Within the fluted Pillars are very grand; the dimensions, 180 German feet high, 700 long, and 500 broad. A curious old picture, 450 years old. Subject, the 3 Kings of Cologne in the centre (for it was divided into three parts, and kept shut up to protect it), and on the sides Ursula and the 11,000 virgins, by Ralfe; mounted 250 steps to the top of the unfinished Tower, and had a fine prospect of the river winding its way towards Dusseldorf.... The cathedral—that august and solemnly impressive Temple.... William in his musing way...." (From Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Friday, 21st July. Cologne.—I cannot attempt to describe the Cathedral; nor indeed could any skill of mine do justice to that august pile, even if I might have lingered half a day among its walls. At our entrance, the evening sunshine rested upon portions of some of the hundred massy columns; while the shade and gloom, spread through the edifice, were deepened by those brilliant touches of golden light. Some of the painted windows were beautified by the melting together and the intermingling of colours, reflected upon the stone-work, colours and shapes, to the eye as unsubstantial as light itself, and visionary as the rainbow. The choir is hung with tapestry, designed by Rubens. It does, I think, to an unlearned eye somewhat resemble Henry the Seventh's chapel at Westminster, but is much loftier and larger. The long lancet-shaped painted windows are beautiful. The pillars and arches through the aisles of this Cathedral are of grey stone, sober, solemn, of great size, yet exquisitely proportioned; and no paltry images or tinselled altars disturb the one impression of awful magnificence, an impression received at once, and not to be overcome by regrets, that only the Choir and side aisles are finished. The nave, at half its destined height, is covered with a ceiling of boards. The exterior of this stupendous edifice is of massy, though most beautiful, architecture. Some of the lighter wreaths of stone-work (if great things may be compared with small) made me think of the Chapel of Roslin in its sequestered dell, where the adder's tongue and fern are mingled with green-grown flowers, and leaves of stone that neither fall nor fade. Flowers and bushes here grow out of the gigantic ruins—yet ruins they are not; for as the Builder's hand left the unfinished work, so it appears to have remained in firmness and strength unshakable, while Nature has made her own of ornaments framed in imitation of her works, having overspread them with her colouring, and blended them with the treasures of her lonely places." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)—Ed.
VARIANTS:
[485] 1837.
[486] 1827.
FOOTNOTES:
[HD] The cathedral of Cologne was completed on October 15, 1880.—Ed.
[HE] The reference is to the sonnet on Malham Cove (see p. 185), and the Fenwick note to The Excursion.—Ed.
"Saturday 22nd.—We were anxious, at least Wm. was, to be in Switzerland, and we must follow our destiny. Leaving the rich plain, came to the fine range of mountains we saw yesterday, and to the side of the glorious river, by which we have since travelled. Magnificent heights on its banks. The most abrupt and fantastic outlines; Convents (what an exquisite one that first which pushed itself forward on the green shore, where the river bends in its course); Ruined Castles, looking at each other from aloft, or down upon the convents, lurk in the woody clefts; picturesque Villages with their spires, at every turn of this stately winding river; beautiful road following its windings; every variety of form given to the rocks; and affecting intimations brought to mind, by the frequent oratories and crosses, here neither tawdry nor obtrusive. After changing horses at Remengen, lost sight for a while of our noble companion, which soon reappeared stretching along a more widely-spread vale; the green hills softly retiring, vineyards climbing up their sides, and into every crevice; corn yellow-green, the different crops richly filling the centre of the vale; the fine road, bordered now by apple-trees laden with fruit, now open to the undivided plain. Again the hills approached, and never was beheld a grander display of Nature's works and of human Art, than continued in succession to feast our eyes and imaginations. D. noted the objects individually, in one of the most beautiful passages" (of her journal). (Mrs. Wordsworth.)
