„Kaiserswerth was entirely a Roman Catholic village until near the close of the last century, when certain velvet manufacturers brought over their work-people from Protestant Crefeld. The Protestant congregation was small enough,- two hundred in a population of eighteen hundred; and over it Candidat Theodore Fliedner was placed as village pastor in the year 1822. He was not there a month when the velvet manufacturers failed, and the congregation, mostly their own workmen, threatened to be broken up. Fliedner was offered another charge. He says he could not reconcile it with his duty to leave his flock when they most needed help; and as they were no longer capable of supporting a pastorate among them, he made a begging tour as far even as Holland and England, and returned with a sum sufficient to afford a moderate endowment. This, however, was by far the least result of his journey. His longing and aptitude for practical work, not as a philanthropist only, but as an earnest minister of Christ, had been greatly stimulated by what he saw. He had visited hospitals, workhouses, schools; in London he dwells simply on having „seen Newgate, and many other prisons:“ he regrets only missing Mrs. Fry. And when he came back he thought, with deep shame, that in faith and love Englishwomen far surpassed German men. It was not long till his thoughts found a practical outlet. The prison at Düsseldorf was no better than other prisons at this time. There was no classification of the prisoners, no schooling for the young, scarce any separation of the sexes. The filth was horrifying, the arrangements for sleeping and eating of the worst. The prisoners had no employment, and there was no effort to give them any spiritual instruction. Meanwhile the jailors grew rich, and the prison-boards fell asleep. Fliedner sought admission to the Düsseldorf prison, having more leisure, as he says, than his brethren, and obtained permission to preach in it every Sunday fortnight.“ Dazu paßt die höchst überlieferungstaugliche, symbolbehaftete Legende, daß Fliedner einst in einem Nachen in Kaiserswerth anlandete; um ernsthaft heilig gesprochen zu werden war er dennoch eine Spur zu protestantisch. Die grauen Diakonissen, zu Beginn aus Knästen und Armenfamilien rekrutiert, wandeln bis heute in zunehmend rarer Ausführung durch rheinische Landschaften und vermitteln dem unbedarften Beobachter das Gefühl, daß es hinter ihnen staubt. (O tempora, o mores!) Und London sollte stets als letzte und größte Stadt am Rhein gedacht werden, hier mal nebenbei.

Über den Gründer der Diakonie, Theodor Fliedner, schreibt Rev. William Fleming Stevenson in seinem Buch „Praying and Working“ (London 1862), das von Lebenswegen berühmter Christen erzählt, und nimmt dabei mit Thomas Hood (dessen Stil er mäßig kopiert) und Lord Byron einen langen rheinischen Anlauf, bevor er „The blue flag of Kaiserswerth“ sichtet: „Up the Rhine, has no more the meaning it bore in Thomas Hood`s exquisitely droll itinerary, – not so long ago, but for this railway and now telegraph speed at which the world is flying past us, – when it meant leisurely sailing for days together from the very Rhine mouth up to Basel, with nightly bivouacs at the villages on either side, and endless opportunity of observing the vicissitudes of social life from the crowded quarter-deck. For the first point of departure from Rotterdam is now the pretty station of the Dutch-Rhenish Railway, and along this railway you are whirled at a steady, comfortable pace, without so much as a peep at the rejoicing river, or at anything else, save a deep, full ditch, close to the rails, an occasional sand-hill, or flat colourless fields where the hard soil is bleached by the sun, until you see the towers of the great cathedral at Cologne, and there take the water for Coblenz and Bingen. But should any one be simple, quiet, and old-fashioned enough to embark at the Boompjes, in one of the fast Rhine steamers, and be content to look, for two days, at a row of bulrushes on the one side and poplar trees upon the other, or at poplar trees upon the one side and a row of bulrushes on the other, he will not only come upon the exquisite scenery higher up with all the advantage of contrast and relief, but will probably see, about an hour before reaching Düsseldorf, a strange flag floating from a tower upon the left. It is not time for the „Fruit, foliage, crags, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine / And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells, / From green, but leafy walls, where rain greenly dwells;“ the only rising ground in sight is on the horizon, and the tower is only the relic of a windmill. Neither does the flag suggest anything of battles passed below, but is simply a large blue flag, bearing in the centre a white dove with an olive branch. It is the signal that you are passing