Over the time-worn tower of Rolandseck Beneath, sweet Nonnenwerth's green islet lay. We were passing near the little church of Königswinter, when suddenly the matin-hymn burst upon the stillness of the morning; and feeling the additional charm of sacred music at such a time, and in such a place, we stopped for a few minutes to listen; then following a path which led to the entrance of the chapel, after a moment's hesitation we entered its low Gothic door. A pleasing scene presented itself within. The hymn had just ended, and the whole simple congregation had fallen on their knees, while the venerable priest, a gray-headed old man, seemed to be giving the parting blessing to his humble flock. Absorbed in their devotions, not one head was turned to look at the strangers who had unexpectedly come among them. There knelt age, youth, and childhood, side by side; the sturdy peasant, the vine-dresser, the welltanned sailor, and the women with their coarse but gay-coloured dresses, and their beautiful long hair arranged in thick plaits, and unconcealed by bonnet or cap. The little chapel was full, it being the custom in many German villages to commence the day with prayer in the village-church-a custom that must surely have a beneficial effect upon the minds and conduct of their unsophisticated population. I confess, that the sight of this solitary little Gothic church, filled with its lowly congregation commencing their peaceful day with unanimous prayer and thanksgiving, made a greater impression on my mind than was made by my visit to the stately towers which crown the summit of the hill above, and which, though now an uninhabitable ruin, were probably, in former days, the stronghold of rapine and oppression. Such, no doubt, was the character of most of the castles on the Rhine in those feudal times when counts and barons gave laws in their small domains, and led their vassals to battle, not merely at the bidding of their monarchs, but on their own account. Tradition tells of the feuds between the lords of "the Cat," and "the Mouse," two ruined castles, at no great distance from each other;-the latter, the Mouse, or THURROBERG, built by the Archbishop of Treves, in the fourteenth century;-and of the unhallowed warfare between the rival brothers, owners of the neighbouring and now mouldering towers of STERNBERG and LEIBENSTEIN, which seem even in their ruins to frown defiance at each other. The strong fortress of EHRENBREITSTEIN—Honour's broad stone built on the summit of a steep, high rock, just opposite to the beautiful town of Coblentz, having been repaired by the Prussian government, is now capable of holding a large garrison, and is defended by about four hundred cannon. A little beyond Coblentz stands the castle of STOLZENFELS-Proud Rock-in a very imposing situation; it too has been recently repaired, and serves as an occasional summer residence for the Prussian royal family. The finest part of the Rhine lies between Coblentz and Mayence; above that town the banks of the river become as flat and tame as they are below Cologne, and tourists generally take leave of the Rhine at Mannheim, if they have not left it before at Biberich or Mayence. WIESBADEN, one of the most frequented of the German wateringplaces, may be reached in ten minutes, by railway from Biberich, and is also within an easy distance of Frankfort on the Maine. The most remarkable building at Wiesbaden is THE KURSAUL; which occupies one entire side of a square, two other sides of which are formed of lofty, wide colonnades, with shops or bazaars, gay with Bohemian glass, jewellery, and various other fancy articles. In the saloons of the Kursaul, dinners and suppers are served; concerts and balls are held ; and the gaming-tables lure their miserable victims. These frightful gaming-tables are the great plague-spot of the German baths; both on account of their demoralizing effects, and on account of the number of profligate characters whom they attract. The gambling-rooms at Homburg, on the other side of Frankfort, are kept open all the year round; not confined to the season, as at most other places. Travellers generally proceed from Wiesbaden and Frankfort to BADEN BADEN, stopping on their way to visit the picturesque town aud splendid ruins of Heidelberg, on the lovely Neckar river. Baden, as has been before remarked, is a favourite place of resort, and is pleasant either as a residence for a few weeks, or as a resting-place on the way to Switzerland and Italy. Its hot and cold springs, which were known in the time of the Romans, are said to be beneficial in many complaints. The scenery, both in its immediate vicinity and at a greater distance, invites to prolonged excursions, and is extremely fine; especially that in the direction of the valley of the Mourg; and the situation of the town itself, shut in among hills on the borders of the Black Forest, is very beautiful. All the charms that mountain and valley, wood and water, lordly ruins and smiling villages, can present, are here to be found; and those who are fond of sketching from nature will be gratified by an endless variety of subjects worthy of the most fastidious pencil. The English service is performed at Baden twice every Sunday; and the church is so well attended, both morning and afternoon, that there is often much difficulty in obtaining a seat. There are no pews let to families or individuals, the seats are open to all comers. There being no building set apart as a Protestant place of worship, the Episcopalian and Lutheran services are performed in a Roman Catholic Church, which is consequently occupied the whole of Sunday. The first Catholic service is at seven o'clock in the morning; the Lutheran at nine; the English at eleven; the second Lutheran service is celebrated at half-past one; the afternoon English service at three o'clock; and after five, the Roman Catholics have their vespers. In the burying ground attached to to this SPITAL KIRCHE there is a large crucifix; viz., a figure of our Saviour on the Cross; which it is impossible to pass without notice. Before I knew the history of this crucifix, I was much struck by the exalted and benign expression of the countenance, coming nearer to that of Thorwaldsen's celebrated