Legends of the Rhine
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Wilhelm Ruland >> Legends of the Rhine
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13 LEGENDS OF THE RHINE
BY
WILHELM RULAND
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PAINTINGS
BY CELEBRATED ARTISTS
8TH EDITION
KOeLN AM RHEIN
VERLAG VON HOURSCH & BECHSTEDT
"O, the pride of the German heart is this noble river!
And right it is; for of all the rivers of this
beautiful earth there is none so beautiful as this."
Longfellow.
Prefatory Note.
Last year I made the journey between Mainz and Bonn on one of our
splendid Rhine steamers. Our vessel glided along like a great
water-bird. On the shore rose mountains, castles, and ruins, and over
all the sun shined brightly from a blue August sky. It was twelve
years since I had visited the scenes of my youth, and every
Rhinelander will understand with what pleasure I saw again those
smiling landscapes arrayed in their summer beauty. Wandering back to
my deck-chair, I soon became absorbed in the ever-changing panorama.
Then the sound of a melodious female voice speaking English fell on my
ears. I looked around. A girl was bending over a book, and
entertaining her father and mother by reading something of special
interest and beauty. I listened and recognised some of my own
sentences rendered into the speech of Shakespeare. These three were
learning to feel the charms of the Lorelei legend as I had felt it. I
confess my pulse beat quicker as I heard my poor endeavours highly
praised, and I could not refrain from advancing and thanking the young
reader for her kindly appreciation of my endeavours. She seemed
delighted when she discovered that I was the author, and rose to greet
me in the most amiable manner. I complimented the travellers that
during the past century the Rhine had become the home of romance for
the English speaking nations, the same as Italy for the Germans. The
girl smiled, and remarked that I must pay that compliment to her
mother in particular, as she was by birth an Englishwoman. But the
head of the family hastened to add that among Americans, whom he might
speak for, the enthusiasm for the beauties of the Rhine was not less
than among their Anglo-Saxon cousins. These two nations which are
bound by so many ties to each other, and also to ourselves, were thus
represented before me. The English-speaking people undoubtedly form by
far the largest contingent of our Rhine travellers, and it was
pleasant indeed to receive so fine a testimonial to the beauties of my
birth place.
We had a most interesting conversation, and I was not a little moved,
as I observed that these foreigners who had travelled over half the
world, and had seen the grandeur of Switzerland and the charms of
Italy, should have such an unaffected admiration for our grand old
river. I am rather sorry for those who neglect the Rhine. "Aren't
Lohengrin and Siegfried, immortalised by the great Master of Bayreuth,
also heroic figures in your Rhine legends?" remarked the young
Anglo-American enthusiastically. It was the first time I had seriously
thought of this. I was indeed touched, and my thoughts travelled back
to the days of "long, long ago" when as a little chap in my native
Bonn, I had first listened with interest to the charming voices of the
golden-haired daughters of old Albion who came in large numbers to
reside in the famous Beethoven-town.
As I separated from my friends at the foot of the Drachenfels I gave
them a small present to keep as a memento of the Rhine and one of its
poets.
Muenchen, Mai 1906. Dr. Wilhelm Ruland.