"Saturday, 22nd July. Cologne.—For some miles, the traveller goes through the magnificent plain, which from its great width appears almost circular. Though unseen the river Rhine, we never can forget that it is there! When the vale becomes narrower, one of the most interesting and beautiful of prospects opens on the view from a gentle rising in the road. On an island stands a large grey convent, sadly pensive among its garden walls and embowering wood. The musket and cannon have spared that sanctuary, and we were told that, though the establishment is dissolved, a few of the nuns still remain there, attached to the spot; or probably having neither friends or other home to repair to. On the right bank of the river, opposite to us, is a bold precipice, bearing on its summit a ruined fortress which looks down upon the convent; and the warlike and religious Edifices are connected together by a chivalrous story of slighted or luckless love, which caused the withdrawing of a fair Damsel to the Island, where she founded the monastery. Another bold ruin stands upon an eminence adjoining, and all these monuments of former times combine with villages and churches, and dells (between the steeps) green or corn-clad, and with the majestic River (here spread out like a lake) to compose a most affectingly beautiful scene, whether viewed in prospect or in retrospect. Still we rolled along (ah! far too swiftly! and often did I wish that I were a youthful traveller on foot), still we rolled along, meeting the flowing River, smooth as glass, yet so rapid that the stream of motion is always perceptible, even from a great distance. The riches of this region are not easily fancied,—the pretty paths, the gardens among plots of vineyard and corn, cottages peeping from the shade, villages and spires, in never-ending variety." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)—Ed.
VARIANT:
[487] 1837.
FOOTNOTE:
[HF] Thespis was the reputed inventor of tragedy, and he is said to have carried his rude stage and apparatus from village to village on waggons. Horace, Ars Poetica, 275.
These celebrations became identified with the nine Dionysiac festivals. See Virgil, Georgics ii. 380.
There is a reference to the dignity of tragedy throughout the sonnet, and yet to the fact that it is a passing show.—Ed.
FOR THE BOATMEN, AS THEY APPROACH THE RAPIDS UNDER THE CASTLE OF HEIDELBERG
VARIANTS:
[488] 1837.
[489] 1827.
FOOTNOTE:
[HG] Miserere Domine.
See the beautiful Song in Mr. Coleridge's Tragedy, "The Remorse." Why is the Harp of Quantock silent?—W. W. 1822.
The following is the song, Miserere Domine, from Coleridge's Remorse, act III. scene i.:—
This song was set to music by Mr. Carnaby in 1802.—Ed.
"26th July.—Reached Heidelberg.... We walked a while about the garden and ruins of the Castle. Looked down upon the grey-roofed Town, with its Cathedral running parallel with the river Neckar, over which, by a fine bridge, we had crossed on entering; boats shooting curiously over the rapids; vines, hanging gardens climbing up the hill, clothing the rocks, and creeping into their crevices, on every side of us, and up to the very point where we stood. The Town, with its squares and fountains, its narrow long streets, with arched gateways, towers, and spires, courts, and quaint flower gardens, fill the deep valley. The river disappears, winding away among the hills to the right. Before us it holds a direct course—through a widening tract of the same prolific country—to the Rhine, seen in the distance.... 27th... The passage through the bridge being somewhat dangerous, those who accompany the rafts, as they approach, fall down upon their knees to pray, then raise their voices and sing an appropriate anthem till the peril is past." (Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Friday, 28th July. Heidelberg.—The River flows beside it calmly (though with strong motion as all these large rivers do), but after that point, to the Bridge, the channel is rocky, and therefore the stream turbulent. While passing under the garden-wall, the peasant sailor, before he trusts his boat or timber-raft to the rocks and rapids, kneels down and prays for protection from danger, and a safe passage through the arches of the Bridge. An Image of Jesus on the cross is the visible object of his worship, which Mr. Pickford, when he rebuilt his garden-wall, replaced in its station, out of respect to the piety or superstition of past and present times. During the passage an appropriate hymn is chaunted—the thought touched our poet's fancy, and he has since composed the following verses for the Heidelberg boatmen." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)
In the edition of 1822 a sonnet followed this Hymn, entitled The Jung-Frau—and the Rhine at Shauffhausen. In the edition of 1827 it was transferred to the series of "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," under the title of its first line, "Down a swift Stream, thus far, a bold design," which place it retained in all subsequent editions (see Part III. No. xii.) The following note accompanied the sonnet in the edition of 1822:—"This Sonnet belongs to another publication, but from its fitness for this place is inserted here also.