Kaiserswerth, a paltry, ordinary village, as you would presently say, looking at the houses that straggle down to the river; and is nothing more, notwithstanding its ruins of the eleventh century, and that St Suibert, the first evangelist of the district, is buried in the Pfarrkirche. Moreover, on nearer inspection it turns out to be dirty, as most Roman Catholic towns unfortunately are. And yet it is better worth stopping at than St Goar or Ehrenbreitstein. It is the seat of a movement which is exercising a profound influence on the German Church, and drawing no little attention from England, as well; where an unpretending German clergyman has been working out in his own way a problem which deeply concerns us all – the right relation of womanly gifts and service to the kingdom of God. (…)“

In einem fatalen Dialog mit seinem Schöpfer erwähnt Frankensteins Monster u.a. seine mühsamen Erfahrungen mit dem Rhein: “Presently I heard the sound of footsteps along the passage; the door opened, and the wretch whom I dreaded appeared. Shutting the door, he approached me, and said, in a smothered voice – “You have destroyed the work which you began; what is it that you intend? Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured toil and misery: I left Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the Rhine, among its willow islands, and over the summits of its hills. I have dwelt many months in the heaths of England, and among the deserts of Scotland. I have endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger; do you dare destroy my hopes?” “Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another like yourself, equal in deformity and wickedness.” “Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master; – obey!” “The hour of my irresolution is past, and the period of your power is arrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; but they confirm me in a determination of not creating you a companion in vice. Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a daemon, whose delight is in death and wretchedness? Begone! I am firm, and your words will only exasperate my rage.” The monster saw my determination in my face, and gnashed his teeth in the impotence of anger. “Shall each man,” cried he, “find a wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man! you may hate; but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the bolt will fell which must ravish from you your happiness for ever. Are you to be happy, while I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness? You can blast my other passions; but revenge remains – revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food! I may die; but first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your misery. Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the injuries you inflict.” “Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice. I have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend beneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable.” “It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your weddingnight.” I started forward, and exclaimed, “Villain! before you sign my deathwarrant, be sure that you are yourself safe.” I would have seized him; but he eluded me, and quitted the house with precipitation: in a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot across the waters with an arrowy swiftness, and was soon lost amidst the waves.”

Die Erinnerung Frankensteins an seine Rheinreise mit Clerval, aus dem Klassiker von Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley: “After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversed many leagues, I arrived at Strasburgh, where I waited two days for Clerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He was alive to every new scene; joyful when he saw the beauties of the setting sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise, and recommence a new day. He pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape, and the appearances of the sky. “This is what it is to live,” he cried, “now I enjoy existence! But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are you desponding and sorrowful!” In truth, I was occupied by gloomy thoughts, and neither saw the descent of the evening star, nor the golden sun-rise reflected in the Rhine.