harvest of reflections for the moralist. We have sought to show that under every aspect it has something noteworthy, something of interest in every shade of its waning beauty. Autumn brings back most people to work; from Swiss mountains and Norwegian fiords, from glen and corry of Scotland, from the well-laden apple orchards and lovely combes of the west. And, doubtless, the sober reflections with which we began this paper, come home to us with tenfold force as we leave the scene of our summer holiday; so that unpleasing as is the moraliser generally, his trite wisdom harmonises well with inclination, when he says:—
Yet wait awhile, and see the calm leaves float,
Each to his rest beneath their parent shade.
UP THE MOSELLE.
PART IV.
As everybody knows, spring, and summer too, came a month earlier than usual this year 1863. The cold, wet, wineless summer of 1860 taught us that summer, even on the Continent, may turn out a miserable failure; and this is not a pleasant thought, for a wet summer is contrary to the course of nature, like grey hair in youth. Far worse than a white winter is what the Irish peasants call a black summer, and the fewer we get in the course of a life the better. In spite of its suspicious earliness, the year is not spoiled yet; the barometer is high; the distance from Boppard to Brodenbach is but about seven English miles across a hill, and the way had been performed last autumn in the contrary direction. Bædeker says in his guide-book that it must not be attempted without a guide; but it is only necessary to inquire where the footpath to Buchholz begins, just beyond the railway-station at Boppard, taking care in approaching Brodenbach not to miss the Castle of Ehrenburg, which lies to the left, and with which I concluded my account of last autumn’s ramble.[1] At the pretty little inn at Brodenbach, kept by “Probst,” I learn from a traveller “in the silk line” that there is a fine church at Münster-Maifeld, and decide on turning aside to see it. Münster-Maifeld is a little town about a couple of hours’ walk inland on the north side of the Moselle. It lies at the edge of a fertile table-land, and commands an immense prospect. The church and town is seen a long time before we reach it. The Maifelder Hof is the hotel generally mentioned in the guide-books, but “the Sun” is very good, and the landlord, as his sign denotes, an enlightened man, who has lived many years in Paris, and is now ready to throw light on the sights of his native town. The chief of these is the old collegiate church. It has a remarkable tower, shaped as if a round and square tower had grown together; part of this structure is believed to have been Roman, as the site of the church is undoubtedly the same as that of the original Castrum in the “Vicus Ambiativus.” This is one of the places which disputes the doubtful honour of having given birth to the Emperor Caligula. The present church was built probably towards the end of the thirteenth century, on the site of the older one built by Archbishop Modoald, who died in 656. The choir appears to be the oldest part. This is remarkable for its polygonal shape, and the crown-like appearance presented by its little gables. The lancet-shaped windows do not, however, harmonise well with the pure Byzantine character of the rest of the apsis; and they are, doubtless, more modern than the rest of the choir, the date of which must be placed shortly after the grant of Archbishop Baldwin to the chapter, A.D. 1333. Behind the church is to be seen what is said to be the oldest house in Münster, distinguished by its quaint beams and gables, and probably having belonged to the old conventual establishment in some character or other.
A walk to the lower part of the town discloses a singular stone conduit, like a long covered box with water spouting out of several openings, and crowded with women washing; and below this a considerable portion of the mediæval walls, with one ruinous tower, which slightly leans from the perpendicular.
The comparative height of the ground here, as compared with the vast depression to the westward, from which strange round and conical hills rise, is very striking. It is just one of those sites which the Romans loved for their winter camps, their dislike to being overlooked by a possible enemy overcoming any objection they might have to bracing air.
The origin of the name of the town is, as some antiquaries think, to be sought in the May-meetings held by the ancient deliberative assemblies of Germany under Charlemagne and his successors; but others only connect it with the town of Mayen. We saw a Maypole standing in a village below the town, showing that the ancient festival is not confined to Britain. In the town-ditch the cockchafers, or May-chafers, as they are called in Germany, have been holding a terrible orgy, as they hang as thick as the few leaves they have left on the devastated oaks. The ravages of this insect are said to have grown more alarming of late years in consequence of the great destruction of woods, which harboured their enemies—the birds.
From Münster-Maifeld it is easy to drop down on the valley of the Elz; and this is, in fact, the only approach for carriages to that Castle of Elz which is undoubtedly the most worth-seeing object with the exception of those in the city of Treves, on the whole course of the Moselle. The very considerable and steep hills in this region are thickly clad with oak and beech. A sudden turn in the road discloses close to us the remains of the dogged-looking Castle of Trutz-Elz, which was built by Archbishop Baldwin in order to reduce the stronghold, which he had attempted to storm in vain. The device of building a fortress over against an enemy’s city is one with which all classical scholars are familiar, as being that by which the Dorian immigrants reduced the Peloponnesus. It appears that in this case it was effectual to bring the lords of Elz into a full recognition of the supremacy of their doughty- ↑ See Vol. vii., p. 334.