'Voilà un énfer d'eau,' cried out a German Friend of Ramond, falling on his knees on the scaffold in front of this Waterfall. See Ramond's Translation of Coxe."—W. W.—Ed.
Before this quarter of the Black Forest was inhabited, the source of the Danube might have suggested some of those sublime images which Armstrong has so finely described; at present the contrast is most striking. The Spring appears in a capacious Stone Basin upon the front of a Ducal palace, with a pleasure-ground opposite; then, passing under the pavement, takes the form of a little, clear, bright, black, vigorous rill, barely wide enough to tempt the agility of a child five years old to leap over it,—and, entering the Garden, it joins, after a course of a few hundred yards, a Stream much more considerable than itself. The copiousness of the Spring at Doneschingen must have procured for it the honour of being named the Source of the Danube.—W. W. 1822.
"Monday, 31st July.—... We drew towards the town of Villingen, a foreign-looking place standing in the descent, and lifting up its metallic dome-like spires, without the accompaniment of a single tree.... The Church with its two-fold spire glittered in the hot sunshine, like pewter in a melting state. Our guide had told us that near this place the Danube took its rise; but not so.... At Doneschingen changed horses again. Here we laved in the water which flowed from the source of the majestic Danube, a little, clear, bright, black rill, that issuing from a capacious stone fountain, into which it springs, crosses the road, and glides rapidly along the side of a beautiful pleasure-ground.... We washed, drank, and luxuriated in the cool and pure waters of this rill, unwilling to quit what we were not again to see—a reality very different from the stately Danube, so long an image to the imagination." (Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Tuesday, 1st August. Villingen.—The landlord seemed to entertain high ideas of this his native place—its modern improvements in gardens and its former grandeur—and told us that one of his servants should conduct us to the palace, the gardens, the baths, and last of all, though most the object of our curiosity, to the source of the Danube....
"But I seem to have forgotten the source of the Danube, which truly was 'another'[HL] Danube after we had seen it; or, more properly speaking, after we had seen the moor-land country surrounding the Town of Doneschingen, where we knew we should meet with the source of that famous river; and it is not only there (in that Hollow wild without grandeur), but actually within the walls of the Duke's courts adjoining the trim flower garden. The bountiful spring is received by a large square stone basin, and thence flows through the gardens in a narrow stream like a vigorous mill-race. Had an active boy been by our side he would have over-leapt it. That streamlet, after the course of a few hundred yards, falls into the bed of the united rivers the P—— and the P—— which take their rise in the moorish hills seen on the right in the road from Villingen, and which we looked upon from the gardens at the same time that we saw the new-born streamlet (called the source of the Danube) gush into their channel. I suppose it must be the remarkable strength of the spring which has caused it to be dignified with its title; for certainly those other two streams (united a little above the gardens) are the primary sources (of this branch at least) of the Danube." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)
What Dorothy Wordsworth mentions in reference to the Danube occurs in many other rivers; e.g. the source of the Clyde, in Scotland, is a tiny burn in Lanarkshire, which, after a short moorland course, falls (near Elvanfoot) into the large stream of the Daur—the latter having come down for many miles from the Lead Hills district. The P—— and P—— is probably a mistake for B—— and B——. The mountain torrent of the Bregé in the Schwartzwald is joined by the Bregach, and when the stream receives the waters from the spring in the Castle Garden of Doneschingen it becomes the Danube.—Ed.
VARIANTS:
[490] 1822.
[491] 1840.
[492] 1827.
[493] 1837.
FOOTNOTES:
[HH] Referring to the circumstance that the Danube rises in a country where the Catholic religion prevails, and flows eastwards through lands where the faith of Islam is professed.—Ed.