statue of our Saviour, than any other I had ever seen. It was the work of a poor artist while under sentence of death. I could not ascertain for what crime he was condemned to die; but a considerable time elapsed between his sentence and his execution; and during this period his mind dwelt much on the eternity to which he was so speedily approaching; he sought eagerly the consolations of religion, and his thoughts being much absorbed by the contemplation of the goodness of that Saviour who condescends to be the Mediator between sinful man and his offended Creator, he endeavoured to embody his idea of Jesus Christ; and, in his solitary cell, produced the crucifix above-mentioned. Let us hope, that amid all the darkness of Romanism, he was accepted through the merits of the Redeemer. Some remarkable dungeons are still to be seen beneath the NEUE SCHLOSS; the palace at which the Duke of Baden and his family occasionally reside, and which stands on a height overlooking the town of Baden. We formed a party to visit these memorials of guilt and suffering. Descending with candles in our hands, by a narrow winding staircase, under a tower of the palace, and passing by the remains of an old Roman bath, we were conducted by the guide to those low, gloomy vaults, where the cheering rays of the sun, the balmy breath of heaven, never entered, but all was darkness, mystery, and desolation. This entrance, dismal as it is, has only been made in modern times. The dungeons were originally only accessible by an opening at a great height above, through which, down a sort of perpendicular shaft, it is said that the unhappy prisoners, bound and blindfolded, were conveyed in some kind of chair or machine, worked by a windlass, into the frightful dungeons below, hewn out of the solid rock on which the ducal castle stands. This shaft, through which escape was impossible, served also to convey air to those subterranean prisons, which consist of small vaulted chambers-the largest forming the JUDGMENT HALL. Here, the judges sat on stone benches, the remains of which may still be traced; as may also some small remnants of the apparatus for the instruments of torture, in the vault which was called the RACK CHAMBER. It is said, that there was, in ancient times, a subterranean passage, which led from the Hall of Judgment to the ALTE SCHLOSS, an old ruined castle on the summit of the hill above, which was the residence of the Duke of Baden's ancestors in the middle ages; but that passage, if it ever existed, is now walled up. Adjoining the Judgment Hall, is a narrow passage, the scene of that terrible punishment entitled "Le Baiser de la Vierge." The wretched victim who was condemned to this frightful fate, was led along that passage and compelled to kiss a statue of the Virgin Mary, placed in a niche in the massive wall. No sooner did the miserable being step forward, than the flooring, a trap-door, gave way beneath his feet, and he fell to a great depth below, upon a revolving machine, studded with lances and sharp instruments, by which he was literally torn to pieces. Horrible! that the mind of man could conceive such tortures for his fellow-man! There was something inexpressibly sad in the sound of the heavy door which closed on these abodes of misery. The doors of the cells were composed of solid slabs of stone, fully eight or ten inches thick; some of them still remain, and add to the melancholy and awe with which one views these monuments of the cruelty, the injustice, and the tyranny of ages gone by. I could not but sigh to think what must have been the feelings of the unhappy victim when he heard that sound, and knew that that heavy door had closed on him for ever, shutting him out from upper earth, from home, from hope, from life; and devoting him to tortures of mind and body, aggravated by darkness, mystery, and despair! Ah, well might Dante's lines have been inscribed above that fatal door "Lasciate ogni Speranza voi ch'entrate !" Happily, the power of committing such outrages on humanity no longer exists. Civilization has tempered the awards of justice, and laws have checked the licence of unbridled passion, and cal culating villany. The rack, the torture-chamber, the secret subterranean prison, no longer immolate their helpless victims; the dungeons of Baden are entered only by the curious, perhaps the thoughtless, visitor; the reign of demons has ceased in these now tenantless underground recesses; but, does not the power of the great enemy of mankind still too often triumph, not far from the same spot, over the hearts and actions of men? Go to yonder brilliantly illuminated saloons; pass through yonder gay and moving throng; approach yonder crowded tables; and see what is doing there! Behold Yon heaps of silver and of gold! His damning trade the reckless gamester plies, How can the young, and fair, And innocent, seek gaiety within The walls that grant protection to such sin! It is even more melancholy to glance at these frightful gamingtables, than to wander by torch-light through the rock-prisons of Baden. How intensely does passion display itself in the countenances of the victims of the gambling-table! How fatal are the results of that seducing vice! It is a very serious evil, that gambling is tolerated in most of the German watering-places. The CONVERSATION HOUSE, at Baden, is let to a company of speculators, who, from the profits of the gamingtables, keep up that large establishment, with its ball and concert-rooms, drawing-rooms, promenades, bands of music, &c. The gambling is carried on in public, and is indeed "the pestilence, the destruction that wasteth at noonday." Strange, that Christian princes, Christian communities, should permit this diabolical traffic, for such it surely is, to be practised openly and with impunity, to the temporal and eternal ruin of many of its deluded victims! Some passions wear themselves out, subsiding into satiety or ennui; but the passion for play, once indulged, takes root and spreads, till it alone exists, and every other feeling withers and dies beneath its baneful influence. Truly, of the votaries of the gaming table, it may be said— "Destruction and unhappiness are in their ways, There is no fear of God before their eyes." |