— And you, my friend, would be far more amused with the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery with an eye of feeling and delight, than in listening to my reflections. I, a miserable wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to enjoyment. We had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasburgh to Rotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London. During this voyage, we passed by many willowy islands, and saw several beautiful towns. We staid a day at Manheim, and, on the fifth from our departure from Strasburgh, arrived at Mayence. The course of the Rhine below Mayence becomes much more picturesque. The river descends rapidly, and winds between hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms. We saw many ruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded by black woods, high and inaccessible. This part of the Rhine, indeed, presents a singularly variegated landscape. In one spot you view rugged hills, ruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, with the dark Rhine rushing beneath ; and, on the sudden turn of a promontory, flourishing vineyards, with green sloping banks, and a meandering river, and populous towns, occupy the scene. We travelled at the time of the vintage, and heard the song of the labourers, as we glided down the stream. Even I, depressed in mind, and my spirits continually agitated by gloomy feelings, even I was pleased. I lay at the bottom of the boat, and, as I gazed on the cloudless blue sky, I seemed to drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been a stranger. And if these were my sensations, who can describe those of Henry? He felt as if he had been transported to Fairyland, and enjoyed a happiness seldom tasted by man. “I have seen,” he said, “the most beautiful scenes of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerne and Uri, where the snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly to the water, casting black and impenetrable shades, which would cause a gloomy and mournful appearance, were it not for the most verdant islands that relieve the eye by their gay appearance; I have seen this lake agitated by a tempest, when the wind tore up whirlwinds of water, and gave you an idea of what the water-spout must be on the great ocean, and the waves dash with fury the base of the mountain, where the priest and his mistress were overwhelmed by an avelânche and where their dying voices are still said to be heard amid the pauses of the nightly wind; I have seen the mountains of La Valais, and the Pays de Vaud: but this country, Victor, pleases me more than all those wonders. The mountains of Switzerland are more majestic and strange; but there is a charm in the banks of this divine river, that I never before saw equalled. Look at that castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on the island, almost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; and now that group of labourers coming from among their vines; and that village half hid in the recess of the mountain. Oh, surely, the spirit that inhabits and guards this place has a soul more in harmony with man, than those who pile the glacier, or retire to the inaccessible peaks of the mountains of our own country.” Clerval! beloved friend! even now it delights me to record your words, and to dwell on the praise of which you are so eminently deserving. He was a being formed in the “very poetry of nature.” His wild and enthusiastic imagination was chastened by the sensibility of his heart. His soul overflowed with ardent affections, and his friendship was of that devoted and wondrous nature that the worldly-minded teach us to look for only in the imagination. But even human sympathies were not sufficient to satisfy his eager mind. The scenery of external nature, which others regard only with admiration, he loved with ardour. (…) And where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lost for ever? Has this mind so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful and magnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the life of its creator; has this mind perished? Does it now only exist in my memory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and beaming with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and consoles your unhappy friend. (…) Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved to post the remainder of our way; for the wind was contrary, and the stream of the river was too gentle to aid us. Our journey here lost the interest arising from beautiful scenery; but we arrived in a few days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to England.”

Sehr zurückhaltend beging Rheinsein vor rund drei Wochen den zehnmillionsten Geburtstag des Rheins – nicht zuletzt, weil die Quellenlage (so z.B. Ernst Probst in „Rekorde der Urzeit“) u.a. auch von mindestens zwölf Millionen Jahren Rhein spricht. Damit wäre der Rhein nicht der älteste deutsche Fluß, wilde erste Ströme ohne Namen schossen, soweit bekannt bis behauptet, bereits im Kambrium (vor ungefähr 570 bis 510 Millionen Jahren) durch Süddeutschland und Mecklenburg. Ein Großteil des heutigen Deutschland lag damals noch unter Wasser. Im Gebiet des heutigen Oberrheins verlief das Gefälle im Eozän (vor ungefähr 45 Millionen Jahren) von Norden nach Süden. Ein Vor-Urrhein floß dort hinab, wo wir heute zu sagen hätten: hinauf. (Landschaften sind schon