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Updated: June 24, 2025
This attachment was very soon transformed into a rite; for we all agreed to go, whenever it was possible to do so, once a year to that lonely spot near Rolandseck, where on that summer's day, while sitting together, lost in meditation, we were suddenly inspired by the same thought.
The utter impossibility of its being Sarah Walker herself, and the glaring fact that the very coincidence of name would be inconsistent with any conventional descent from the original Sarah, I admit confused me. But I examined the book of the Kronprinzen-Hof and the other hotels, and questioned my portier. There was no "Mees" nor "Madame Walkiere" extant in Rolandseck.
The ancient castles, grim and hoar, that had taken root as it were on the cliffs, they were all his; for his thoughts dwelt in them, and the wind told him tales. He had passed a sleepless night at Rolandseck, and had risen before daybreak. He opened the window of the balcony to hear the rushing of the Rhine.
Hammerstein Castle and Rheineck they floated under; Salzig and the Ahr confluence; Rolandseck and Nonnenwerth; Drachenfels and Bonn; hills green with young vines; dells waving fresh foliage. Margarita sang as they floated. Ancient ballads she sang that made the Goshawk sigh for home, and affected the Club with delirious love for the grand old water that was speeding them onward.
I floated down its historic stream in something more than imagination, under bridges built by the Romans, and repaired by later heroes, past cities and castles whose very names were music to my ears, and each of which was the subject of a legend. There were Ehrenbreitstein and Rolandseck and Coblentz, which I knew only in history. They were ruins that interested me chiefly.
The place where the porter, who engaged the carriage for Mr. George, intended to leave him, was really Rolandseck. Rolandseck is the name of a ruined arch, the remains of an ancient tower which may be seen in the engraving a little farther on, upon the height of land on the left side of the view. The lofty ruin on the right, farther in the distance, is Drachenfels.
You will find in it the story of Rolandseck, the castle on the left, and Nonnenwerth. Roland was the nephew of Charlemagne. He was engaged to a daughter of the Lord of Drachenfels, whose castle you see on the opposite side of the river. He went away to the wars, and during his absence, a false report came back that he was killed at Roncesvalles.
George, having finished his letters came down to see how Rollo was getting along. Rollo showed him his list, and Mr. George was quite pleased with it. In the course of the evening Rollo made several additions to it; and when at length it was completed, it read as follows. Remarkable Things seen from the Terrace of the Hotel at Rolandseck, by Rollo H., Saturday Evening, August 29.
"Sir, you are most courteous, but I fear my intended destination might take you farther afield than would be convenient for you." "My time is my own, and nothing could afford me greater gratification than the assurance of your security. Tell me your destination." "It is the Convent of Nonnenwerth, situated on an island larger than this, near Rolandseck." "I shall be happy to convoy you thither."
I floated down its historic stream in something more than imagination, under bridges built by the Romans, and repaired by later heroes, past cities and castles whose very names were music to my ears, and each of which was the subject of a legend. There were Ehrenbreitstein and Rolandseck and Coblentz, which I knew only in history. They were ruins that interested me chiefly.
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