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You can imagine how, in a misty morning, as you leave Bonn, the Seven Mountains rise up in their veiled might, and how the Drachenfels stands in new and changing beauty as you pass it and sail away. You have been told that the Hudson is like the Rhine. Believe me, there is no resemblance; nor would there be if the Hudson were lined with castles, and Julius Caesar had crossed it every half mile.
These he loved to illustrate with his pencil, and his walls were covered with German scenes and subjects, from the "Witches' Sabbath" to the "Castled Crag of Drachenfels." Portraits he painted from necessity, not choice; but he was too true an artist for the million.
Here were crags of stupendous size and of every variety of form, often reminding one of Europe's most picturesque stream, where "The castled crags of Drachenfels, Frown o'er the wide and winding Rhine."
At the foot of Drachenfels, a little farther down the river, and we are looking down the river in the engraving, is a town called Koenigswinter, which is the place that people usually set out from to ascend the mountain, a great number of donkeys being kept there for that purpose.
An elegant steamer, painted green. Her name is the Schiller. She is going up the river. Another steamer, the Koenig. Ladies and gentlemen on the deck, under an awning. I can see the ruins of Drachenfels with my spy glass, and the inn near the top of the mountain, painted white. I have been trying to find the path, to see if I could see any donkeys going up; but I cannot find it.
Gazing upon this nightmare Castle, whose tusks alone were revealed, the girl formulated the resolution but faintly suggested the night before. On her release should ensue an abandonment of the world, and the adoption of a nun's veil in the convent opposite Drachenfels, an island exchanged for an island; turmoil for peace.
The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine; And hills all rich with blossomed trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scattered cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strewed a scene which I should see With double joy wert thou with me.
Crowning the young girl's breast was a cameo, and the skill of some cunning artist out of Welschland had wrought on it the story of the Drachenfels. Her bosom heaved the battle up and down. This cameo was a north star to German manhood, but caused many chaste expressions of abhorrence from Aunt Lisbeth, Gottlieb's unmarried sister, who seemed instinctively to take part with the Dragon.
Farina drew the arms of the holy combatant across his shoulders and descended Drachenfels. The tempest was as a forgotten anguish. Bright with maiden splendour shone the moon; and the old rocks, cherished in her beams, put up their horns to blue heaven once more.
I have a long picture-gallery to retire into when I want to think of something fair, in recalling the moon as it silvered the Rhine at the foot of Drachenfels, or the soft mist-veiled island where dwelt the lady who is consecrated for ever by Roland's love. A couple of months later we rejoined Miss Marryat in Paris, where we spent seven happy workful months.
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