I sauntered about alone, for C. had a sick headache,
and was forced to sit on one of the stone benches. Heidelberg Castle
is of vast extent, and various architecture; parts of it, a guide book
says, were designed by Michael Angelo. Over one door was a Hebrew
inscription. Marshalled in niches in the wall stood statues of
electors and knights in armor--silent, lonely. The effect was quite
different from the old Gothic ruins I had seen. This spoke of courts,
of princes; and the pride and grandeur of the past, contrasted with
the silence and desertion, reminded me of the fable of the city of
enchantment, where king and court were smitten to stone as they stood.
A mournful lion's head attracted my attention, it had such a strange,
sad look; and there was a fountain broken and full of weeds.
I looked on the carvings, the statues, the broken arches, where
bluebells and wild flowers were waving, and it seemed inexpressibly
beautiful. It haunted me in my dreams, and I found myself walking up
and down that terrace, in a kind of dim, beautiful twilight, with some
friend: it was a strange dream of joy. But I felt myself very ill even
while there, and had to take my sofa again as soon as I returned.
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