Looking north along the Rhine from Bingen’s waterfront observation deck at Rhein-Nahe-Eck, boats glide past on their way to the ports of Rotterdam and Antwerp, and inland towards Strasbourg. The towering vine- and forest- covered hills carved by the river over millennia act like a natural gateway to the Upper Middle Rhine Valley, or the Rhine Gorge as it is also known. It is a beautiful view.
On either side of the Rhine, Ehrenfels Castle and the Mäuseturm act like sentinels at the entrance to the gorge. They also hint at the far from peaceful past this part of Germany has experienced throughout its history. The white and red Mäuseturm, or Mouse Tower, has a particularly gruesome folkloric tale attached to it. The legend, passed down from generation to generation, is of the cruel and selfish Archbishop of Mainz, Hatto II.
The Mouse Tower was once used as a fortified toll booth, to collect money from ships that sailed along the Rhine. It greatly enriched the Archbishop, but the social contract with the people of this region meant that in hard times, he would use some of this wealth to help those in need. Except, when famine struck in the 10th century, Hatto II exploited the situation to sell his grain at hugely inflated prices.
Sensing rebellion in the air, the Archbishop invited the nearby townsfolk to an empty storehouse with the promise of food. Once the townsfolk were inside, Hatto locked the doors and set the storehouse on fire, killing them all. As with all good cautionary tales though, Hatto gets his comeuppance. The next day he wakes to discover a plague of rats and mice has eaten the crops in his fields and the grain in his stores.
He flees to his customs tower on the river believing he’ll be safe from the rodents. They, though, swim across the water and devour him in his bed chamber. The legend is pure nonsense, but the name Mouse Tower has stuck. A reminder that those who abuse their power often meet grisly ends – at least in folklore. Close to here was the original site of an abbey set up by St. Hildegard of Bingen, a far more revered religious character.
We arrived in Bingen early on the ferry from Rüdesheim. There is a lovely riverside park that you can walk along taking in the views over the Rhine to the vineyards of the Rheingau on the other bank. Bingen was an important port during medieval times, even joining the Hanseatic League in the mid-13th century. It started life though as a fortified Roman town thanks to the fact it sat at the junction of the Rivers Nahe and Rhine.
The town suffered greatly in the wars of religion during the 17th century Thirty years’ War, and again during the French Revolution. Being on the west bank of the Rhine, it was incorporated into France until Napoleon’s defeat. Much of the physical history of the town was destroyed in March 1945, when the US Army attacked and captured it after a fierce fight.
That has left the centre of Bingen with architecture that fluctuates between beautiful timber-framed houses and mid- to late-20th century monstrosities. The medieval Basilica of St. Martin, one of the prettiest buildings in town, was covered in scaffolding. There are a scattering of other historic buildings in this area of the Altstadt, but Bingen lacks the charm of other small towns in the area.
The main sight is the attractive Klopp Castle, with a prominent position on a hilltop above the town. Originally a Roman fort, the castle dates to the 13th century, but not all is what it seems. The French blew the castle up in 1689. It was a ruin for almost two centuries, attracting the attention of writers and artists. British painter, J.M.W. Turner, sketched it on a visit in 1844. The view over the town, river and surrounding vineyards is fabulous.