Contents
=St. Gotthard.= The Petrified Alp 7
=Thusis on the Hinter Rhine.= The Last Hohenraetier 10
=Bodensee.= The Island of Mainau 13
=Basle.= One Hour in Advance 18
=Castle Niedeck.= The Toy of the young Giantess 20
=Strassburg.= The Cathedral Clock 22
The little Man at the Angel's Pillar 25
=Worms.= The Nibelungen Lied 27
=Speyer.= The Bells of Speyer 31
=Frankfort.= The Knave of Bergen 33
=Mayence.= Heinrich Frauenlob 36
Bishop Willigis 38
=Johannisberg.= 40
=Ingelheim.= Eginhard and Emma 45
=Ruedesheim.= The Broemserburg 53
=Bingen.= The Mouse-Tower 58
=Valley of the Nahe. Kreuznach.= A mighty draught 62
The Foundation of Castle Sponheim 65
=Assmannshausen.= St. Clement's Chapel 69
=Castle Rheinstein.= The Wooing 72
=Castle Sooneck.= The Blind Archer 76
=The Ruins of Fuerstenberg.= The Mother's Ghost 79
=Bacharach.= Burg Stahleck 83
=Kaub.= Castle Gutenfels 88
=Oberwesel.= The Seven Maidens 93
=St. Goar.= Lorelei 97
=Rheinfels.= St. George's Linden 103
=Sterrenberg and Liebenstein.= The Brothers 109
=Rhense.= The Emperor Wenzel 117
=Castle Lahneck.= The Templars of Lahneck 120
=Coblenz.= Riza 123
=Valley of the Moselle.= The Doctor's wine of Bernkastel 125
=Andernach.= Genovefa 128
=Hammerstein.= The old Knight and his Daughters 138
=Valley of the Ahr.= The Last Knight of Altenahr 142
The Minstrel of Neuenahr 145
=Eifel.= The Arrow at Pruem 152
=Aachen.= The Building of the Minster 154
The Ring of Fastrada 162
=Rolandseck.= Knight Roland 167
=Siebengebirge.= The Drachenfels 177
The Monk of Heisterbach 182
The Origin of the Seven Mountains 188
The Nightingale Valley at Honnef 190
=Godesberg.= The High Cross at Godesberg 192
=Bonn.= Lord Erich's Pledge 200
The Roman Ghosts 203
=Cologne.= Richmodis of Aducht 208
The Goblins 212
Jan and Griet 216
The Cathedral-Builder of Cologne 220
=Xanten.= Siegfried 231
=Cleve.= Lohengrin 237
=Zuydersea.= Stavoren 244
ST. GOTTHARD
The Petrified Alp
[Illustration: Aus dem Quellgebiet des Rheines--Near the Source of the
Rhine--Au pays du Rhin]
In the region where the Rhine has its source there towered in ancient
times a green Alp. This Alp belonged to an honest peasant, and along
with a neat little house in the valley below formed his only
possession.
The man died suddenly and was deeply mourned by his wife and child.
Some days after an unexpected visitor was announced to the widow. He
was a man who had much pastureland up in that region, but for a long
time his one desire had been to possess the Alp of his neighbour now
deceased, as by it his property would be rounded off to his
satisfaction.
Quickly making his resolution he declared to the dismayed woman that
the Alp belonged to him: her husband had secretly pledged it to him in
return for a loan, after the bad harvest of the previous year. When
the widow angrily accused him of being a liar the man produced a
promissory note, spread it out, and with a hard laugh showed her his
statement was confirmed in black and white. The distressed woman burst
into tears and declared it was impossible that her late husband should
have made a secret transaction of such a nature. The Alp was the sole
inheritance of their son, and never would she willingly surrender it.
"I will pay you compensation for the renunciation of your claim,
although nothing obliges me to do so," declared the visitor with
apparent compassion, in the meantime producing his purse.
The weeping woman motioned to him to put back his gold and told him to
go, which he did.
Three days later the widow was summoned before the judge. There the
neighbour produced his document and repeated his demand for the
possession of the disputed Alp.
The judge, who had been shamefully bribed, declared the document valid
and awarded the Alp to the pursuer. The broken-hearted widow staggered
home.
The new possessor of the Alp on the other hand hastened up to the
mountains at full gallop. The man could no longer master his
impatience to see for the first time as his legally recognised
property the pastureland he had acquired by deceit.
There, for three days a storm had raged uninterruptedly. As quickly as
the soaked ways would permit he ascended to the high country.
Having arrived he stared around with horrified eyes, and fell in a
swoon to the earth, overcome with consternation.
Upon the soft green Alp an unseen hand had rolled a mountain of ice.
Of the possession which the unjust judge had assigned to him nothing
was now to be seen. His own pastures too which adjoined were covered
with snow and ice, whilst the meadows of the other Alpsmen below, lay
spread out in the morning light like a velvet carpet.
Towards noon a broken man rode home into the valley cursing himself
and the wicked magistrate who had consented to such an evil
transaction.
