Count's servants were loitering
about the doors of the inn.
The Count of Isenburg, on seeing young Walter, commenced forthwith to
mock him, and sneered at the lad's scanty retinue. Walter was angry,
but, remembering his promise not to quarrel or fight, strode into
the house without saying a word.
Walter had nearly forgotten the incident, and was gazing on the gay
crowd that moved to and fro over the old Moselle bridge and in the
road under his windows, when a soft low knock came to the door. On
opening he found the beautiful girl that he had seen by the side
of Count Isenburg; she hastily entered, and said, "Noble youth, you
must hasten away, for the Count is now gone into the town to excite
the townspeople against you, and unless you depart with great speed,
the people, who hate your family, will certainly seize you." She added
that, like him she addressed, she did not belong to a noble family,
but her father being Count Isenburg's vassal, she was forced to
dissimulate and receive his attentions till she could make her escape.
She had scarcely done speaking when the Count appeared in the doorway,
his naked sword in his hand, and fury flashing out from his eyes. "What
dost thou here, venal wench!" he cried out; "how darest thou speak to
this Bastard?" Then, running at Walter, he sought to slay him while
off his guard.
But Walter, hastily drawing his sword, not only parried his thrusts,
but wounded him sorely; then, whispering adieu to the girl Wallrade,
who had given him so kind and timely a warning, he sought out
his servants, and rode forth from the town, not without some sharp
exchanges of blows between them and the Coblencers, who were collecting
in haste to oppose their outgoing.
The Count of Isenburg and a party of citizens followed soon after,
and besieged the castle of Ehrenburg; but the garrison mocked them,
and when the besiegers retired, they advanced upon Coblence, and
burnt down the suburbs.
Walter contrived to rescue from durance the girl Wallrade, who,
together with her father, had been thrown into prison; but the
chronicle does not relate whether he married his fair preserver or no.
After an afternoon spent at Ehrenburg we returned to the village of
Brodenbach, where there are several clean little inns.
The great castle of Thuron well merits its name of "the Throne Castle;"
it stands on the heights above Alken, which is a considerable village
at a short distance from Brodenbach.
At Alken, and in the vicinity, many Roman coins, coffins, and pieces
of armour, have been found; so it is probably a place of considerable
antiquity. It is sheltered by a bold rock that juts into the stream,
and was connected with the castle of Thuron by a line of towers,
which still remain standing in the surrounding vineyards.
On the preceding page we have given a sketch of one of the little
chapels, with a line of shrines on each side of the steps that lead up
to it; these shrines and chapels form a leading feature in the Moselle
scenery. Nestled under the side of the hill on which the great castle
of Thuron stands, this little chapel, with its sharp-pointed spire,
is in fine contrast to the huge cliff and massive walls; but there
is a look of age about it and the old houses near which renders the
whole scene in perfect keeping.
On leaving the river to explore our way up to Thuron, we enter one
of those beautiful valleys into which the hills so constantly break;
a clear trout-stream runs through it, and the mountains close it in
on all sides.
One or two labourers are past, a "good day" exchanged, and then
we commence the ascent, which is long and steep. The path lies
through a wood, and not a single person did we meet in our walk,
after leaving the valley, until on the top of the hill we found some
wood-gatherers. Here the castle with its two towers appeared; it is
the most stately ruin we ever saw, very extensive, grandly placed,
and so inaccessible, that when we arrived at the base of its outer
wall we could not get in.
At last we managed to scramble through a window, and then luxuriated
in the great ruin; blocks of stone and bushes usurp the ancient
place of knights and ladies, and no sound is heard but the song of
birds. This castle was built by the Count Palatine Henry, in 1209,
after he came back from the Holy Land; he was the delegate of his
brother, the Emperor Otho IV., and he exercised a sovereign power
over the countries adjoining the Moselle. He often resided in his new
castle, and had many feuds with the Archbishops of Trèves and Cologne,
who enjoyed certain rights of sovereignty in Alken.
These discords gave rise to the celebrated siege of Thuron. It is
celebrated, not so much for the deeds of valour there carried on,
as for the extraordinary quantity of wine there drunk,--no less than
three thousand cartloads having been consumed by the besiegers alone.
SIEGE OF THURON.
The Knight Zorn commanded for the Count Palatine in his strong castle
of Thuron, when the Archbishop of Trèves advanced and laid siege to
it. The commander of the castle, who was supported by a brave garrison,
amply provisioned, laughed the besiegers to scorn.
Finding they made no progress, the Archbishop's Commander sent to
the Archbishop of Cologne for assistance. This was willingly granted,
and the united armies blockaded the castle. Zorn expected daily that
they would deliver an assault, but to his surprise, day after day and
night after night went by, and no movement took place in the camps
of his enemies; eating and drinking seemed their sole occupation.
Every house in the neighbourhood was ransacked by the troops of the
Church, and every cellar was emptied; carts also arrived in long
strings, bringing great butts of wine. Thus they went on drinking
and singing, while Zorn from above looked on astonished at these most
unusual proceedings.
Occasionally a herald arrived, and summoned Zorn to surrender; but
no assault was delivered.
The empty casks of the Church were piled up in heaps, and at the end
of two years they formed a mass which looked like a great fortress;
and a message was sent to the castle, that if the garrison did not
surrender they would continue to drink till the whole country was dry,
and the empty casks sufficient to form a fortress larger and stronger
than Thuron.
Zorn now agreed to capitulate, and at length it was settled, that
he and his garrison should retire unmolested, that the soldiers of
Cologne should at once leave the country, and that the castle should
be dismantled.
One unlucky personage appears to have been excluded from this pacific
arrangement: this was a village magistrate, who had acted as spy for
the besieged. He was taken by the conquerors, and a rope having been
stretched over the ravine, between the castle and the hill of Bleiden,
he was suspended at an immense height from the ground.
Another version of this story makes the magistrate-spy to walk
across ropes so stretched over the valley; and it is added, that he
accomplished the feat, and in gratitude built the chapel which we see
(now in ruins) on the hill to the right of the castle.
The views from Thuron are very extensive, a long reach of the
river leads the eye back to the villages and cliffs we have past;
undisturbed by those infesters of the Rhine, who turn every place
of interest on that river into a tea-garden, we can here enjoy our
meditations without hindrance, and muse our fill.
THE BIRD AND THE RUIN.
I gazed on an ancient keep;
Its hoary turrets high,
And its gloomy dungeons deep,
Its mould'ring cistern dry,
All seemed to me to say,
"Behold in our decay
"An emblem of mortality!"
Whilst thus I mused and gazed,
A little bird upsprang,
To heaven its voice it raised,
And thus it sweetly sang:
"On earth all creatures die,
"But in the holy sky
"Is love and immortality."