The sixteenth century approached; in the fourteenth the Rhine witnessed the invention of artillery; and on its bank, at Strassburg, a printing-office was first established.  In 1400 the famous cannon, fourteen feet in length, was cast at Cologne; and in 1472 Vindelin de Spire printed his Bible.  A new world was making its appearance; and, strange to say, it was upon the banks of the Rhine that those two mysterious tools with which God unceasingly works out the civilization of man—­the catapult and the book—­war and thought—­took a new form.

The Rhine, in the destinies of Europe, has a sort of providential signification.  It is the great moat which divides the north from the south.  The Rhine for thirty ages, has seen the forms and reflected the shadows of almost all the warriors who tilled the old continent with that share which they call sword.  Caesar crossed the Rhine in going from the south; Attila crossed it when descending from the north.  It was here that Clovis gained the battle of Tolbiac; and that Charlemagne and Napoleon figured.  Frederick Barbarossa, Rudolph of Hapsburg, and Frederick the First, were great, victorious, and formidable when here.  For the thinker, who is conversant with history, two great eagles are perpetually hovering ever the Rhine—­that of the Roman legions, and the eagle of the French regiments.

The Rhine—­that noble flood, which the Romans named “Superb,” bore at one time upon its surface bridges of boats, over which the armies of Italy, Spain, and France poured into Germany, and which, at a later date, were made use of by the hordes of barbarians when rushing into the ancient Roman world; at another, on its surface it floated peaceably the fir-trees of Murg and of Saint Gall, the porphyry and the marble of Bale, the salt of Karlshall, the leather of Stromberg, the quicksilver of Lansberg, the wine of Johannisberg, the slates of Coab, the cloth and earthenware of Wallendar, the silks and linens of Cologne.  It majestically performs its double function of flood of war and flood of peace, having, without interruption, upon the ranges of hills which embank the most notable portion of its course, oak-trees on one side and vine-trees on the other—­signifying strength and joy.

[Footnote A:  From “The Rhine.”  Translated by D.M.  Aird.]

FROM BONN TO MAYENCE[A]

BY BAYARD TAYLOR

I was glad when we were really in motion on the swift Rhine, and nearing the chain of mountains that rose up before us.  We passed Godesberg on the right, while on our left was the group of the seven mountains which extend back from the Drachenfels to the Wolkenberg, or “Castle of the Clouds.”  Here we begin to enter the enchanted land.  The Rhine sweeps around the foot of the Drachenfels, while, opposite, the precipitous rock of Rolandseck, crowned with the castle of the faithful knight, looks down upon the beautiful island of Nonnenwerth, the white walls of