The people there however said to each other: "The Fronfasten Muetterli
(the little mother of the Emberweeks) Frau Saelga passed over our
valley last night with her train of maidens. Over the house of that
greedy rich man the ghostly company stopped, and by that it is fixed
which one must die in the course of the year."
And so it happened. Up there where the youthful Rhine rushes down
through deep rocky chasms the petrified Alp stands to this day, a
silent warning from by-gone days.
THUSIS ON THE HINTER RHINE
The Last Hohenraetier
[Illustration: Der letzte Hohenraetier--Nach dem Gemaelde von E.
Stueckelberg]
The Domleschg valley was formerly the scene of bitter feuds, and is
mentioned in the struggle for freedom by the Swiss peasants of the
ancient Bund, some five hundred years ago. There stood the castle of
the Hohenraetier.
The last descendant of the degenerate race on the high Realt was
rightly feared in the whole district. He was the terror of the
peaceful inhabitants of the district, and harried not only them but
also merchants and pilgrims who passed along the highway below.
The wrath against this unchivalrous wickedness increased mightily. One
day this man perpetrated a daring deed of violence.
Whilst on an excursion into the valley he had discovered a charming
maid who sought berries in a lonely wood. In his wicked eagerness he
dragged the maiden on to his horse and fled. Amusing himself with her
lamentations, he carried his booty up the steep castle hill.
A poacher had observed the occurrence and alarmed the inhabitants of
the village. They carried the intelligence without delay into the
Domleschg.
The oppressed people around then rose and joining together approached
the castle that very night. Having felled giant trees they threw a
bridge over the moat, cast firebrands into the interior, and stormed
into the castle-yard through gaps in the gates and walls.
Then the baron appeared mounted on his war-horse, driven out of his
abode by tongues of flame.
Before him he held the captured maiden, and in the light of the
conflagration his naked sword glittered in his right hand.
Dealing mighty blows on both sides he forced his horse forward (the
eyes of which had been bound), intending to make a way down the hill.
But the living wall of peasants was impenetrable.
Quickly making his resolution the knight rushed to the side where the
wall of rock fell some seven hundred feet sheer into the youthful
Rhine.
The foaming steed stood trembling in front of the yawning abyss. The
shout of the multitude echoed into the night. Thousands of arms were
instantly stretched towards the river and one of them at the last
moment succeeded in snatching his prey from the robber, just as the
steed tortured and bleeding from sword and spur hurled itself with a
mighty spring into the depths below. So ended the last of the
Hohenraetiers.
In the dawn only the smoking ruins of the proud castle remained, and
the morning bells announced to the peasants that their long desired
freedom had been won.
These ruins are situated on the Hinter Rhine above Thusis, and it is
said that the last Hohenraetier, like many others of the former tyrants
of the Raetigau, yearly on St. John's Eve (when this event occurred)
may be seen riding round the fallen walls of his castle, clad in black
armour which emits glowing sparks.
BODENSEE
The Island of Mainau
For many hundreds of years the names of the Masters of Bodmann have
been very closely connected with the island in the lake of Boden. At
first the island was in the possession of this noble race, but later
on, in the thirteenth century, it passed into the hands of an order of
German Knights. A legend relates the story to us of how this change
came to pass.
About this time the whole of this magnificent property was held in
possession by a youthful maiden, who had inherited this beautiful
island with all its many charms. As may be supposed, the wooers for
the lovely maiden's hand and inheritance became very numerous. She,
however, had made her own choice, and it had fallen upon a nobleman
from Langenstein.
Every evening when the sun was sinking down into the golden waters,
this maiden walked along the strand watching and listening for some
longed-for sound. Then the measured splash of an oar would be heard
approaching in the twilight, and a little boat would be drawn up on
the shore, a youthful boatman would spring joyfully forth, and
lovingly greet the maiden. There this pair of lovers wove dreams
about the time from which only a short period now separated them, when
they should belong openly to each other before the world.
The nobleman landed one evening as usual, but this time his heart was
depressed and sorrowful; he informed his betrothed mournfully that his
father, who was then suffering agony from gout, had once taken a vow
to God and to the emperor that he would go on a crusade to the Holy
Land, but being unable to fulfil his oath, he laid it to his son's
charge to carry it out as he meant to have done.