[HI] The Black Sea. Orpheus accompanied the Argonauts in their expedition to Colchis. In the earlier form of the legend, this lyre subdued the winds and waves, and fixed the Symplegades firm in the sea, so that the Argo passed through unharmed. (See the legends in Ovid and Virgil, and in the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius, 1. 23.)—Ed.
[HJ] See Paradise Lost, book iii. l. 17.—Ed.
[HK] According to the Greek astronomers, the lyre of Orpheus was placed by Zeus amongst the stars.—Ed.
The Staubbach is a narrow Stream, which, after a long course on the heights, comes to the sharp edge of a somewhat overhanging precipice, overleaps it with a bound, and, after a fall of 930 feet, forms again a rivulet. The vocal powers of these musical Beggars may seem to be exaggerated; but this wild and savage air was utterly unlike any sounds I had ever heard; the notes reached me from a distance, and on what occasion they were sung I could not guess, only they seemed to belong, in some way or other, to the Waterfall—and reminded me of religious services chaunted to Streams and Fountains in Pagan times.—W. W. 1822. Mr. Southey has thus accurately characterised the peculiarity of this music: "While we were at the Waterfall, some half-score peasants, chiefly women and girls, assembled just out of reach of the Spring, and set up—surely, the wildest chorus that ever was heard by human ears,—a song not of articulate sounds, but in which the voice was used as a mere instrument of music, more flexible than any which art could produce,—sweet, powerful, and thrilling beyond description." (See Notes to A Tale of Paraguay.)—W. W. 1837.
"Thursday, 10th Aug....—Walked to the Staubbach, the thin veil-like mist-besprinkled waterfall, that slips over the edge of an immensely high perpendicular rock—which, when we saw it by the morning light, was accompanied by a beautiful rainbow; spanning, like the arch of a bridge, the vapour at the base of the rock. Singing Girls. But I must not neglect to speak of the beauty of the early morning, in the magnificent pass between Interlachen and Lauterbrunnen. The river from Jungfrau bounding down with great force, bringing a very cold air from the snowy regions. Cottages with their green summer plots climbing up in all directions, to the very skirts of these icy regions. Two that looked so beautiful in the sunshine. Women and children busy with their little lot of hay. Men mowing." (Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Thursday, 10th August. Interlachen.—The Staubbach is a narrow stream, which, after a long course on the heights, comes to the sharp edge of a somewhat overhanging precipice, overleaps it with a bound, and, after a fall of 930 feet, forms again a rivulet, that passing through a green sloping pasture crosses the road, and thence through the heaving grounds, takes its clear waters to the grey torrent of the Leutshen. When tracking with my young guide the rivulet to its momentary resting-place, a small basin at the foot of the cataract, two women appeared before me singing a shrill and savage air; the tones were startling, and in connection with their wild yet quiet figures strangely combined with the sounds of dashing water and the silent aspect of the huge crag that seemed to reach the sky! The morning sun falling on this side of the valley, a circular rainbow was seen when we were there, between the Fall and the Rock, the space being several yards, and you stand within that space in a bath of dew. I was close to the women when they began to sing, and hence, probably, it was that I perceived nothing of sweetness in their tones. I cannot answer for the impression on the rest of the party except my brother, who being behind, heard the carol from a distance; and the description he gives of it is similar to Mr. Southey's in his Journal." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)—Ed.
VARIANTS:
[494] 1837.
[495] 1837.
[496] 1832.
[497] 1837.