unzuverlässige Gebilde/Gebolde/Täuschkörper.) Die Grube Messel mit ihren fossilen Funden wie Prachtkäfern, Ibissen, Schwanzprimaten, der Messelralle oder dem Propalaeotherium (einem Zwergpferdchen) gehört zu den Seen seines Systems. Wie die meisten großen der gegenwärtig verfügbaren Flüße der Alten Welt bildete sich der Rhein im Miozän. An seinen Ufern tranken, grasten und rissen Bärenhunde, krallenfüßige Huftiere, Prägorrhoiden, Riesenrüßler, Säbelzahntiger, großäugige Insekten, Panzergnarle und die vorgeblich letzten Menschenaffen Deutschlands, das freilich noch nicht so hieß. Als Urrhein soll er am Kaiserstuhl entsprungen sein, dieweil die Alpen wie eh und je fleißig mit Falten beschäftigt ihre Wasser bevorzugt gen Thetys sandten. Die Urmosel mochte, so schwer vorstellbar das auch klingt, bis vor gut zwei Millionen Jahren sogar mächtiger als der Rhein gewesen sein. In den Warmzeiten des frühen Eiszeitalters beherbergte der Rhein Flußpferde – wo sind sie gebliehieben? Die Donau wurde als des Rheins jüngere Schwester übrigens erst fünf Millionen Jahre später kreationistisch designt. Ebenfalls natürlich mit ganz anderen Quellen und Verläufen als den heutigen. So wurde die Donau zwischen Miozän und Pliozän von der Aare gespeist, die gerne da und dort als der „eigentliche“ Rhein angepriesen wird, weil sie diesen so kräftig bezuschußt, was die Donau deutlich dezenter und unterirdisch erledigt. Ein brüllender Inzest unter Flußgottheiten ist es dennoch. Und wohin mit dem ganzen Wasser? Ernst Probst: „Das größte Flußdelta der letzten Eiszeit vor etwa 115.000 bis 10.000 Jahren lag östlich von Südengland. In dieser Gegend mündeten damals der Rhein, die Maas und die Themse ins Meer.“

Gefunden im Vorbericht des Rheinischen Antiquarius: „Es hegt sonst dieser Strom allerhand Arten von Fischen in großem Ueberfluß, und man fängt darinnen unter andern leckerhaften Gattungen die wohlschmeckende Salmen / welche, wenn sie im Frühling aus der See, allwo sie klein und mager sind, heraufkommen, Lachse / hernach aber, wenn sie sich gegen den Herbst zu nach dem Meer wieder zuruckbegeben, erst Salmen genennet werden. So bald diese Fische in den Rheinstrom einlauffen, nehmen sie auch zu, und je höher sie steigen, je größer und zärter pflegen sie zu werden, so, daß ein Cöllnischer Lachs vor einem Dordrechtischen, und ein Maynzer vor einem Cöllnischen leicht zu erkennen, diesen allen aber ein Baßler vorzuziehen ist. Auch sind die Rheinstöre nicht unbekannt. Wie denn Marquart Freher schreibt, daß diese in der Pfalz nur auf die Fürstentafel gehörten. Zu Rom wurden diese Störe, welche man zu latein Acipenseres nennet, ehemals als eine sehr seltsame, dabey aber kostbare Speise, wie Athenäus und Macrobius bezeugen, nicht anders, als im Gepränge mit Pfeiffen und Kränzen auf die Kayserliche Tafel getragen. Sie werden sonderlich in Holland ohngefehr vom ersten April an, ein ganzes viertel Jahr hindurch, so häufig gefangen, daß man sie theils in Pückel schlägt und einsalzt, theils frisch an nahgelegene Nationen, insonderheit nach Engelland, verhandelt. Wenn der große Störfang aufhört, so geht es nochmals das ganze Jahr hindurch über die kleinen Störgen her, welche so schmackhaft sind, daß auch die Italiäner, wie ein gewisser Verfasser meldet, die Finger darnach lecken. Nebst diesen liefert der Rhein noch viele niedliche Fische auf der reichen Leute Tafel, worunter die namhaftesten zweyerley Arten Neunaugen sind, die man eingemacht in Deutschland Bricken und in Holland Muräl nennet. Die erste Art davon ist sehr groß und schön, die andere klein, nichts destoweniger aber von gutem Geschmack. Eigene Arten Rheinfische sind die stachelichten Hechte / die herrlichen Rheinkarpfen / deren einige mehrmalen wohl bey zwanzig Pfund schwer gefangen worden; ferner die gar großen, mittelmäßigen und kleinen köstlichen Barben oder Rothbärte, die starken und großen Aale, die Forellen / Schwalen, Weißfische, Bersing oder Persen / Nößling / Aalruppen, Schleyen / Grundeln, Kressen / Kroppen / Bißgurren oder Meergrundeln, Stinden / Zauen, u. d. gl. Aeschen oder Aschen hat der Rheinstrom sehr wenige, und zwar daher, weil diese Fische lieber in harten, frischen und felsigten Wassern gehen, so kalt sind und aus hohen Felsengebürgen herab fliessen. Dieweil auch dieser Fisch das ganze Jahr hindurch gesund und gut zu speisen ist; So soll daher das Sprüchwort von ihm entsprungen seyn: Der Aesch ist ein Rheingraf.“ Soweit der Antiquarius, der weiters von kommenden und gehenden Krebsen im Rhein berichtet, von Bibern und Fischottern, Schildkröten und sogar verirrten Wunderfischen aus weit entlegenen Meeren, auch Seehunde (die nicht etwa “Roggen oder Eyergen” legen, sondern anlande Welpen werfen, welche im Safte ihrer Jugend ein Achttagegeheul starten) und junge Meerschweine werden als Flußbewohner verzeichnet, bevor Dielhelm aufs rheinische Federwildbret kommt.