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The photographic news
- Bandzählung
- 27.1883
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- 1883
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- Hochschule für Grafik und Buchkunst Leipzig
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- Bandzählung
- No. 1274, February 2, 1883
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The photographic news
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- Titelblatt Titelblatt I
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FEBRUAR 2, 1883."] tHE PHOTOGRAPHIC NEWS. 69 passing the ruins of Burg Arras. Bertrich itself is not a bad one and not much frequented, hut its situation is attractive. There is here an elfin grotto, or Kase Keller, so called from the peculiar cheese-shaped basaltic rocks and a very pretty little fall, only there was no water in it. To Beilstein is sixteen miles by road. Passing through Eller I met with a most singular and unprecedented occurrence. Having been three hours on the way, and perfectly free from shelter from the sun’s rays, the sight of a hotel made one’s mouth water. Judge, now, of my surprise when refused a bottle of wine because it was church time. I did not even know it was Sunday, and am doubtful of it to this day. It must have been a saint’s day. I cannot account for it, but so it was. Beilstein is most artistically placed. The old castle stands on the brow of a hill overlooking the village, which flows out of the valley like a glacier. The views of both village and river are eminently picturesque from whichever point seen. I regretted it was not more visited, as, being the only one, in the hotel, where they get one visitor a week (perhaps), I could get nothing for dinner, and had to content myself with bread and wine till bedtime. Beilstein to Cochen is,not more than five or six miles, but is by far the most beautifui portion of the river. The rocks are higher and approach near the river. Cochen itself is well situated, almost at the foot of a fine and still-inhabited pile, formerly a monastery. I went by rail from here to Hatzenpost, where I advise no one to put up, for the village is a mile from the station, and the accommodation poor; though, as hotel bills only come to about two shillings and sixpence a day, there is some compensation. Mosel Kern, between the two, is better, and is at the entrance of the charming valley of Eltz, through which, after a walk or scramble of four miles over brooks and through woods, one comes suddenly to Schloss Eltz, one of the best preserved of the inhabited castles of the middle ages. It stands upon the summit of a conical hill in the middle of a valley, only a narrow neck of land joining it to the table land around, where is the ruin of a castle built by the Archbishop Baldwin, of Trves, to combat and overcome the Count of Eltz ; but he did not, for the bishop got the worst of it. This was the same bishop who waged war against the Grfin von Starkenburg, of whom I spoke just now. Erom Hatzenpost to the Rhine at Coblentz the river, although always pretty, deserves no special notice. Having in view a figure study for our competition, I kept a sharp look out for the “ peasant girls with bright blue eyes,” but am afraid they have died out since Byron’s time, and the “ hands that offer early flowers,” are generally coarse with manual labour. At best they are but a pleasant, homely folk, dressed very like our own English girls. I crossed the Rhine by rail to Oberlahnstein. I had intended to spend a day on the river, doing some instantaneous views from the boat; “ but one thing lacked these banks of Rhine,” and old memories made the place distasteful to me. The rail way runs mostly along the banks of the Lahn, from Nieder- lahnstein, through Ems, to Nassau, and is pretty all the way. The old castle of Nassau stands a prominent object in the view. I walked from here to Burghangenau, in the basin of a beautiful valley. Further on the monastery of Arn stein. Both are in the same view, and most picturesque. A nearer view of the latter from the hill and from the river is well worth securing. Hence to Baldwinstein, with the fine Castle of Schaumberg on the heights; and the old ruins in the narrow valley ; Dietz with its old castle and bridge ; and then Limburg, whose sole attrac tion is its cathedral, erected in the tenth century, and well worth delay, and a beautiful view from the bridge at the back of the town by evening light. Dietkirchen is only three miles further, with an old church on the top of the hill; then Lohn berg, with its castle. Runkel is well worthy of a photographic visit. The ruins are superbly placed above the town and river, and a good picture is also had from above. Weilberg is the last place worthy of note, except Witzlar, at the junction of the Cologne line. The whole journey along the river from the Rhine to Weilberg is exceedingly beautiful and replete with interest, surpassing the Moselle, but has no boat navigation for passengers. Giessen, the junction on the Frankfort and Cassel line, is an old town, but too prosperous now to offer any attraction to an artist. The