We Arrived Late In The Evening In The Thal Ehrenbreitstein, Which Lies At The Foot Of The Gigantic Hill Fortress Of That Name, Which Frowns Over It And Seems As If It Threatened To Fall And Crush It.

My friends landed me at the inn Zum weissen Pferd (the White Horse), where there is most excellent accommodation.

Just opposite Ehrenbreitstein, on the left bank, is Coblentz; a superb flying bridge, which passes in three minutes, keeps up the communication between the two towns.

Early the next morning, I ascended the stupendous rock of Ehrenbreitstein, which has a great resemblance to the hill forts in India, such as Gooty, Nundydroog, etc. It is a place of immense natural strength, but the fortifications were destroyed by the French, who did not chuse to have so formidable a neighbour so close to their frontier, as the Rhine then was. The Prussian Government, however, to whom it now belongs, seem too fully aware of its importance not to reconstruct the fortifications with as little delay as possible. Ehrenbreitstein completely commands all the adjacent country and enfilades the embouchure of the Moselle which flows into the Rhine at Coblentz, where there is an elegant stone bridge across the Moselle. Troops without intermission continue to pass over the flying bridge bound to France, from the different German states, viz., Saxons, Hessians, Prussians, etc., so that one might apply to this scene Anna Comnena's expression relative to the Crusades, and say that all Germany is torn up from its foundation and precipitated upon France. I suppose no less than 70,000 men have passed within these few days. The German papers, particularly the Rheinische Mercur, continue to fulminate against France and the war yell resounds with as much fury as ever. From the number of troops that continue to pass it would seem as if the Allies did not mean to content themselves with the abdication of Napoleon, but will endeavour to dismember France. The Prussian officers seem to speak very confidently that Alsace and Lorraine will be severed from France and reunited to the Germanic body, to which, they say, every country ought to belong where the German language is spoken, and they are continually citing the words of an old song:

Wo ist das deutsche Vaterland?.... Wo man die deutsche Zunge spricht, Da ist das deutsche Vaterland.[26]

In English: "Where is the country of the Germans? Where the German language is spoken, there is the country of the Germans!"

Coblentz is a clean handsome city, but there is nothing very remarkable in it except a fine and spacious "Place." But in the neighbourhood stands the Chartreuse, situated on an eminence commanding a fine view of the whole Thalweg. This Chartreuse is one English mile distant from the town and my friend the Austrian Captain had the goodness to conduct me thither. It is a fine large building, but is falling rapidly to decay, being appropriated to no purpose whatever. The country is beautiful in the environs of this place, and has repeatedly called forth the admiration and delight of all travellers.

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