The maiden wept bitterly on hearing these unexpected tidings.
"Trust me and the Powers on high, I shall not make this great
sacrifice in vain," said her lover consolingly. "I shall return, that
I feel confident of."
Thus with bright hopes in his heart the youthful crusader bade his
weeping betrothed good-bye.
* * * * *
And every evening when the sun was sinking into the golden waters the
maiden walked along the strand, looking with longing eyes out into the
misty distance. Spring came and disappeared, summer followed, and the
swallows fled from the lake to warmer climes, the maiden sending many
a warm greeting with them. Wintry storms blew over the waters,
whistling round the lonely island, and the maiden had become as pale
as the flakes of snow which fell against the window-panes.
News one day reached the castle that the crusaders had returned from
the East, but that the nobleman from Langenstein was languishing in a
Turkish prison in a remote castle belonging to the Sultan. The maiden
was heart-broken by these tidings and now spent her days in prayers
and tears.
* * * * *
Within the mighty walls of a gloomy castle in the far-off East, a
young hero was sitting pining over his bitter fate. He prayed and
groaned aloud in his grief thinking of his betrothed from whom he had
been so cruelly separated. The Sultan had offered the fair-haired
youth his favourite daughter, a seductive eastern beauty, but the
prisoner had turned scornfully away, her dark glancing eyes having no
charm for him.
That night the youth had a strange dream. An angel was soaring over
his couch and came down to his side, and a voice whispered, "Promise
yourself to me, and you will see your native land again."
The knight started up and said reverently, "That was the voice of
God!" Confused thoughts rushed through his soul, he must renounce his
love, but at least he would see her again. Throwing himself on his
knees, he promised with a fervent oath that he would dedicate himself
to the Lord, if he might only see the beloved maiden once more.
An earthquake shook the castle to its very foundations, unfastening
the prison doors, thus setting the prisoner at liberty in a marvellous
way. He succeeded in reaching the coast without being caught by the
guards of the Sultan, and a vessel sailing to Venice took him on
board. But as he approached his native land the struggle in his soul
between love and duty was very great; at one moment it seemed to
overcome him, and he felt he could no longer keep his vow. But God
again admonished him. Reaching the lake he steered his boat towards
the island, but a sudden storm arose, threatening him with a watery
grave. He prayed fervently to Heaven, again swearing his oath.
The storm subsided, and the little boat having missed its course
landed on the other side of the lake, where the Grand Master of an
Order of German Knights had his seat.
The tired way-farer approached, begging to be received, a boon kindly
granted to him. Then starting off again with his boat the youth
reached the island. He there imprinted a sorrowful kiss on his
beloved's pure white forehead, bidding her and the world good-bye for
ever.
The young girl resigned herself at first silently to her fate; but she
soon resolved on another plan: this place which had once been such a
happy home had no longer any charms to offer her, and she therefore
presented the island of Mainau to the German Order of Knights on one
condition, that the nobleman from Langenstein should be the successor
of the Grand Master. This request was willingly granted, the noble
maiden gave up all her rich possession and left the island in the
Bodensee. It is said that she retired to a convent, but no one ever
knew where.
The chronicle informs us that Hugh of Langenstein became one of the
most capable Grand Masters of this Order of Knights of Mainau. He is
also known as a great poet, and his poem on the martyr Martina still
exists in old manuscripts.
BASLE
One Hour in Advance
Basle was once surrounded by enemies, and very hard pressed on all
sides. A troop of discontented citizens made a shameful compact with
the besiegers to help them to conquer the town. It was arranged one
dark night that exactly as the clock was striking twelve the attack
was to be made from within and without. The traitors were all ready,
waiting for midnight in great excitement, having no evil presentiments
of what was about to happen.
The expected hour approached. Accidentally the watchman of the tower
heard of the proposed attack, and no time being left to warn the
commander of the garrison or the guard, he quickly and with great
presence of mind determined upon a safe expedient; he put forward the
hand of the great clock one hour, so that instead of striking
midnight, the clock struck one.
The traitors in the town looked at each other aghast, believing the
enemies outside had neglected or perhaps betrayed them. General doubt
and misunderstanding reigned in both camps. While they were debating
what plan they must now adopt, the sharp-witted watchman had time to
communicate with the magistrate and with the governor of the town. The
alarm was raised, the citizens warned, and the treacherous plan
completely wrecked. The enemy at last, tired of the useless siege,
retired discouraged.
The magistrate in remembrance of this remarkable deed ordered that the
town-clock should remain in advance as the courageous watchman had set
it that eventful night. This singular regulation continued till the
year 1798, and although the honest inhabitants of Basle were, as
talkative tongues asserted, a century behind-hand in everything else,
yet with regard to time they were always one hour in advance.
CASTLE NIEDECK
The Toy of the young Giantess
[Illustration: Das Riesenspielzeug--Nach dem Gemaelde von Cnopf--The
Giant's Toy--Les jouets des geants]
In olden times a race of giants is said to have lived in Alsace.
Castle Niedeck in the valley of the Breusch was their residence, but
even the ruins of this fortress have long since disappeared. The
legend however remains to tell us that they were a peaceable people,
well disposed to mankind.
The daughter of the master of the castle was one day leisurely walking
through the adjoining wood. On approaching the fields and meadows of
the valley, she perceived a peasant ploughing. The young giantess
looked in great astonishment at the tiny man who seemed to be so
busily engaged trudging along after his little team, and turning up
the ground with his small iron instrument. She had never before seen
anything so wonderful and was very much amused at the sight.
It seemed to her a nice little toy, and she clapped her hands in
childish glee, so that the echo sounded among the mountains; then
picking up man, horse, and plough, she placed them in her apron and
hurried back gaily to the castle. There she showed her father the
nice little toy, greatly pleased at what she had found.
The giant however shook his enormous head gravely, and said in a
displeased tone, "Don't you know, child, who this trembling little
creature with his struggling tiny animal is, that you have chosen for
a plaything? Of all the dwarfs down in the valley below, he is the
most useful; he works hard and indefatigably in scorching heat as well
as in windy cold weather, so that the fields may produce fruit for us.
He who scoffs at or maltreats him will be punished by Heaven. Take the
little labourer therefore back to the place he came from."
The young giantess, greatly ashamed and deeply blushing with
embarrassment, put the amusing little toy back into her apron, and
carried it obediently down to the valley.
STRASSBURG
The Cathedral Clock
The Cathedral was finished, and the city magistrates resolved to place
an ingenious clock on the upper tower. For a long time they searched
in vain, but at last a master was found who offered to create a work
of art such as had never been seen in any land. The members of the
council were highly satisfied with this proposal, and the master began
his work.
Weeks and months passed, and when at last it was finished there was
general astonishment; the clock was indeed so wonderful that nothing
to match it could be found in the whole country. It marked not only
the hours but the days and months as well; a globe was attached to it
which also marked out the rising and the setting of the sun, and the
eclipses of that body and the moon could be seen at the same time as
they took place in nature. Every change was pointed out by Mercury's
wand, and every constellation appeared at the right time. Shortly
before the stroke of the clock a figure representing Death emerged
from the centre and sounded the full hour, while at the quarter and
half hours the statue of Christ came forth, repelling the destroyer
of all life. Added to all these wonders was a beautiful chime that
played melodious hymns.
Such was the marvellous clock in the cathedral of Strassburg. The
magistrates however proved themselves unworthy of their new
possession; pride and presumption got the better of them, making them
commit a most unjust and ungrateful action.
They desired their town to be the only one in the land which possessed
such a work of art, and in order to prevent the maker from making
another like it, they did not shrink from the vilest of crimes.
Taking advantage of the rumour that such a wonderful work could only
have been made by the aid of witchcraft, they accused the clock-maker
of being united with the devil, threw him into prison, and cruelly
condemned him to be blinded. The unhappy artist resigned himself to
his bitter fate without a murmur. The only favour he asked was that he
might be allowed to examine the clock once again before the judgment
was carried out. He said he wanted to arrange something in the works
which no one else could understand.
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