journey north affords little to interest, and is tedious on account of the slow rate of the trains; they seldom go quicker than twenty-five miles an hour, and the stopping trains are awful. I ended the day at Herzberg, which is at the entrance of the Sieberthal, which is pretty clean and prosperous—a com ¬ bination very unfrequently seen ; also Osterode, ten miles hence by rail. Here the olden streets are full of quaint black and white houses, but do not fulfil the impression formed by Baedeker’s description of the spot. Railways and prosperity- soon destroy the beauty of a place as far as the ordinary sight seer is concerned, and the occasional peeps into the past through the old relics only make the modern streets and houses more hideous, proving plainly that in architecture at least we have not progressed. To St. Andreasburg, through the Sieberthal, is twelve miles— a small town in a wild and romantic situation. So Baedeker says, but this is misleading, the steepness of the roads being the only novelty. I started early next day, intending to finish at Elend; but finding nothing to do on the road except Oderhaus, a village of three houses, I pushed on to Shierke, and was still disappointed. I made for Ilsenberg, another ten miles distant. This, however, I found too much, so turned aside and put up at the Brocken. This noted spot is “ a delusion and a snare.” The witches no longer visit it, and a more uncomfortable hotel I do not remember. The feeling of being suspected at every turn is very annoying, for everything has to be paid for as you get it. Beer, dinner, bed, and breakfast mean so many distinct payments. No doubt they have learned by experience the forgetfulness of mankind, and students are here the most frequent visitors. Through the Ilsethal to Ilsenberg—a pretty valley, they say ; but all the roads through the Harz mountains are so lined with trees that for miles nothing else can be seen. If owners of mountains in Ireland or elsewhere would take a “ wrinkle ” from Germany it would be a great blessing for themselves and the people ; there is no poverty here. I pushed on again to Harzburg, six miles further—an un interesting walk. Harzburg is a true watering place, very artificial, but still pretty, for the hills remain. From Harzburg through a valley similar to others, except that it contains the Radau fall, about a hundred feet high, which I almost suspect of being artificial also. Only when the Okerthal is reached is the walk worth the labour and worthy the description given of it, and that is almost spoilt by want of water, the river being nearly drained to supply the mills along its banks. Oker itself is worth a picture or two. Goslar is reached by rail, and here my catalogue of disappointments reached its climax ; for the Kaiserwirth Inn, undoubtedly the finest building in the town, was covered with scaffolding. The town is full of pictures, too numerous to men tion. I went back considerably by rail to Thale for the Bode Thal, the only valley which approaches grandeur. It is in the Bode Thal that all the pictures representing the Harz mountains are found, and it is certainly worthy of its reputation. The extent is not great—five miles, perhaps—but replete with all the glories of a narrow winding rocky valley, changing almost every hundred, yards, rocks of the most fantastic shapes well wooded ; the path sometimes ascends the hill side, sometimes descends almost to the river, and once is crossed by the inevitable Devil’s Bridge, which, like all his majesty’s productions, is in a most romantic situation. I walked back in early morning over the same ground, and under stood how it is that the early bird catches the worm ; for it was impossible to get along quickly without sending some to their last home. Hence to Halberstadt, another old town full of interest; but by an accident I lost all my pictures of this place. Beware of postal vans. If you want a sample of spiteful rudeness, the drivers of these red waggons stand prominent. Twice—once in Paris, once here—they have gone out of their way to stand im mediately between the camera and the object—no doubt taking their tone from those above them. I don’t think I moved a yard in this place without a guard of honour (?) throughout the whole day. A thirst for knowledge is praiseworthy, but when it shows itself by peering into the lens when you are focussing, and examining, and making remarks on your traps with a crowd of a dozen or eighteen round you, it ceases to be amusing to the operator after a little time. Hildesheim—the finest, perhaps, of these old towns, rich in relics of ancient architectural skill—brings nearly to a close my wanderings. Of the public buildings I failed to get good photo graphs, but outside these more renowned objects. Here are two —Little Venice, as it is here called, and the Roman emperor’s house—a small place in a cramped street, covered over with carvings of figures, many life-size, out of black oak. Brunswick also contains many old and fine buildings, and fur nishes some half-dozen pictures. Hanover is hardly worth a call; the place is thronged with
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