"Saturday, Aug. 12.—It is now half-past twelve o'clock, and I am sitting upon a sort of myrtle bed under a pine grove among the rocks, down which the headlong Aar cleaves its way, having dined in the cabin at Handeck, in close neighbourhood with our steeds. All that we have hitherto seen seemed at the moment but a faint preparation for the delights of this day. The beautiful valley we left behind us, the groves, the forest of oak and pine, the glades, the one particularly in which we met that 'Hoifer,' as we called him, with his heron's crest proudly reared upon his head, a little page carrying his accoutrements. He with many others, but none like this Hero, there was repairing to shoot for a prize at Meyringen. Then, those lovely vales, that circular one, the pride of them all, which led us to the savage Pass and giant Pines, where lurks this King of Waterfalls. What delicious couches to rest upon. Here to linger out a long summer's day would be a luxury. A more sober passage home—our spirits a little, but very little, damped by the stretch of enjoyment." (Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Saturday, 12th August. Meyringen.—Crossed the stream, and re-crossed it, and from a stony hollow, uninhabited, came into the gloom of a pine forest, which led us, by a steep ascent, to the rocks surrounding the Fall of the Aar. Long before our approach, we heard the roaring, while that sound was deadened by the intermediate rocks and trees; but when standing on a bank, in front of the cataract, I could have believed at the first moment, that it was louder even than that of the Rhine at Schaffhausen. This impression, no doubt, was owing chiefly to its being confined within a narrow space. The pine-clad precipices, especially on the opposite side, are very lofty, rising from the rocks of the Pass, kept bare by continual wetting. The gloom of the forest-mountains, in harmony with the sombrous hue of the water, would, of itself, make this first view of this cataract much more impressive than that of the Reichenbach; but again we looked in vain—not for delicate passages in the stream;—those could not be thought of;—but for some of those minute graces, and those overgrowings that detain us in admiration beside our own pellucid waterfalls.[HN] There is a grey furnace-like smoke of water, and a desperate motion and ferment, that make the head dizzy and stun the ears." ... "We clambered upon other rocks; and, at leisure, noticed the variety of shrubby plants and flowers, which here (being higher than the stream) grew securely, nursed by perpetual dews. Luxuriant tufts of a very large sedum were lodged on the ledges, or hung from dark crevices; those tufts, in form and motion, as they waved and fluttered in the breeze of the cataract, resembling the plumes of a hearse, were an ornament well suited to the pine-clad steeps, and the heavenly beauty of the rainbow." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)—Ed.
FOOTNOTES:
[HM] Compare Coleridge's Hymn before Sunrise, in the Vale of Chamouni.—Ed.
[HN] Compare Wordsworth's remarks on Waterfalls, in his Description of the Scenery of the Lakes.—Ed.
Near the Outlet of the Lake of Thun
"DEM
ANDENKEN
MEINES FREUNDES
ALOYS REDING
MDCCCXVIII"
Aloys Reding, it will be remembered, was Captain-General of the Swiss forces, which, with a courage and perseverance worthy of the cause, opposed the flagitious and too successful attempt of Buonaparte to subjugate their country.—W. W. 1822.
"Aug. 7th. We reached this place, Thun. Walked or sate in the groves at the foot of the Lake, then crossed the river by a boat, and wandered in delightful pleasure groves on the other side. Then, passing a gravelled path, which is carried round the woody hill, we found among many interesting objects, one that was very impressive, a plain oval slab, raised upon a stone seat, directly fronting the setting sun, which at that moment was shedding his latest rays upon it. It was this inscription which spoke more than an elaborate panegyric:—
DEM
ANDENKEN
MEINES FREUNDES
ALOYS REDING
MDCCCXVIII."
(Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Monday, 7th August. Berne.—One of the inscriptions (which I did not see) was to the memory of Aloys Reding, a Friend of the possessor of these grounds. A happy chance led my Companions to the spot; and here is the inscription copied by one of them:—
DEM
ANDENKEN
MEINES FREUNDES
ALOYS REDING
MDCCCXVIII."
The other bore away a store of interesting recollections which gave birth to the following little Poem:—
Memorial Verses
Around a wild and woody hill, etc."
(From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, 1820, vol. i.)
It will be observed from the dates given in the Journals, that the poet did not keep to the chronological order of the Journey, in arranging these "Memorials" of their Continental Tour. In the strict order of time, this memorial to Aloys Reding should have preceded the sonnet On approaching the Staubbach.—Ed.
VARIANT: